Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Merlin looked at the blood on his hand. Surely even he wasn’t clumsy enough to cut himself with a blunted blade, especially not without making any movement that might have torn the skin on a sharp nick of the steel. He inspected Sir Oswald’s sword closely. The steel appeared definitely blunted, as smooth as the stones from a riverbed. No sharp angles, and nothing that should have sliced his palm so deeply. This wasn’t a normal blade.

He was concentrating so hard on the blades that he didn’t hear the two knights coming back in their chambers until Oswald startled him with a terse “What are you doing with that, boy?”

Muttering an excuse about tidying the room, Merlin left in a hurry, choosing to postpone his chores for a moment to discuss the matter of the blades with Gaius instead. The sooner they figured out what the threat was, the easier it would be to take care of it.

Back in Gaius’ chambers, Merlin tried to explain the problem to his mentor. “To the eye the sword appeared blunt, but when I touched it…” He nodded towards his now bandaged hand.

Gwaine then explained he had already seen such weapons before: blades forged with magic that seemed blunted but had edges sharper than a usual sword. Of course, to carry such blades in a mêlée, when everyone else would have non-lethal weapons, was a telltale sign of nefarious intentions. Probably a plot to kill Arthur, then. With a shudder, Merlin realised the oddities of both knights’ behaviours the previous day could also be signs that they weren’t who they pretended to be.

Merlin needed to warn Arthur.

Of course, Gaius noticed a flaw in his plan. “Merlin, Sir Oswald's a knight. He comes from a well respected family. You can't accuse him without proof.”

Merlin thought with a pinch of regret about the mess he had made with Valiant, not so long ago. He had accused the knight of using an enchanted shield to summon snakes who would bite and poison Valiant’s opponents in a tournament. While Arthur had believed Merlin without a proof at first, Valiant had denied and accused Arthur of cowardice. Naturally, the king had chosen to believe the foreign cheater he had never met instead of his own son who was renowned for his courage and ability with a sword, and Valiant had almost managed to strike Arthur down with his snakes.

Of course, even though Merlin had been proven right, Arthur had never trusted his word again without solid proof of his claims. Still, Merlin had made a point to warn him as soon as he found out about the week’s magical (or mundane) problem.

He let his thoughts turn bitter. Surely, one would have thought the prince would finally take notice that Merlin was always, always right about these things? But no, Arthur had to behave like the stupidly brave fool he was, heading straight towards danger until he had enough proof. Understand: until it was too late for him to do anything but sit and watch while Merlin saved the day with magic, and then saved his own neck with flimsy excuses over which he would lose sleep for days.

Merlin huffed a laugh. His idiot of a best friend had even confirmed he did it on purpose just two days before: “This is one of those moments where I tell you something isn't a good idea and you ignore me, isn't it? - You're learning, Merlin. Slowly, but you're learning.” What a prat.

Granted, nothing should’ve had happened in the tavern, and what had happened was only due to an impeccable mix of their combined rotten luck, Arthur’s stupid courage, and Merlin’s even more stupid big mouth.

Anyway, since the prince wouldn’t listen until he had a Stulorne blade in the gut, Merlin would have to warn him and gather proof. One of the enchanted blades would do. He could make up yet another flimsy excuse to get into Oswald and Ethan’s chambers in the night. But for now, he would head towards Arthur’s chambers and start putting doubt in Arthur’s mind about the knights’ motives.

Merlin crossed the castle corridors and arrived in front of Arthur’s door. Deciding his friend had to be in his best mood if Merlin was to succeed, he knocked softly and entered the room. He belatedly realised he was supposed to wait for Arthur’s answer before entering and started mentally chiding himself for it, when he noticed it wouldn’t matter this time. The prince wasn’t in his chambers.

Noticing the sun coming down, and remembering the four seemingly endless lists of chores he still had to complete, he decided to simply put a note on Arthur’s desk and hope he’d read it before the mêlée. Sitting at Arthur’s desk, he grabbed a scrap of parchment and started writing, setting on a polite tone in order to persuade the prince to read until the end.

Sitting at Arthur’s desk, he grabbed a scrap of parchment and started writing, setting on a polite tone in order to persuade the prince to read until the end.

Sire,

It has come to my attention that two knights, Sir Oswald and Sir Ethan, are planning to make use of enchanted blades for the mêlée. These blades wear an illusion that make them seem blunted, but their edges are still sharp.

Just when he was about to put his name on the note, Merlin saw with consternation that his handwriting was impossible to decipher. With his bandages and the cut on his hand, the ensemble was more akin to splatters of ink than to proper words. With a scowl, he muttered some words of the Old Tongue, hoping his magic would make them into a proper correcting spell. “Sméðe þá ærendbóc.” With a familiar tingle, he felt his magic work and witnessed the ink rearrange itself into nice patterns on the parchment, much neater than his own usual handwriting. Grumbling about how he would explain his improved writing, he settled the note on the desk and hurriedly left to complete his chores.

Later in the evening, he went to the maybe-not-real-knights’ chambers and looked around, trying to spot the glint of iron. Extending his magic in the room, he tried to detect traces of magic. His research led him towards the two men fast asleep on the beds. Did they keep the blades under their covers? Under their beds?

