[fanfic] Why We Fight - Part Nine (Merlin/Arthur)

[pallorsomnium]

Arthur was strangely silent when Merlin came back from training a few days later. He seemed lost in thought, leaning against the wall and staring at the floor from where he sat on the bed.

“Arthur? Is everything all right?” Merlin asked, wavering for a moment before joining him on the bed.

“I feel like I’m going to go mad,” Arthur said, scrubbing his face with a hand.

“You may be a prat most of the time, but there’s goodness in you.” Arthur made to smack the back of his head, but Merlin ducked and continued, “And you’re stubborn. Keep fighting the enchantment. Soon I’ll have my magic back and I’ll break the spell. I promise you, Arthur.” Merlin gave him a smile but rather than receiving a sarcastic remark as he’d expected, he got the assessing look Arthur had given him often when they’d first met. “Don’t hurt yourself too much thinking,” Merlin quipped, waiting to distract Arthur from staring. Again, Arthur swatted at him, but it was half-hearted at best. That was when Merlin started to worry. “Hey, are you all right?”

“I’m fine. I just want to know, Merlin, everything you’re not telling me,” Arthur said. “You keep saying it’s your duty to help me, to help Albion and fight Nimueh and Morgause. I can understand fighting the priestesses, but will all the power you have-all the power you’ll have-I don’t understand your loyalty to me. I’m the Prince of Camelot. My kingdom-my father-brought terrible things upon Carmarthen and made your people and you suffer. And I’ve done some awful things to you. You call me a prat, and I’ll admit that I am one-sometimes. And yet you’re still so willing to help me. You could just go after the priestesses alone; you don’t need a magic-less prince bogging you down. I would think it might be because you say I’m the Once and Future King, but you never tell me what it means.” Arthur fell into brooding silence, staring at Merlin with that look in his eyes that demanded answers.

Merlin heaved a sigh and began gathering his thoughts. He couldn’t really put it off any longer it seemed, and Arthur…he deserved to know. It was his destiny also after all. Merlin cleared his throat, and Arthur continued to look at him expectantly.

“There are prophecies…old prophecies,” Merlin chose to begin with, “that tell of the Once and Future King. They say that after Carmarthen falls, which it obviously did, a great evil would rise up and bring about darkness and chaos in all of Albion. They say that the Once and Future King will have the power to stop the Evil, unite Albion and bring about the Golden Age.”

Arthur scoffed. “And you think I’m this prophesized hero king? One man can’t possibly achieve all of that. If you haven’t noticed, I’m just the prince of Camelot.”

“I know you’re the Once and Future King,” Merlin argued. “The dragon confirmed it.”

“…the dragon.”

“Yes?”

“Are you telling me, that you can talk to dragons? You were a Dragonlord?” Arthur gaped at him, his face no longer inexpressive.

“Um, I am one now, I suppose. I wasn’t one before. Dragonlords inherit their power from their fathers, and my father died during the war, so…”

“So now you talk to dragons; you talked to a dragon recently.”

“Yes, but that’s not the point. He confirmed that you’re the Once and Future King.”

“All right, well, ignoring the fact that you somehow spoke to a dragon without anyone else realizing it, I’ll say it again: one man can’t possibly achieve all of that.”

“Oh, no one said you’d be doing it alone,” Merlin said. Arthur raised an eyebrow at him. “…There’s a reason why the seers knew my name at birth, and a reason why I have-had-so much power, Arthur. The prophecies also tell of a warlock, destined to stand by the King’s side.” Merlin watched as Arthur’s eyes widened in realization. “It was my destiny as Emrys to help the Once and Future King, to help you achieve greatness. When I lost my magic, I thought I’d failed my destiny, but…the dragon told me I could get my magic back, so everything should be okay now-hopefully.”

“So you’re doing this because you were born to do this, whether you like it or not,” Arthur said, and his face was carefully blank, hiding away his emotions the way he usually did in court. Merlin wasn’t sure how he’d expected Arthur to react, but this certainly wasn’t it. Then Arthur’s words caught up to him.

“Oh, no, definitely not. Arthur-do you really think if the Once and Future King had turned out to be a greedy or selfish ass, that I’d willingly give my loyalty to him? That I’d let someone I didn’t find worthy rule over Albion? I’ve told you before, sire, you’re a prat, but I’ve seen the kind of king you can become. You’re good, and I have trust in you. I’m glad that you’re the Once and Future King.”

Arthur started at him for a moment, and then, cracked into a bright smile.

“I had no idea you thought so highly of me,” he remarked.

Merlin huffed a laugh. “I can hardly believe it myself.”

“So let me get this all straight. Your people’s prophecies, and a dragon, say you and I are destined to defeat this Great Evil, whatever it is, and take over all of Albion together. I’m going to be some great king, and you’re an all-powerful sorcerer who can talk to dragons.”

“Yeah, that’s the simplest. I don’t know how we’ll do it, but we’re supposed to.”

Arthur shrugged. “Right. Well, for now, you should just work on getting your magic back.”

“…you’re taking all of this quite well, considering.”

“I’ve been raised for greatness since birth, even if it was just Camelot, not all of Albion,” Arthur replied with a shrug. Merlin scoffed.

“I see the prophecies didn’t help your ego,” Merlin remarked. Arthur just gave him a smirk.


It had been almost two weeks since Merlin’s talk with Kilgharrah. Merlin still had varying success with his spells, displaying tiny spurts of magic that left him exhausted half the time and disappointed the other half of the time. Gaius decided that today, they’d take a break from practice. Instead, Gaius had wanted to test Merlin’s memory of herbs, which was why Merlin found himself trekking through the woods after his mentor.

They were approaching a clearing when they heard voices in the distance. One of them Merlin recognized immediately as Mordred’s.

“I don’t like talking aloud,” Mordred was saying.

“And I don’t like it when you’re in my head,” a man replied. “So we better be quick about this. You said the prince was here?”

