Fic: Crossroads Of Disbelief, Merlin BBang
Chapter 9
They awoke before the sun, the rain having given way to thick mists and the kind of worldly stillness that arose between the final moments of rest and a new day. They left everything they had behind with the exception of the water, food, and dagger that Arthur tucked between his loose belt and pants. Arthur’s bruising peeked out from under his sleeves whenever he swung his arms wider than normal. Merlin recognized that he was warming his limbs up, like he was wont to do before training though this was a much slower and more careful method.
They climbed a steep, tree strewn hill, Merlin slipping in the old wet leaves more than once and earning an unimpressed glare from Arthur every time, though no scathing commentary as the object this morning was to remain quiet. Or not.
“This is why I can’t take you hunting when I actually need to bring dinner back,” Arthur hissed the third time Merlin belly flopped onto the ground. Merlin sighed to himself, it wasn’t like he was slipping on purpose, crawled the last few feet to the hillcrest and froze. They had arrived.
Beside him Arthur was quiet a long moment, eyes darting this way and that in the early morning light as he took in the castle and Camelot’s army. Red banners dangled limply in the still air, tents sat scattered for the higher ranked knights and lords and smoke curled up from small fires all throughout. The men who had managed to rest through the night were beginning to stir, preparing what could be their last meals, sharpening their blades one last time, checking the strings on their bows and cinching their armour into place. The noise of a morning heavy with the promise of death rose up to meet them and Merlin swallowed thickly.
“They’ve set up just out of reach of the castles archers,” Arthur spoke softly as he took in the scene and then gestured towards the castles barbican, guard towers standing high on either side and blending seamlessly into a thick stone wall almost as tall as Camelot’s. Behind it the water of the moat reflected the sunrise, though even Merlin could see it was more for irrigation purposes than protection, it was more of a narrow trench really. “Sir Holden will approach from the main gates for final negotiations not long from now. He will not succeed and, as I’m certain Baranak left strict orders that they protect the castle unto its fall, Holden will have no choice but to fight. He will retreat to the castle walls and the war will begin.” He sounded cold as he said this, stating fact without the emotion of recourse but Merlin couldn’t get upset. Arthur always turned hard before battle, shutting down his fears as much as possible in order to do what needed to be done. Merlin swallowed.
“How are we going to get you to Baranak and your father?” he wondered, eyeing the scores of men between them and the kings tent in the middle of it all. Arthur dragged his gaze from the group to give Merlin an undeservedly incredulous look.
“Perhaps I imagined it, but didn’t we have a rather monumental discussion just last night about magic and your ability to wield it?”
Merlin blinked at him silently a moment, caught off guard by the ease Arthur said this with, before nodding.
“Yes, but-”
“So don’t you have a spell for invisibility or something that can mask our approach?” Arthur asked with that haughty impatience that so often made Merlin wish he could turn him into a toad. It was refreshing, Merlin had begun to fear that he would only ever feel concern and remorse when he looked upon his prince after these long days. He felt better about the entire upcoming battle almost instantly.
“I don’t know if it’s slipped your notice,” he hissed back, glad that there were still many thin trees and distance between them and the outskirts of the camp, “but studying magic in Camelot isn’t exactly a hobby sane people make a habit of if they wish to keep their heads.”
“You’re anything but sane Merlin,” Arthur snorted, both complimentary and derisively and it took great effort not to roll his eyes at him. “Do you have a spell or not?”
“I,” Merlin hesitated and looked back out at the scores of men between them and their goal. “I remember reading one once, but I’ve never tried it, nor practised the words aloud.”
“How hard can it be?” Arthur asked, lips twitching.
“How hard can it- look, it’s not that easy to just-”
“Merlin,” Arthur cut off his incised rant softly and turned where he lay on the ground to face Merlin, “I’m just asking that you try it. If it doesn’t work, we’ll figure out another way.” Merlin deflated, how could he not in the face of that argument.
