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Chapter Text

Once Camelot had been taken back from Morgana and the army of the dead was vanquished, the knights of the round table could have believed that they had comfortably proved themselves as great warriors. No man in Prince Arthur's army was exempt from his training regimen, however, and even his greatest knights had to get down in the dirt with the other soldiers to run drills and train their strength.

If anything, Arthur's selected few were expected to train more intensely than the others, and they threw themselves into it with dedication and enthusiasm. On Thursdays, they split off from the main corps to practice as one cohesive unit.

It became the custom that they would sit together for an hour or two after training, beginning by discussing tactics and debriefing after their session, and ending with fair quantities of drink, and the kind of ribald talk that they usually reserved for around the campfire. The servants learned to bring the knights' evening meals directly to the armoury on those days.

Merlin usually took the opportunity to start cleaning the prince's armour at this point, sitting on the floor and enjoying the conversation that bounced around the room. However, when Arthur was caught up with his duties and unable to attend, he could easily be cajoled into abandoning his work.

"Come on, Merlin," said Gwaine, pulling Merlin onto his lap. "You're making us look bad."

"If the prince's armour isn't cleaned to his standards, I'll tell him it's all your fault," Merlin laughed, nonetheless taking the tankard of cider that Percival offered him.

"We will cover for you," promised Lancelot. "You are our mascot, after all."

"Mascot?" sniffed Merlin, screwing up his face.

"No, he's more like a good luck charm," said Gwaine, ruffling his hair.

"Excuse me!" huffed Merlin.

"Maybe a pet?" offered Leon.

"How about a valued member of the team?" suggested Merlin, throwing up his hands in exasperation.

"They're not mutually exclusive," Elyan commented.

Merlin got over his pettishness fairly rapidly when Leon served him a slice of pie, Lancelot topped up his drink, and Gwaine wrapped an arm around his waist. Soon he was joining in with the merriment, telling stories about his adventures and laughing with the others.

Afternoon rolled into evening, and the sunlight slanting through the high windows turned orange, then pink.

"I should light the candles," said Merlin, making a half-hearted attempt to stand up.

"Oh, no you don't," insisted Gwaine. "When was the last time you had a day off?"

"What's a day off?" laughed Merlin.

"Percival," said Gwaine. "Please take our honoured compatriot."

Merlin let himself be picked up and placed onto Percival's lap, resigned to being passed around the room like a jug of wine, and accepted another pastry from a grinning Elyan.

By the time he made his farewells and headed upstairs to attend to the prince before bed, Merlin was certain that he had completely sobered up.

"Are you drunk?" asked Arthur as soon as his servant entered the room.

"No."

"Yes you are," said the prince, moving closer to sniff him. "You've been on the cider."

"I was helping the knights to debrief."

"I'm sure you had some excellent insights," said Arthur, patting him on the shoulder condescendingly.

"I'm a valued member of the team!" insisted Merlin.

Arthur laughed and turned away to attend to his own undressing, before pausing with a sudden thought.

"I suppose you would make quite a good mascot," he mused.

Fortunately for both of them, the candlestick that Merlin threw at Arthur's head missed by about a foot.

Arthur was always at his best when he was giving instruction to the knights, striding around the field in his shining armour, golden hair glowing like a halo around his head.

"The first thing to remember," he was saying, the authority in his voice keeping the men silent, "is to keep a good grip on your sword. You have no idea how often I'll be in combat with an enemy, and their sword will simply fly from their hands and fall on the ground."

Merlin giggled, until Lancelot discreetly stepped on his foot.

"Situational awareness is critical," continued the prince. "The forest and mountains are particularly treacherous. Falling branches and sudden rock slides are extremely common in the heat of battle. Merlin, is there something you'd like to share with the rest of us?"

"No, sire," said Merlin with a cough, schooling his face into a respectful, serious expression.

"Well, it seems as though Merlin has just volunteered to clean everyone's armour."

Merlin cast his eyes to the heavens and bit back an insolent retort.

"That's enough for one day," said Arthur. "Hurry up, Merlin, you've got plenty of work to do in the armoury."

"Thanks, Merlin," said Elyan as he passed, punching him on the shoulder in a comradely manner.

"Yeah, you've saved me a job," laughed Gwaine, already unbuckling the plate armour from his shoulder.

The knights discussed their training as Merlin helped Arthur out of his armour, disrobing themselves, until Merlin found himself in a room full of sweaty, shirtless men, with a stack of muddy armour and dirty tunics at his feet.

"Thanks," said Merlin without enthusiasm. He sat down with a sigh and picked up his brush to begin cleaning.

Arthur talked for a few minutes about the proper way to flank a small group of soldiers and reiterated the necessity of a strong grip on one's sword, before excusing himself to attend to a speech he had to prepare for the next day.

The moment the prince left the room, Gwaine plucked the brush from Merlin's hands and threw it to Leon, who threw it over Merlin's head to Elyan, laughing as Merlin tried to catch it in vain.

"Come on, Merlin," said Lancelot, taking the servant by the waist and pulling him onto his lap, Merlin's back pressed against the knight's bare chest. "I'm sure a man of your talents can finish his work later."

"Cheer up," added Gwaine. "You know we're only playing with you. There's no need to look so put-upon."

"I'd feel better with a flagon of mead in my hands," laughed Merlin, happy to leave his work until he could finish it with magic later on.

"Here," said Elyan, pouring him a generous serving and bringing the cup over to him.

"My hero," said Merlin, giving his friend an enthusiastic peck on the cheek.

"Why does he get a kiss? I thought I was your favourite," said Percival, pouting.

"I'm his favourite," asserted Gwaine. "I'm objectively the best one out of all of us."

"Arthur's his favourite," said Leon, rolling his eyes. "None of us even comes close."

"Excuse me, I think I'm the only one who knows who my favourite is," insisted Merlin. "And it's whoever brings me one of those little cakes over there."

The ensuing scuffle made casualties of nearly all of the remaining cakes, but Leon tripped the others out of the way and managed to bear one aloft over to where Merlin was sitting in state in Lancelot's arms.

Leon turned a very fetching shade of pink when he received his victory kiss on the cheek, but Merlin, who had shoved the entire cake into his mouth in one bite, didn't notice.

"There's got to be a better way to do moving target practice," panted Merlin, ducking behind his wooden shield as the axe flew towards his head.

"Don't be ridiculous," laughed Arthur, readying his throwing arm. "I've always trained this way, and barely anyone has died."

The axe cartwheeled through the air to thud into the wood. Merlin lowered the shield to give his master a sullen scowl.

"Fine," sighed Arthur, taking pity on him and turning to the knights. "Merlin's little legs are tired, so we're going to throw axes at the training dummies."

"You know," commented Merlin as he extracted the axes from his shield and handed them out to the knights, "my legs are the same size as yours."

"Possibly in length, definitely not in girth," replied Arthur, swaggering a little as they started off across the grounds.

"We can't all have thighs like venison haunches."

"Or a side of beef, in Percival's case," said Gwaine on his way past, whereupon he was promptly picked up into the air by Percival and carried to the other side of the field, laughing like an idiot.

"Bet you can't do that," said Merlin, elbowing Arthur in the side.

"You're right, Merlin," agreed the prince. "Gwaine's got a lot of muscle mass. It is hard to lift a fully-trained knight. You, however..."

Merlin shrieked in alarm when Arthur threw him over his shoulder and sprinted across the field, depositing him gracelessly in a pile of hay at the other end.

"Will you at least help me up?" grunted Merlin as he struggled to extricate himself from the hay. When Arthur offered his hand, Merlin took it, and then kicked out at the prince's leg so that he fell down into the heap, taking Merlin's place.

"You're terrible!" shouted Merlin. "I don't know why you're my favourite."

"Hey!" yelped Gwaine in outrage.

"I told you," said Leon.

Arthur, face-down in a pile of hay, just groaned.

"I'm telling you, it's impossible," insisted Gwaine, waving a chicken drumstick in the air to emphasise his point. "It's feminine wiles, that's what it is."

"It can't be that hard to braid someone's hair," Leon scoffed. He had been the first to tempt Merlin away from polishing armour, so the servant was perched on his lap, showering his red cloak with crumbs.

"Do you know how to do it?" asked Merlin through a mouthful of bread.

"No, but-"

"Elyan knows how to do it."

Elyan cleared his throat as the knights turned to look at him.

"I told you that in confidence."

"Go on, show them how you do it. Lancelot, sit there."

"I am happy to help," said Lancelot, gracefully crossing his legs to sit down in front of Elyan. Gwaine craned his neck to watch as Elyan's sure hands plaited the soft strands of Lancelot's long hair.

The knights all jumped and looked up guiltily when Arthur came striding through the door.

"What on earth is this?"

"No, sire, you have to put that piece underneath the middle bit," said Elyan, looking over the prince's shoulder as Arthur puzzled over Lancelot's braid.

"This is impossible," said Arthur, screwing up his face.

"Feminine wiles," said Gwaine sagely, nodding his head.