“Yes. Like the priestesses suspected, he came running here for help to break the spell,” Mordred said.

Mordred was working with them. Dread filled Merlin because even if the priestesses hadn’t known Arthur was the Once and Future King, they would certainly know now.

After exchanging a look with Gaius, he crept towards the origin of Mordred and the man’s voices, Gaius moving with him.

“And the one who brought him here? I heard it was a Carmarthian slave that helped him.”

“Emrys. He’s here too.”

“Em-the Emrys? I thought he was dead! If he’s helping the prince-”

“He is a slave stripped of his magic,” Mordred interjected. “He’s as good as dead. He won’t be a problem.”

Merlin gritted his teeth against the ugly rush of anger filling him. With a few more steps and a little more careful maneuvering, Merlin could see Mordred and a tall man with shaggy, shoulder-length brown hair and a bearded face standing at the far edge of the clearing.

“What do you plan on doing?” the man asked.

“I’ll capture the prince tonight. Tell Sigan to expect me within the week. He is still at Stafford?”

Beside Merlin, Gaius stiffened. The name Sigan sounded very familiar, but Merlin couldn’t place it. It seemed Gaius could, and before Merlin could ask what he was doing, his old mentor stepped out of the cover of the trees.

“Mordred, how odd it is to find you all the way out here at this time of way,” Gaius remarked, approaching the two of them. Mordred and the man turned to him, both startled by his appearance. The man took one look at him, and then turned away and took off into the woods.

Merlin rushed into the clearing as Mordred and Gaius stared off at each other, no doubt having a silent conversation through magic. Abruptly, Mordred waved a hand jerkily, like cutting a gash into the air. Gaius raised a hand, a spell leaving his lips, but he was sent stumbling back before falling to the ground. Merlin saw blood.

“Gaius!” he shouted, rushing forward.

It turned out that all the training he had gone through with Gaius, all those little insubstantial magic tricks, had been worthwhile after all. Because it had been as if each little spell he had performed had created chips and cracks in the dam the Rites had put in him to block out magic. Now, spurred on by desperation, fear, anger, betrayal and a mess of other emotions as Mordred moved to inflict another blow on Gaius, Merlin could practically feel the cracks growing and the dam crumbling, and he reached inside himself for the power that had once been so easily accessible to him. He flung out a hand and was almost overwhelmed when the dam burst. Magic flooded into his body like fire in his blood, nearly knocking him off his feet. It shot up and out of his outstretched arm as an invisible force, and Mordred was sent flying away from Gaius and across the clearing.

Merlin took a deep breath as he re-acclimated himself to the magic flowing all around and inside him. There was so much of it, so much more than he ever remembered. Briefly, he wondered if it was because he had come into his power, but he pushed the thought aside for later thoughts. Only the present mattered right now.

He dropped to his knees beside Gaius, who was bleeding out from the gash at his gut. Gaius did not stir when Merlin placed a hand on his old mentor’s shoulder. The old man’s breath was ragged and thin. Merlin pulled off his outer tunic, pressing it to the wound to staunch the blood. Healing had never been Merlin’s forte, and with his rustiness at using magic, he couldn’t risk it; he had to get Gaius to Alice soon.

The rustling of leaves brought Merlin’s attention back to Mordred, who was staggering to his feet.

“So, you still had magic after all, Emrys,” his once friend said, clutching his side.

“What have you done? Why are you doing this?” Merlin demanded, the wave of hurt and betrayal returning to him.

“I’m doing what must be done, what should have been done decades ago. Magic will rule Albion, not worthless men.”

“At what cost? Thousands of innocent lives?” And Arthur, Merlin did not add. “Magic does not make us better than men.”

“You have no right to say such a thing,” Mordred snapped, leveling his cold, unsettling eyes at Merlin. “The Great Emrys, the destined one,” he practically spat out. “So much power at your fingertips and yet you were afraid of it. Did nothing as Carmarthen fell.”

The accusation made Merlin flinch. He had blamed himself for years for Carmarthen’s fall, but to hear it voiced aloud, and by the man who was once his best friend, hurt more than he had expected.

Still, he protested, “I couldn’t do anything. You know I couldn’t! I didn’t have enough to fight four armies. You left me! You left me there to die. You and Morgana-the both of you watched them take me away!”

“Our ideology differs from yours. Sooner or later, we would have acted. The war was just the perfect opportunity. Besides, if you couldn’t overcome enslavement and the Rites, you didn’t deserve to be Emrys.” I’m disappointed, Mordred’s voice said into Merlin’s head. Here you are with magic, and yet you still choose to lower yourself, to serve that little princeling. You could be ruling the world, Emrys.

And that’s what you and the priestesses are planning, isn’t it? What do you want with Arthur?

Mordred glanced away from Merlin and at Gaius. You should worry about Old Gaius first, shouldn’t you? Then, in a blinding flash of light that forced Merlin to cover his eyes, Mordred was gone. After the spots from his vision cleared, Merlin could see Mordred’s retreating figure running off in the distance through the woods. Merlin didn’t pursue him, turning his attention and concern to Gaius. Merlin took a closer look at the wound and was slightly relieved that it didn’t look fatal-if Gaius didn’t lose too much blood.

“Gaius? Gaius, can you hear me?” Merlin said, and to his relief, Gaius opened his eyes.

“Merlin, you must get back to Arthur,” his old mentor said with a wince. “Protect him from Sigan.”

“I have to get you to Alice first.” Gingerly, he picked up Gaius and with a muttered spell to ease the way and quicken his steps, he started running back to the refuge.

Arthur was lounging on the few steps up to the door of the cabin when Merlin arrived with an unconscious Gaius.

“What happened?” Arthur demanded as he jumped to his feet.

“Mordred” was all Merlin said as Arthur stepped away from the door to let Merlin through. Alice had been sitting at the cabin table, reading, but at the sight of him and Gaius in his arms, she was by their side in an instant.

