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It was impossible, of course. Arthur's head ached something fierce and he could feel the blood dripping down into his eyes, obscuring his vision. Whatever he'd thought he'd seen ... it just could not have happened. It was impossible, because, well, it was Merlin.
When they'd gone hunting in the morning, Arthur had expected to return with a stag, at best. Something that would make the cooks happy and his father proud and wouldn't really be all that dangerous to subdue. A boar, similarly, would have been pretty well done, although it wouldn't feed as many people. Boar-hunting was fun, though, and much more dangerous - which meant that, as with so many other things, Arthur was very good it.
However, he most certainly had not expected a giant troll to attack them in the woods, and after killing the monstrous thing (it was truly hideous, actually, all over corpse-grey skin and large, chipped teeth) Arthur had considered hacking off it's head to take back to the castle to show Uther, when the rest of them had attacked.
Even knights of Camelot could be expected to balk at the sight of seven charging trolls, the smallest one about ten feet high and as broad across as three men. If they had been fighting on horseback, the battle would have still been incredibly unfair to the humans. As things were, Arthur remembered a terrible, horrible sense of fear as the big, nasty male troll he'd been fighting died and he saw Merlin, standing alone near the edge of the clearing, one of the monsters bearing down on him.
"Merlin!" Arthur had yelled, hoping that Merlin would run, damn it, instead of standing there like a gape-jawed fool. Instead, (of course, because Merlin would never, ever do the smart thing,) the dumb idiot boy turned around and tried to whack at the troll with his sword.
Arthur managed to get to his side before his fool servant was stomped on by a seventeen-foot-tall troll, and then the damn thing turned around and whacked him on the head with a log.
He saw stars, an explosion like fireworks behind his eyelids, and then he was lying on his side, blinking blood from his eyes. Merlin, stupid, skinny, brave Merlin, was standing in front Arthur protectively, one hand extended in front of him. His sword had blood on it, Arthur noted absently.
"Éar ábít gefýnd," Merlin said, and then the ground in front of them rippled, like it was alive.
Arthur blinked but couldn't move, and the trolls charged towards them - and then they fell into the gaping hole in the ground. It seemed like an endless chasm, Arthur could hear them screaming and screaming, never striking the bottom - and then he lost consciousness.
-
When he came to, Merlin was hovering anxiously over him, unusually pale and holding a broken spear. "Arthur? Are you alright?" He asked, when Arthur's eyes opened. "I mean, you're not hurt, are you? Arthur? Can you talk?"
He reached out, presumably to help Arthur back to his feet, but Arthur had to roll to avoid being stabbed by the broken haft of the spear.
"What... yegads, Merlin! Put that down before you hurt yourself," Arthur said. "Or more importantly, before you hurt me. Haven't you learned by now that the pointy end of the stick should not be pointed at the people you're friends with?"
Merlin smiled sheepishly, but continued to hover anxiously around him, apologizing profusely. He made a nuisance of himself, trying to be helpful, while the rest of the knights informed Arthur that the trolls had run away - apparently they'd been hoarding treasure in the forest and their hunting party had accidentally stumbled across their lair.
Arthur made plans to ride back to Camelot, get a few more men, and then return to clear out the last of the troll's nest. It wasn't until afterward, riding back towards the castle while Merlin attempted to carry the troll leader's head and not fall off of his horse at the same time, when Arthur remembered what had happened.
It looked like - well, if he didn't know better - if it had been anyone but Merlin, that is, Arthur would have thought that it was sorcery. But, the thing was, this was Merlin. And, and - Merlin had absolutely no business being a sorcerer; even if he had been able to use magic he probably wouldn't have been a danger to the kingdom anyway, Arthur thought, angrily.
-
The only problem was, of course, that if Merlin were a sorcerer, then Arthur would have to tell his father. And if Uther heard even so much as a whisper of a suspicion of magic, then the person being suspected was as good as dead. Even a blacksmith... and Arthur couldn't shake away the feeling of guilt over what had happened to Gwen's father. He couldn't forget that sometimes, Uther's version of caution wasn't the same as his ideals of justice.