“Fine, fine, just give me a minute to try and remember it,” he asked and Arthur nodded, turning back to study the ground before them. When he was ready Arthur sat almost unnaturally still as Merlin forcefully chanted the words, putting as much force into it as he could, before taking a calming breath and nodding when it was completed.
“That was for the both of us?” Arthur asked and at Merlin’s nod he carefully pushed to a low crouch. “Right, let’s go then,” he ordered and Merlin followed instantly. If he’d expected Arthur to march right into the thick of it he would have been surprised when he kept to the brush, remaining concealed as they half jogged the perimeter until he pointed out a knight ducking into the trees just beyond them and crept after him.
“We’ll test it first, shall we,” Arthur grinned thinly, beads of sweat forming at his brow and making strands of his hair curl to his forehead. Just as the man began to pull his chainmail aside and tug at his pants strings Arthur stood up from the bushes and boldly walked right before him, stopping a few feet away and staring expectantly.
The man froze, a frown on his face as he stared right at Arthur but remained still. Arthur stared at him hard, quirking his head to the side a bit and narrowing his eyes. After a few long moments where Merlin began to feel the giddy relief of a spell well done the knight dropped his chainmail back in place and rested a hand on the hilt of his sword.
“’ew the ‘ell are you?” he demanded roughly and Arthur straightened immediately.
“Well,” he sighed, “it was worth a try.” With a swift move he delivered a punishing right hook to the man’s chin, sending him reeling to the side even as he prepared to follow through with another hit. The second punch was not needed however, when the man grunted and went crashing to the ground like a falling tree. Arthur stood over him, almost looking stunned, before satisfaction flittered briefly across his face and he looked over at Merlin smugly. “Must have a weak jaw,” he muttered triumphantly as he moved to stiffly, kneel down by his side. “Come on Merlin, help me get his armour off,” he ordered and Merlin scrambled out from behind the tree he had been using for cover and quickly did as asked.
What Merlin was not expecting was for Arthur to look at the protective chainmail and thinly padded undershirt and promptly hand it to Merlin.
“Put that on, quickly,” he ordered and moved to help Merlin slide into it. Merlin shook his head.
“You should wear-”
“Not yet, it’s too heavy,” Arthur cut in quietly as Merlin was stuffed into the undergarment, the chill morning air uncomfortable on his skin through the brief moment of exposure. “It’ll aggravate my wounds to much, tire me out too soon.” The moment the heavy armour settled on his shoulders Merlin knew Arthur was right. He struggled to his feet under the unfamiliar weight and blinked as Arthur went about strapping on his sword belt.
“Swefe nu,” Merlin softly cast the sleeping spell over the warrior they were stealing from as he began to shift on the ground and he instantly fell still, snoring lightly. Arthur looked at him with a raised eyebrow as he snapped the pauldron and guard brace into place. “I’m sorry the concealment spell-”
“Don’t worry about it Merlin, it was a longshot from the beginning, as you said. You’ll just have to practice it for next time. Now come on, we’re running out of time,” he ordered and took off, Merlin chasing after him and feeling ungainly in the ridiculously large, cumbersome armour. How Arthur and his knights made walking, let alone fighting, in this look easy he didn’t think he would ever understand. He only stumbled twice and Arthur had a steady hand on his elbow both times for which he was grateful. When they reached the edge of the camp once more Arthur ducked behind a tree and Merlin, trying his best to look like he belonged, walked into the camp.
“Good morrow,” he greeted the first knight that looked his way, perhaps a tad too brightly as the man glared and turned pointedly away from him. “Right, right,” he muttered to himself, “not a good day when you’re about to head off to battle.” He swallowed the thick lump in his throat down and pushed the too large helmet back from where it slid down his forehead and began weaving around the mess of half awake men. It was only moments before he snagged what he needed and miraculously moved back to the woods without incident. Arthur met up with him instantly, clearly having been following him as he moved about, and took the dark leather brigandine from him. He carefully pulled the material armour on over a thinly padded shirt, tugging it into place over his shoulders and keeping the strap around his waist loose. He tried to hide his look of discomfort but Merlin was too attuned to this man after these last years of serving him to miss it. He said nothing.