“Oh Gaius, my dear,” she whispered, brushing a hand across his forehead before rushing to collect her bags by the door.

Merlin set Gaius down on the bed and stepped back to give Alice room to work. It was then than Arthur took him by the elbow and led-dragged-him outside to talk.

“What happened, Merlin?” Arthur asked again, looking Merlin in the eye.

“We…” Merlin paused to gather his thoughts and calm himself down. He was feeling lightheaded, as if he’d breathed in too much air. But he had magic again. He could feel it everywhere-inside of himself, in the air around him, in the ground beneath his feet-and it felt like so much more than what he’d experienced before. It was like feeling the full brunt of the sun after only living by candlelight during a winter week. He waited for the remaining adrenaline from facing Mordred to ebb away. He reassured himself that Gaius was safe; Alice was looking over him. Now, it was Mordred and his plans for Arthur that Merlin needed to worry about. “We ran into Mordred in the woods, talking to someone…Mordred’s working with Nimueh.” Merlin barely gave Arthur the time for that information to sink in before saying, “Arthur, we have to leave. They’re after you, but I still don’t know why-”

Protect Arthur from Sigan, Gaius had said. Merlin froze, wondering why the name sounded so familiar.

Sigan. Sigan, as in Cornelius Sigan? Sigan had been one of history’s most powerful sorcerers, but that was centuries ago. Surely, the sorcerer was dead…but there were legends and rumors that Sigan had managed to surpass death. Perhaps, they were true after all. And that. That was not a good notion, if he was indeed allied with the priestesses.

“Arthur, it’s possible that Nimueh and Morgause are working with Cornelius Sigan, and we are-Albion is-in big trouble if that’s true.”

“Why? Who is this Sigan?” Arthur asked.

“Merlin! You stinkin’ brat!” The two of them spun around to see Will come storming towards them. “I come back, and the first thing I hear is that one of the guys I brought back was Merlin. Merlin, who didn’t bother telling his own brother that he wasn’t dead!” Will swung a punch at Merlin, who ducked with a shouted protect. Arthur took a step forward, ready to stop Will, but then the man grabbed Merlin’s shoulder and pulled him into a rough embrace. When Will released him, Merlin realized his brother-in-law was glaring over his shoulder at Arthur…who was glaring back at Will just as darkly. “Was it you?” Will questioned, setting around Merlin to stalk towards Arthur.

“Was what me?” Arthur snapped.

“Did you force Merlin to bring you here and then tell him to never show his face?”

“Of course not!” Arthur’s hands flew to his sides, balling into fists. “I told him there was nothing wrong with showing his face.”

“Yes? How am I supposed to believe that?”

They were standing nearly toe to toe, shooting daggers at each other with their eyes. Merlin took it as his cue step in, rushing forward.

“He’s telling the truth, Will.” Merlin gently but firmly pushed the two away from each other. “I didn’t want to show my face because I failed everyone, and didn’t have my magic and I was ashamed.”

“Merlin! How many times to I have to sit it to get it into your head?” Will gripped Merlin by his shoulders. “We don’t give a damn about your magic. You’re what matters.” He shook Merlin, as if to shake the idea into his head.

“I know, Will.” Merlin shrugged off his hands. “But-”

“Oi, what happened to your face?” Will interrupted, leaning forward for a closer look. Merlin grimaced, already knowing what will happen next. Sure enough, anger twisted Will’s face, and he turned to Arthur again. “You bastard! Making him a slave wasn’t enough? You had to mess up his face too?!” Merlin grabbed hold of Will’s arm before he could jump Arthur.

“Will, stop it. Can you just-calm down?” Merlin pleaded just as Arthur yelled, “I did not give Merlin that brand!”

Merlin huffed, feeling his patience wearing thin. He let go of Will, who stumbled from the unexpected release. “Will the two of you just shut it and listen to me? We haven’t got the time for this!” he shouted. In a burst of magic, that Merlin may or may not have done intentionally, Will and Arthur were dragged several feet apart from each other. The two of them stared at him with hilariously identical looks of shock, eyes wide and jaws slack.

“Merlin!” Arthur said just as Will said, “Your magic!”

Merlin couldn’t help but beam. “Yes, it’s back! It came back when I was trying to protect Gaius.

“From Mordred?” Arthur deduced and Merlin nodded, quickly sobering.

“Mordred and the man he was with were talking about you, about taking you to Sigan. We have to leave before Mordred decides to make it happen.”

“Isn’t your magic more than enough to hold him off?” Arthur asked.

“Yes, but I’m rusty. I don’t want to place that much trust on it yet,” Merlin said, “which means we’ll have to wait a day or so before I try and break your curse. Sorry.”

Arthur frowned but nodded. He straightened his back and squared his shoulders, and the sudden presence Arthur exuded reminded Merlin once again that he was, arrogance included, the very archetype of a prince.

“Let’s leave for Cameliard as soon as we can, like we discussed,” Arthur said, “but that does not mean I approve of getting Guinevere involved.”

“If you’re leaving, I’m going with you,” Will told Merlin, shooting a challenging glance at Arthur.

“I’d rather not get you involved too, Will.”

“Like hell you won’t! I’m your brother-in-law, Merlin, and Freya will never forgive if I let you off on your own.”

“Won’t be on his own,” Arthur interrupted.

“I hardly count you as good company,” Will retorted.

“Will you two stop it? I don’t want to have to step in between you every time you start fighting,” Merlin said, scowling at both of them. “Will, if you can’t keep yourself from attacking Arthur, then I’m not even going to consider letting you come with us.”

“And you’re not telling him off?” Will asked. Arthur gave him a smug look.

“He’s not the one who starts these arguments, Will,” Merlin said. They stared at each other in a quiet battle of will before Will huffed and threw up his hands.

“Fine, I’ll just go and get the horses, why don’t I?” Will stomped off down the road to town.

“Why does he have to come?” Arthur demanded, sounding so much like a petulant child that Merlin had to roll his eyes.