So Arthur would have to be sure - really, really sure that someone had used magic - before he would tell the king.
And Merlin had definitely not used magic.
Arthur turned over, unable to sleep, and stared at the wall. He wasn't cold enough to call a servant to tend the fire, or warm enough to push off the covers, or tired enough to sleep.
To be sure, it had looked a lot like magic, but it couldn't have been. Merlin had just been trying to protect him. Why else would he have been holding a sword? And the spear, too, because when Arthur had woken up, Merlin had been carrying the broken spear. Why would a sorcerer, who could use magic to fight and defend himself, bother with weapons that would break? Why would he bother using normal weapons at all?
No, sorcerers were evil. Magic did that, it corrupted the people who wielded it, until they were willing to do anything to maintain their unnatural powers. Magic was evil, and everyone who used it was to be destroyed. It was, after all, the entire reason that Uther had implemented his laws twenty years earlier; that was why Arthur helped him. It was necessary in order to protect the kingdom from... from the people who were attacking it...
Nothing good could come from magic, Arthur told himself firmly. And Merlin wouldn't use magic for that reason. He knew, didn't he, just how dangerous it could be?
-
In the light of day, Arthur thought introspectively as Merlin helped him dress, it was even more ridiculous that he'd suspected any unnatural means in their defeat of the trolls. Obviously, the blow to the head had made him see things - he hadn't been in his right mind, was all it was, because Merlin hadn't defeated a troll by talking at it. No, he'd been yelling gibberish at the troll to distract it. It was the knights, the wonderful, brave, and well-trained knights whose talents Arthur himself had nurtured - they were the ones who had felled the troll.
It made so much sense, Arthur thought, walking down the hallway and nodding politely at Gwen as she smiled at him. He was on his way to greet a formal delegation from the kingdom of Mercia - peace talks had once again become necessary, as some of the lords near to the border had begun raiding villages under Camelot's protection in order to steal their livestock.
Merlin didn't use magic - It had simply looked, from Arthur's perspective, as if the troll had fallen into a hole that had suddenly opened up in the ground. Instead, the trap had probably been carefully laid ahead of time by some fortuitous hunter, and the knights had taken advantage of the fact, herding the beasts toward the hole and using Merlin as a clever way of keeping their attention from the ground they walked on.
Yes, Arthur thought to himself. It was clear now, that there had been no magic involved. It was simply his knights' preparedness and ability to think on their feet.
-
"How did you ever manage to walk down a hallway?" Arthur hissed at Merlin, who was about as stealthy as a drunken minotaur carrying a tray of mead-filled tankards. "Be quiet, you clumsy oaf-"
Merlin, always one to follow orders, promptly walked into a suit of armor.
"Shh!"
"I'm trying to be quiet!" Merlin hissed back at him, looking terribly out of place. "Why are we spying on the princess from Mercia?"
"We're not spying on her," Arthur replied, throwing an exasperated look over his shoulder, where he could see Merlin earnestly trying to hide behind a tapestry. He looked like a servant who was trying to hide behind a tapestry. He couldn't be more conspicuous if he tried.
"Well then what are we doing?" Merlin asked, his voice carrying through the hallway.
Arthur winced. "Well," he said, slowly, stepping out into the hallway. It was his damn castle anyway, so he may as well stand conspicuously in the hallway instead of hiding behind things where his servant would just get him caught anyway.
"Oh for the love of sword-wielding barbarians," Merlin said, glaring at Arthur. "You're not sweet on her, are you? Do you remember what happened the last time you became enamored of a noblewoman?"
The true answer was a resounding 'no,' but Arthur wasn't willing to admit this to Merlin. He also wasn't going to blush, because that wasn't a princely thing to do. He mentally ordered the flush to remove itself from his cheeks at once, and then he gave Merlin the most regal, imperious look he could muster. "You should refrain from talking to me in that tone, Merlin," he said, "or I shall have you put in the stocks,"
"That happened last time, too," Merlin retorted. "And after I got out of the stocks, I had to go hunt you down and knock you out and drag you back to the castle to stop you from eloping with the damned wench."