When he came closer, he noticed both men wore similar pendants, raw crystals humming with magic. These were what had attracted the attention of his magic. Plunging his gaze into the crystal on Oswald’s chest, he glimpsed images of a face he recognised perfectly.

Dagr, the thug they had fought in the tavern two days ago.

In the crystal, the man’s round, angry face turned towards Merlin, as if he could see him from inside. At the same moment, Oswald opened his eyes.

Chapter Text

A few moments later, when Merlin thought he was about to be gutted by the definitely-not-knights, he heard more than he saw Gwaine enter the room and ask him if he was alright. The rest happened so fast he almost couldn’t follow: Gwaine fought against the thugs, Leon came in and arrested him, everyone gathered in the throne room.

Of course, Uther had to take the side of the assassins who targeted his son. Merlin wondered how he had managed to not cause Arthur’s death a hundred times before the warlock’s arrival in Camelot. “I've heard enough. For a commoner to attack a nobleman is in violation of the Knight's Code.”

Fortunately, Arthur had something to say. “Merlin, what reason had you to be in the knights’ chambers? I find it hard to believe they would call you at this time of the night.”

Merlin sputtered, trying to find an excuse that would incriminate the thugs, prove Gwaine’s innocence, and hide the fact that he was rifling through assumed nobles’ things while they were sleeping. “I, uh… I had reason to believe… There was something…”

Arthur, for once in his life, seemed to understand there was something Merlin couldn’t say out loud. “Does it have something to do with their swords?”

Merlin nodded quickly. Oswald and Ethan (or rather, Dagr and his accomplice) paled a bit. Uther seemed confused. “What with their swords?”

Arthur smiled at his father. “I am not satisfied with the recount of these events. I have all certainty we will find a suitable explanation for these events if we go to Sir Oswald and Sir Ethan’s chambers.” Looking at the knights, he added “Would you mind?” and left without waiting for an answer.

The thugs, almost certain they still could manage to get away with their plots, started to protest that the prince had to be wrong, but a look from the king reminded them that the Crown Prince of Camelot outranked two foreign knights by far, and they finally understood that doubting the prince in such a way was just the wrong thing to say. Uther, still looking slightly puzzled, followed his son, ordering everyone to come along. He gestured for the two guards at the door to follow them with the implied command of not letting anyone stray away. The thugs stayed at the back, clearly less confident by the minute.

When in the chambers, Arthur asked Merlin to retrieve the knights’ swords. He then gestured to take one blade in his own bare hand. Merlin yelled “No!” and the prince stopped his movement, his hand hovering above the blade.

Arthur smirked. “So you know about the swords too. You were trying to gather proof, weren’t you?”

Merlin nodded again. Uther finally exploded “What in all blazing hells does this mean?”

Arthur put on his best court mask. “If you would look, my lord, these blades appear blunted.”

“Yes.”

“And yet…” Arthur lowered the blade on a piece of cheese from the thugs’ dinner. The cheese was properly cut in two, as it would’ve been with a sharpened knife. “They cut like sharp ones.”

“What is the meaning of this?”

“Only sorcery can make sharp blades appear blunt. These two knights were trying to cheat in the mêlée.”

Uther reacted immediately. “Guards!” The two men were brought on their knees.

“My lord, surely you won’t believe…” Oswald tried.

While everyone’s attention was on the thugs, Merlin gestured at Arthur that he had something to say. The prince started again. “I received an anonymous note warning me about these two knights earlier in the evening. I didn’t pay it attention at first, but when I heard they were involved in some incident, it came back to my mind. But I wasn’t the only one who knew about the swords. Merlin, how did you discover them?”

Everyone looked at the servant. He shuffled uncomfortably. “You assigned me to tend to Sir Oswald and Sir Ethan. When I took their swords to put in the cupboard, I cut myself. The swords were blunt, but the cut was deep, so I asked Gaius if this was possible.” He looked at Gwaine, still held by Sir Leon. “Gwaine told me he had been confronted to these magic blades before, so I wanted to bring evidence of sorcery to you.”

“And did you find anything?” Arthur asked.

“They wear crystals that bear the faces of other people. I’m sure these are magical.”

Uther gestured at the guards, who took the pendants from the men’s necks. The faces of the two knights changed immediately.

Arthur reacted instantly. “You?!”

“Who are they?” asked Uther.

“Father, these are the bandits I told you about. Those from the tavern.”

“I’ve heard enough. Obviously, these men resorted to sorcery to get their revenge on you. They will be executed tomorrow at noon. Guards, take them to the dungeons.”

“What about Gwaine?” asked Arthur, looking at the rogue man still under Leon’s custody. “I owe him my life, and he helped Merlin uncover the sorcery.”

“He still attacked knights and insulted nobility.” Uther said. “I can’t let commoners get away with this.”

Merlin looked at Gwaine, his eyes pleading. Gwaine seemed to shake his head at first, but after another look from Merlin, he sighed and nodded once.

Before Merlin had a chance to speak, Arthur started again. “So we would discourage good citizens from protecting their prince against magic?”

“What do you do of his insolence? His words on the true meaning of nobility?”