“He’d come after us anyways.” Merlin shrugged. “I’ll go check on Gaius and get our things packed.” He turned to make his way to the cabin door.

“Merlin,” Arthur called, and Merlin stopped in front of the door, turning to look back at Arthur.

“Yes?”

“…I’m happy for you, that you have your magic back.” Arthur ducked his head, avoiding Merlin’s eyes, as if it’d kill him to say what he really felt about other people.

“Thank you, sire.” Merlin smiled, though he was sure it was probably fonder than it should be.

Will returned an hour later, bringing with him Hengroen and two other horses and saddlebags full of travel supplies. Merlin was relieved when Will scowled at Arthur but refrained from saying anything. When Gaius woke, he told him and Alice of their plans to leave for Cameliard. Gaius congratulated him on the return of his magic and had Alice give him a slip of paper. Merlin glanced at it and saw that it was a list of spells-the results of their research in breaking Arthur’s curse. And after the three of them said their goodbyes, they were on their way shortly before sunset.

As they traveled, Merlin recounted the bare minimum of what had happened to him the last thirteen years for Will, who grunted his responses for the most part. Merlin then went into more detail about Mordred, Nimueh, Morgause and even Sigan-for Arthur’s expense as well.

“Mordred confirmed what I was afraid of,” Merlin said. “The priestesses are planning to create a world ruled by magic. The two of them alone will be hard to deal with already, but Mordred mentioned Sigan’s name.”

“And since I got interrupted last time, let me ask again: who is Sigan?” Arthur asked.

“One of the most powerful sorcerers in history,” Merlin replied. “He died over a hundred years ago, but there were legends that Sigan had found a way of resurrecting himself. We’ve always thought of them as just that-legends, but if he has found a way, I’m not surprised that he’s working with the priestesses.”

Arthur scoffed. “I don’t know if I should be worried that I’m not even surprised by these ridiculous tales anymore.”

“I don’t know for sure what they want with you, Arthur, but Mordred was going to take you to Sigan.”

“Then we’ll just have to get to them first and deal with them,” Arthur replied. Merlin shook his head. He made it sound so easy. “But first, we need to find out what’s happening in the kingdom, how their hold on my father has changed.” Arthur frowned, and after the stories of their childhoods that they’d occasionally shared in the past two weeks, Merlin could tell right away it was out of worry for his parents.

After discovering from Will that they were about five days’ ride away from Cameliard, Merlin settled into the-admittedly tense-silence. He sighed, hoping the hostilities between Arthur and Will wouldn’t last, though he suspected it was only wishful thinking.

Will was still terse when they stopped for the night, going straight to bed after they’d finished their meal. Arthur was already in his bedroll, but was propped up on one elbow to stare into the fire. Merlin sat by the fire, prodding the flames with a branch. It was late-or early, depending on one’s definition of time-well past midnight, and by all rights, Merlin should be asleep. But the magic he could now feel coursing through his body, saturating the air and leaking up from the ground was intoxicating. He’d already cast a protecting spell over their campsite, to keep anyone from realizing that they were even there, and the magic usage had left him even more high-strung.

Merlin lifted the branch from the fire and blew on the glowing end. Sparks flew from the branch and etched a dragon into the air. He frowned, trying not to think too hard as to why the dragon looked so much like the Pendragon crest. He blew at the glowing dragon, and it dissolved into the air as if it’d never been there.

“What you doing?” Arthur asked, shifting up into sitting position, when Merlin reached into the fire. “You’re going to burn yourse-” Merlin had already murmured a spell to make his hand temporarily invulnerable to the flames, and when he pulled his hand back out, it was with a small ball of fire cupped in his palm.

Merlin gave Arthur a wry smile before wiggling his fingers. The ball of fire jumped to life and began morphing into the same types of creatures his father used to carve out of wood-a horse, a wolf, a dragon, even a griffin.

After a few moments of silence, Arthur huffed out what almost sounded like a laugh and said, “Do you enjoy playing with fire, Merlin?” Merlin scowled at him, but knew he was only teasing and gave him half a smile.

“I hardly think you can blame me,” Merlin replied. “It’s been thirteen years.” The thought, at that moment, did nothing to darken Merlin’s mood; he had his magic again after all, and he wouldn’t worry about exactly how much his magic had changed or grown until the novelty wore off.

However, while Merlin was unaffected, Arthur frowned. After a moment’s hesitance, he said, “Things will change, Merlin, once I get back-the imbalance, the Rites, Carmarthen…I’ll do what I can to make things right again.”

Arthur’s solemnity drove the magic-induced giddiness from Merlin’s body, and he felt the weight behind Arthur’s words. He knew that Arthur had just made a vow to him, and he broke into a smile. He was annoyed that it took so long for him to realize this side of the prince, but at least he knew now and his belief in Arthur grew because of it.

“Thank you, sire.” He flicked his hand, sending the ball of fire back into the campfire.

“It’s my duty,” Arthur replied. “Get some sleep, Merlin.” He hunkered back down on the ground and turned from the fire.

Although the adrenaline has dropped to a tolerable level, Merlin still kept himself awake for another half hour or so, breathing in the night air and staring up at the stars.

It was late the next day, once they’d settled for the night, when Merlin decided there was no better time than the present to attempt to break Arthur’s curse.

“What do you need me to do?” Arthur asked, looking at him warily.

“Just sit down and relax,” Merlin said, waving a hand at the ground. He rummaged through the saddle packs for the list Gaius had given him. He glanced up to see Will at the end of their camp, alternatively eyeing Arthur with contempt and Merlin with displeasure. Merlin caught his eye and raised an eyebrow, but Will just scowled and shook his head. Merlin gave him a shrug before returning to Arthur by the fire. “Ready?” he asked Arthur.