"I thought we weren't talking about that," Arthur said, horrified.
"We aren't talking about it; I'm mocking you. Mercilessly." Merlin grinned at him. His ears twitched in happiness.
"Oh, shut up," Arthur muttered.
"You're not sweet on her, are you?" Merlin asked again, this time without the stupid grin.
Arthur shook his head. "No, she's not nearly pretty enough. Not that she isn't pretty, of course, it's just that she's... got that... look on her face."
"Like she can smell horse dung," Merlin agreed. "And she's not polite enough to pretend she can't,"
"Yeah," Arthur agreed.
Merlin settled himself in an alcove, resting his head against the wall. He smiled sleepily at Arthur, who had a sudden urge to ruffle his hair or put him in a headlock. Instead, he smiled back.
"So," Merlin said, after five blissful minutes of silence. "Why are we spying on Princess Marie?"
"Shut up, Merlin,"
-
Two days later, Merlin burst into Arthur's room. Arthur's indignant, "Haven't we talked about knocking, Merlin?" was met with a wide-eyed stare, as if Merlin didn't understand the question.
"Merlin," Arthur said, gesturing at the wide-open door, and then at himself still in his bath. The tub was a little small, and his knees stuck out awkwardly.
"Oh," Merlin said, staring wide-eyed. "Uh, right." He closed the door, then sat on the chair and stared at Arthur, who was staring to feel a little bit self-conscious.
"Did you need something, Merlin?" Arthur asked. "Anything I can do for you? Perhaps you require some assistance dealing with your grave mental disorder, the one that makes you incapable of knocking, remembering simple instructions, and doing anything constructive whatsoever?"
"Aside from saving your stupid life," Merlin said without rancor, "Which I have done often enough, I think,"
Arthur rolled his eyes and held up the sponge. "You may as well wash my back," he said, waving at Merlin. "It's really weird with you just sitting there staring at me."
"Right," Merlin said, staring at the sponge for a minute before he blinked and then stood up, rising from the chair and shrugging his jacket off awkwardly. "I'll just..." He took the sponge, stared at the bathtub, and then slowly moved behind Arthur, who leaned forward.
A minute later, scrubbing Arthur's shoulders, Merlin said "So, you know how I was a complete and total prat about your obsessive need to stalk the princess from Mercia?"
"If you're going to harass me about Marie again," Arthur muttered, "For the six hundred and twenty-fifth time, Merlin, I am not sweet on the wench,"
"Good," Merlin said, a little bit breathlessly, "because I think she's an impostor and she is going to kill your father," and if he yelped like a little girl when Arthur spun around and grabbed him by his stupid neck-kerchief, it was only fair.
"Only you, Merlin, would just up and say something like that," Arthur said, releasing his hold on Merlin after staring into his panicked eyes for a brief moment.
Merlin sagged onto the floor, ignoring the soapy water that had splashed all over him. He had a tiny spot of water near the corner of his eye. "Yeah," he said miserably.
-
For some reason, being at court seemed to require a lot of pomp, spectacle, and daring last-minute rescues of important persons, which was why Arthur found himself standing in front of his father's throne with his sword drawn, ready to defend Uther's life.
"You will die, Uther Pendragon!" Marie-who-was-really-Iliana-the-evil-sorceress proclaimed loudly, waving a pointed, golden scepter towards the king.
"Arthur," Uther was saying, "Your sword will not stop her. Stand aside, my son, she does not intend your death..."
"Oh no," Iliana hissed. She was looking less and less attractive with every passing minute. Her lip curled into a grimace. "You will suffer as I have suffered, Uther Pendragon! As I have lost all that were dear to me, so too shall you lose your family!" She waved her arms in Arthur's direction and began to chant.
"I'm waiting," Arthur said, swinging the sword in a slow, arrogant loop.
Iliana continued to chant, swirls of flame collecting on her arms, as if summoned from the air. She was collecting the flames into a ball. Swords, Arthur knew, were almost universally useless against fireballs. He stood his ground regardless, knowing that if he stood aside, she was going to kill his father.