“Sire, if I may…” Merlin said. When Arthur looked at him, he continued “Gwaine is the son of a knight from King Caerleon’s army. He didn’t follow his father’s footsteps, but he knows the meaning of nobility.” After a pause, he added “I am thankful for his protection. I wouldn’t have survived the thugs’ attack without him.”

Arthur seemed pleased to learn this. “A knight’s son? Isn’t it ironic? We saw a commoner attacking nobles without a reason, when in fact it was a noble protecting a citizen from commoners. Now we can’t punish him, Father.” Then, turning to Gwaine, he continued “I saw the way you fight. I might even offer to knight you.”

Uther didn't take it well. “You won’t knight this man. You know next to nothing of his past, of his life, of his family. He may be a noble, but I won’t let you bestow this honour on him in such a way.” Then, gesturing at Leon, “I agree that we can’t punish him though. He’s free to go. Sir Leon, you’re dismissed. Gaius, I may have a question on these crystals.”

The king left the chambers, Gaius following him. Leon bowed to the prince and left as well, leaving Arthur, Merlin and Gwaine alone in the chambers.

“I’m sorry for my father’s words, Gwaine.”

“Don’t worry about it. Royals have no manners, I already knew that. Tell me, what convinced you to speak in my favour?”

“I found an anonymous note on my desk. I don’t recognise the handwriting, and there is no name. Perhaps someone who saw them buy the swords? Or heard them plot to use them? And then I heard you say you stepped in to protect my manservant, who has the deplorable habit of sticking his big nose in all kinds of unpleasant business. Isn’t it true, Merlin?” he asked, throwing a mocking grin towards his servant.

Merlin only rolled his eyes, trying to mask the pinprick of hurt that his best friend would follow the advice of any random anonymous message over his own, then turned to Gwaine. “What are you going to do now?”

“Ah, I don’t know, mate. Probably leave for a while.”

“You’re not staying for the mêlée?” Arthur seemed disappointed. “I could convince my father to let you participate. As a reward for your help, or something.”

“Don’t fancy it. I never stay in one place for very long. People get sick of me too quickly.”

“I didn’t!” Merlin chirped in.

“After the trouble I caused?” Gwaine replied with a good laugh.

“You livened the place up.”

Gwaine chuckled. “You’re a good lad, Merlin, and a good friend.” He turned to Arthur. “I’ll be honest: I could never serve under a man like Uther. But you, you’re not so bad for an entitled noble. Try not to get yourself killed, will you?”

With a half-serious scowl, Arthur answered “Right.” With a smile, he asked “Where will you go then?”

“Mercia, perhaps. A dangerous place, but you get a lot more ale for your money.”

“It's a shame. You would make a great knight of Camelot.”

“Maybe one day.” Smiling at Arthur, he raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you need to get some sleep? You have a mêlée to win tomorrow.”

Arthur decided not to pick up on the fact that Gwaine almost dismissed him, and properly gave everyone their leave instead. “You’re certainly right. And I don’t need you around here anymore, you can leave. Good night.”

Chapter Text

“Rise and shine!”

Arthur groaned.

Merlin ducked on instinct, narrowly avoiding a pillow thrown by the Grumpy Prince. “Come on, sire, you have a busy day ahead!”

“I don’t care, Merlin.”

“I don’t think you have a choice,” Merlin said apologetically. “Your duties were assigned by your father, there’s nothing I can do.”

“You could at least try not to sound that chipper. What’s on the list?”

Merlin read through a way-too-long scroll once again. “Well, first you have to go to a ceremony with your father.”

“There’s no knighting until next month at least.” Arthur grumbled.

“It’s a ceremony to give a trophy. For last week’s ceramic art competition.”

“What kind of competition is this?”

“The one you were supposed to attend to last week, but never did? Your father sent you reminders to at least give your opinion on the candidates, and then he decided to pick one himself.”

“I sent him my opinion!” Arthur protested.

“No, you just randomly picked one and decided you liked it.”

“Alright. What’s next?”

“Two hours of training with the… ah, no. Forget that, you don’t have the time. You are supposed to assist your father during the open court session, and then you have lunch with your father, Lord David, and his daughter. I heard she was considering marrying Lord Harold’s son but your father may be considering something different.”

Arthur sighed.

Merlin continued. “This afternoon, your tailor is coming in. Your father told him your measurements must have changed since the last time and he insisted on checking by himself.”

“Merlin! I am not fat!”

Merlin felt charitable, for once, and decided to favour truth to banter. “No you’re not. You’re fighting fit, but your father still sees you as his little child sometimes, and he’s certain you’ll keep growing up.”

Arthur, of course, believed Merlin was practising his sarcatic retorts, which he wasn’t, and answered accordingly. With a goblet to the head and a loud “Merlin!”

Merlin didn’t duck fast enough this time. “Ow, you lettucehead, it hurts! What was that for?”

“Don’t pretend you don’t know.”

Merlin pouted. “I was being nice! If you’re going to take it like that when I’m being nice, then alright, I won’t.” He bowed deeply, a sad look on his face. “If that will be all, Sire.”

He left without waiting for a reply.

“Merlin…” Arthur sighed in a soft voice.

But Merlin didn’t hear Arthur. He was already two corridors away.

Some time later, Merlin was running through the castle to reach Arthur’s chambers. The big prat had forgotten the open court session, and while Uther wouldn’t arrive too quickly, Arthur still needed to be reminded of his duties.