Arthur sat cross-legged on his bedroll, back against a small boulder. He crossed his arms and nodded. Merlin sat down in front of him and looked over the list of spells. There were eight of them, scrawled out in Gaius’s spidery but readable hand. He recognized half of them, mentioned in textbooks from his childhood, and the other half weren’t hard to read and decipher

“All right, I’ll get started then,” Merlin said. Drawing in a deep breath, he then muttered the spell Alice had used. With a blink of his eye, his vision shifted, and he stifled a gasp as gold flooded his eyesight. He blinked again, adjusting himself to the sight. Arthur was wrapped in gold, which shouldn’t have surprised Merlin-the prince was such a golden child it was almost funny. But there was a haze of black, like smoke, and just looking at the taint made Merlin cringe. That haze marked the curse the priestesses had inflicted on Arthur. With a frown, he said the first spell on the list, feeling the magic rush up and out of him and barely noticing the intent way Arthur was looking at him. The spell did nothing to dispel the curse however, and Merlin moved onto the next one on the list.

It wasn’t until the seventh spell did something actually happen, and by then Arthur was looking put out and Merlin was adding an edge of frustration to his pronunciation of the words. But when the magic surged through and out of him, he could almost see its path through the air. Like a wind blowing through, the black haze was swept away, leaving only Arthur’s natural gold behind. Merlin couldn’t help break into a grin before closing his eyes and cancelling his seeing spell.

“I’ve done it!” he told Arthur.

“Are you sure?” Arthur asked, rolling his shoulders.

“Of course I’m sure.” Merlin glared at him, but Arthur was smiling. Merlin noticed that there wasn’t as much tenseness in Arthur’s posture, as if the curse had been a physical weight on the prince.

With a yawn, Arthur flopped down onto this bedroll. He then said, “Did you know that your eyes stayed gold?”

“Yes…does that bother you?” Merlin asked. Of course he’d known. While all sorcerers’ eyes flashed gold when casting a spell, the transition from their natural eye color to gold and then back was quick, almost unnoticeable. Only powerful sorcerers’ eyes remain gold for any length of time. His always lasted the longest, and he would be lying if that didn’t unsettle people when he was a child.

“No.”

He sounded so sure of it that Merlin couldn’t resist asking, “Really?”

“Just another small thing to add to all the ‘something’s about you,” Arthur replied blithely. “Does it serve any other purpose than giving yourself away as a sorcerer?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Hmm. Pity,” Arthur remarked before rolling onto his side and falling silence.

Merlin gave him a perplexed look, even though he knew Arthur couldn’t see him, before glancing over to check up on Will. His childhood friend had already crawled into his bedroll and gone to sleep-or was at least feigning sleep. Merlin created a ball of light in his hand and threw it lightly into the air a few times. He took an admittedly childish delight in performing such simple spells; he would never ever take his magic for granted again.

“Merlin,” Arthur’s voice cut through the silence, causing Merlin to drop the ball. He winced as it shattered on the ground into shards of light before disappearing.

“Yes?”

“Thank you. You really are like my guardian spirit…” Arthur trailed off.

“You’re welcome, sire.” Merlin told himself that the warmth he felt inside was merely pleasure that Arthur had appreciated his help.

Two days later, they stopped early for the day, because they were nearly out of food and Will volunteered to go hunting. Arthur wanted to go instead, but Will wouldn’t let him, not trusting him near the crossbow. So now Merlin and Arthur sat side by side, with their backs against the log they’d decide to camp close to for the night.

They were two day's travel from Cameliard, and Merlin had to think of a way to keep Arthur from going with him to see Gwen. It was too much of a risk for Arthur to be recognized. As Gwen's fiancé, there was no doubt Arthur had visited Cameliard occasionally if not regularly. Merlin would have to go in alone.

It took him a few minutes to feel Arthur's gaze on him. Turning his head, Merlin found Arthur was looking at him in a way that made Merlin uneasy as to what the prince could be possible thinking or planning. Usually it wasn’t something good.

“What?” Merlin eyed him warily.

“You fought in the war,” Arthur said.

“Yes, I think we went over that.”

“And that one time before, you proved you had skill-when you're not being a clumsy idiot.”

“Thank you, sire, I’m flattered you think so,” Merlin said dryly. “Exactly why are you pointing this out?”

“It means you can fight!” Arthur hopped to his feet and snatched up two conveniently nearby branches.

Merlin widened his eyes, realizing where Arthur was going with this.

“What?! No! I'm not fighting you!” he protested. Arthur ignored him, hauling Merlin to his feet.

“Come on, Merlin. It's been weeks since I fought anyone, and I can't afford to go rusty,” Arthur said. He pulled Merlin, who tried futilely to drag his feet, away from their campsite and onto the grass nearby.

“I hardly think I make a good sparring partner. A practice dummy maybe, but seriously, Arthur.”

Arthur just laughed and tossed him one of the sticks. Merlin caught it on reflex and took a more measuring look of it. It was about as long as his forearm and as thick as a quarterstaff would be-a decent size to pretend they were fighting with long knives.

“No, really, you’ll crush me in less than a minute,” Merlin said.

“Oh don’t be such a baby, Merlin. Come on now.”

Arthur lunged at him, and it was all Merlin could do to use the branch in his hand to knock aside the blow Arthur had aimed at him. Arthur attacked him again, and he blocked that swing as well. And despite Merlin’s protests, he was soon pulled into a play fight he had had no interest in being a part of.

Even though they battled with tree branches, Arthur was relentless, and Merlin scrambled to recall all the combat experience from years ago. He ducked and parried, looking for some way to get the better of Arthur. He might as well have been fighting a wall of iron.

Merlin, who hadn’t physically fought a soul in thirteen years, wasn’t surprised when Arthur soon had the upper hand, driving Merlin back and back towards the edge of the woods. With one swift maneuver, Arthur sent Merlin’s branch flying out of his hand. Merlin felt completely justified when he glared at Arthur’s and sent it also flying with a flash of gold.

“You little cheat!” Arthur shouted, but he was grinning as he lunged at Merlin, knocking him to the ground.