Iliana's chant grew louder and louder. And then, before she had a chance to hurl fiery death onto the Pendragons, Merlin snuck up behind her and doused the flames.
-
"You emptied a chamberpot onto her head," Arthur said, smiling gleefully.
Merlin was pink-faced and flustered. "I couldn't think of anything else to do!" He protested weakly.
"You drenched her in it!" Arthur crowed. "It was brilliant, Merlin, truly fantastic. I have to commend your creativity. Where other, lesser men would have settled for defeating her by hitting her on the head with any of the heavy implements available in the hall, you would allow nothing less than her defeat and complete humiliation!"
"It wasn't like that," he tried to explain.
"She was dragged off to the dungeons covered in offal, Merlin. For that alone, I would give you a truly stupendous amount of honors; anything within my power, I promise you," Arthur said.
"Can you get me a bigger room?" Merlin eyed him suspiciously.
"No," Arthur said, "You'd just make a mess of it." He paused. "You can have a promotion, though! How would you like to be Senior Manservant to the Crown Prince of Camelot?"
"I'm your only manservant," Merlin rolled his eyes.
"Yes," Arthur agreed. "And yet, you're truly terrible at it."
-
It resembled an ape, somewhat, although it was the dark, dank green of food gone rancid, and it's skin seemed to hint at opalescent scales beneath the grimy surface. The top of it's head was flat and shiny, rivulets of water running down it's slick skin. It's lower limbs were covered in muck and slime from the bottom of the pond.
"Don't get too close," Merlin whispered loudly enough to be heard in Ealdor. Arthur tried not to wince.
He had no idea what in the world the strange water beast was, but he could tell from the way it's eyes followed him, ears twitching madly every time he made even the slightest change in position, that the creature was not going to remain be friendly for much longer. He tightened his grip on his sword, wishing that he hadn't taken off his leather gloves. At a time like this, he needed to have a firm grip on the weapon.
The thing in the water made a strange clicking sound, almost a trill. It's eyes shone madly with something akin to bloodlust - Arthur had seen that look before, on the Griffin that had nearly killed him. He was not nervous, he was not worried. He was calmly waiting for an advantage he could use.
"Do you know whom you face?" Merlin called out, his voice distracting the creature for a moment.
Arthur took the opportunity to readjust his footing, moving his left foot out of a boggy hole and onto more solid ground.
The creature stared at Merlin, the eerie clicking noise emanating from it's throat once more.
Merlin swallowed audibly. "You show great disrespect, creature," He said, his voice just as loud but noticeably shaky. "For the man before you is the Crown Prince of Camelot, and his companion is sworn to protect him at all costs. Surely you know of the risk you take?"
The creature clicked, slowly, eyes flickering from Merlin to Arthur and back again.
Arthur stayed still, held on to his sword, wondering if he'd be able to move fast enough to protect Merlin if the creature moved to attack him. Honestly, what was Merlin on about, announcing Arthur's royal birth aloud for everyone to hear? He may as well have painted a giant target...
Something niggled at Arthur's mind.
The creature, a drop of water running down it's filthy temple, smiled. It's mouth was full of sharp, pointed teeth, stained and rotting. It clicked, gently.
"Such insolence is not to be tolerated," Merlin said, a horribly false note of anger ringing through his voice, although it was masked by frustration and desperation. "You may bow to me to show your obeisance, creature, or you shall be punished for your disregard, and my man will kill you."
That, that right there had been the thing niggling at Arthur's mind, and he almost dropped his sword in surprise, because Merlin was pretending to be him. Was he daft? Well, that was a stupid question, because naturally Merlin was daft, but was he a lunatic? Did he think that painting a giant target on himself was preferable to allowing the pond-monster to attack Arthur, who at least was armed, ready for battle, wearing armor and standing on solid ground? Merlin, on the other hand, was standing in shallow water, carrying a wineskin and a skein of rabbits, wearing no armor to speak of (and not even a light jacket).
The creature clicked once more, turned it's eyes to Arthur, and then slowly it returned it's gaze to Merlin. After a short eternity in which Arthur sweated in his chain mail and Merlin looked more and more grim, the creature clicked again, made a soft, wet-sounding trill, and bowed.