Lancelot, stoic as his hair was pulled, smiled to himself. "I don't think Elyan has any feminine wiles," he said gently.

"No," agreed Elyan. "I just have a sister and a working pair of hands."

"That's treason," said Arthur vaguely, still frowning over the hair between his fingers.

"It can't be that hard," insisted Leon.

"If it's so easy, you come and have a go at it," said Arthur. "Go on."

"Fine. Here, take Merlin."

Arthur found himself with a lapful of Merlin before he really knew what was going on, and Leon dragged his chair closer to Lancelot.

"Can't Merlin sit on a normal chair?" asked Arthur.

"Not on Thursdays, sire," said Lancelot, as thought it were obvious.

"Here," said Gwaine, picking up a strawberry tart and bringing it over to Merlin, who grinned and kissed Gwaine's proffered cheek. "I knew I was your favourite."

"Why are you suddenly so popular with my men?" asked Arthur, looking between Gwaine and his servant in bewilderment.

"I'm the mascot," said Merlin simply, shrugging his shoulders, and popped the pastry in his mouth.

The knights' bickering over Merlin's affections became more and more obvious to Arthur as time went by. Whenever they all sat together for dinner in Arthur's chambers, they would squabble over whose goblet Merlin should refill first - which was patently ridiculous, because he always filled Arthur's first.

His men started to save the best parts of their meals to slip quietly to Merlin, grinning ear to ear when the servant kissed their cheek in return. Eventually, he had to say something.

"Stop feeding him such rich food," he snapped after seeing Percival handing over a pork pie to Merlin. "Do you have any idea how long it took me to get him to eat his vegetables? You're undoing all my good work. Merlin, come here."

"Get me to eat vegetables?" scoffed Merlin as he strode to stand at his prince's side. "You'd eat nothing but meat if you didn't have me keeping an eye on you."

"Shut up and eat this turnip," sighed the prince, handing over his spoon to his servant, who made a face but rapidly ate all of the vegetables on Arthur's plate.

Arthur didn't ask for a kiss on the cheek in return, but he was still slightly upset not to receive one.

It was when he happened to catch sight of a private interaction between Merlin and Lancelot that he felt like he really had to intervene.

That Merlin habitually stole from the kitchens was the worst-kept secret in all of Camelot, but he didn't usually have co-conspirators.

"Here," whispered Merlin, handing over an entire pie to Lancelot, who was concealed in an alcove, having fled after causing a distraction a few moments earlier.

"I suppose I owe you a kiss now," murmured Lancelot, before grasping Merlin's jaw and kissing him square on the lips. When he drew back, Merlin was wearing the most absurd expression of surprise, blushing a little pink and looking rather pleased.

Arthur had the sudden urge to go and kill something, for reasons he didn't particularly want to investigate.

"You all need to start treating Merlin with more respect," he announced to the knights after their next training session while Merlin was on an errand to the blacksmith.

"Sire, we all hold Merlin in high regard," Leon reassured him with a puzzled frown.

"If I recall correctly, you're the one who's always throwing things at him," added Gwaine.

"We would all gladly lay down our lives for Merlin," said Elyan seriously.

"I'm not talking about that," said Arthur, shifting uncomfortably. "All this... carrying-on with the kissing and the cuddles. It's undignified."

"Isn't Merlin allowed to kiss who he wants, sire?" asked Lancelot.

"Well, yes, technically, but-"

"So, will you not grant him the dignity of his choice?"

"Look," said Arthur firmly, standing with his hands on his hips. "He's my servant."

"Ah," said Gwaine knowingly, "and you'd rather he be kissing you."

"No, that's not what this is about."

"So what's the problem, sire?" asked Percival, furrowing his brow.

"Nothing!" said Arthur through his teeth. "Never mind! Forget I said anything."

"Forget you said what?" said Merlin, stumbling through the door with a bundle of halberds over his shoulder.

"Shut up, Merlin," snapped Arthur.

"Ah, that'd be the respect you were talking about," muttered Gwaine, hurrying to help Merlin, who had gotten stuck in the doorway.

"Hell," grumbled Arthur, and shoved past them out of the room.

Chapter Text

"I await a full and extremely impressive explanation for this," said Arthur's voice from behind him. Merlin winced.

The apple was just within Merlin's reach, his hand hovering a mere inch from it as he perched precariously on Percival's shoulders. The private royal orchard was rarely left unguarded, so when the guard duty had fallen to the knights of the round table, the temptation had simply been too great to resist. Legend said that the apples which grew from this tree were so delicious that eating one felt like falling in love.

"I can explain," said Percival, turning around so quickly that Merlin was showered with leaves as he spun into the branches of the tall apple tree.

"I sincerely doubt that," replied the prince. "You do realise that the penalty for scrumping from the royal orchard is a week in the stocks?"

"It was my idea, sire," said Leon quickly, dropping to one knee in front of the prince.

"No, it was mine," said loyal Gwaine, doing the same.

"And mine," added Lancelot.

"And mine," said Elyan.

"Mine too," said Percival. "I can't kneel," he added, indicating Merlin on his shoulders, "but you get the idea."

"This is stupid," said Merlin. Arthur glared at him. "Why can't you just share your apples? There's more here than you actually want to eat. Aren't we supposed to be equals?"

"I take it this was Merlin's idea," said Arthur, addressing the others.

"No, sire," said Lancelot, head still bowed low. The rest of them made noises of agreement.

"I can't fault my knights on their loyalty," sighed the prince. "Although I'm having serious concerns about your judgement. Do you just do anything that Merlin tells you to?"

"Pretty much, sire," said Percival. Merlin kicked him.

Later, when Merlin was sitting by the fireside in Arthur's chambers, polishing his boots, the prince threw an apple at him.

"If you tell anyone about this, I will have you in the stocks for a month," he threatened.

Grinning, Merlin took a bite from the apple and Arthur turned away hurriedly to ignore the ecstatic look on his face. There was no way, however, for the prince to avoid hearing his delighted moans.

The camp of bandits that they were searching for was about five days' ride away, which was excellent for a bit of team-building, but after a certain point they ran out of things to talk about during the tedious trek through the countryside.

"Does anyone know any riddles?" asked Elyan in desperation once they'd exhausted every topic they could think of, including their favourite colours, the prospect of this year's wheat harvest, and a prolonged wager about which type of fungus they would encounter next along the trail.

"I'm good at riddles," said Merlin with rare certainty. "I always get them."

"I have a good one," offered Gwaine. "I am wonderful help to women, the hope of something to come. I harm no citizen except my slayer. Rooted I stand on a high bed."

At this line, the knights started giggling, and Merlin looked around in confusion.

"I am shaggy below. Sometimes the beautiful peasant's daughter, an eager-armed, proud woman grabs my body, rushes my red skin, holds me hard, claims my head."

Arthur let out a great snort of laughter, startling his horse.

"The curly-haired woman who catches me fast will feel our meeting. Her eye will be wet."

"What's gotten into all of you?" asked Merlin, mystified. "It's an onion. Isn't it?"

The knights fell about laughing, the sound of their cackling echoing around the woods.

"What kind of onions have you been eating?" Percival managed to say.

"Long, firm ones, I imagine," laughed Gwaine.

"The big, brown ones from Hector in the lower market, the same as the rest of you," said Merlin. "Look, an onion makes you cry if you cut it, and it has roots, and you plant it in a high bed."

"You heard him," chuckled Arthur indulgently. "There's no way to argue with that logic. Let's have another one, see if Merlin's gifts can solve some more."

"Go on, sire, you must know some," said Percival.

"It is not fitting for a prince to know such things," sniffed Arthur. "Ask Leon."

"You taught me all of the dirty ones I know."

"That's treason. Just say one."

"A curious thing hangs by a man's thigh, under the lap of its lord. In its front it is pierced, it is stiff and hard, it has a good position."

Gwaine was barely hanging onto his saddle at this point, laughing so hard that his breath was coming in great heaving gasps.

"When the man lifts his own garment above his thigh-"

"It's above his knee!" interjected Arthur.

"That's not very fitting of you, sire."

"Shut up, Gwaine."

"When the man lifts his own garment above his knee, he intends to greet with the head of his hanging object that familiar hole which is the same length, and which he has often filled before."

Merlin looked around at all of the giggling knights with a puzzled frown.

"What's so funny about a key? "

Clearing out the bandit's camp was a very quick process, in the end. It took much, much longer to coax Merlin out of his sulk once they'd explained the joke to him.

After they made camp for the night, Merlin was presented with a series of tokens of affection from the penitent knights. Percival fed and watered the horses to save him a chore, and Leon and Elyan quietly took off their red cloaks to fashion a makeshift tent for him.

"Here," said Lancelot, sitting down next to the fire with a freshly-caught pair of rabbits. "I will skin these and we can have them for our dinner. Will that improve your mood?"

"I've got some of that plum brandy you liked so much," added Gwaine, waving a flask.

Merlin was mollified only a little by these gestures, and deigned to accept a sip of brandy, maintaining his air of wounded pride.