And then they were rolling on the grass, grappling at each other and fighting for the upper hand, and laughing despite the ache of their lungs for air. Merlin felt young again; he hadn’t wrestled-or even had fun, really-since taking on the mantle as a formal sorcerer at fifteen. He shoved at Arthur, though the prince’s bulk compared to Merlin made it highly unlikely that he’d overpower Arthur.

Sure enough, with a yelp, Merlin soon found himself pinned to the ground, Arthur’s weight pressing down on his wrists and legs.

“Do you submit?”

Merlin’s retort died in his throat, before he could even think of one, really. Arthur’s breath was hot on Merlin’s face, and to Merlin’s mortification, it sent a wave of heat through his body, bringing to mind those dreams from weeks ago that he’d brushed aside. He swallowed and stared wide-eyed into Arthur’s eyes, unsure what to do, what to say. All he could think about was of how close their faces were to each other, of the weight of Arthur’s body on top of his, of how blue Arthur’s eyes were-

And that was not a safe direction for his mind to take.

He then noticed that Arthur was looking at him with a stunned look that probably mirrored his own.

“Uh,” he said.

“Oi, Merlin!” came Will’s voice through the trees.

Arthur immediately pulled away from Merlin, rolling to his feet. He held out a hand to Merlin. Merlin looked at it, and then looked back up at Arthur. The prince had on his completely expressionless face again, and Merlin had no idea what he could possibly be thinking. Taking a deep breath, Merlin decided to just ignore the last few minutes between them and grabbed hold of Arthur’s hand. Arthur pulled him to his feet just as Will came into view, a brace of rabbits in one hand. Arthur’s hand, warm and dry against his own, left him go, and Merlin couldn’t tell if he’d held on a little longer than necessary or not.

“Merlin, get over here and save us some time,” Will called him over, holding out the brace of rabbits.

Merlin glanced over at Arthur, who was now scowling at Will. Merlin sighed before saying, “My magic isn’t meant to skin poor rabbits, Will.” He left Arthur’s side anyways, resigning himself to the task of preparing the rabbits for dinner.


In the two days remaining for them to reach Cameliard, Merlin and Arthur had formed a silent agreement not to discuss what had happened after the wrestling, but Arthur would still cajole Merlin into sparring while Will looked on disapprovingly.

“Why do you keep antagonizing him?” Merlin asked Will one night when Arthur was already asleep.

“You know why. Why do you keep defending him?” Will countered. “He’s the Prince of Camelot. You’re his slave.”

“He doesn’t treat me like one anymore!” Merlin protested before it really dawned on him that yes, Arthur really didn’t treat Merlin like a slave-hadn’t for a while. He wondered briefly if it was because of his magic or for another reason entirely. “Besides, Arthur is more than just his title. He won’t ever do what his father and the other chose to do to Carmarthen. He’s better than his father.”

Will snorted. “You’re just saying that because he’s the Once and Future King.”

“Will, you know I wouldn’t accept him as the Once and Future King if he didn’t deserve it. Arthur has his flaws, but he’s a good man, and he’ll make a good king.”

“You sure that’s it? Because I see the way you look at him. It’s like Morgana all over again, only worse.”

Merlin gaped at him. “What are you talking about?”

“So you didn’t notice the way you make eyes at each other?” Will asked.

“We’re not making eyes at each other,” Merlin said. Will snorted. “I mean it. You’re seeing things.”

“If you say so, Merlin.” Will got into his bedroll and turned his back on Merlin, putting the conversation to an end.

Merlin pushed Will’s remarks to the back of his head. He didn’t need to worry about anything but stopping the priestesses.

The next night, Merlin argued that he be the one to go speak to Gwen.

“No!” Arthur said. And for once on the same page, Will shouted, “And what’s the point of having us with you then?”

“Look, if more than one of us go, we’d draw more attention,” he reasoned. “I’ll just slip in, find Gwen, and then leave. I have magic to disguise myself. Will doesn’t know Gwen, and it’s too much of a risk to have Arthur come

“Can’t you just disguise me instead?” Arthur asked.

“Er. Right now…breaking the curse was one thing. I had an actual spell to work from. But I haven’t exactly had time to adjust to my magic yet,” Merlin said, giving them a sheepish smile. “It’s…grown.” He’d leave it at that. He recalled the distant fear he’d felt years and years ago when he told Mordred about his growing magic. He brushed aside the memory now. “And I don’t know the spells off the top of my head, just the magic, so I’d rather not cast something on you and then not be able to reverse it.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Arthur remarked, giving him a raised eyebrow. Merlin shrugged.

“I still don’t think you should be the one to go,” Will said.

“But I have to be the one to go,” Merlin insisted. He looked at Arthur imploringly, and after a minute, Arthur sighed.

“Fine. You’ll go find Gwen. But you have to be careful,” Arthur said. Merlin smiled and nodded, ignoring Will, who was grumbling under his breath.

It wasn’t difficult to slip into Cameliard without notice. Merlin had no trouble pulling on a glamour, making himself appear to be a plain, unassuming traveler seeking shelter for the night. There was a caravan passing through, so he joined the crowd of wagons, horses and foot travelers as they streamed through the gates into the city.

The city of Cameliard was smaller than Astolat, but just as bustling. Following the main road through the city, he eventually reached the Leodegrance family’s castle, and he was in the process of figuring out how to get past the guards when he spotted a vaguely familiar face, a knight speaking to the guards by the gate. After a moment of staring, he realized it was the knight who’d taken him to Gwen the day he and Arthur fled Astolat.

“Sir Knight,” Merlin called before approaching him. The knight turned towards him, and Merlin cast a quick spell to keep the guards from paying attention to them.

“How may I be of help?” the knight inquired.

“It’s Merlin.” Merlin let his disguise drop for a few seconds, long enough for the knight’s eyes to widen in recognition, before pulling it back on.

“You have it back…” There was a wary look on the knight’s face, but it wasn’t threatening and Merlin took it as a good sign.