He barged into the room without knocking, only to hear the prince yell “Merlin! Learn to knock, idiot!”

Merlin decided this was undoubtedly a very fine day, and that he loved his job. Well, not really. “Arthur! Open court is about to start.”

“Is the king already there?” Arthur asked in a smug voice.

“No, he’s getting ready with his manservant, in his chambers.”

“Then, I’m not late. I have all the time in the world,” Arthur replied, looking pleased with himself.

“If you say so, sire. Now come on, you need to be there on time.”

“Merlin. I’m the Prince. I give the orders.” He smirked. “Let me show you. Merlin, get out of the door, knock like you’re supposed to do, and tell me again what is it that you have to tell me.”

Merlin hesitated.

Arthur’s smirk grew wider. “Go on! Get out, knock, and then you can tell me.”

Merlin went out, dragging his feet. He knocked, entered, and opened his mouth.

Arthur, of course, cut him before he could place a word. “You need to wait for my reply. Try again.”

“Really, Arthur, it’s not the best time to…”

“Try again, Merlin.”

Merlin repeated his actions and waited for a reply. After an excruciatingly long time, Arthur answered “Enter!” in a cheery voice and Merlin finally came back in the room, desperately trying to hide his murderous feelings. “Arthur, we need to go to the open court session, we’re wasting time, come on!” he said in a desperate tone. The king usually had little respect for those who dared being late. Usually, Merlin happily took the blame for Arthur and ended up in the stocks. Today, though, any lateness would have been caused by Arthur’s pigheadedness, and Merlin wasn’t about to let the prat get away with it.

When they reached the throne room, the king was sitting on his throne. A steely glint danced in his cold eyes when he looked at his son. Nothing had started yet, but technically, they were late. Arthur shrugged imperceptibly and nodded towards Merlin.

Repressing a sigh, Merlin took his place behind Arthur.

The open court session was just as dull as any session of the sort had the right to be. The longer part of the session had been devoted to solving an infuriating legacy dispute. A miller who had also owned an abandoned tannery. He had had a daughter with a first wife, two sons with another, one of whom had married a girl and then died. The second wife had been a widow, and so the miller had raised her son from her first marriage, but not officially adopted him. And apparently, he had had an affair with a third woman, and sired another son. And his neighbour claimed he had promised to sell him his tannery one day, on a contract.

Which was a problem, because the not-adopted stepson wanted to become a tanner. But the second son wanted to sell the tannery because he needed the money. And the wife of the deceased first son was arguing that she should receive a part as well, in memory of her husband. The mother (second wife, mother of the stepson and the two legitimate sons) was trying not to take sides. And the mother of the bastard said the miller had promised to marry her, and then had left her when she had been with child.

After what seemed like hours of inane arguing about tanneries and mills and grain and whatnot, Uther had ordered them to find a compromise together and present it to the king for approval during the next open court session, lest they found themselves in the dungeons for an undetermined period of time.

For once, Merlin agreed with the king.

Then came a farmer from a village outside of the citadel, in the southern lands of the kingdom.

“My name is Thomas, sire. I come from Stemfield, on the river Arn. We have a problem with the river dams, sire. They are damaged. People have died, sire, men and women alike. And good swimmers with that, sire.”

“Has your village been flooded?” Uther asked.

“No, sire, not yet, only the crops, but everyone who has tried to repair the dams has also been found dead. They were all drowned, sire!” Thomas said.

“You said they were good swimmers. All of them?”

“Some of them I saw swimming in the river since they were little children, sire. Something killed them, sire. I’m sure of it.”

“Some… thing?”

“It’s not someone, sire. We haven’t seen anyone.”

“Perhaps sorcery is involved,” Uther suggested. He turned to his son. “Arthur. Take a few men, and go investigate. If a sorcerer has found a way to break the dams and kill these people, then we must make sure they are arrested, and executed. You leave tomorrow.”

Merlin’s day had been absolutely wretched. In the afternoon, Arthur had hated the hours during which the tailor had measured his height, his width, his shoulders, his head, then prodded his stomach, his back, his thighs, and then covered him with ribbons, scraps of cloth, accessories, and so on, all the while taking endless notes on scrolls of parchment. Watching Arthur suffer and silently empathising with him (Merlin hated when his mother measured him to mend or adjust his clothes, and he had only had one or two loosely fitting sets with no adornments) wasn’t the worse though. The prince had fidgeted and squirmed, disturbing the measurements and making the tailor start over several times in growing annoyance. The man had therefore taken his frustration out on Merlin, snapping angrily every time Merlin had offered his assistance and openly insulting him whenever he had an opportunity.

After this ordeal, Arthur had also chosen Merlin as a target to take his frustration out, and he had sent him to muck out the stables, cutting the comforting comments Merlin was about to make.

Of course, when he had stumbled over the threshold of Gaius’ chambers in the late afternoon, covered in diverse unpalatable materials, the physician had levelled an unimpressed stare at the boy and asked why he hadn’t come earlier to clean the leech tank as he was supposed to do. After freshening up quickly (heaven forbid he came close to any of Gaius’ medical devices with horse dung and stale hay on his… well, everything, really), Merlin had thus traded manure and straw for leech slime. And leeches. Lots of leeches.