The prince, taking a different approach, threw himself down next to Merlin and put his servant in a headlock, ruffling his hair until Merlin yelled for mercy.

"Better?" asked Arthur.

"I hate you," replied Merlin, nonetheless smiling his huge, goofy grin.

"Are you going to stop sulking now?" said Arthur, releasing him - unwisely - from the headlock. Merlin took this opportunity to wrestle the prince to the floor.

"Merlin! Watch out for my onion!"

If his knights weren't going to stop spoiling his manservant, Arthur decided, he was going to take matters into his own hands. After their next training session, he enacted his plan.

"Merlin, sit on my lap," he said imperiously once they had all filed into the armoury.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Don't pretend that you don't spend every Thursday afternoon cuddling up with this lot. If you're going to sit on anyone's lap, it should be mine. And stop making that face!"

Merlin, who had been exchanging amused looks with the knights, adopted an expression of total innocence and did as he was told.

"That's better. Now, I think in our next session we should focus more on single-handed use of a weapon, and- Merlin, stop squirming."

"I can't help it! You could at least take your stupid armour off, it's poking me in the ribs."

"Fine!" huffed Arthur, taking his hand from around Merlin's waist to start trying to unfasten the buckle at his chest.

"You're doing it wrong," tutted Merlin. "Here, let me." He turned to face the prince, swinging a leg over to straddle his hips. His dark hair flopped over his forehead as he bent his head to remove the prince's armour with practised hands.

"As I was saying," continued Arthur, trying to pretend that nothing unusual was occurring, "people often focus on the two-handed use of a staff, but on some occasions it is necessary to use just one, and you need to be prepared."

He had to pause for a moment while Merlin pulled his chain mail up over his head, but he resumed his speech as though nothing had happened.

"The crossbow work has improved, but it's best we shore it up with-"

"Ugh!" exclaimed Merlin, inspecting Arthur's tunic. "What is this?"

"It's mud, Merlin, I'm sure you've encountered it before."

"Off," he demanded, pulling insistently at the fabric.

"I'm the Prince Regent, Merlin, you can't just take off my-" started Arthur, before his voice was muffled by Merlin pulling his tunic over his head.

"Merlin!" he spluttered once he was freed. Merlin ignored him and folded his dirty shirt.

"Here, sire," said Lancelot, handing Arthur a cup of mead. "I suggest you just let him get on with it."

Merlin picked up a cloth from the table and rubbed at a few stray flecks of mud on Arthur's chest, his pink tongue caught between his teeth as he concentrated.

"Are you finished?" asked Arthur.

"Yes," declared Merlin, putting down his cloth. "You're an acceptable chair now. Don't I get a drink, then?"

Arthur was torn between being irritated by his servant's insolence and having the strong urge to bite Merlin's pouty lower lip.

"You can share mine," he sighed, choosing the former. "I'm not getting up again. Are you always this difficult?"

Taking a deep sip of the prince's drink, Merlin only answered with a sticky-sweet kiss to Arthur's cheek, and then he settled down and stopped making a fuss for the rest of the debriefing.

Chapter Text

Arthur was beginning to understand why his knights would let Merlin get away with murder. Once he had experienced the feeling having his manservant sitting in his lap and pressing kisses into his cheek, he felt as though he would do anything to keep in his good graces. On this particular evening, Merlin had taken a fancy to Arthur's pudding after serving him dinner, and was casting longing looks at the bowl. Arthur managed to bear three of Merlin's forlorn sighs before he snapped.

"Have you been wronged in some way by these poached pears?"

"Not yet," said Merlin, a beguiling grin breaking over his face, "but I'd really like to be."

"Come here," laughed Arthur, drawing back his chair and patting his lap. Merlin perched himself on the prince's thighs immediately and grabbed the spoon from his hand, demolishing the food in less than a minute. Merlin's breath was sweet with red wine, caramelised fruit juice, and spices as he leaned into Arthur's cheek, rubbing against him like a happy cat.

"You're a serious security risk, you know," said Arthur. "If the enemies of Camelot realise how easy it is to tempt you using sweet food, the citadel will fall within days."

"There's an easy solution to that," murmured Merlin, giving him a soft, sticky kiss below his ear. "You just need to keep me sweet."

As the noon sun beat down upon the castle, Arthur slammed open the door to Gaius' quarters and bellowed across the room.

"Merlin! Just because I've been going soft on you recently doesn't mean you can skip work! I've got a kingdom to run and there's armour to be polished."

He strode across the workshop and pulled open the door to Merlin's bedroom, ready to shake his manservant awake, but stopped short when he found his bed empty.

"Gaius, where's Merlin?" he asked, turning to the old man, who was calmly leafing through a book at his desk. "If he's in the tavern again..."

"I sent him out to harvest valerian for me at first light this morning," said Gaius, putting down his magnifying lens and furrowing his brow. "I would have expected him back by now."

"He's probably lost," scoffed Arthur, trying to cover up a nagging feeling of unease. "Which way did he go?"

"The Forest of Ascetir is the best place to find the roots, so he would have headed east."

"Is it safe to send Merlin out there by himself? There are druid camps all over those woods."

"The druids are a peaceful people," Gaius reminded him, "and they have no quarrel with Merlin."

"Hmm," murmured Arthur, not entirely convinced. "Well, I'd better go and pull him out of whatever bog he's fallen into this time."

"I'm sure he'll be fine, sire."

"Not once I find him, he won't be," Arthur muttered as he swept out of the room.

Tracking Merlin's path through the forest was infinitely easier than following a deer or hare - the man seemed to leave his big, stupid footprints in every patch of mud. There was even a piece of his blue tunic fluttering in the breeze, caught on a branch.

That's why, when the trail stopped abruptly, Arthur's stomach dropped to his boots.

There were definite signs of a struggle, but whoever had attacked Merlin was clearly better at covering their tracks, and a lesser hunter would have been unable to pick up the trail again. Fortunately, the prince had been tracking hares since he could toddle after them through the woods, and no human quarry would be able to evade his keen eye.

He covered some miles on foot, sneaking silently through the trees, before he found a sign of another living soul. He slowed his pace when he heard voices, cautiously approaching their location, remaining hidden behind the lush foliage. As he got closer, he began to hear the hustle and bustle of people, and when he peeped out from behind a bush, he saw a whole camp of bandits.

Just as he was readying his sword to ambush them, he felt a tap on his shoulder and spun around.

"I would not recommend that course of action, Arthur Pendragon," said the druid.

"I know you," said Arthur, narrowing his eyes and slowly lowering his sword.

"We have met before. My name is Iseldir."

"I have to get in there," he said, turning his attention back to the camp. "They have captured one of my men."

"Your friend is inside their camp," Iseldir confirmed. "I have seen him. He is unconscious for the moment, and in no danger. You must not attack these men alone. You are outnumbered fifty to one. I will keep watch over him while you fetch your knights."

"Why should I trust you?"

"You have done me a favour in the past, returning Mordred to us safely. I will see that your friend comes to no harm."

Arthur took a moment to scrutinise the druid, before deciding. "I will be back before nightfall," he said. "If the camp moves on, leave a trail so that we can follow."

"I will see you soon, Arthur Pendragon."

Merlin woke up with a throbbing head, on the floor of a rudimentary wooden cage inside a rough canvas tent, and groaned loudly. From what he could see through the open flap of the tent, it was early in the evening, and there were plenty of people bustling about outside.

"Hello?" he called. "Could someone tell me why I've been imprisoned?"

"Fear not," said the bandit standing guard. Looking up, Merlin was disturbed to see a terrifying zeal in the man's eyes. "You are to be an offering to our great leader."

"Right," grumbled Merlin, sitting up with difficulty and surreptitiously breaking the ropes that bound his legs and arms with a quick burst of magic. "Who's your great leader?"

"The wise and noble Kilgharrah," boomed a voice. A tall and heavily-built man strode into the tent and regarded the prisoner, his chest puffed out proudly.

"Kilgarrah?"

"Yes, the mighty dragon. He will be delighted by our sacrifice."

"It's not really your sacrifice, is it?" Merlin pointed out, in no mood to mince words. "And believe me, he will not be delighted." Eyes flashing gold, Merlin broke his cage open with as much effort as it would take to swat a fly, and stood up, stretching out his cramped limbs.

"Seize him!"

"No," replied Merlin bluntly, knocking the bandits to the ground with a gesture. "Incidentally, he's not wise and noble. He's actually incredibly rude, not to mention bloodthirsty. And he doesn't even like eating humans!"

He stepped over the groaning bandits and slipped out of the tent, edging around the walls until he could conceal himself in the trees. Once he was sure he was hidden, he stalked away to the nearest clearing, rubbing his head and simmering with rage.

"O drakon, e male so ftengometta tesd'hup'anankes!" he bellowed, balling his hands into fists.

It took a few minutes for the sound of beating wings to fill the clearing, by which time Merlin was about to explode with anger.

"You seem distressed, young warlock," said Kilgharrah as he landed.

"Your acolytes back there kidnapped me!" yelled Merlin. "They were going to feed me to you for dinner!"

