Turn of Fate; Merlin
Title: Turn of Fate
Authors: mydoctortennant
Pairings/Characters: Morgana, Gwen, Arthur, Merlin (slight A/G)
Warnings: None.
Disclaimer: Not real. Despite birthday wishes and night time prayers to Santa (all Hail Amy Pond!) Merlin still isn't mine!
Rating: PG13
Summary: When they get caught up with bandits on their return from Morgana's annual pilgrimage, it's down to the girls to save the day.
Author Notes: Set AU to the end of series 2 because I wanted Morgana to be nice. Written for miki_hime1221 and beta'd by sgmajorshipper
My Merlin Prompt Table
In the west wing of the castle two raised voices could be heard. One distinctly feminine; the other male. Their problem came from the female wanting to travel to her late father's grave, after her previous trip had been cut short by attacking bandits. She wanted to go alone, but the male objected. Last time was a warning. She shouldn't go alone.
It was an argument she knew she wouldn't win. If bandits had attacked last time, taking Gwen from them, then they could do so again. Morgana knew they would be safer with a guard, but last time they hadn't faired so well. Gwen had still been taken. Which was why Arthur was offering to be their personal protector. That was where the argument started. Morgana knew she needed protecting; she just didn't want to admit to Arthur that he was right. Or that she needed his help.
She was forced to relent in the end. Arthur wasn't backing down. He said it wasn't worth risking Gwen being taken again. They were safer with him and he'd have it no other way.
The journey was a hostile one, with Merlin riding up front with Arthur and Morgana lagging behind with Gwen. They had no other guards, and travelled in simpler clothing so as not to draw extra attention to their travelling selves.
"I often wonder what's going on inside his head," Morgana started looking at the back of Arthur's head with annoyance, "We're safer with him but only him?"
"Perhaps he thinks we will go less noticed."
"He wouldn’t wear his armour if he thought we'd be safe."
"It's a safety measure to him. Like the blanket you used to always sleep with. It comforts him to wear it."
"How do you know so much?" Morgana asked teasingly.
"He's a knight," she said with a polite smile, "They are all the same."
"I suppose you are right."
"Sir Leon was the same."
"What do you suppose they are talking about?" Arthur asked looking back over his shoulder.
Merlin smirked before he spoke, the look going unseen by the Prince, "Jewels. Dresses," he shrugged, his look turned mischievous, "Which knights of Camelot look better in their armour than others," Arthur's head snapped around to look at him, "It's the sort of thing the kitchen maids talk about."
"They are not kitchen maids."
"By part of her job, Gwen, sort of, is."
Arthur shot Merlin a look over his shoulder. The servant opened his mouth to speak but thought better of it rather quickly and shut it again. Once Arthur had his back to him again he smiled. He might not be allowed to comment on the matter, but he was allowed to think the teasing taunts he would say had he been.
They reached the grave site by late afternoon as they had planned. The mood shifted to one suddenly more solemn. Morgana dismounted her horse and latched it to the nearest tree, the others all mirrored her movement but remained stationary once she stepped toward Goloris' grave.
Both servants bowed their heads in respect. The Prince, ever the protector, kept his eye on Morgana, giving a brief nod of his head. The daughter of the Duke of Cornwall knelt before her father's grave, gently tracing the letters. She removed the long grass covering it and sat before it. She didn't have a usual way of acting. Sometimes she would talk to him. Other times she would sit in silence. With the Prince and their servants watching her she remained quiet, pruning at the foliage with her fingers.
Gwen kept her gaze to the floor. Out of duty to Morgana she agreed to come on this trip, but she couldn't help the pang of sadness that coursed through her heart. She noticed a pair of boots step up beside her, and the ring of chain mail sounded. A gentle finger stroked over the back of her hand, ungloved and slightly calloused from years of training. Gwen knew she shouldn't have indulged in the touch but part of her couldn't help it. She didn't need to speak to him to know he was sorry. It has nearly two years ago and her heart still ached at the thought of her father. The loss she had suffered. Having to put it all in a letter to Elyan.
Gwen watched Morgana, knowing that even after fifteen years she still hurt. The pain never went away.