To put it in a nutshell, Merlin spent his afternoon on the two chores he hated the most.

As the sun was setting on the horizon, Merlin sat at Gaius’ table with a few books, looking for an explanation of what could have caused the strange events in Stemfield. He found a substantial amount of creatures, artifacts, and spells, that could be involved, but soon (too soon) it was time to bring Arthur his dinner and assist him for the night.

Once in Arthur’s chambers, almost not late, with the prince’s dinner almost as warm as it had been in the kitchens safely deposited in front of the sitting prat, Merlin allowed himself a breather. He sat in a corner and started folding clothes leisurely.

Five minutes later, Arthur couldn’t help but antagonise him for fun. “Is that the best you can do?”

Merlin decided he didn’t have the energy to reply.

“Oh, come on, Merlin. What’s wrong with you? Aside from the whole… Well, being you,” Arthur insisted.

Merlin sighed and tried to change the topic in the least subtle way possible: ignoring the current matter and pretending to start a new conversation altogether. “Have you chosen who’s going to Stemfield with us?”

“Us? You think you’re coming with us?”

“I’m always coming with you. Have you chosen though?”

“That’s hardly any concern of yours. But yes, we’ll go with Sir Leon, Sir Vidor and Sir Bertrand.”

“Alright. I’ve done some research in Gaius’ books about the problem. It might be an amphisbaena, a shellycoat, a nixe, a grundylow, or even a kelpie, or a–”

“Merlin, half of what you just said makes no sense. I think you should leave the actual research to people who know what they’re doing, like me and Gaius. Just make sure you don’t trip in the water like those villagers, and everything should be fine.”

This night, Merlin concluded that the world, or destiny, or the Old Religion, or something, hated him with a passion.

Chapter Text

The next morning, Merlin woke up before dawn to start preparing the trip to Stemfield. The horses needed to be saddled and saddlebags needed to be filled with food provisions from the kitchen. And of course, he needed to wake up the Prince of Prats, because the sun was not good enough for him. No, he had to be coddled and pampered and roused by someone else, because he couldn’t do it himself. Grumbling, he hurried to complete all his tasks in time before running to His Prattery. Hopefully the prince wouldn’t throw a (fragile) clay goblet to his head if he was on time.

“Rise and shine!” he almost shouted, earning a groan from the slumbering shape under the covers.

He took a second to analyse the groan while putting the prince’s platter on the table. More sleep than frustration. That wouldn’t do. If they were late, Arthur would find a way to blame it on him, and there was no way Merlin had an encore performance of the day before. He had had enough of Arthur’s rudeness for a week at least. Silently, he got closer to the bed, tiptoeing around the random items strewn on the floor. He delicately grabbed the bedsheets, and yanked them as hard as he could. Fortunately, Arthur didn’t expect that and the sheets came without resistance. Unfortunately, Arthur didn’t like surprises. Merlin soon found himself under an onslaught of flying pillows that had him retreat behind the screen.

From his safe place, he reminded Arthur of the mission in Stemfield. The prince groaned again, then pushed himself out of bed and on his feet. The prince sluggishly made his way to the screen, where he practically fell asleep on Merlin’s shoulder.

Merlin sighed. “As much as I appreciate you giving me a hug for once, I’m not a pillow and you’ll be late. Don’t pretend you’re getting dressed just to get some more shuteye, you know it’s not doing you any good.”

Arthur then let Merlin dress him and went to eat his breakfast in silence. Certain he wouldn’t fall asleep again, Merlin went back to the stables. Sir Leon was already there, readying his horse.

“Merlin!” the knight greeted him. “Is Arthur coming soon?”

“Yes, he’s preparing in his chambers. He’ll be there in a moment.”

“You’re coming with us, aren’t you?” Leon asked.

“You wouldn’t last a day without me.”

Leon had a good-hearted laugh, and clapped Merlin’s shoulder.

Some time later, the three knights were about to leave the courtyard and Arthur still wasn’t there. Merlin ran in the corridors to reach the prat’s chambers, hoping he wasn’t…

He was. His head was resting on his arms, his body was slumped on his table, and he was snoring. Loudly. Merlin came close to the table, inhaled loudly, and yelled “WAKE UP, DOLLOPHEAD!”

The look on Arthur’s face when he jerked up, awake again, was priceless. “I’m just… I was resting my eyes.”

Merlin threw him an unimpressed stare. Trying to hide his sheepishness, Arthur stood up and left the room, Merlin following him.

Soon enough, everyone was ready and Arthur, who had done next to nothing, led his men out of the citadel. After a while, Merlin asked him what his plan was, and Arthur admitted he would just go and see.

“And hope the... thing doesn't kill you first?”

“I'm a Knight of Camelot, Merlin. I can take care of myself.”

“Sure you can, that's why I'm here after all,” Merlin muttered.

“I heard that!”

“You were supposed to!”

“Oh really?” He spurred his horse and called “Sir Leon! Join me and let's discuss my strategy for what we find in Stemfield!”

The knight asked “Go there and see?”

“Exactly!” Arthur answered with a laugh.

Merlin sighed loudly. This would be a long day.