Arthur carefully flung the quiver of arrows over his shoulder and gripped the bow in hand before taking the last item Merlin had snagged. He eyed the hat dubiously.
“This doesn’t match at all,” he stated and Merlin glared.
“You try stealing armour and weapons out from under its owners nose on the morn of a battle and tell me if you can meet up with your fashion standards,” he snapped and Arthur sighed, slipping the bold green hat over his head and pulling it low. Fortunately it hid enough of Arthur’s hair to make him inconspicuous and if he walked with his head tilted to the ground nobody should take a second look. Merlin took a good look at Arthur and took a steadying breath. Even thinner than usual from illness and starvation, he still cut a dangerous figure in the dark brown leather studded with metal. The material of the shirt he was wearing beneath the sleeveless armour was pushed back to his elbows, leaving his forearms bare in the way he favoured. The scraped skin around his wrists, still smothered with deep, painful bruising stood out like a beacon of pain.
Arthur cleared his throat, a subtle order for Merlin to stop staring, and held out the wide leather guards Merlin had snagged with the armour. Neither of them said a thing as Merlin quickly wrapped them in place, covering Arthur from wrist to mid-forearm and tying the criss-crossed leather strands securely. He watched as Arthur flexed his wrists, testing, and nodding in acceptance. A few moments later they emerged together from the woods and began making their way past scores and scores of men who, at this time, would see them both dead should their identities be revealed.
As it was it was difficult to not feel like he belonged as he walked beside Arthur. The man practically radiated an air of confidence, so comfortable and familiar with his surroundings that, even as he barely looked up from the ground, nobody gave him a second look.
Merlin did hear a few men laugh at him as he passed, muttering comments about boys not yet grown into their armour. He didn’t realize he was actively scowling at the mocking words until Arthur gently smacked him in the back of the leg with his bow and told him to cut it out.
If Merlin’s headache had been bad before he was beginning to think not having a head would be an acceptable change of course as he stumbled along in Arthur’s wake. He was so distracted by the pain and fear of getting caught that he barely managed to stop from crashing into Arthur’s back as the man stopped abruptly and swore darkly under his breath. He squinted out from under his helmet to see what the problem was, which was easy enough to do when he realized they were standing outside the Kings tent, it’s door flaps opened wide and interior empty.
“The king has already left for final negotiations,” Arthur twisted away from the tent and looked towards the castle in the distance. He already looked tired, face pale in the early morning sun before his lips firmed in determination. “We will have to move fast Merlin,” he ordered and made to move back into the ranks of men in camp, men who were clearly beginning to assemble.
“Hey? You!” a deep voice cut through the air and Merlin jumped, twisting to look towards the knight that had called out, his red cape billowing behind him as he moved towards them. “What are you doing by the Kings tent?”
“I have an urgent message for King Uther,” Arthur stated firmly, looking up into the knights eyes and frowning.
“What kind of message?” the man asked suspiciously, looking between them and Arthur, despite the fact that he was supposed to both remain inconspicuous and be portraying an archer of the lower ranks, looked up and glared.
“It’s for the King’s Ears only,” he snapped with authority causing the knight to blink in sudden uncertainty, before he frowned.
“You look familiar to me,” he said with narrowed eyes as he clearly began to try and figure out where he knew Arthur from. Clearly Arthur had recognized that this knight might not know him on sight and was counting on that as he once again scoffed at him.
“Of course I do, aside from the fact that we’re both from Camelot we just marched all the way here practically side by side. Now, are you going to get us horses so we can deliver this message or am I going to have to report your negligence to duty to the King once this battle is over Sir?” Even Merlin jumped at the authoritative snap to Arthur’s tone and the knight blinked, began to look worried, and called out for two horses immediately.