"I have no acolytes," sniffed Kilgharrah, a flash of irritation in his eyes. "And human meat is disgusting, so gamey. Now, give me a nice, juicy cow..." he continued, sounding a little dreamy.

"Could you please concentrate?" shouted Merlin. "I've just been knocked unconscious by people who think they're serving you. What are you going to do about it?"

"I hope you aren't expecting me to eat them. I don't think my palate can take it. I suppose I could set them on fire, if you insist."

"No!" yelped Merlin. "Just... go and talk to them."

"That's beneath me," chuckled Kilgharrah.

"Don't make me use the voice," Merlin threatened.

The dragon let out a great sigh through his nostrils, which nearly knocked Merlin off his feet with its strength.

"Very well," huffed Kilgharrah. "Do you want to come with me? I suspect that it will be very funny."

Merlin nodded his assent, and trailed after Kilgharrah, who left a wide, dragon-sized path in his wake. He took a moment to catalogue his injuries - aside from the head wound, he had some red marks on his wrists from the ropes, and a few scrapes down his side, where he'd clearly been dragged.

"Emrys," said a voice inside his head. "I am glad to see that you are awake."

"It's rude to spy on people," said Merlin aloud. He smiled when Iseldir stepped out from behind a tree. "But I'm glad to see a friendly face."

"Your Arthur Pendragon has been here. I sent him to collect reinforcements, as I feared that when you awoke, you would be unable to refrain from performing magic in front of him. They will not be long - soon, you will have any number of friendly faces."

"Thank you for the warning," laughed Merlin as they walked towards the camp together. "I hope that they don't cross paths with the dragon."

Kilgharrah had reached the camp ahead of them, and was looming majestically over the assembled outlaws.

"O! Great and wise Kilgharrah!" yelled the bandits' leader, quaking in his boots. "We are here to serve you, noble creature!"

"What is the meaning of this?" said Kilgharrah sternly, fixing the bandits with a withering glare. "For shame! I do not need service from the likes of you. Leave this place!"

"Will you not bless us with your riches?"

The dragon chuckled darkly. "Run," he growled, with a toothy snarl.

Merlin watched in satisfaction as his captors fled through the forest away from Kilgharrah's rampage. Once the sound of their panicked screams has finished echoing through the trees, he put a hand up to his head to assess the state of his skull.

In his quiet way, Iseldir fetched a bowl of water and a clean rag from one of the tents.

"I will assist you with your wound, Emrys, and then I have other matters to attend to," he said, wetting the cloth and holding it to Merlin's scalp.

"Thank you, I- ah!" he yelped, letting out a shout of pain when the cloth touched a tender part of his head.

"Merlin!" said Arthur's voice, accompanied by the sound of him crashing through the underbrush. He broke through the treeline, wild-eyed and brandishing his sword.

"Where are they? Who hurt you?" he demanded when he spotted Merlin.

"They're gone, Arthur," Merlin reassured him. "I'm fine."

"Sire, I believe the plan was to approach stealthily," said Lancelot calmly, stepping out behind him.

"What happened to the bandits?" asked Arthur, looking around the clearing, not lowering his sword. "There were dozens of them."

"I don't know," lied Merlin, giving Iseldir a warning look. "I just woke up and they'd gone."

"I will be on my way," said the druid, standing up and stifling a private smile. "I am glad that you are safe."

"Thank you," said Arthur sincerely, grasping the druid's forearm. "I won't forget this."

"It was nothing," he replied, smiling again as he grasped the prince's forearm in return, and walked away into the forest.

Arthur sheathed his sword and turned to Merlin.

"Did he...?" he asked in an undertone. Merlin shrugged.

"What happened?" said Arthur, looking over Merlin's wounds. "Did you get hit in the head again?"

"I don't get knocked out as often as you do," laughed Merlin. "How did you know where to find me?"

"I can track a single hare through acres of forest, Merlin. I think I'm capable of finding one idiot."

"You could do that by looking in the mirror."

Lancelot cleared his throat politely. "We should find the others and get moving before nightfall."

"Who else did you-" asked Merlin.

He was interrupted when Percival, Leon, Gwaine, and Elyan charged in from the other side of the camp, shouting battle cries at the top of their lungs. They stopped when they reached the others, looking around at the empty tents.

"Where'd they all go?" asked Gwaine, furrowing his brow.

"I can't believe Gaius sent you out here on your own," complained Arthur. "What did the bandits do, lure you in with a pie?"

Merlin, lips purple with blackberry juice from the fruit he'd been picking from the hedgerows on their journey home, shoved him.

"Hey!" said Arthur, shoving him back. "I came all this way to rescue you, you know."

"I didn't need rescuing," Merlin reminded him.

"That isn't my fault."

"You just can't handle it when I can take care of myself, can you?"

"Merlin, you just got knocked out and kidnapped. You cannot take care of yourself."

A loud cracking sound was audible behind them, and they whipped around to see Percival, sheepishly opening his hands to show a perfectly cracked hazelnut shell.

"I, uh, thought Merlin might be hungry," he explained.

"You're right," said Merlin, popping the hazelnut in his mouth and giving Percival a kiss on the cheek, leaving a purple mark.

Trying to be subtle, Arthur picked up a hazelnut from a tree as they passed and squeezed it between his palms as hard as he could. The hazelnut slipped out from between his hands, leaving two perfect indents in his skin.

"Oh, yes," murmured Merlin in an annoyingly smug tone. "I'm lucky to have a strong, capable man like you to look after me."

Grabbing as many hazelnuts as he could find, Arthur chased Merlin all the way back to the castle, pelting him in the back. He only stopped once they reached the physician's workshop, and let Merlin open the door.

"Merlin!" said Gaius, flinging his arms wide to pull him into a tight hug. "Did you remember to bring home the valerian root?"

Chapter Text

"We've taken this too far," said Arthur in an undertone, tugging at his itchy tunic. "What are these clothes made of, bees?"

The market in Helva was loud and chaotic, and the group of them attracted little notice as they made their way down the thoroughfare together. The prince and his knights were dressed in plain, rough clothing, and they looked just like everyone else.

"They're normal servant's clothes," laughed Merlin, irritatingly resplendent in fine turquoise robes. "Try being a little more discreet, we are supposed to be undercover."

Arthur aimed a punch at Merlin's arm but was intercepted by Percival.

"Servants don't generally hit their masters, sire," he whispered apologetically.

"Really? Someone should tell Merlin that."

"Sire," said Lancelot gently, "if we are found trespassing on Odin's territory, the consequences would be-"

"Merlin! Merlin! Merlin!" called Gwaine, running back from the stall where he'd been haggling, holding a tottering stack of boxes. "They have baklava! You have to try this, it's the best thing you'll ever have in your mouth."

"Gwaine, do you even know what incognito means?" hissed Arthur.

"No."

"Over there," said Leon suddenly. "That man is wearing the same armour that Odin's mercenaries wear."

"Excellent. Merlin, go and look at that jewellery stall so we can get a closer look."

"You don't get to order me around today."

Arthur gave him a murderous look.

"I'll go and look at the jewellery," said Merlin quickly.

The proprietress of the stall smiled a wide and avaricious smile when she saw Merlin approaching.

"Such a handsome gentleman!" she cooed, her hands glittering with jewels as she fluttered about. "Such beauty can only be improved with the finest of things."

"It's all very... shiny," said Merlin, who clearly knew nothing about jewellery.

"We have a wonderful selection of enchanted items," she continued, gesturing at a case full of glowing amulets and intricately carved hair pins. She picked up a chunky, gold ring with a vivid red gem set in it. "Helva's magical craftsmanship is the best in Albion. The hand that wears this ring will never lose at dice."

"I've never lost at dice," laughed Merlin. Stalling for time, he picked up a filigree bangle and fiddled with it. "Do these come in... uh, blue?"

"Come on, Merlin," said Arthur imperiously, jerking his head towards a back alley. "I mean," he amended when the stall owner gave him a funny look, "would you like to come over here... my lord?"

"I'm so sorry," said Merlin to the shopkeeper, putting down the bracelet. "I have, um, matters to attend to. Thank you for all your help."

"Here," she said, slipping a thin, blue bangle around his wrist, emblazoned with "Esmeralda's Emerald Emporium". "A small token, so that you will remember to come back. It's not often that a man of your importance has such lovely manners."

"If the handsome gentleman would like to step this way," said Elyan in an undertone, bowing to Merlin, who blushed bright fuchsia.

Fiddling with the bracelet around his wrist, Merlin hurried on. The prince strode ahead, senses on alert like a hunting dog after his quarry.

"Over there," he said quietly, watching with eagle eyes as the mercenary disappeared through a doorway. "He's gone into that tavern."

"He's not the only one," said Leon. "There are two more men with the same style of armour sitting by the window."

"Looks like we've got to go into the tavern, then," said Gwaine, already making a beeline for the door. Arthur stopped him with an arm across his chest.

"Merlin will go in first and book us all a room, so we can listen from there. We can't run the risk of being recognised."