The afternoon passed. After a good hour of sitting beside her father's grave, remembering the good times they'd shared before his death, Morgana stood, straightened her dress, and turned to her company, "The sun will be setting soon. We should find somewhere to sleep."
X
The fire cracked, sending embers flying into the air and swirling around the camp before settling cold on the forest floor. The four Camelot youths surrounded the fire each with a blanket about their shoulders. Arthur's armour laid on the ground beside him collecting dirt, much to Merlin's annoyance.
"If we aim to rise early then we can be back in Camelot by midday," Arthur said with authority. None of them answered him. They just accepted what he said. There was little use in countering it with another plan. "We should all get some sleep," he threw the small twig he had been playing with into the flames.
He stood and approached his pack, setting himself up for the night. Next to the fire, Morgana set herself down ready to sleep, "Good night," she smiled at Gwen afford closing her eyes.
"Good night, my lady."
X
The morning sun lit the camp. The night fire had extinguished with the four travellers still sleeping around it.
In the bushes, watching over the camp, crouched two men. One scheming, taking the prerogative to surmise the reasons why four young people would be travelling through the Darkling Woods. It didn't take him long to notice the crest on the satchel by the burnt out fire.
"The Young Pendragon," he smiled, "How long it has been."
X
The attack had been unprecedented. They were asleep. The dawn barely woken as the bird song sounded. An honourable man would have carried on past, but they were not honourable men.
In a matter of seconds the two men had the sleeping forms of the prince and his servant bound and gagged. They woke as they were brutally manhandled, forced this way and that, swung over the shoulders of their own horses as they rode away.
It wasn't long before the eldest female woke. She knew something was wrong before she woke, her dreams too powerful to be stopped by her healing bracelet.
"Gwen!" she woke her maid quickly and began to gather there things, "We must hurry or we'll miss the trail."
"My lady?"
"Somebody has taken them."
"I'm sure they are collecting more firewood."
"They've taken two horses. Yet Arthur's is still here. You know how he gets when he isn't on his own horse."
"Then how do we find them?" Morgana looked at the forest floor searching for the faintest sign of a direction.
"They went this way, towards Mercia. We've got to find them. Fast."
X
Upon their arrival to the castle, Arthur and Merlin were forced into a cell. It was much too small, with dirt spread about the floor by way of a comfort measure.
Their captor was a man who went by the name of Gregor, a Mercian soldier who had clashed with Uther's armies many times over the decades. He had fought against the young Pendragon only a handful of times, but they weren't experiences he wanted to repeat again. Now he had him in his cell chained to the wall with no means of escape.
Arthur rested his head against the brick wall, his hands raised, wrist aching from the heavy metal clapped around them. Merlin had drifted off to sleep, leaning against his shackles. Arthur couldn’t get comfortable enough.
He hadn’t recognised the man who had taken them but he seemed to know exactly who he was. Merlin not so much, but he had a ticket on Arthur. Arthur couldn’t figure out whether they had picked up the girls on the way as well. They hadn’t seemed to from what he could see whilst they’d been transported. That meant nothing. They could have gone back for them.
Not one to give up so easily, Arthur yanked on the metal around his wrist, willing it to break, but it was fastened tightly. Even the best warrior of Camelot couldn’t break wrought iron with his bare hands.
He had half a mind to kick Merlin until he woke up but he couldn’t move his feet and shouting his name only seem to elicit a grumble in his sleep before he settled again.
Arthur was alone, or at least it certainly seemed that way.
X
The trail from the horses led them to a castle neither of them recognised on the outskirts of the forest. It was barely into Mercia, but there all the same. They were on dangerous ground. If anybody knew them to be of Camelot, they wouldn’t hesitate to strike them down.
The tethered their horses out of sight and rounded on the castle. The guards on watch weren’t paying them any heed, which made it easy for them to slip past and down the steps. It took a lot of guesswork to find the cells. They followed the stench of unwashed souls before taking a random right.
There were two guards stood in front of the doorway into the prison. To their left was a small fire with a pot of water on top, heating it for a warm drink on their chilly duty.
“What are we going to do?” Gwen asked; there was no getting past them without being seen.