Two men helped heave Merlin into the saddle of his mount as Arthur jumped swiftly onto his own, not even a flinch at the pain he must have felt. Merlin didn’t have time to contemplate this, seeing the necessity to move fast before people got a good look at either of them now that they were rather less conspicuous sitting above the rest.
“Make way!” Merlin hollered with as much force as he could muster, guessing Arthur couldn’t spare the breath at the moment. “Make way! Message for the King!” They dug their heels into their horse’s flanks and took off, men scattering out of their path as Merlin yelled warning of their approach. Some barely managing to clear out as Arthur set a punishing pace.
It didn’t take long to breach the edge of the camp and out into the open field spread out before them. A ways away Merlin could see where Uther and Holden had gathered, banners flying over their heads, red against gold and green held high by their accompanying knights and council.
“They will be almost finished,” Arthur yelled out from his horse beside Merlin, and then he leaned forward in his saddle slightly, pain clear on his face for Merlin to see. “We must get their before the party breaks, heeya” he encourages his horse and they picked up speed. Merlin pushed his own animal to keep up and for long, seemingly endless, moments nothing was heard but wind and thundering hooves as they galloped across the plains that could soon be rife with blood.
As they approached Merlin could see that Sir Holden and his men had already pulled back, had been preparing to leave. Obviously one of them had caught sight of them approaching because they made no further attempt to leave even as their horses began shifting about in agitation.
It was all very dramatic, Merlin’s heart was pounding, the pain in his head making his vision blur and it was all he could do to hold on and pull his beast to slow as they charged together right between the two groups. He nearly fell off his horse as it stopped so sharply, his chest crashing into the beasts neck, the unfamiliar weight of the armour messing with his balance. The animal panted deeply beneath him, pawing at the ground and twisting about slightly as he tried to catch his own breath.
“What is the meaning of this!” King Uther’s booming voice echoed around them and Merlin looked up, blinking away tears, just in time to see Arthur knock away his hat, cheeks flush with the wind and ride over pale skin. “Baranak!” There was no hiding the shock in Uther’s voice as recognition hit.
“My King! Get behind us! We will protect you!” Sir Holden yelled out almost in unison as he and his knight moved forward to surround him. Arthur sat up straight in his saddle, thrust an arm out to halt Holden and did exactly what Merlin knew was coming and had hoped wouldn’t come to pass.
“I invoke the right to single combat!” He bellowed, clearly and resolutely and he twisted in his seat until his eyes fell directly on Edgar, seated tall on Arthur’s prized stallion. “I invoke the right to single combat to settle this battle once and for all, and I challenge Prince Arthur directly. Let us fight for the honour of our kingdoms!”
It seemed as though everyone stilled then, even the horses were caught under the spell of challenge, or perhaps more so under the shock of it if the look on Sir Holden’s face was anything to judge by. Merlin straightened and rubbed away the moisture in his eyes, fingers catching on the metal covering his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. Sir Holden clearly didn’t know what to make of this turn of events, his unease quickly hidden though Merlin had seen it. Clearly the knight either didn’t think his King capable of the honour of such of a fight, or of the skill to defeat Arthur. Merlin felt a sharp pang of empathy for the man who looked tired and strained on his horses back, dark eyes staring at his ‘King’ imploringly.
Merlin looked briefly to Uther, the man’s face shuttered as he took in the challenge, sitting majestically on his white horse, his cape draped over its back and his armour gleaming. Uther then looked to Edgar, sitting tall by his side, his face red with outrage, his armour having been altered to look more regal than was Arthur’s general preference. The hate that boiled up inside Merlin at the site of him actually made him dizzy for a moment. Of course it could also be the pain of the spell crashing against his resolve, trying to beat him into submitting to its will and turning on his true prince once more. Merlin would not give in. Slowly he dismounted from his horse, giving it a swat to the rump that sent it trotting away from their group. Thankfully he managed to remain on his feet, though he now felt surrounded by the men sitting so high above him.
“What say you?” Arthur demanded after a moment when Uther nor Edgar replied, though Edgar clearly didn’t need much more provocation than that to open his pompous mouth.