Around noon, they reached a clearing with a small stream, and Arthur ordered a break. Merlin unpacked the food supplies he'd prepared and distributed the simple lunch to the knights. Sitting down with his own portion of food ready, he asked Arthur: “So, do you want to hear what we found about the possible causes of the damage? I was thinking–”

“You really are a wonder, Merlin. How is it that you do so much thinking, and yet you fail to understand the most basic sentences? I told you to leave the research to people with a functioning brain,” Arthur cut.

“But…” Merlin tried to protest.

“Go feed the horses, Merlin.”

“I haven’t eaten!”

“Neither have the horses, and they are more useful than you. Unless you want to carry the three of us on your back?” Arthur retorted.

Merlin left his food and went to tend to the horses, grumbling all the while. Of course, the horses perceived his dark mood and were uncooperative. Which made the whole operation more time-consuming than usual. When Merlin finished and returned to the knights, he found that Arthur had just called the end of their break. And the hungry knights had eaten his lunch, leaving only an apple.

“But… I haven’t eaten!”

Arthur picked the apple and threw it at Merlin. The fruit bumped against his forehead and fell to the ground. Trying to hide the tears pooling at the corners of his eyes, Merlin bent down to take it.

Several hours later, the party had reached Stemfield. The villagers had pointed them towards the broken dam, and they found the place easily.

The wooden dam had been broken in several places, as if someone had used a small battering ram to destroy the beams. The pillars maintaining the structure had been cut clean with a saw, presumably by the workers who had tried to repair the dam. The strangest part was that there was no obvious reason for the victims to have drowned: the water was shallow around the damaged parts.

The knights tried to come up with an explanation.

“Maybe the victims went for a bath in the river after their work, and they were too tired to fight the current?” Sir Vidor suggested.

“No, there are too many of them for that. They wouldn’t have all died the same way,” Arthur objected.

“Perhaps they were sick? Is there a disease in town?” Sir Bertrand asked.

“Not that I heard of,” Sir Leon replied. “We saw no sign of a disease in the village earlier, and they didn’t tell us anything.”

“Then they must’ve slipped on some stones in the ford,” Arthur decided. “Come with me, we have to determine what broke the dam.”

Arthur led the party on a walk along the river.

Not far from the dam, they came across a magnificent white stallion, standing in the stream with water up to its ergots. The horse’s long mane was raven black, shining with glints of deep blue in the sunlight. Its clever eyes looked at each of the knights in turn, as if waiting for them to do something. The beast looked strong and fit for battle. No doubt the owner of such a fine destrier had to be a rich man, possibly a knight or a lord. And yet, there was no one around.

The knights looked fascinated by the horse. They completely forgot their mission. Merlin, on the other hand, had never been much interested in horses. He didn’t understand his companions’ behaviour. That horse had to belong to someone.

The horse seemed lost, as if its master had gone and left him. It shuffled its legs impatiently, still looking at the knights. Sir Leon came closer to the stallion, reaching out with his hand to gently pet the horse’s mane. Upon resting his hand on the animal, his eyes took a dreamy expression, as if he was in paradise. The beast calmed down.

The two other knights, Sir Vidor and Sir Bertrand, went to pet the horse’s mane as well. Arthur, looking envious, finally tore his gaze from the ground where he was trying to find clues and went to the horse as well. The beast, looking satisfied, started ambling towards deeper parts of the stream. Instead of trying to coax it into following them to the shore, the knights and Arthur, an ecstatic expression on their faces, went with the horse, letting water reach their knees, then thighs, then waists.

Strange.

The explanation hit Merlin like a thousand bricks. This wasn’t a horse. This was a kelpie.

From his recent research, he knew kelpies were creatures of magic that appeared as beautiful horses with a glamour. They enchanted anyone who touched their mane into following them in rivers, where they drowned them and ate their flesh. When Merlin had read this description, he had thought ‘beautiful horses’ meant graceful mares, not warhorses.

He had to do something. He couldn’t use his magic, there was no weapon around him, and the knights had water up to their bellies now. He ran in the river, trying to reach Arthur. He called the knights’ names but received no answer. When he put his hand on Arthur’s arm, trying to yank his hand from the horse’s mane, Arthur shoved him aside without even looking at him.

Merlin reached for the prince’s belt, grabbed the hilt of his sword and yanked, freeing it from the scabbard. In a swift movement, he drew the blade deep into the kelpie’s neck. Black blood oozed from the wound, and the creature’s eyes turned hazy as its body fell in the water. The knights looked around them in confusion, and Arthur yelled “Merlin! What on earth did you just do?!”

“I just saved your…”

Arthur threw a punch at him and hit him in the jaw. “You just killed the best warhorse I’ve ever seen! Do you know how much a horse like this is worth? Certainly more than your own life, you worthless…”

Spitting blood, Merlin replied “That’s not a horse, you big prat!”

Coldly, Arthur asked “And what is it then?”

“A magic human-eating river kelpie!”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just look.”

Merlin brushed past the knights and put his hand above the kelpie’s head, pretending to be looking for a specific point. “If I just hit here…” he muttered, before slamming his palm on the beast’s forehead while simultaneously using his magic to discreetly remove the glamour.

The muscular horse became horrifically thin, its bones visible under its hide. Bumps and lumps appeared on its flank. The raven mane revealed itself as a tangled mass of purplish tentacles, and so did the tail. Scales appeared on the beast’s legs.