“We need a distraction,” the two girls looked at each other. Had Gwen been wearing her everyday dresses, she would have pulled down on the skirt and made her way around the corner in a manner she would be none-too-proud of. In her travel wear she was spared of the fate she would hate to explain to anybody else. Morgana stood a better chance once inside so the job of ‘distraction’ fell to Gwen.
X
Slinking close to the wall Morgana snuck up on the cell. She assumed that the guarded door was the one she wanted. None other had a man in front of it and if Arthur was anywhere, it would be there. She got close to him and Morgana knocked out the guard on the door with ease. There was something about the poor idiots that made them so easy to knock unconscious. She almost laughed.
She picked the keys from his belt, a whole array of them presented themselves to her, "Oh for the love of god," she pushed the first of twenty eight nearly identical keys into the lock.
She could hear both Merlin and Arthur behind the door muttering about what their captives could possibly want now. Had she not been wary about giving herself away, she'd have called out to them. As for now, she had keys to test.
Eleven keys in and the door's lock clicked open. Morgana smiled. She liked it when a plan came together.
She allowed the solid iron door to sit for a second before she eased it open; "Morgana?" Arthur exclaimed, "What are you doing here?"
"I can go again if you like," she relied looking through the keys to release them from their cuffs, "I see your plan of waiting for death is working quite well for you."
"Let's get out of here, shall we?" Merlin inputted. Unlike his master, he wasn't willing to risk his own safety to win an argument. He remained still as Morgana released him from the shackles. He massaged his wrists gently as Morgana unlocked Arthur as well.
The blonde looked around, his brow furrowed in worry as he noticed Morgana was alone, "Where's Guinevere?"
"Distracting the guards,” Morgana answered as they all fled from the cell.
"She's what?" he asked, his voice raised as they rounded the corner to where Morgana had left Gwen.
"Distracting the guards... Gwen? I said distract them, not knock them out," the two guards were laying at her feet. In her hand she still held the cooking pot they'd been using that Morgana assumed she'd chosen as her weapon.
"I told them not to put a hand on me," she said reasonably, "And he put a hand on me."
"Nice one, Gwen," Merlin congratulated.
He was interrupted by the harsh sounding of the warning bell, "We must go!" Arthur took off in the lead with no weapon and his armour attached to a horse tied to a post outside.
"Arthur!" Morgana called out as they reached the t-junction, "Wrong way!"
X
The four of them rode back towards Camelot at breakneck speed. They needed to get out of Mercia, and fast. If they were caught there they were dead.
It didn’t take long for them to reach home soil. They put some distance between them and the enemy’s castle, racing ahead of each other trying to put as much distance between them and it as quickly as possible.
The horses began to tire so they slowed to a walk, safely several miles into their kingdom.
“A distraction?” Arthur asked Gwen with a quirk of his eyebrow, “What sort of distraction?”
“The sort of distraction that got you out of trouble.”
X
The back of a hand connected with the face of the guard, “Idiots! Can you not do anything right?” Gregor raised his hand to hit the other guard but he cowered away, “Who were these women?”
“We don’t know.”
“How did they know we had them captive?”
“They were there, in the camp. We couldn’t bring them too. There were-“
“Idiots!”
“By the time we went back they were gone.”
“Can you do nothing right!? We had Arthur Pendragon, the Prince of Camelot in our cells and he got away due to your incompetence!” he hit the guard then, “I’m surrounded by idiots!”
X
The evenings were light in the early autumn in Camelot. The sun started its decent behind the trees. The small graveyard just outside the gates to the lower town was the final resting place for the citizens of Camelot. Not all of them could afford for their loved ones to be commemorated, but they could all be remembered.
Gwen had been lucky. In the lead up to her father's death he had been making good money. As the maid to the King's ward she herself didn't make bad money either. She could afford to have him buried properly. A citizen of Camelot who deserved to have his name engraved in stone.
She tried to get out to his grave as much as she could. She spoke to him when she could about the problems she faced in her mind and in her heart.
After returning to Camelot from their eventful trip Gwen took the time to see him. She took a small bouquet of her favourite flowers, she left them as a symbol of her love for him.
She cleared his grave of the old stems and placed them with the new. She sat with her legs tucked beneath her and started to tell him all about her day. From the moment it began in a haze of panic to how it concluded with laughter and jokes. This was her life. So up and down and full or so many surprises she would never be short of things to tell him.