"I'll need some money," Merlin reminded him, holding out his palm for the purse. Arthur handed it over and then looked over his servant with a critical eye.

"Stand up straighter," he said, pressing on the small of Merlin's back and pulling at his shoulder. "Carry yourself like a noble."

"So I should pretend to be an arrogant ass?" muttered Merlin, flouncing off into the tavern.

"We are definitely doomed," said Arthur to himself.

Merlin felt a little self-conscious when he walked into the tavern in his fine clothes, but in some ways the openly magical atmosphere in Helva felt more comfortable than his usual closeted lifestyle in Camelot. The patrons of the tavern paid him no heed as he approached the bar, but the bartender watched him keenly.

"How can I help you, sir?" she asked, her deep brown eyes staring straight into his soul. "We have many fine rooms to rent, and the best wines in the kingdom."

"Emrys. I'm glad you are here to help us," she added, speaking inside his head. "Please, take the guest quarters. I must speak to you and your men in private."

"A room, please," replied Merlin aloud, counting out the coins from Arthur's purse onto the bar.

"This way," she said, opening a door and ushering him through it with a respectful bow. "I will open the servants' entrance for your staff. Would you like a meal?"

"Yes, thank you."

"I will bring it to you presently," she said, slipping away.

The room that Merlin walked into was significantly nicer than any tavern lodgings he had previously experienced, and he was just making himself comfortable on the satin sheets of the bed when the knights came ambling into the room, getting tangled in the bead curtain as they went.

As soon as the door closed behind them, Arthur pulled off his tunic, breathing a sigh of relief as he was freed from the itchy fabric. The rest of the knights followed suit, groaning as the cool air of the room hit their irritated skin.

"I don't suppose you got us some drinks, by any chance?" asked Gwaine, flinging himself down onto the floor and reclining back on his elbows.

"The bartender's bringing us a meal soon. She has information for us, as well."

"You told her why we were here?" said Arthur. "You really are an idiot, aren't you? Budge over." He sat down on the bed next to Merlin, hitting him with his shoulder.

"She already knew," said Merlin, hitting him back. "She's a druid."

"This place gives me the creeps," muttered Leon.

"We can't do anything about the magic they practice here," said Arthur. "The situation is too delicate. What we can do is prevent Odin from making use of it."

"I don't understand why Odin is raiding Helva," said Percival. "Isn't this city part of his kingdom?"

"There is an uneasy treaty over the territory," explained Arthur. "Helva retains some level of independence from Odin, and he has always coveted and feared their magic."

There was a polite knock at the door.

"Enter," said Arthur, before being elbowed by Merlin. The bartender poked her head through the door.

"Come in," said Merlin haughtily. "I apologise for my servant speaking out of turn."

Arthur's expression of outrage was truly hilarious.

"Your meal, sir," she said, backing through the door with an enormous platter of food in her hands. The knights rushed to help her, relieving her of her burden and placing it on the low table in the middle of the room. She closed the door behind her and murmured a few words, her eyes flashing amber.

"We won't be overheard now," she explained. "Thank you for coming to assist us. Odin's mercenaries have been terrorising the city for weeks, and I fear that they will soon find the item they are searching for."

"Why are you serving them in your tavern?" asked Merlin.

"Fear," she said simply. "There are whispers of people whose magic has been sapped from their bodies for opposing the bandits, and our city is not home to many warriors."

"What are they searching for?" said Arthur.

"There is a necklace which gives the wearer the ability to foresee danger before it occurs. Odin would be able to predict the outcome of any battle. It would be very dangerous if it fell into his hands."

"Where is this necklace kept?"

"In the vaults, deep underneath the town hall. We were planning to move it to a more secure location, but the mercenaries are keeping watch on the building at all times. We believe they mean to strike tonight."

She produced a scroll of parchment from her apron pocket and showed it to Merlin, pointing out the landmarks as she went. "Here is a map of the building. The amulet is inside the crypts, through this corridor and down the east staircase. The lock will respond to your touch."

"Merlin's touch?" said Arthur.

"Yes," she replied, giving no further explanation.

"This place is weird," muttered the prince. Surreptitiously, Lancelot's hand found Merlin's ankle, and he rubbed circles into the skin, smiling a commiserating smile.

"If we can retrieve the amulet, will your people be able to keep it safe?" asked Merlin.

"Yes. You must be cautious. The bandits are suspicious of everyone who visits the city. I cannot guarantee that they will not come looking for you."

"Thank you for the information," said Arthur, standing up to touch her shoulder and look into her eyes, using his particular gift of total sincerity to reassure her. "We will head out at sunset to survey the mercenaries. I promise, we will prevent Odin from acquiring your necklace."

"Thank you, Arthur Pendragon," she said, turning to leave. "I know that you will not fail."

Once the door closed, Arthur rolled up the scroll and hid it under the pillows.

"We should eat and rest," he said. "We may have a long night ahead of us."

Merlin stood to begin fixing a plate for his master, but he was stopped by the knights, who guided him back to sit on the bed and collected his food for him.

"Here," said Percival, handing him a plate heaped with flatbreads, grains, and richly spiced meats.

Elyan poured wine into a goblet and handed it to Merlin, and Leon unfolded a napkin for his lap.

"Try this," said Gwaine, holding a delicate sweet to his lips. Merlin opened his mouth to accept the wafer-thin layers of pastry, moaning in pleasure when he tasted the buttery, honey-sweet nuts and dried fruits it contained.

"The almond ones are better," insisted Lancelot, picking one out from the box and holding it up to Merlin's lips.

Suddenly, the door burst open, and the three bandits from the bar burst in, glaring around the room suspiciously. They took in the scene - a group of shirtless men hand-feeding their master - and stopped in their tracks, surprise written all over their faces.

"What's going on in here?" grunted one of the bandits, taking an involuntary step back.

"Do you mind?" snapped Merlin, drawing himself up to his full height. "I'm trying to eat my lunch."

"I haven't seen you around here before. We saw your... entourage walking in here, wanted to make sure you weren't here to cause trouble."

"I am here purely for the purposes of pleasure, I assure you," purred Merlin, enjoying how uncomfortable he was making the intruders. "I brought a few of my favourites with me, nothing more."

The knights, getting the idea immediately, cuddled up to Merlin, running their hands across his body, pressing little kisses into his neck, fiddling with the fastenings on his robes. He stroked over their bare skin proprietorially, for all the world like a nobleman used to being serviced by his concubines.

Arthur's mouth was frozen into a little "o" of astonishment, watching the goings-on.

"How can we be sure you're not bringing violent thugs into the city?" asked the bandit, eyes still narrowed suspiciously.

"You're welcome to stay and watch, if you'd like," Merlin offered, meeting his eyes in challenge.

Turning, he threaded his fingers into the hair at the back of Arthur's head and gently pulled the prince in for a kiss. This seemed to unfreeze him, and he cupped Merlin's jaw with one calloused hand and kissed him back, opening his mouth to deepen their embrace.

The withdrawal of the bandits was announced with the sound of the door closing, but it took a few moments longer for Arthur to surface from Merlin's lips.

"You taste like pistachios," he murmured, pressing his thumb to Merlin's red lower lip.

"That was quick thinking," said Leon, extracting himself from Merlin's neck.

"Did you see their faces?" laughed Gwaine, picking up another pastry to feed to Merlin.

Arthur cleared his throat hurriedly and sat up, plucking the baklava from between Gwaine's fingers.

"Eat something more substantial," he told Merlin sternly. "You can't storm a building on sweets alone."

Merlin picked up his plate and applied himself to the meat and bread, but out of the corner of his eye, he saw Arthur eating the baklava.

Chapter Text

It didn't take the knights long to drift off to sleep after their meal, stretching out on top of the cushions that littered the floor and shutting their eyes. Up on the bed, Arthur was feeling tense, running over the contingency plans for the evening in his mind and poring over the map. He was startled when Merlin reached out to stroke his wrist.

"You should rest, sire," murmured Merlin.

"We can't all laze about in bed all afternoon," he scoffed.

"You can keep lookout just as well lying down with me, and you won't look so suspicious."

"The bandits left an hour ago, Merlin."

"What if they come back?" whispered Merlin, looking up at him with beseeching eyes. "We should keep up our cover story. Nobody's going to suspect that you're the crown prince of Camelot if you're canoodling with a visiting nobleman."

"I suppose it does seem a little out of character," Arthur agreed, eyes flicking to Merlin's lips. Merlin rolled towards him to put a hand on his hip.

"Come here."

"Is that an order, sir?" asked the prince with teasing light in his eyes, nonetheless swinging his leg over Merlin's body and straddling his hips, hair flopping over his forehead as he looked down at his manservant.

"I think you'd be a terrible servant," Merlin mused.

"I can't possibly be worse than you."

"It's not as easy as it looks, you know," said Merlin, idly tracing one hand over Arthur's bare chest. When his thumb skated over the prince's nipple, Arthur let out an involuntary huff of breath.

"You don't make it look easy, Merlin," he laughed, bending over to rest his forearms either side of his servant's head, rubbing their noses together.