“I will not allow myself to be dragged down by your manipulations, your treachery” Edgar snarled and glared daggers at Arthur. “Do not think you can deter the course of this battle by your falsified words of bravery.”
“I do not wish to deter the course of battle,” Arthur snapped back, still breathing heavily as he commanded stillness from his horse. “There is only one way this day will end, and that will be through the bloodshed that you so crave. Let the innocents not suffer where we can resolve this between us, there is no need for the deaths of so many. I invoke the right to single combat, do you accept,” Arthur narrowed his eyes contemptuously, “or has your honour been so tainted that you would spit on the value of the men and women who follow your reign?”
“How dare you” Edgar was practically vibrating with rage, still playing his part though his true character was beginning to slip through. Merlin could see the uncertainty in the white of his eyes, see the knowledge that his plans were not playing out as he expected. No doubt he had planned on pretending to be wounded at the beginning of the siege so that he would be carried off field, if he hadn’t managed to convince Uther to keep him from the frontlines altogether.
“What say you?” Arthur demanded again, clearly unimpressed with Edgar’s posturing and Merlin moved to stand closer to his side, preparing to help when he needed to dismount. “Here and now, we end this.”
“My King, please reconsider-” Sir Holden’s protest cut off when Arthur once again held out his hand, demanding silence. Looking at Holden Merlin could see it had been a token protest anyway, he could see the hint of pride leaking onto his face as he watched the man he thought of as his king challenge their enemy. Merlin swallowed and looked towards Uther instead. Uther who was watching Arthur carefully. Uther who was no doubt remembering the violent lashing of only a week before, who could probably see the paleness on Arthur’s skin and tiredness in his shoulders. Uther who had no doubt that his own son was five times the warrior Edgar Baranak had ever trained to be.
Merlin realized that it was Uther and not Baranak that Arthur was actually appealing to, and he saw the moment Uther made his decision in the familiar shift of his shoulders, the tilting of his chin higher in superiority. It was a trait he had seen in Arthur more than once.
“Name your terms.”
“What!” Edgar hissed, twisting to glare furiously at Uther but he fell silent as soon as the King of Camelot’s commanding glare settled sharply on him.
“My kingdom should I fall,” Arthur responded immediately, drawing back Uther’s attention. “My lands and people will accept your ruling without question. In return you will not harm or punish them for either their loyalty or” he firmed his voice and stared challengingly at Uther, “their abilities of magic.” Merlin stilled, forcing himself not to react to this as Uther narrowed his eyes. No matter what happened here there would be repercussions from those few words.
“I will not have magic users within my lands,” he decreed resolutely, “but I will allow them six months safe passage from this kingdom to one beyond Camelot. After that the law will be upheld.”
“Agreed,” Arthur said immediately because it was more than he had probably hoped to receive.
“And should you win?” Uther narrowed his eyes and here Arthur smirked, just slightly, before schooling his features once more.
“I wish for peace, as it was before.”
“That’s it?” Uther clearly didn’t trust this but Arthur nodded firmly.
“Should I win that will be more than enough.”
There was another long moment of tense silence, wrought with import as Arthur and Uther steadily held each others gaze. There was a flash of sudden, unexpected, respect in Uther’s eyes and he finally nodded.
“Agreed.”
“You can’t be serious!” Edgar hissed astride Arthur’s horse and Uther barked out a command that he and ‘Prince Arthur’ have a moment to confer. Sir’s Kay and Leon obeyed immediately, backing off and dismounting from their horses in clear show of support for their king and prince. Quickly following suit Sir Holden and the one knight he had brought with him also dismounted. The few lord councellor’s from both sides dismounted as well, though one of them rather slowly and with Sir Holden’s aid as he was clearly in his elder years.
Recently knighted Darcel was the last to step from his mount, and even then Merlin was pretty certain he only did so from the warning glares sent by Kay and Leon. Darcel was watching Arthur coldly. Merlin turned his back on their people and used the weak cover as much as possible to conceal the steadying hand he gave Arthur as he finally pulled off his horse as well.