Authors: mydoctortennant
Pairings/Characters: Morgana, Gwen, Arthur, Merlin (slight A/G)
Warnings: None.
Disclaimer: Not real. Despite birthday wishes and night time prayers to Santa (all Hail Amy Pond!) Merlin still isn't mine!
Rating: PG13
Summary: When they get caught up with bandits on their return from Morgana's annual pilgrimage, it's down to the girls to save the day.
Author Notes: Set AU to the end of series 2 because I wanted Morgana to be nice. Written for miki_hime1221 and beta'd by sgmajorshipper
My Merlin Prompt Table
In the west wing of the castle two raised voices could be heard. One distinctly feminine; the other male. Their problem came from the female wanting to travel to her late father's grave, after her previous trip had been cut short by attacking bandits. She wanted to go alone, but the male objected. Last time was a warning. She shouldn't go alone.
It was an argument she knew she wouldn't win. If bandits had attacked last time, taking Gwen from them, then they could do so again. Morgana knew they would be safer with a guard, but last time they hadn't faired so well. Gwen had still been taken. Which was why Arthur was offering to be their personal protector. That was where the argument started. Morgana knew she needed protecting; she just didn't want to admit to Arthur that he was right. Or that she needed his help.
She was forced to relent in the end. Arthur wasn't backing down. He said it wasn't worth risking Gwen being taken again. They were safer with him and he'd have it no other way.
The journey was a hostile one, with Merlin riding up front with Arthur and Morgana lagging behind with Gwen. They had no other guards, and travelled in simpler clothing so as not to draw extra attention to their travelling selves.
"I often wonder what's going on inside his head," Morgana started looking at the back of Arthur's head with annoyance, "We're safer with him but only him?"
"Perhaps he thinks we will go less noticed."
"He wouldn’t wear his armour if he thought we'd be safe."
"It's a safety measure to him. Like the blanket you used to always sleep with. It comforts him to wear it."
"How do you know so much?" Morgana asked teasingly.
"He's a knight," she said with a polite smile, "They are all the same."
"I suppose you are right."
"Sir Leon was the same."
"What do you suppose they are talking about?" Arthur asked looking back over his shoulder.
Merlin smirked before he spoke, the look going unseen by the Prince, "Jewels. Dresses," he shrugged, his look turned mischievous, "Which knights of Camelot look better in their armour than others," Arthur's head snapped around to look at him, "It's the sort of thing the kitchen maids talk about."
"They are not kitchen maids."
"By part of her job, Gwen, sort of, is."
Arthur shot Merlin a look over his shoulder. The servant opened his mouth to speak but thought better of it rather quickly and shut it again. Once Arthur had his back to him again he smiled. He might not be allowed to comment on the matter, but he was allowed to think the teasing taunts he would say had he been.
They reached the grave site by late afternoon as they had planned. The mood shifted to one suddenly more solemn. Morgana dismounted her horse and latched it to the nearest tree, the others all mirrored her movement but remained stationary once she stepped toward Goloris' grave.
Both servants bowed their heads in respect. The Prince, ever the protector, kept his eye on Morgana, giving a brief nod of his head. The daughter of the Duke of Cornwall knelt before her father's grave, gently tracing the letters. She removed the long grass covering it and sat before it. She didn't have a usual way of acting. Sometimes she would talk to him. Other times she would sit in silence. With the Prince and their servants watching her she remained quiet, pruning at the foliage with her fingers.
Gwen kept her gaze to the floor. Out of duty to Morgana she agreed to come on this trip, but she couldn't help the pang of sadness that coursed through her heart. She noticed a pair of boots step up beside her, and the ring of chain mail sounded. A gentle finger stroked over the back of her hand, ungloved and slightly calloused from years of training. Gwen knew she shouldn't have indulged in the touch but part of her couldn't help it. She didn't need to speak to him to know he was sorry. It has nearly two years ago and her heart still ached at the thought of her father. The loss she had suffered. Having to put it all in a letter to Elyan.
Gwen watched Morgana, knowing that even after fifteen years she still hurt. The pain never went away.
The afternoon passed. After a good hour of sitting beside her father's grave, remembering the good times they'd shared before his death, Morgana stood, straightened her dress, and turned to her company, "The sun will be setting soon. We should find somewhere to sleep."