"You can kiss me if you want," whispered Merlin. "You know, for camouflage."

"When we get back to Camelot, I'm giving the whole lot of you a lecture on covert tactics," huffed Arthur, his lips a hair's breadth from Merlin's. "The goal is generally to be as unobtrusive as possible."

"If you want to be unobtrusive, you could try keeping your tunic on."

"It's not my fault we ended up in this predicament."

Merlin rolled his eyes. "Thanks for coming up with a cover story, Merlin. Well done for thinking on your feet, Merlin."

"I'm not praising you for this fiasco."

"Then feel free to climb off me and come up with a better plan."

Arthur let out a frustrated noise and buried his face in Merlin's shoulder. "Fine," he said, sounding muffled. "In the absence of another plan, this one is... not without its merits."

"You might even say that I saved the day."

"I will not be saying that," insisted Arthur, raising his head to glare at him.

Merlin didn't reply and instead continued to make his outrageously smug face, so Arthur dropped his head to nose along Merlin's cheek, secretly enjoying the smell of him.

"Is this what you'd do, then?" asked Arthur after a while. "If you were the prince."

"Surround myself with beautiful men to kiss and pastries to eat? I don't need to be a prince for that."

"That's true. You know, there's something about you, Merlin. I can't quite put my finger on it."

Merlin turned his head and brushed his lips across Arthur's cheekbone. "It's just my natural charm," he murmured.

"Hmm," hummed Arthur, returning to the sanctuary of the crook of Merlin's neck. "Maybe."

Fortunately for everyone, their master plan required Merlin to be as conspicuous as possible. As the last rays of sunset painted the street red and gold, he strolled down the market street, whistling a jaunty tune, and wandered through the gap between two of the closed stalls. Before he reached the main square, the bandits surrounded him, leering unpleasantly.

"Not so confident without your bodyguards, are you?" sneered one, holding the tip of a glowing sword to Merlin's chest.

"I knew you were up to something," said another. "Fancy rich boy strolls into town, not a care in the world. Looking for something sparkly for your vanity table?"

"Tell us how to get into the vaults," said the third, looming threateningly over Merlin, "and we'll leave you alone."

"Sorry, gentlemen," said Merlin, a broad grin dawning over his face. "I'm not alone."

There was a series of clonking sounds, and all three of the bandits fell to the floor, knocked unconscious by the hilts of the knights' swords.

"See, Gwaine, that's what incognito means," said Arthur, stepping over the prone body of the nearest mercenary.

"Are you sure?" asked Gwaine, wrinkling his brow. "I could have sworn it was a type of dumpling."

"That's the entrance," said Leon, pointing to the archway set into the wall of the grand, sandstone town hall.

They made haste through the main chamber, and down the east staircase. The first floor of the basement held records, and a library of magical books that Merlin cast longing looks over before tearing himself away to climb down the next set of stairs.

"This must be the lock the druid told us about," said Arthur as they reached a closed door, heavily barred and fastened with a glowing gem. "Merlin, try touching it and see what happens."

"What if it's cursed or something?"

Gingerly, Arthur touched the crystal with the tip of his sword. "It doesn't look cursed," he said, not sounding entirely certain.

Merlin let out a huff of annoyance and stretched out his hand, palm forward. Holding his breath, wincing and turning away, he slowly touched his hand to the lock.

Nothing happened.

He shook his hand and tried it again, frowning in concentration as he funnelled his energy into the gem.

"I can hear something," said Percival, looking back up the stairs and straining to listen.

"Footsteps," agreed Arthur. "They must have woken up. Leon, Percival, Gwaine, base of the stairs with me. Elyan, Lancelot, guard Merlin while he figures out the lock."

The knights got into position, and Lancelot quietly tapped Merlin on the shoulder.

"Merlin," he murmured urgently. "That bracelet matches your eyes."

"Most blue things do," replied Merlin, paying no attention.

"No - look," he insisted, lifting up Merlin's other arm. The bangle was glowing amber, pulsing each time he tried to activate the lock. He pulled at it, trying to slide it over his wrist, but it clung stubbornly to his arm.

"Help me get this off!"

Lancelot and Merlin tugged at the bracelet in vain as the sound of footsteps drew closer.

"Ready shields!" called Arthur, and the knights fell into a defensive position. The bandits poured down the stairs, shouting a battle cry.

"Arthur, I think their swords are-" started Merlin, but was interrupted when Arthur let out a yell and fell backwards, his shield cleaved in two. Merlin whispered an attack spell under his breath, but his hand crackled uselessly with energy, and the bangle glowed amber again.

"Retreat!" yelled Arthur, backing away towards the crypts. Lancelot and Elyan hustled Merlin down the stairs, swiftly followed by the rest of the knights. Arthur slammed the heavy iron door and latched it.

"I don't think that will keep them for long," he panted. "That sword cut through my shield like butter."

"If we can find some way to get around behind them, we could get back to the vaults and see if there's something we could use," suggested Elyan.

"They don't seem like the brightest of fellas," said Gwaine. "Seems like it wouldn't be too difficult to trick them."

"I can't open the lock," said Merlin, throwing his arms in the air in frustration. "I think it's the bangle that the jewellery seller gave me, it's blocking it somehow."

"Take it off, then," scoffed Arthur.

"What a brilliant suggestion! I hadn't thought of that."

"How am I supposed to know what goes through that-"

Their bickering cut off abruptly when they heard a loud, ominous croaking sound emanating from a cage in the far corner, shrouded in darkness.

"Is that a-"

There was a great thump as the giant toad inside the cage threw itself against the bars, and all of them took a step back without meaning to.

Before they could process this new hazard, the bandits came thundering down the stairs.

"Either side of the door," hissed Arthur. "If we can get behind them, we might have the advantage."

It took only a few swipes of the bandit's magical swords for the door to break open, great slashes carved from the heavy iron. They came pouring into the room.

"They must be in the cage," grunted one of them on seeing the empty room. Striding forwards, he cleaved open the lock with one blow of his weapon and threw open the door. They fell back when the toad flung itself forward in one bound.

Quick as a flash, the toad's massive, red tongue flicked out and stuck to the bandit's face, yanking him into the creature's mouth. The crunching sound that followed was truly horrifying. The other two bandits followed in short order, and the knights were just backing away towards the door when the toad turned around and hopped back into its cage.

It sat there, croaking contentedly, as they picked up the glowing swords from the floor and made their way out of the room, slamming the door behind them.

"Here," said Arthur, gesturing to Merlin with his sword. "Hold out your wrist."

"You're not about to cut off my hand, are you?"

"Shut up," he replied, tongue stuck between his teeth as he concentrated on slicing the thin metal of the bangle without nicking Merlin's skin. They sighed in relief when it dropped harmlessly to the floor. Mounting the stairs, Merlin pressed his palm to the glowing gem on the door and it broke apart immediately into two pieces, unlocking it. Arthur pushed him aside and drew his sword, cautiously entering the room, on high alert.

"It's clear," he said, beckoning the rest of them inside.

The magic radiating from the cases around the walls left Merlin almost a little breathless, but he was quickly able to locate the amulet and hand it to Arthur.

"You might be able to win an argument with me, if you put that on," he laughed.

Arthur bowed as he handed the amulet to Helva's mayor.

"I hope that you can keep this safe," he said gravely. "It would be a great shame if it were to fall into Odin's hands. Speaking of which," he added, gesturing for Leon to step forwards, holding the magic swords, "we... confiscated these from Odin's mercenaries. I suggest you find some way of keeping them away from those who would use them for evil."

Merlin handed the mayor the remains of the magic bracelet. "This was given to us by a jewellery vendor in the market, going by the name of Esmeralda. It seems to have interfered with the lock mechanism somehow. I suspect she may be in league with Odin's men."

"We will always be grateful for your assistance," said the mayor, grasping his forearm in farewell.

"We were never here," said Arthur, bowing again.

"Oh," he added, turning back as he remembered. "You might not need to feed your, er, massive toad for a while. It's had a pretty good meal of... bandits."

Chapter Text

"Merlin, it's not that difficult," sighed Arthur. "The secret is to stand very, very still."

"What's the point in catching fish with a spear?" Merlin muttered, rather unhappy about having to stand ankle-deep in a freezing stream. "What's wrong with a net?"

"A true huntsman must face his quarry one on one."

"A true huntsman."

"Yes."

"Of sticklebacks?"

"There are plenty of trout in this river, if you'd just stay quiet for one second and stop complaining."

For a few minutes, the only sounds audible in the clearing were the rushing of the water and the distant tweeting of birds, and then, quick as a flash, Arthur's spear hit the water, surfacing with a fat, juicy trout skewered on the end of it.

"You see, Merlin, having a certain amount of patience has its- ugh!" he squealed, cutting off his celebratory sentence as the fish's body came alive with squirming parasites. With a series of noises that were both unmanly and undignified, the prince wildly shook his spear until the rotten fish was flung far away across the water, spraying an arc of maggots in the air behind it.