Water ran from it's forehead, apparently being stored in a reservoir atop it's head. The creature stumbled and then righted itself, growling and clicking at Merlin, although it made no attempt to get any closer.
"Merlin," Arthur said, shaking with rage and maybe something else. "Get out of the water."
-
"I'll have to go back and kill it," Arthur said as they walked back to Camelot. "Otherwise it will take some other travelers unawares, and they'll die for our kindness."
"I suppose you're right," Merlin said. "But you may as well send some of your knights to take care of it. I'm sure Sir Thorvil and Sir Alcuin would be grateful for the experience, they've only just been knighted and are itching to prove themselves."
Arthur turned to Merlin warily, studying his manservant's face. Merlin looked straight ahead, mostly expressionless, although his lips were pressed a little thin. "What is it?" Arthur asked, finally.
"I don't want to watch you risking your life again," Merlin said shortly, picking up the pace.
-
Merlin made a soft, choked noise, and Arthur barely managed to catch him as he fell to the ground. Merlin's eyes were wide and shocked, and Arthur knew exactly how he felt. The dagger was sunk hilt-deep into Merlin's chest. Merlin's hand flopped towards it, as if he were going to pull it out, but Arthur stopped him, yelling for guards and for Gaius as well.
There was a flurry of movement around them, Arthur staring at Merlin, who looked even more dreadfully pale than usual. Ortran growled in frustration, throwing back the hood of his cloak and staring at Arthur with bleak, empty eyes. "I'll kill you," he promised, pointing at Arthur.
Arthur was about to make some scathing, sarcastic commentary, but Merlin was bleeding and had a dagger in his chest, breathing with a horrible wet rattle, and he honestly couldn't care less about Ortran's pathetic grudge, not if Merlin could bloody well die because of it. "It's okay," he said instead, leaning over Merlin and keeping him from touching the dagger in his chest. "It's okay, it'll be fine, Merlin--"
Gaius hurried into the room, guards following right behind him. "What happened?" Gauis demanded as he threw himself on the ground beside Merlin, unpacking bandages and ointments.
Merlin's eyes widened, and then there was fire - huge, white-hot flames billowing out from Ortran's outstretched hands. Arthur barely had time to flinch before the flames engulfed him. He gasped, expecting the air to scald his lungs, but it was blissfully cool. He looked down at Merlin, whose eyes were glowing golden, whose hand was pointing at Ortran. Merlin, who was a bloody sorcerer, using bloody magic to keep Arthur from dying.
Ortran stopped, gasping, staring in shock at Merlin.
"You," Merlin said, blood staining his lips as he shoved Arthur off of him and shakily propped himself up on an elbow. "You should not - not have... done. that." He looked furious and fearless and he stumbled to his feet, waving off Arthur's attempts to help him.
"You should be helping me," Ortran said, a cajoling expression on his ridiculous pointy face. "Do you think that the Pendragons will thank you for your help? They'll build you a pyre, that's all they will in return for your help. Think of how---"
Merlin cut him off by waving a hand and throwing Ortran into a wall. The guards watched, uncertain of how they ought to respond.
"You will regret this," Ortran said, spittle flying from his mouth to spray the ground in front of him. "You will regret this, Emrys, more than I can possibly say."
"No," Merlin said, looking at him. "I won't."
There was a loud crackle, a noise like thunder, and then Ortran was dead, the guards wide-eyed and Gaius terrified. Merlin stared at the scene for a second, before turning to Arthur and smiling a little lopsidedly. "Hey," he said, looking unsteady on his feet. "I'm sorry, Arthur... I didn't..." He made a soft noise like a sob. "I didn't..." He sagged forwards, catching himself on one hand, and then tilting dangerously to the side. By the time Arthur reached him, he was unconscious, the spreading pool of blood indicating just how badly he was injured.
"Gaius," Arthur said, putting every ounce of princely command into his voice. "Tend to him."
"Sire," Gaius said softly, even as he moved to Merlin's side - at least the man was capable of following orders - "Perhaps... it may be better if I do not."