He was unable to hide the soft grunt as his feet touched down and he straightened.
“Arthur,” Merlin spoke softly, keeping the horse between them and Darcel and Arthur looked to him. There was no uncertainty in his gaze, no cowardice or second thoughts or regret. There was rage, however, though it was deeply buried under the sheer force of control Arthur had spent his entire life honing. Merlin swallowed and pushed his helmet back a bit on his head, wishing the thing would stop sliding over his eyes.
“It’ll be fine Merlin,” Arthur intoned.
“I know that,” Merlin tried to sound more exasperated than worried and was glad he did at the warm smile Arthur gave him in return. Merlin didn’t know what else to say, there was simply too much, and his thoughts turned to darker paths, to what he could do to Edgar, to revenge, and he was startled when Arthur suddenly smacked him upside the arm, shaking him from his thoughts.
“You will not interfere Merlin,” he ordered, soft and as stern as ever, “in any way, understand? Edgar is mine and mine alone to defeat.” Merlin nodded sharply, because there was no arguing with that tone. Ever. It didn’t mean he wasn’t going to have a sharp eye on Darcel though, because it was clear the newly knighted man was not to be trusted. “Right then” Arthur straightened and looked at Merlin expectantly. Merlin blinked. “The armour Merlin, it’s time to switch,” he huffed as Merlin quickly complied, clumsily tilting the quiver a little too far to the side as he removed it and spilling the arrows to the ground.
“Sorry, sorry,” he apologized out of habit even if he nearly smiled when Arthur relaxed with the familiarity of it all. He shouldn’t be smiling, not when Arthur could be…not when Arthur was about to enter a fight to the death. He carefully peeled off the leather armour before beginning to remove his own, with Arthur’s help.
“Sire,” Sir Holden approached cautiously, having decided that he had held back long enough, and bowed deeply as he came to stand before them. Arthur turned to him and nodded greeting while Merlin awkwardly shrugged the chainmail off. He pulled the helmet back in place quickly, glad the horse had been mostly blocking him from Camelot’s view, because it was too early for that complication just yet. “It is good to see you well my King,” he sounded like he meant it, though he paused to eye Merlin uncertainly.
“And you Sir Holden,” Arthur returned respectfully, which had Holden’s cheek twitching uneasily. Clearly Edgar didn’t show his appreciation for his knights often enough.
“Your majesty, I would be honoured to fight in your place-”
“You heard the terms of combat, there will be no one fighting in my place, though I appreciate your concern,” he firmly rebuffed the offer, trying to hide his irritation because none of Camelot’s knights would ever dare offer to combat in Arthur’s place when Arthur had taken such a stand to earn the fight. But Edgar was not Arthur and the prince of Camelot understood this, understood that Sir Holden would act in accordance to his own ways. Arthur barely seemed to notice the weight of the armour sliding onto his shoulders.
“Then please, sire, take my sword. It is battle hardened and a worthy companion,” he unsheathed his weapon and presented it to Arthur with both hands, dropping to one knee as he held it up. Arthur swallowed thickly, eyeing the sturdy, well crafted weapon longingly before shaking his head.
“I can not accept the honour, Sir Holden. That is your fathers sword, and his before him, crafted with the purpose of protecting your king and kingdom by your lineage alone,” Merlin could see Holden’s shoulders slump slightly at the refusal of his offer, but he hid the dejection quickly and moved to his feet once more, sliding the weapon back into its home. Arthur’s hand shifted around the unfamiliar hilt of the sword he did hold, and Merlin tried not to feel bad for Holden. Arthur would have done him a grave disservice if he had accepted his blade; using it to kill the king he had sworn to protect. He didn’t have to concern himself with the situation long, however, as Holden’s attention was drawn beyond them and Merlin twisted about to see Edgar marching confidently towards them, fury and resentment etched in every line in his face as Uther and the men of Camelot stood tall behind him.
It was time.
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