"This one's the same," called Leon, inspecting the trout he'd caught, his nose wrinkled in distaste.

"They're all like this," said Percival, who had collected three huge fish on his spear already.

"Get out of the water," Arthur commanded, his dignity beginning to return.

"There must be some kind of sickness," he continued as he ascended the slope in one stride. "We'll take one of these back to Gaius, see if he knows what it is. Merlin, put the fish in your satchel."

"I'm not touching that!" shrieked Merlin, scrambling up the muddy bank and away from Leon's proffered trout.

"Don't be such a girl, Merlin," laughed the prince, shaking water from his trouser cuffs and drying his bare feet on the grass. "It's just a few maggots."

Making a face, Gwaine pulled out a large, dirty handkerchief from his pocket and gingerly wrapped up the rancid fish, holding the bundle by the corners of the fabric, far away from his body.

"My hero," declared Merlin, giving him a double thumbs up from a safe distance.

"What on earth do you think you're doing?" spluttered Gaius when Gwaine dropped the maggoty fish, handkerchief and all, onto the table in front of him. "You're lucky I wasn't having my lunch!"

"All of the fish in the river are like this," explained Merlin, looking cautiously over Gwaine's shoulder at the disgusting trout. "There must be some kind of disease."

"Hmm," rumbled Gaius, giving them all an unimpressed look from beneath his eyebrows. "Pass me my magnifying glass."

He inspected the fish in minute detail, peering into its dead, clouded eyes and holding up a maggot with a pair of tweezers to take a closer look before putting it into a small, glass jar.

"I've seen this before," he said gravely. "Before any of you were born. I'm afraid this was no sickness. This is sorcery." He sighed deeply, and then continued. "Even before the great purge, the king had enemies. Uther and his knights ambushed a sorcerer's camp in the dead of night, and Uther's sword pierced the man's chest before he could mount a defence. With his dying breath, he laid this curse upon the kingdom. All the waterways were poisoned."

"How can we stop it?" asked Arthur. "You must have found some kind of solution last time."

"The fact that the curse has returned must mean that our solution didn't work," Gaius mused. "The king sent me to seek help from the druids. They captured the curse in an amulet, and Uther buried it deep within the vaults beneath the castle. Not even I knew where it was hidden. If the curse has re-emerged, that must mean that the amulet has awoken."

"Do you think my father will remember where it was?"

"In his present condition, it's hard to say," said Gaius sadly, "but we have to try anyway."

Arthur tried to make time to visit his father as often as possible, but his presence was just likely to agitate and upset the king's fragile mind as it was to cheer him. Gwen seemed to have some kind of magic touch, her soothing presence the only thing that could reliably keep him calm. She rose as they entered the room, and stopped them at the threshold.

"It's best not to crowd him," she said softly. "Perhaps the rest of you should wait outside."

The knights nodded solemnly and made a quiet exit, leaving only Arthur, Gaius, and Merlin.

"Go away, Merlin," Arthur prompted him after a moment.

"Right," said Merlin, remembering himself and stepping out the door.

Arthur took a deep, steadying breath, and crossed the room to sit opposite Uther.

"Father," he murmured gently, taking the king's hand. Uther stared blankly into his face for a moment, before recognition dawned in his eyes and he smiled weakly.

"My son," he said with a trembling voice, squeezing Arthur's hand. "Here you are."

"Sire, we have an important matter to discuss with you," said Gaius.

"What is it?" asked the king slowly, brow furrowing as he looked up at his old friend.

"Do you remember the amulet that the druids forged after the battle of Ascetir?"

"You must not find it," whispered the king, eyes widening in fear. "We buried it for a reason. You must not release the curse."

"The curse has returned, sire. I suspect that the amulet has been stolen, or disturbed in some way."

"If you can remember where it is, we can stop this before it gets any worse," added Arthur.

"No, no, no," insisted Uther, shaking his head frantically. "I will not allow you to search for it. It's too dangerous."

"If this sickness continues, our fish stocks will never recover. People will starve. I must find out what has happened to the amulet."

"You are all that I have!" shouted Uther, his voice breaking. "How dare you speak of risking your life? Get out!"

"Father-"

"Out!" he screamed, half standing up out of his chair, his face red with anger.

Gwen laid a hand on the prince's arm. "It would be best if you went," she said quietly. "I'll talk to him once he's settled down."

"You will never find it! Never!" Uther shouted after him as Arthur left the room.

Merlin and the knights were hovering outside the door, with guilty looks that indicated that they had been eavesdropping.

"I suppose you heard all of that," said Gaius, eliciting sheepish nods. "Very well. The king is right, you know. Finding the amulet could be very dangerous indeed."

"Once we find it, what on earth can we do with it?" asked Arthur. "Could the curse be destroyed somehow?"

"Perhaps," said Gaius, nodding slowly. "Now that the containment is compromised, that might be the safest option. Merlin and I can do some research."

"I'm going to get the map of the vaults from storage," decided Arthur, "and we will make a search strategy. Be ready at sundown - we'll meet in the cellars."

"Ah!" shouted Gaius an hour or so later, startling Merlin out of the half-doze he'd fallen into over a dense, boring text on alchemy. "This is the very thing. Come and take a look."

Merlin peered over Gaius' shoulder at the page. "Is this a potion recipe?"

"Precisely so. It says here that it will dissolve a cursed crystal and banish the enchantment forever. I'm not sure that we have all of the ingredients. Oil of vitriol, we have on hand, and a maggot from one of the fish will be necessary, but I don't know where we would get hold of powdered murrina."

"The blacksmith will have it," said Gwen, appearing in the open doorway. "My father used to use it for smelting iron."

"Gwen!" greeted Gaius. "Did you have any luck getting information out of the king?"

"I'm afraid not. He tired himself out eventually and fell asleep, but I wasn't able to calm him enough to ask him again," she said with a sad smile.

"It was good of you to try," Gaius reassured her.

"Do you think you can stop the curse?"

"Fetch us the powder, then we'll see what we can do."

"I'll walk with you," offered Merlin, glad to have an excuse to stretch his legs. "I should let Arthur know what we've found." The old physician didn't look up from the text as he waved them off, and Merlin grabbed an apple to take with him, passing one to Gwen as well before they made their way through the echoing stone corridors away from the tower.

"Are you all right?" he asked in an undertone. She let out a small, brittle laugh.

"Not really," she admitted with a shrug. "I have no love for the king, but it's still upsetting to see him so unwell."

"I should help you out more," he said, feeling a twinge of guilt. "Take over some of the shifts."

"I don't think you could calm him down like I do," she replied, shaking her head. "I think Uther might be the only person in the castle who isn't in love with you."

"That's an exaggeration," Merlin chuckled, turning pink.

"It is," she agreed, pausing and taking both of his hands. "But not by much."

She left him with a warm smile and an apple-scented kiss to his cheek, instructing him to keep a close eye on Arthur.

When he ascended the stairs to Arthur's chambers, he found the prince alone at his desk, frowning down at a map of the castle's labyrinthine underground storage and chewing on the end of his quill. He looked up when Merlin entered.

"Gaius thinks we can destroy the amulet," said Merlin. "And Gwen asked me to remind you not to do anything stupid." At this, Arthur gave a small half-smile.

"If we ever manage to find the thing, that will be very useful," he said distractedly, looking back down at the paper with a concerned wrinkle in his brow.

Walking around the desk, Merlin inserted himself between the prince and the map, blocking his view. "We will find it, Arthur," he said softly. "The vaults are big, but they're not infinite."

"I wish I could make my father see reason."

"He wants to protect you. Even through all the mist and fog in his mind, his first thought is of your safety," Merlin reminded him. "I don't know if we'll ever learn all of Uther's secrets, and I don't think we really want to - do you?"

"I suppose not."

Merlin slid onto his lap, twining his arms around the prince's neck. "Besides, we might find a nice sword while we're down there," he wheedled, looking into Arthur's eyes. "Or some naughty etchings, or a really amazing recipe for beef stew."

Arthur chuckled and buried his face in Merlin's neck, holding him close. "Why is it always food with you?" he murmured.

By the time the sun began to set, Gaius and Merlin had prepared the potion, which was fizzing rather alarmingly, and decanted it into a sturdy, lidded pot. With some trepidation, Merlin was carrying it down to the cellar. Arthur and the knights were already assembled at the entrance to the vaults, and the prince was giving out instructions while he pointed out the locations on his map.

"Gwaine and Elyan, you'll go along the eastern branch. Lancelot and Percival will go straight ahead, and Leon, Merlin and I will go west. Do not touch anything with your bare flesh, or with gloves if you can help it. If you locate the amulet, one of you must stay with it while the other one fetches Merlin. Gaius says that it's an amethyst set into a golden necklace. We should be within earshot of each other, but if we have to go deeper into the tunnels we might lose contact, so keep track of your location so you can get out if necessary. We don't know what's happened to the thief - they may still be here, so be on alert and keep one hand on your weapon at all times."