X
The fire cracked, sending embers flying into the air and swirling around the camp before settling cold on the forest floor. The four Camelot youths surrounded the fire each with a blanket about their shoulders. Arthur's armour laid on the ground beside him collecting dirt, much to Merlin's annoyance.
"If we aim to rise early then we can be back in Camelot by midday," Arthur said with authority. None of them answered him. They just accepted what he said. There was little use in countering it with another plan. "We should all get some sleep," he threw the small twig he had been playing with into the flames.
He stood and approached his pack, setting himself up for the night. Next to the fire, Morgana set herself down ready to sleep, "Good night," she smiled at Gwen afford closing her eyes.
"Good night, my lady."
X
The morning sun lit the camp. The night fire had extinguished with the four travellers still sleeping around it.
In the bushes, watching over the camp, crouched two men. One scheming, taking the prerogative to surmise the reasons why four young people would be travelling through the Darkling Woods. It didn't take him long to notice the crest on the satchel by the burnt out fire.
"The Young Pendragon," he smiled, "How long it has been."
X
The attack had been unprecedented. They were asleep. The dawn barely woken as the bird song sounded. An honourable man would have carried on past, but they were not honourable men.
In a matter of seconds the two men had the sleeping forms of the prince and his servant bound and gagged. They woke as they were brutally manhandled, forced this way and that, swung over the shoulders of their own horses as they rode away.
It wasn't long before the eldest female woke. She knew something was wrong before she woke, her dreams too powerful to be stopped by her healing bracelet.
"Gwen!" she woke her maid quickly and began to gather there things, "We must hurry or we'll miss the trail."
"My lady?"
"Somebody has taken them."
"I'm sure they are collecting more firewood."
"They've taken two horses. Yet Arthur's is still here. You know how he gets when he isn't on his own horse."
"Then how do we find them?" Morgana looked at the forest floor searching for the faintest sign of a direction.
"They went this way, towards Mercia. We've got to find them. Fast."
X
Upon their arrival to the castle, Arthur and Merlin were forced into a cell. It was much too small, with dirt spread about the floor by way of a comfort measure.
Their captor was a man who went by the name of Gregor, a Mercian soldier who had clashed with Uther's armies many times over the decades. He had fought against the young Pendragon only a handful of times, but they weren't experiences he wanted to repeat again. Now he had him in his cell chained to the wall with no means of escape.
Arthur rested his head against the brick wall, his hands raised, wrist aching from the heavy metal clapped around them. Merlin had drifted off to sleep, leaning against his shackles. Arthur couldn’t get comfortable enough.
He hadn’t recognised the man who had taken them but he seemed to know exactly who he was. Merlin not so much, but he had a ticket on Arthur. Arthur couldn’t figure out whether they had picked up the girls on the way as well. They hadn’t seemed to from what he could see whilst they’d been transported. That meant nothing. They could have gone back for them.
Not one to give up so easily, Arthur yanked on the metal around his wrist, willing it to break, but it was fastened tightly. Even the best warrior of Camelot couldn’t break wrought iron with his bare hands.
He had half a mind to kick Merlin until he woke up but he couldn’t move his feet and shouting his name only seem to elicit a grumble in his sleep before he settled again.
Arthur was alone, or at least it certainly seemed that way.
X
The trail from the horses led them to a castle neither of them recognised on the outskirts of the forest. It was barely into Mercia, but there all the same. They were on dangerous ground. If anybody knew them to be of Camelot, they wouldn’t hesitate to strike them down.
The tethered their horses out of sight and rounded on the castle. The guards on watch weren’t paying them any heed, which made it easy for them to slip past and down the steps. It took a lot of guesswork to find the cells. They followed the stench of unwashed souls before taking a random right.
There were two guards stood in front of the doorway into the prison. To their left was a small fire with a pot of water on top, heating it for a warm drink on their chilly duty.
“What are we going to do?” Gwen asked; there was no getting past them without being seen.
“We need a distraction,” the two girls looked at each other. Had Gwen been wearing her everyday dresses, she would have pulled down on the skirt and made her way around the corner in a manner she would be none-too-proud of. In her travel wear she was spared of the fate she would hate to explain to anybody else. Morgana stood a better chance once inside so the job of ‘distraction’ fell to Gwen.