Arthur turned to the guards. "Merlin saw Ortran draw his dagger, and moved to protect me." He said. "After he realized his dagger had struck my servant and not myself, Ortran drew on illegal magical spells to ensure my demise."
The guards nodded, although they were very studiously not looking at Merlin.
"His unnatural powers were not well-controlled," Arthur said. "They backfired on him, as you saw, which is why my servant and I were unharmed, and why Ortran is now dead." He did not swallow to try and hide his nervousness, instead, he looked each of the guards in the eye. "It may have appeared, to someone who did not understand the circumstances, that my servant used magic to defend us, but that is clearly not true."
"Clearly," the guard on the left said, sounding a bit dazed.
"Clearly," Arthur repeated. "If, after all, Merlin were a sorcerer who could protect my royal personage from a bout of magical fire, he would have no need to throw himself in front of me to save me from a dagger."
This, oddly, seemed to make a lot of sense to the guards, who agreed eagerly that there was no way Merlin had used magic, and Ortran's spell must have backfired on him.
"I no longer require you," Arthur said. "You are dismissed, and ought to report to my father what I just told you has transpired here."
Behin him, Gaius was doing something horrific to Merlin with a needle and thread, and Arthur stared at him for a long while before he turned and stalked from the room.
-
"Sire," Gaius said formally, two days later when Arthur had finally decided he ought to visit Merlin. He'd been taken to one of the guest chambers, far closer to where the attack had taken place than Gaius' quarters near the back of the castle.
"How is he?" Arthur demanded.
"He is doing well, my lord." Gaius answered smoothly, stepping back so that Arthur could enter the room. "He is very weak, but..." he paused, seemingly at a loss for words. "He will live, sire."
"Good," he responded shortly. "Wake him."
"If I... may I speak freely, sire?"
"What is it, Gaius?" Arthur asked.
"Your... your intentions, if you will." The old man stumbled over his words. "What is it that you intend to do - surely, what you said... Ortran's spell did not simply backfire."
Arthur leveled a glare at him. "Yes," he said. "Gaius, it did. And you will do well to refrain from questioning me, in the future. Wake him."
-
They mainly talked about inane things, the weather, the knights' training, Gwen's new hairstyle (quite fetching, really, although she seemed self-conscious about it) and Morgana's daily visits to give Merlin the latest court gossip.
Finally, Merlin broke.
"I wanted to tell you!" He said. "Arthur, you have to believe me - it's been killing me, all this time, wanting to tell you. I trust you, I really do, but... I had to keep it a secret." He looked absolutely miserable.
"Merlin," Arthur said, sighing. "If this is about you being some kind of all-powerful wizardy type thing in addition to a lousy manservant, I had already figured that part out."
"... you had?" Merlin's eyes were wide.
"Of course," Arthur said. "I've known for ages. I mean, honestly, you idiot, you couldn't tell a lie to save your life."
"Oh," A small smile played around Merlin's lips. "So, you don't mind that - that I didn't tell you?"
"After saving my life twice in one day," Arthur said magnanimously, "Even though I really didn't need your help... I am willing to call it even."
Merlin smiled at him. "Oh, thank you, sire, I'm ever so grateful."
"You're welcome, and yes, Merlin, I am a fantastically generous and forgiving man, Merlin, in addition to being tall and ruggedly handsome." Arthur replied, a smile twisting at the corners of his own mouth. "I'm sure you will do your best to recover so that you can attend to your duties." He paused. "Oh, and I'll require that you attend training with my knights, from now on, as well. You're absolute rubbish with a sword."
"What? No!" Merlin yelped, as Arthur stood up to leave. "You prat!" Merlin yelled at his retreating back. "You stupid tosser, I'll never survive your terror-filled regime!"
Arthur laughed as Merlin swore at him and threw a goblet at his head, which unsurprisingly missed him by half a mile and struck the wall instead. "Do feel better," he said brightly, rocking back on his heels and feeling immense satisfaction at Merlin's flushed slightly terrified face.
He left the room, grinning.
-
The End