Rarer Than (1/1)
Here goes nothing...
Fandom: Merlin
Title: Rarer Than (1/1)
Pairing: Merlin/Arthur pre-slash
Rating: PG-13
Length: approx. 3600 words
Disclaimer: Not mine. Everything belongs to the BBC.
Summary: Merlin knew all about unicorns. Everyone knew about unicorns... Everyone was wrong.
Author's note: The passage about unicorns that Merlin attributes to Gaius' book is paraphrased from Isidore of Seville.
The first time the villagers petitioned the King for his aid, Uther dismissed them within minutes. The second time, he dismissed them on sight. The third time, he didn't even bother to grant them an audience, and simply left them for Arthur to deal with.
Arthur had listened to their entire petition in silence before solemnly promising them his protection. Then, as soon as they'd left the throne room, he'd started laughing. "A unicorn?" he'd managed to say several minutes later, wiping tears from the corners of his eyes. "They're being terrorised by a unicorn?"
Arthur had considered the whole thing little more than an excuse to get out of the castle for the day, and had only ordered two of his knights to accompany him so that the villagers were reassured that he was taking their worries seriously. They'd cheered him as he rode from Camelot.
Merlin hadn't even bothered consulting Gaius before they set out, because a cockatrice was one thing, but even Merlin knew all about unicorns. Everyone knew about unicorns.
Everyone was wrong.
They were deep in the forest when the unicorn attacked them. It ran one knight through with its horn before he had even managed to draw his sword, and then knocked the second from his horse and trampled him underfoot as soon as he hit the ground. Then it turned towards Arthur and Merlin.
It was huge: taller than Arthur's destrier, and probably twice as broad. Its horn was easily four foot long, and the colour of old bone save for its wickedly pointed tip, which was crimson with the knight's blood. It pawed at the ground with a cloven hoof the size of a dinner plate, and lowered its head slightly.
Arthur obviously decided, perhaps for the first time, that sometimes there was no dishonour in retreat, and wheeled his destrier around, digging his heels into its sides. He smacked Merlin's hackney across the rump with the flat of his sword as he galloped past, and the little mare squealed and then lunged forward, throwing Merlin against her neck. Merlin closed his eyes and clung on tightly, trusting the horse to steer itself through the trees far better than he could ever hope to.
He could hear the unicorn following them; crashing through the undergrowth, its hoofbeats as loud as thunder, booming through the otherwise silent forest. It suddenly occurred to Merlin that the lack of any signs of animal life should perhaps have given them a hint earlier as to the unicorn's true nature, but it had simply caused Arthur to complain - at length - about the unlikelihood of his finding anything to hunt.
For a time, Merlin's entire world was defined by the air rushing past his ears, the stink of horse sweat in his nostrils, and the bunch and stretch of the muscles of the horse beneath him. Magic swelled in his body, words of power swirling through his mind, only to be dissipated forcibly by the next sudden lurch as the hackney swerved to avoid some obstacle or leap over it. If he couldn't find his concentration soon, the unicorn would likely chase them all the way back to Camelot. If it didn't manage to catch them first.
The sounds of the unicorn's pursuit seemed to be growing quieter, however, finally stopping altogether as Merlin's horse skittered to a halt, throwing its head around so violently that it almost unseated him.
Merlin cautiously opened one eye. They seemed to be in a clearing of some sort, and there was no sign of the unicorn. He opened his other eye with more confidence, and raised his head a little way. Arthur was standing a couple of feet away, running his hands soothingly over the destrier's sweaty, shuddering flanks. He glanced over at Merlin briefly and shook his head. The 'idiot' was silent, but strongly implied.
Merlin frowned, and unwrapped his arms from the horse's neck before sliding to the ground in what was less a dismount than a barely-controlled fall. His legs almost buckled beneath him, and he only managed to stay upright - and avoid embarrassing himself yet further - by grabbing hold of his saddle. He leaned his head against the hackney's shoulder, and breathed deeply, trying to slow his racing heart.
"It seems unwilling to follow us," Arthur said, disrupting Merlin's attempt at calm.
"Some people say that unicorns are tied to the forest." Merlin reluctantly stepped back from his horse, and then led it to Arthur's side. "Perhaps it can't leave the trees."
Arthur seemed to consider this for a moment, finally nodding his head once as if in acceptance of Merlin's words. "What else do people say about unicorns?" he asked.
"I'm not sure that people really know the first thing about unicorns," Merlin said. The unicorn was pacing along the tree-line, brief flashes of its white coat visible through the densely-packed branches. Occasionally it would make a sound that sounded unnatural coming from the throat of anything that looked even vaguely like a horse: a disquieting cross between a wolf's howl and the screech of a gryphon. "They're supposed to be beautiful. Mystical. Wise. Small."