X
Slinking close to the wall Morgana snuck up on the cell. She assumed that the guarded door was the one she wanted. None other had a man in front of it and if Arthur was anywhere, it would be there. She got close to him and Morgana knocked out the guard on the door with ease. There was something about the poor idiots that made them so easy to knock unconscious. She almost laughed.
She picked the keys from his belt, a whole array of them presented themselves to her, "Oh for the love of god," she pushed the first of twenty eight nearly identical keys into the lock.
She could hear both Merlin and Arthur behind the door muttering about what their captives could possibly want now. Had she not been wary about giving herself away, she'd have called out to them. As for now, she had keys to test.
Eleven keys in and the door's lock clicked open. Morgana smiled. She liked it when a plan came together.
She allowed the solid iron door to sit for a second before she eased it open; "Morgana?" Arthur exclaimed, "What are you doing here?"
"I can go again if you like," she relied looking through the keys to release them from their cuffs, "I see your plan of waiting for death is working quite well for you."
"Let's get out of here, shall we?" Merlin inputted. Unlike his master, he wasn't willing to risk his own safety to win an argument. He remained still as Morgana released him from the shackles. He massaged his wrists gently as Morgana unlocked Arthur as well.
The blonde looked around, his brow furrowed in worry as he noticed Morgana was alone, "Where's Guinevere?"
"Distracting the guards,” Morgana answered as they all fled from the cell.
"She's what?" he asked, his voice raised as they rounded the corner to where Morgana had left Gwen.
"Distracting the guards... Gwen? I said distract them, not knock them out," the two guards were laying at her feet. In her hand she still held the cooking pot they'd been using that Morgana assumed she'd chosen as her weapon.
"I told them not to put a hand on me," she said reasonably, "And he put a hand on me."
"Nice one, Gwen," Merlin congratulated.
He was interrupted by the harsh sounding of the warning bell, "We must go!" Arthur took off in the lead with no weapon and his armour attached to a horse tied to a post outside.
"Arthur!" Morgana called out as they reached the t-junction, "Wrong way!"
X
The four of them rode back towards Camelot at breakneck speed. They needed to get out of Mercia, and fast. If they were caught there they were dead.
It didn’t take long for them to reach home soil. They put some distance between them and the enemy’s castle, racing ahead of each other trying to put as much distance between them and it as quickly as possible.
The horses began to tire so they slowed to a walk, safely several miles into their kingdom.
“A distraction?” Arthur asked Gwen with a quirk of his eyebrow, “What sort of distraction?”
“The sort of distraction that got you out of trouble.”
X
The back of a hand connected with the face of the guard, “Idiots! Can you not do anything right?” Gregor raised his hand to hit the other guard but he cowered away, “Who were these women?”
“We don’t know.”
“How did they know we had them captive?”
“They were there, in the camp. We couldn’t bring them too. There were-“
“Idiots!”
“By the time we went back they were gone.”
“Can you do nothing right!? We had Arthur Pendragon, the Prince of Camelot in our cells and he got away due to your incompetence!” he hit the guard then, “I’m surrounded by idiots!”
X
The evenings were light in the early autumn in Camelot. The sun started its decent behind the trees. The small graveyard just outside the gates to the lower town was the final resting place for the citizens of Camelot. Not all of them could afford for their loved ones to be commemorated, but they could all be remembered.
Gwen had been lucky. In the lead up to her father's death he had been making good money. As the maid to the King's ward she herself didn't make bad money either. She could afford to have him buried properly. A citizen of Camelot who deserved to have his name engraved in stone.
She tried to get out to his grave as much as she could. She spoke to him when she could about the problems she faced in her mind and in her heart.
After returning to Camelot from their eventful trip Gwen took the time to see him. She took a small bouquet of her favourite flowers, she left them as a symbol of her love for him.
She cleared his grave of the old stems and placed them with the new. She sat with her legs tucked beneath her and started to tell him all about her day. From the moment it began in a haze of panic to how it concluded with laughter and jokes. This was her life. So up and down and full or so many surprises she would never be short of things to tell him.