“Yes, and I came with Arthur. I need to speak with Lady Gwen,” he said.

“She’s not here.” The knight glanced over at the guards and the rest of their surroundings, and Merlin could guess the reason why.

“It’s all right. I’m keeping everyone from hearing me.”

The knight raised an eyebrow but then nodded and said, “She left for Stafford a week ago. She wanted to explain the…recent events to Sir Lancelot.”

Which meant Lancelot would be able to help them once they got there, and Arthur didn’t have to worry about fighting his childhood friend. Merlin sighed and gave the knight a smile.

“All right, then we’ll head out for Stafford now. Thank you, sir.”

The knight inclined his head. “Should I be worried about anything?”

Merlin debated with himself before saying, “Um…Camelot might be in war with Northumbrian again soon.” The knight’s face darkened.

“We’d best be prepared then. I wish you and the prince luck.” The knight gave him a nod before leaving for the castle gates. Merlin headed for the city exit; the sooner he was out the sooner they’d get to Stafford.

Merlin hadn’t anticipated the difficulty it would take to get out of the city. At this time of day though, most people were entering the city, not leaving. A group of travelling performers was leaving though, so Merlin took the chance to slip in among them.

“Hey, you, stop!” he heard a guard shout, and he knew right away that the guard meant him. Merlin wished fleetingly that he knew an invisibility or teleporting spell before breaking into a run.

Suddenly, the guard was right there behind him, reaching out to grab a hold of him. And of course, his disguise was but an illusion. The moment the man grabbed his wrist, he would’ve-and did-feel the tell-tale wrist braces of a slave.

“Oi! This one’s a runaway!” the guard yelled, and immediately, there were more guards approaching.

Merlin reached out for his magic, and then stopped himself. The kingdom was already on the lookout for a runaway slave and a mad prince. If it was found out that he was a slave sorcerer still capable of using magic, they would have an even harder time running from the hunt. Even if he kept up his disguise and used his magic, word would get out that a rogue sorcerer had been spotted, and he would risk raising the priestesses’ awareness of him.

He gritted his teeth and resigned himself to struggling only physically. But the three guards were burly, and one already had a vice-like grip on him. Despite his attempt to break the guard’s grip on him, Merlin couldn’t, and the other guards closed in, swiftly wrapping a length of rope around him.

Merlin cursed at himself as they dragged him to the nearby guardhouse. Though it had hardly been his fault, he was years and years out of practice. Thirteen years ago, even without magic, he would have been quick enough to put up a fight against at least one of his attackers.

They took him to the cell at the back of their guardhouse and chained his arms up to the cuffs hanging from the wall. He wasn’t surprised when they started hitting him.

“Dirty runaway!” the guards were saying. “Thought you could slip away? Just wait until we find your master. We’re giving it to you easy. See what he does to you!”

Merlin reminded himself, as the punches of the guards knocked him around, that this was hardly the worst treatment he’d ever received. And besides, he had his magic now. Once night fell, he would heal all the bruises and cuts and escape without notice; he’d be fine. So he squeezed his eyes shut and simply winced when one of the punches hit a little too hard.

The guards lost interest soon enough, leaving him alone in the cell, and Merlin catalogued his injuries-copious bruising, a split lip, a swollen right eye. He could heal them with magic; it wouldn’t be a problem. He waited for the aching to dull and for night to fall.

He never got around to freeing himself. Merlin was dozing lightly when the squeaking of the cell door roused him.

“Merlin,” he heard someone call. Arthur stepped into the cell and under the moonlight streaming into the cell. His eyes widened at the sight of Merlin, but Merlin gave him a frown.

“Arthur? What are you doing here?” he whispered.

“You didn’t come back. Naturally, I was afraid something had happened. Obviously it has,” Arthur remarked. He had a key in his hand-probably stolen from whatever guard he’d gotten past-and he used it to free Merlin from the cuff. Merlin slumped back against the wall with a grunt and stretched out his stiff arms.

“Come on. We need to leave, Merlin.”

Arthur took him by the arm, surprisingly gentle, and pulled him out of the cell. The two guards outside were slumped over on the table, knocked unconscious with their dice game frozen, and Hengroen was waiting just by the door of the guardhouse. Arthur urged Merlin to climb onto the horse before straddling the saddle behind him.

“I could have gotten away on my own,” Merlin said.

“Which was why you were chained to a wall,” Arthur replied.

Arthur spurred Hengroen to a gallop. The guards at the gate were also unconscious, and they left the city without any commotion.

Travelling through the surrounding woods, Merlin thought Arthur was taking him back to their campsite with Will, but they eventually came to a stop along a clearing by a small creek. It was only when he and Arthur dismounted that he noticed the two saddlebags and bedrolls the horse carried.

“Ow!” Merlin flailed when Arthur suddenly began pulling at his clothes and prodding at his bruised skin and face. “What are you doing?” Merlin squawked, trying to bat away the prince’s hands.

“I shouldn’t have let you go alone. We have to get you cleaned up, make sure you’re not severely injured.”

“Arthur.” Arthur continued to paw at Merlin, looking for all the cuts and bruises. “Arthur,” Merlin said again, staring at him pointedly until he stilled his hands, though strangely still trembling, on Merlin’s triceps and was looking back at him. “It’s okay, Arthur. I can heal myself.” To prove his point, and to remove the unsettling look of panic in Arthur’s eyes, Merlin whispered the words of healing, and all signs that he’d been beaten were gone and he could see out of his right eye again.

“…right.” Arthur stared at him for a few moments, a frown tugging on his lips, and Merlin wondered what the matter was now. Merlin stared back at Arthur, trying to read what the prince was thinking.

After a pause, Arthur’s hands slid down to Merlin’s wrists, right where the wrist braces that marked him a slave were.

“You can remove these, can’t you?” Arthur asked.

Merlin gave him a confused look, wondering at the change in topic. To be honest, he could have easily removed the bonds days ago, and yet…

“You saved me and healed yourself. You can remove these, can’t you?” Arthur asked again.