“It wears a glamour to hide its appearance and enchant everyone who touches it,” Merlin explained. “If you hit a specific point on its head, the glamour breaks,” he lied to cover his quite blatant use of magic. He hoped none of the knights would notice the hesitation in his voice.

Arthur looked sheepish for a second, then straightened himself. He had to save face in front of his knights. “Merlin,” he said in his best prat-voice, “the next time you forget to mention crucial information that could get us killed, I’ll put you in the dungeons myself, and I’ll make sure the guards forget to ever set you free.”

That was unfair, as Merlin had tried many times to tell him about his researches, but he knew protesting wouldn’t help. Arthur was in a bad mood since the last day and waking up early hadn’t improved it in the least.

“Yes, sire,” he replied.

“You can take care of that thing, then. We need to burn it. There’s no way we let the carcass poison the river with its magic.”

Sir Leon took a step forward to offer his help, but Arthur stopped him. “Come rest with us, Sir Leon. Merlin can take care of it. Make himself useful, for once.”

Merlin was left alone to pull the dead kelpie out of the river. He only succeeded with a bit of magic and a lot of sweat. That thing was heavy. He then collected firewood for the pyre, while the knights rested and watched, sitting in the grass under the shadow of the trees. When he finally finished, the evening was already upon them, and the sun was about to set.

“And where’s our camp, Merlin?” Arthur asked in a cold tone.

Merlin threw him a pained look, but went to fetch supplies and set up their camp. When everything was done, and a stew was simmering above the campfire, Arthur called again: “Haven’t you burnt that thing already? What are you waiting for?”

Sighing, Merlin took a piece of wood, lit it in the fire, and went to light the pyre. He couldn’t go back to their campfire: someone needed to watch it and make sure the fire wouldn’t spread. When the last ashes cooled down, he returned to a silent camp: the knights had all gone to sleep, leaving him with an empty pot of stew and several dirty plates. And he was apparently on first watch.

Which meant he couldn’t leave to wash the dishes yet, and he’d have to do it after his watch.

When he finally went to sleep, Merlin couldn’t keep tears from silently flowing from his eyes. Arthur hadn't behaved with him like this since... actually, he'd never been as horrible with him. That was a new low, and Merlin didn't know what to do. When would the prince learn to trust him? Or start to trust his judgement again? He had completely believed Merlin about Valiant mere days after they'd first met. Now he barely listened to him. Crying in silence, he let sleep take him. Maybe tomorrow would be better.

Chapter Text

The day after the disastrous kelpie incident, Merlin didn’t talk to Arthur until they reached Camelot, in the late afternoon. The prince threw him side glances, but Merlin didn’t pay attention and kept his gaze on the road in front of them. Enough of dealing with that prat’s stupidity. If he wanted to apologise, he knew where to find Merlin.

As soon as the party dismounted, Merlin took the horses to the stables with the stable boys and unpacked the knights’ belongings, going as fast as he could to limit his potential interactions with Arthur to a minimum. Luckily, the prince didn’t wait for him and entered the castle immediately to report to the king, and Merlin soon found himself standing in an empty courtyard.

Empty, except for a friendly face.

“Gwen!” he greeted.

“Hi, Merlin,” she replied, then frowned. “Have you eaten?”

“Yes,” Merlin answered truthfully.

“Have you eaten a true meal?” Gwen insisted.

“… Yes?” Merlin lied.

She put her hands on her hips and threw him a pointed look.

“No,” he admitted.

An hour before noon, Arthur had mentioned they were making good time, Sir Vidor had suggested to forgo lunch and arrive sooner, and the other knights had approved. Merlin had grumbled and eaten berries he had kept in his pockets in case something like that happened. He was sure the knights weren’t trying to starve him. They had simply forgotten that he hadn’t eaten last night. Stupid nobles. He missed Gwaine already.

“Merlin, you look like you’re going to fall over. How long have you gone without eating? When was your last meal?” Gwen asked.

“Two days ago, in the evening.”

Her frown deepened. “How comes you forgot to eat? Did you find serious trouble in Stemfield?”

He told her, seeing her eyes twinkle with anger with each sentence.

“I’m sure he didn’t mean it, he was just…” he tried. “You know, he’s… he’s Arthur. He gets frustrated and angry and all…”

“Yes, Merlin, but that’s no excuse to treat people like they don’t matter! I thought he’d become better than that, but if it’s just with me –”

“I think it’s just with me,” Merlin said.

“Still not an excuse. Now, you go to Gaius, you eat something and you stay there for the night. I’ll cover for you. No, don’t you dare say I don’t have to.”

“I wasn’t. I swear. Really. But what if Arthur needs me?”

“For what? I can clean his chambers too, you know.”

“His armour?”

“Blacksmith’s daughter, Merlin, have you forgotten already?”

“What about preparing him for bed? You can’t exactly undress him.”

“George owes me for helping him with laundry for the past two months.” Gwen replied in a strange voice.

“… Are you blushing?”

“Merlin!” she protested, swatting his arm.