Arthur snorted. "Do you know anything about unicorns, then?"
Merlin racked his brain, sorting through snippets of half-recalled folklore and passages from Gaius' books. "They can only be captured by a maiden," he offered.
Arthur looked down at his feet, and then across at Merlin, his eyebrows drawing together. "Anything useful?" he asked, in an exasperated tone.
"Only that they're immune to magic." Something which meant he was next to useless in their current situation. Although Arthur had attempted to teach him swordplay, he had given up in despair some months ago, and Merlin always rode unarmed. Arthur insisted that Merlin was of more danger to himself and his allies with a sword in his hand than he would ever be to their enemies.
"So, nothing useful," Arthur said, shaking his head. "I should have guessed."
Arthur's eyes fixed on the forest again, and they stood in silence for a while, watching the prowling unicorn. For his part, Merlin tried to think of a spell he could conceivably use that would not only help them, but which was also subtle enough that Arthur would not recognise it as magic. If he couldn't attack the unicorn directly, he supposed he could enchant Arthur's sword to be more powerful, or their horses to be swifter, but both of those options still required them to get close enough to the creature to strike it, which Merlin felt would put them at too great a risk to attempt.
Merlin was honestly considering setting light to the trees to force the unicorn back - something which he suspected even Arthur would notice; and the ensuing damage would no doubt ensure they incurred Uther's wrath on their return to Camelot - when Arthur's laughter startled him out of his musings.
"What is it?" he asked, puzzled at what Arthur could possibly find amusing about the situation. He'd heard that stress could affect some people in that way, but he wouldn't have thought Arthur was one of them. Arthur had been even closer to death before, and not lost his head. It was a little worrying.
However, even though Arthur was grinning, his eyes were cold and determined-looking. "What does its horn make you think of?"
Merlin considered this for a moment. "Painful death?" he suggested.
Arthur scowled. "Jousting," he said firmly, as though the connection was plain to see, and anyone who didn't see it was clearly not in full control of their mental faculties. It was a tone of voice that Merlin had long-since grown used to, and one he had largely learned to ignore.
"Jousting," Merlin repeated, letting the word roll around his mind for a moment as he attempted to make sense of it. No matter how hard he tried to read some other meaning into it, he kept returning to the same, terrifying conclusion, "Arthur, you're not seriously thinking about…"
Arthur flicked his hand imperiously towards the forest's edge. "Go and find me a piece of wood that's big enough to use as a lance."
"You can't joust with a unicorn," Merlin said, appalled. "That's just -"
"I have never been beaten in a tourney," Arthur said, interrupting Merlin before he could finish his sentence - which was probably a good thing, as even though Merlin hadn't settled on 'stupid', 'idiotic', or 'suicidal', he guessed none of them would have gone over too well - his scowl darkening.
While Merlin could well believe that Arthur was the finest fighter in Camelot, as he always claimed himself to be, he had also long suspected that the knights Arthur competed against held back to some extent, half-afraid that Uther would have them executed if they injured Camelot's heir too badly. The unicorn wouldn’t hold back, and it probably wouldn't honour proper tournament rules, either.
"Suicidal," Merlin muttered under his breath, deciding that it was definitely the most apposite description of Arthur's plan.
"Go and fetch me a piece of wood, Merlin," Arthur said, and it sounded much more like an order than a request this time.
"At once, sire," Merlin said, ducking his head in an approximation of a bow.
"Only you can make my proper title sound like treason," Arthur said with a sigh. He turned his head aside, but not before Merlin noticed that the corners of his mouth had curled upwards slightly.
"It's one of my many skills," Merlin said, grinning.
Arthur didn't reply, simply waving his hand towards the trees again.
***
Merlin had managed to find a fallen branch that was approximately the size of a lance, and after Arthur had hacked at it with his sword, it even looked about the right shape. It wasn't as strong as a lance, however, and Arthur's plan was still suicidal, stupid and idiotic. Merlin had, as tactfully as he knew how, pointed that out several times as he and Arthur rigged a makeshift harness for the makeshift lance on Arthur's saddle.
Arthur had started out threatening Merlin with the stocks again, but grew silent, his mouth set in a grim line, whilst he tightened the last few knots and checked his cinch. "Do you have a better plan?" he asked as Merlin helped him on to his horse.
Aside from running back to Camelot to beg Gaius for his help, Merlin hadn't been able to think of any alternative plans, and that wasn't even a workable one, anyway. He shook his head.