“Um, yes? Why are you asking me?”

“Then remove them,” Arthur said, fingers still wrapped around Merlin’s wrists.

“This isn’t a roundabout way to make me go away, is it?” Merlin jibed, trying to hide the irrational unease filling him. “Because I’m not going to leave you.”

“No, you idiot. I should have had you take them off ages ago. You’re not a slave, Merlin. Haven’t been for a while now.”

Merlin looked him in the eye, but saw only sincerity. Arthur’s grip on his wrists loosened, and Merlin closed his eyes. With a few whispered words, his slave collar and braces melted away from existence, and suddenly, Arthur’s fingers were touching the tender skin of his wrists. Merlin watched, dumbstruck, as Arthur dipped his head and brought Merlin’s hands to his lips, softly kissing the inside of his wrists one by one.

“A-Arthur?” The magic in his blood tingled, rushing to the points of contact Arthur had with his skin. His heart pounded in his ears, and the simple spell he’d performed couldn’t have left him this breathless. It’d been years since Merlin had felt this way, and he didn’t trust himself to recognize it.

But then Arthur cupped his cheek in a hand and pressed a kiss, as gentle as the ones before, to his lips. And it felt that Merlin melted, kissing the prince back. He was faintly aware of Arthur’s arms slipping around his waist and pulling him close and of his own arms winding up behind Arthur’s back and pulling him even closer.

After they drew back a little, Merlin looked down at Arthur, searching his face for any doubts, any hesitation. But Arthur just smiled in that half-pleased, half-smug way of his before grabbing Merlin by the back of his neck and pulling him back down for another kiss. All thoughts left Merlin’s head at that moment.

One kiss led to another, and then another, and another, getting wetter and dirtier as their hips ground against each other. Merlin gasped, feeling the hard line of Arthur’s cock pressed through cloth against his own. Arthur bit back a groan before Merlin felt Arthur’s hands gripping his hips and pulling them even harder together.

They didn’t last long though. The heat coursing through his body straight to his groin was too much, and Merlin came much too quickly, choking out a moan and burying his face in the crook of Arthur’s neck. It’d been years since Merlin had touched anyone so intimately, but Arthur didn’t seem to mind, coming just shortly after Merlin. They simply stood there for a few minutes, leaning against each other, panting and breathing each other in. Then, Merlin pulled himself up a little straighter. After a low murmur of words and a flash of gold eyes, the two of them were clean, and the two bedrolls were laid out on the ground. Merlin slumped back down onto Arthur like deadweight. The two of them fell on to the bedrolls, softened by Merlin’s magic. Arthur wrapped his arms tightly around him, holding him close as if Merlin was about to run away now that he didn’t have his slave bonds.

“…I need to ask. This isn’t just you using me for a tumble, is it?” Merlin asked after their breathing had calmed.

Arthur pulled slightly away from him, giving him a glare.

“Is that what you think this is?” Arthur hissed. “Did you submit to me just because you thought you had to? Because I would never use my position to take advantage of anyone.”

“Arthur, if I didn’t want this-whatever this is turning out to be-I have more than enough magic to stop you,” Merlin said. “I was just asking…what is this? What are we doing-going to do?”

Arthur tugged Merlin into his arms and against his chest again. “Like I said, you’re not my slave, and you haven’t been for a while now. I’m a prince, so we can’t really be friends. But given your destiny, you’re probably considered a prince anyways. And for us…” Arthur frowned, in that way of his Merlin had come to recognize when the prince was admitting something he was uncomfortable with disclosing. “I don’t want you to leave me, and I don’t want to see you hurt.”

Merlin laughed and remarked, “I suppose that’s your way of saying you have feelings for me that I’ve somehow not noticed.”

“Shut up, Merlin,” Arthur grumbled. After a pause, he asked, “What about Morgana?”

“She isn’t the person I thought she was,” Merlin simply said.

“And me?”

“You’re a royal prat, but I’m happy to be by your side. Until the day I die.” Merlin was surprised that he meant every word. Arthur went very still for a few moments before hugging Merlin’s waist even tighter.

“If…if it will improve your opinion of me, Caradoc and Rylan, they both treated their slaves like dirt.”

“And you didn’t?” Merlin mocked, although he could feel himself about to slip under the veil of sleep from all that had transpired that day.

“I’m being serious, Merlin. They used to hunt their slaves for fun.”

The thought would have made Merlin shudder had Arthur’s arms not been wrapped around him in a lulling embrace. Instead, he said, “You don’t need to explain yourself, Arthur. I’ve already seen the goodness in you. What you might have done in the past doesn’t matter.”

But it did, it did make everything a little better. The little bubble of warmth inside him, which he hadn’t realized before that had been reserved for the prince, grew a little bigger. He understood what Arthur was saying. Arthur had had no way of stopping the Cardons, because what lords did to their slaves was not something even a prince could intervene with, even if Arthur had wanted to. Even so, it was good to hear it from Arthur himself, even if it was in that roundabout way of his.

“You’re my King, Arthur, but most importantly, you’re you-arrogant and selfish sometimes, but a good man with a good heart. Nothing’s going to change that,” Merlin murmured, turning around to face Arthur and burrowing closer to him.

“I still don’t understand what could possibly make me the Once and Future King, great as I am-” Merlin snorted and Arthur pinched his side in retaliation, making him squirm for a bit. “I’m just the Prince of Camelot,” Arthur continued, “and I won’t be for much longer if we don’t stop Morgause and Nimueh’s plans.” Arthur’s grip on Merlin tightened for a second at the idea.

“Well, tomorrow, we meet back up with Will and head out for Stafford. Right now, can we please get some sleep?”

“You do realize I’m the prince, don’t you?” Arthur huffed, but said no more. Merlin closed his eyes and, drawing comfort from Arthur’s body against his own and his warm breath against his cheek, drifted off to sleep.

On to Part Ten | Masterpost