Chuckling, he went into the castle with her. She made sure he took the way to Gaius’ chambers and went on her way. As he made his way through the maze of corridors and stairs of the castle, he came across a door left ajar from which he could hear an unknown hushed voice. Stopping dead in his tracks, he listened to the fragmented comments.

“… he has the ear of the royals, then… just have to replace him. Once my nephew takes his place… will be easy to influence the king. A word… prince… babble a little during lunch… repeat to his father… get rid of him. Not even able to do his job properly, they said… told you three times already! I’ll frame him for using magic! Nobody will ever know it was just a trick!”

A second voice hissed in warning and Merlin heard feet shuffling on the ground, coming closer to the door. He moved back a few steps to keep out of sight. He heard someone open wide the door. He could imagine them poking their head out and checking the corridor. He forced himself to breathe silently, not moving until he heard the door slammed shut. There was no sound of feet in the corridor. They had chosen to stay in the room instead of checking the area. Probably.

He blew all the air in his lungs. When would he catch a break? This was another plot. They had mentioned the prince, replacing someone, and getting rid of them. Were they trying to kill Arthur? By… framing him for using magic? What sort of dumb plan was that? Uther might be mad, but he’d never believe Arthur would practise magic.

He needed to discuss this with Gaius. Before he went, he tried to remember the details of the conversation he overheard. The smallest detail could be crucial.

A knock at his door interrupted Arthur’s thinking. He called “Enter!” and greeted Guinevere with a warm smile.

The maid kept a straight face, closed the door and made a curtsey. “My lord.”

“Guinevere? Is something wrong? Do you have any problem?”

“No, my lord,” she replied, looking everywhere but at him. She started tidying and reorganising his room.

“Guinevere. There is something. Tell me.”

“I do not have any problem, my lord.”

“Then who?” he insisted in a soft voice.

She lifted her head up, staring at him. “I met Merlin in the courtyard. He was barely able to stand.”

“Is he being a baby again? What did he complain about, this time?”

“He didn’t complain. I had to interrogate him to find out he hasn’t eaten more than a few berries for two days.”

“What?! Why hasn’t he said anything?”

“You don't have any idea, do you? I thought you stopped treating people based on their station,” she sighed.

“What do you mean?”

“Arthur, you make him wake up before dawn to prepare your trip, then you make him feed the horses while you and your knights eat and rest, then you make him burn that… horse thing while you sit in the grass and eat all his stew! He can’t even protest, because you’re allowed to do all this, and worse, if you want to! And tell me, why would he say anything about being hungry to you of all people when you’re the one responsible for it?!”

Arthur felt his jaw fall with every word. He lowered his eyes, sheepishly.

“You’re right. I’ve crossed the line with my… attitude. I’m sorry.”

“I’m not the one you should apologise to.”

“I’m going to find Merlin,” Arthur decided.

“He’s resting and eating in Gaius’ chambers. He probably doesn’t want to see you right now.”

“Would you mind… bringing him a message?”

“Of course,” she replied.

“Tell him I’m sorry, I didn’t realise he hadn’t eaten anything.”

She nodded, smiled at last, and left the room.

“He said he would ‘get rid of him’, Gaius. I think it’s a plot against Arthur.”

“I’m not so sure, my boy. Something’s strange in what you just said,” Gaius replied.

“But he’s in danger!”

“I do not think it’s Arthur who’s in danger. Think about it, Merlin. He mentioned someone having the ear of the royals. Plural.”

A knock interrupted their discussion. Gaius went to open the door, revealing Gwen.

“Gwen!” Merlin welcomed her. “Help me convince Gaius!”

“Merlin!” Gaius protested.

“He said it was a trick, not ma… uh… It won’t be dangerous. What do you think, Gwen?”

“Merlin, have you eaten?” Gwen asked while entering. She had a covered basket at her arm, from which she extracted small honey cakes. “Take this.”

“Oh, thank you, Gwen! You’re the best! Where did you get this?”

She smiled. “I nicked them from the kitchen, obviously!”

“I didn’t think you were the type to steal food from the kitchens. Unless someone needs it more than the nobles.”

“And right now, you don’t?” she asked with a smile.

He laughed. “You’re probably right.”

They shared the cakes with Gaius.

“Now tell me, what were you two up to?” she asked.

Merlin repeated what he’d overheard in the corridor, and his conclusion that it had to be a plot against Arthur. Gwen immediately giggled.

“Sorry, that’s not funny,” she apologised. “It’s not a plot against Arthur. It’s a plot against you!”

“Me? What do you mean?” Merlin asked.

“Thank you, Gwen,” Gaius said. "You're quite perceptive."

“Thank you, Gaius. Merlin, you’re always with Arthur. He listens to you, even when he pretends not to. And the king listens to him.”

“Arthur doesn’t listen to me,” Merlin protested. “Otherwise he would've known about the kelpie.”

“He cares about you, Merlin,” Gwen insisted. “He asked me to tell you that he’s sorry for letting you go on without eating anything.”

“He could’ve come here to say that himself,” Merlin grumbled.

“Not after I told him you wouldn’t want to see him.”

Merlin smiled. “Did you tell him off?”

“… maybe.”

“Gwen, have I ever told you that you’re the best?”

“Ten minutes ago, but I don’t mind you repeating it,” she smiled.

“Right. Now we have to thwart their plans,” Merlin said.