"So shut up, then, and take this," he said, handing Merlin his sword.
It was far heavier than the ceremonial swords that Arthur wore at court, or the swords he used for training, and Merlin's arms shook a little with its weight. "What am I supposed to do with this?"
"Once I've knocked the unicorn down, you should…" Arthur's voice trailed away as he looked down at Merlin. His eyes flicked from the sword, to Merlin's trembling arms, and then finally came to rest on his face, whereupon they became distant and unfocussed as his thoughts doubtless wandered back through his many disastrous attempts at teaching Merlin to fight. "Just… Just do the best you can," he said, finally. "And try not to cut your own hands off in the process."
With that, Arthur began riding slowly towards the tree-line. The unicorn had moved deeper in to the woods as they worked on the 'lance', but obviously hadn't retreated too far as its eerie cries were still loud and clear, not muffled by any great distance, and Arthur's destrier seemed nervous: its eyes rolled back so the whites were showing, and its head held high, fighting against the bit.
Merlin walked several paces behind the horse - out of range of its wildly flicking tail - and attempted to keep a tight grip on the sword, which kept threatening to slip out of his sweaty hands. He started to invoke a spell that was supposed to make his aim true, but his tongue got tangled around the words, and they died on his lips, powerless. He tried again, chanting the spell over and over like a mantra, but felt no answering surge in his magic.
The unicorn was drinking from a small beck when they found it, but, unfortunately, it spotted them almost as soon as they spotted it, and they didn't long have the advantage of surprise. It spun around, gave voice to one of its ear-splitting cries, and charged.
Arthur answered the unicorn's cry with a guttural yell, and rode towards it, lowering his lance. Merlin's breath caught in his throat, and they met before he had chance to gulp in another. The unicorn swerved at the last minute, kicking up a cloud of leaf litter, dodging the tip of the lance and catching Arthur across the chest with the length of its horn.
Arthur was swept from his horse, and sailed through the air until he slammed heavily into a tree. He dropped to the floor, motionless.
"Arthur!" Merlin screamed, the name ripped from him involuntarily.
The unicorn's head snapped towards Merlin, and its nostrils flared.
Merlin screwed his eyes closed and held the sword out in front of him, trying to ignore the screaming protest of his muscles. His magic flowed through him - freed at last - sparking along his skin, and then flaring outwards, but he could still hear the unicorn advancing, regardless. Clearly, at least some of the stories were true, and they were immune to magic, after all.
When several breathless moments had passed, filled only with the sound of his own heartbeat hammering in his ears, Merlin chanced opening his eyes. His vision was filled with unicorn. He shut them quickly.
The unicorn made a sound not unlike a horse whickering, which was closely followed by what felt disturbingly like a damp tongue being dragged up the side of Merlin's neck.
When he opened his eyes for the second time, the unicorn was still very definitely there, but it seemed less intimidating, somehow. The manic gleam in its eyes had faded, and its ears were perked up instead of being pressed flat against its head. It just looked like a bloody big horse with a horn in the middle of its head, instead of a blood-crazed monster.
"Good boy?" Merlin ventured.
The unicorn whickered again, and nudged Merlin's shoulder with its nose. It might have seemed slightly less murderous now, but it was still enormously strong, and what was apparently supposed to be a friendly nuzzle knocked Merlin off-balance. He staggered backwards before catching his heel on a tree root, and falling on his arse. The force of the impact shocked the sword from his hand, and it slid along the ground before coming to rest against a tree several feet away.
"Typical," Merlin muttered, pressing his palms against the ground with the intention of pushing himself to his feet again.
Before he could move, however, the unicorn laid down beside him, its head landing heavily in Merlin's lap. It stank of old blood, and something far more acrid and unpleasant, and Merlin's instinctual response was to push it as far away from him as possible. By the time he'd summoned up enough courage to touch it - it felt slimy, somehow, despite apparently having fur - he had recalled, with a groan, something he'd once read in one of Gaius' books, and the unicorn's strange response to him had begun to make a horrible kind of sense.
"… If a maiden is brought where the unicorn may come; and she opens her lap and the unicorn lays his head on it, it abandons all its fierceness, and falls asleep."
The unicorn's eyes had closed, and it was breathing deeply and evenly. Apparently, maiden wasn't a reference specific to gender, rather a state of being. Obviously, Gaius' translation of the ancient text wasn't particularly accurate, and Merlin made a mental note to draw his attention to that when he got home.
If he ever got home. The sword was out of reach, and Merlin was loath to move in case he awoke the unicorn; it might not react too kindly to its sleep being disturbed. Gaius' book hadn't mentioned how long a unicorn would sleep for with its head in a… maiden's lap, but, knowing Merlin's luck, it would be a hundred years, or some other mythic, and above all long, stretch of time, and Merlin would starve to death in the woods, trapped beneath it.
"Merlin, is there something you haven't told me?" The sound of Arthur's voice was simultaneously both welcome and completely mortifying.
Heat washed across Merlin's face, and he couldn't bring himself to look at the prince. "It's not a sex thing," he said. "Well, it is… Just not that sort of sex thing. More of a, you know…" Merlin was aware he was beginning to babble, and forced himself to stop speaking before he said anything particularly stupid.
Arthur was silent for a moment, and then: "Are you saying you're a -"
"Yes," Merlin said quickly, before Arthur could say the word. It wasn't something he was particularly bothered about usually, but Arthur knowing was strangely embarrassing, for some reason.
"Really?"
Merlin risked glancing up at Arthur. The prince was holding one arm across his chest and he was listing slightly to one side, obviously injured, but his expression wasn't pained. Instead, he looked completely dumbfounded, as though his ideas about how the world worked had been shaken to their core, and he was struggling to make sense of that. It was an expression that Merlin was used to seeing directed his way by Arthur, but this too was somehow embarrassing, despite being something Merlin had always managed to shrug off without a second thought before.
"Yes."
"Really?" Arthur sounded completely incredulous.
"I think I'd be aware if it wasn't the case," Merlin snapped, his embarrassment hardening into something closer to annoyance. If Arthur wanted to laugh, he should just laugh so they could get it out of the way and concentrate on dealing with the unicorn. "Is it really that unbelievable?"
Arthur opened his mouth as if to reply, but immediately closed it again. The skin above his cheekbones coloured slightly.
"Arthur…" Merlin prompted after a minute or so had passed, and it appeared that Arthur wasn't going to say anything, after all.
Arthur's blush deepened, and he met Merlin's eyes. He seemed to be trying to communicate something silently, but although Merlin had become quite adept at reading Arthur's body language, he certainly wasn't fluent and Arthur's expression remained completely unreadable to him.
Eventually, Arthur broke their eye contact and cleared his throat. "What are we going to do about that?" he asked, gesturing towards the unicorn.
Merlin was more than happy to change the subject; it wasn't as if Arthur's answer was particularly important, anyway, as it would no doubt just be a novel variation on the old theme of "You're an idiot, Merlin".
Merlin shrugged, as far as he was able to whilst weighed down with unicorn. "I think you should probably cut its head off," he suggested. "Quickly, before it wakes up."
***
Arthur had wanted to tie the unicorn's head to the back of his horse and drag it back to Camelot to parade in front of the villagers.
"It will make them feel better about the terrorising. They deserve to see their foe vanquished," he had insisted, clearly forgetting all the choice things he'd had to say about the villagers and their supposed terror during their ride to the forest.
The horses' fear of the dead unicorn had put paid to the idea, anyway - they refused to go anywhere near it, shying away as soon as they got too close - and Arthur had to content himself with the tip of the unicorn's horn as a trophy.
Merlin didn't relish the idea of the journey back to Camelot, even if it was in victory. His trousers were soaked in unicorn blood, which was uncomfortable and sticky now, and would no doubt be uncomfortable and stiff later on.
The hackney didn't seem to like the idea, either, and seemed to be trying to run away from the smell of the blood even after Merlin mounted it, which promised to make the ride one which would push Merlin's meagre horsemanship skills to their very limit.
Arthur also seemed determined to do his part in ensuring that Merlin couldn't relax. He kept looking at Merlin out of the corner of his eye, but quickly turned his head aside if Merlin looked back, affecting deep interest in the trees, the sky, or anything else nearby that wasn't Merlin.
They'd ridden for about half a mile before Merlin's patience - usually in greater supply, but already strained by the events of the day - finally ran out, and he asked, "What is it?"
Arthur looked a little startled by the question, but he recovered quickly. "Is there any woman at the castle who's caught your eye?" he asked, sounding distressingly eager for Merlin's reply. "Gwen, perhaps. I thought you might -"
"No," Merlin said, tightening his hands on the hackney's reins and staring resolutely at the road ahead of them.
He could foresee with frightening clarity what the next few weeks - or however long it took for something else to catch Arthur's interest and distract him - of his life would be like. Arthur would doubtless feel obliged to deal with what he probably considered was Merlin's terrible condition and would push Gwen, and whatever other women he considered suitable, in to Merlin's path in an attempt to remedy it.
It was going to be horrible.
Continued in: Chemistry Of