With a terse nod, Arthur dismissed them, and they split into three groups and began their search of the vaults. Huge cabinets and looming bookcases lined their path, so that there was only a narrow space down which to travel. Merlin scanned the shelves, looking for anything purple, or glowing, or spooky in some way, but mostly found ancient cobwebs, pieces of armour, and boring-looking scrolls.

After a period of time that can't possibly have been more than an hour but felt like a million years, Arthur stopped suddenly.

"Do you hear that?" he asked.

"No," said Merlin, brushing a small spider out of his nostril and privately regretting his decision to come along.

"It sounds like-" started Leon, before he was interrupted by a distant "hnnnrrrggh!"

Without a word, the three of them set off at a run back along the maze of shelves until they arrived at the entrance of the cellar.

"Which direction is it coming from?" asked Leon, looking from the eastern path to the central corridor and back again. Merlin closed his eyes for a second and visualised the route.

"Ahead of us," he said with certainty, adding "I can tell from the way it echoed," when Arthur and Leon looked at him strangely.

Another groan and a shout of alarm sounded, and they ran towards the noise. Merlin kept an uneasy eye on the lid of the pot as he ran, keen not to spill the noxious potion on himself before they could get to the amulet.

As they rounded a corner, they saw Percival with his sword drawn, holding off-

"Father?" cried Arthur, making the king whip around to face him. Percival took advantage of the momentary distraction to drop his sword and grab Uther in a great bear hug, gently disarming him and preventing him from moving forwards.

Behind Percival, they could see the object of the king's plan - the vivid amethyst, cracked down the centre and pulsing with light. It was clutched in the hand of what was once a man, but was now a hollow corpse, consumed by a teeming, writhing heap of maggots. With an expression of extreme distaste on his usually placid face, Lancelot was gingerly poking at the man's hand with the tip of his sword, trying to dislodge the amulet without touching it.

"My son, you must not go any nearer," Uther implored the prince, still struggling to escape from Percival's iron grip.

While Arthur tried in vain to soothe his father, Merlin knelt on the ground beside the corpse and opened the lid of the pot, his eyes watering a little when the fumes from the potion wafted out. Very carefully, Lancelot hooked his sword through the chain of the gem and lifted it up, before dropping it into the roiling liquid, where it sank to the bottom before dissolving, letting out a piercing scream. When Merlin looked back into the pot, the potion had turned completely clear, like pure, clean water. He turned back to the prince and nodded in response to his questioning look.

"It's finished, father," said Arthur gently, taking the king's hands. "The curse has been lifted, and the amulet has been destroyed. You don't need to fear."

"You are safe?" asked Uther in a trembling voice. He let out a long, shuddering sigh of relief. "Very well." With this he stopped struggling, and let Percival lift him into his arms, docile as a lamb.

"What should I do with this?" asked Merlin, holding up the pot.

"I'd rather that stayed down here," Arthur decided. "Leave it on one of the shelves, and let's try to forget all about it."

As they turned to leave, they heard puffing sounds, and Elyan and Gwaine came dashing around the corner.

"What happened?" asked Gwaine. "Did we miss it?"

"Too late for all the action, I'm afraid," said Arthur, slapping him on the shoulder as he walked back towards the exit.

"Well, that was a waste of time," grumbled Gwaine.

"I did find something interesting out there in the stacks," offered Elyan, holding up a scroll.

"Naughty etchings?" asked Merlin, perking up a little.

"No, but it looks like a great recipe for beef stew!"

Merlin paused, looked down at the maggoty corpse of the thief, and turned rather green.

"No thanks. I'm never eating again."

Chapter Text

It was Merlin's own fault, really - he was supposed to be searching for ground elder for Gaius' stores, but as he was crawling under a bush to reach a particularly lush patch, he spied an untouched crop of bilberries just a little out of his reach and, inevitably, he got himself stuck. It's difficult to maintain situational awareness when you're trying to extricate yourself from a thorn bush without crushing your precious cargo, and the snake was very quiet in its approach.

That is to say, it's completely understandable that he shrieked like a banshee when he emerged from the foliage and came face to face with a hissing serpent, its jaws open in preparation to strike.

His mind went blank as he tried to remember a useful spell for this kind of occasion, but fortunately at that moment a pair of heavy boots came thumping through the undergrowth and the snake's head was cleaved from its body by a sword. Wriggling out from underneath the branch that had become tangled in his hair, Merlin took the offered hand and stood to greet his saviour, a handsome woman in rough clothing, a sword slung low around her waist, who was looking down at him and chuckling at his predicament.

"Thank you," said Merlin breathlessly, grasping her by the forearm in greeting.

"You got yourself in a bit of a pickle there," she laughed, something strangely familiar about her rakish grin and confident swagger.

"I'm glad you were here. I'm Merlin. Do you like bilberries?" he asked, offering her some of the berries that he'd carefully wrapped in his neckerchief.

"Merlin?" she replied, taking a berry and throwing it into her mouth. "You must be the one my useless brother is always talking about in his letters."

Merlin picked some leaves out of his clothes, brow wrinkled in confusion. "Your brother?"

"About yea tall," she said, gesturing. "Likes to run up a bar tab, hasn't got the sense that God gave a badger?"

"Oh," he replied, his face clearing. "You're Gwaine's sister?"

"For my sins," she said, with a graceful shrug.

"Let me take you to the training grounds, they're just up through the south gate. The knights are usually practising mace-work at this time of day. I'm sure Gwaine will be glad to take a break."

"What's a handsome young man like you doing running around with my feckless little brother?" she asked, looping an arm through his as they made their way back through the forest towards the city walls.

"Gwaine is a brave knight, and a good man," insisted loyal Merlin. "Don't tell him I said that, though," he added as an afterthought.

"Your secret is safe with me," she promised, winking gallantly. "I can see why he speaks so highly of you."

As they ascended the slope to the training field in front of the castle, the sound of grunts and clanging metal rang through the air. The knights were clobbering each other with huge, spiked maces while Arthur strode among them, shouting encouragement and suggestions. Gwaine dropped his weapon and pulled off his helmet when he saw them approaching, narrowly dodging one last swing from Elyan's weapon.

"Grace, you evil old toad!" he crowed, pulling his sister in for a one-armed hug. "Still ugly, I see."

"You're still as thick as manure and half as useful, I see," countered Grace, slapping him on the back with the affectionate contempt only a sibling can muster.

"I take it I'm still banned from your tavern, then."

"For life. You're doing well for yourself, Gwaine."

"That's Sir Gwaine to the likes of you. Merlin, what have I told you about bringing home strays from the forest?"

"At least it's not a squirrel this time," Elyan pointed out, jogging over to greet the newcomer.

"It's not my fault he bit you," muttered Merlin.

"I specifically told you that you can't keep a squirrel as a pet," Arthur reminded him, striding over to cuff him around the head. "I am Prince Arthur, my lady. Welcome to Camelot."

"You'll excuse me if I don't have the best opinion of royalty," she said, looking him up and down, her expression sour. "I'm sure my brother has told you why."

"I hope that I can remedy that," Arthur replied, with a small and decorous bow.

"Arthur's nothing like Caerleon," said Gwaine. "I wouldn't be fighting for him if he was."

"I hope you're right," she said, her face clouding with worry. "Ma sent me to come and fetch you. We need your help."

The fire crackled cheerily in the hearth as they sat down to luncheon around the table in Arthur's outer chamber. Grace seemed happy enough with her welcome, but she let out a disgusted snort when Merlin stayed standing after filling their cups, hovering behind the prince's chair.

"Do you not allow your servants to sit and dine with you in Camelot?" she asked. "I'd heard great things about your egalitarian principles, but my brother's always been an exaggerator."

"Merlin doesn't get an ordinary seat," said Gwaine easily, pulling the servant onto his lap and pressing a goblet into his hand. "He's far too important for that."

"What do you need our help with?" asked Arthur, breaking off a piece of bread from his plate and handing it to Merlin out of sheer habit.

"I'm not rightly sure, to tell you the truth," she admitted. "All I can tell you is that there's something fierce wrong in the Great Seas of Meridor."

"Are the fish filled with maggots? Because I think we've fixed that," offered Merlin, putting down his food and going slightly pale.

"Nothing like that. There's boats coming back to shore without the fishermen, even when the water is as calm as a millpond. The whole village in a panic - nobody will set foot in a boat for fear that it will happen to them."

"I'm guessing King Caerleon hasn't offered to help?" said Gwaine.

"Haven't even bothered to ask him."

"We can't be seen entering Caerleon's lands without permission," said Arthur, shaking his head, "and I think it's pretty clear that we have no talent for disguises."

"It won't seem strange for me to be headed back to the old homestead," said Gwaine. "I'm pretty handy with a harpoon."

"Take Merlin with you," Arthur instructed him. "You can swim, can't you, Merlin?"

Preparing for the journey was greatly hampered by Gaius' insistence that he bring several heavy books with him. The old physician came hurrying into the courtyard, laden down with what looked like half of his library.

"The seas are great and mysterious, Merlin!" he insisted, shoving a large, leather-bound tome into a saddlebag. "You must be prepared for whatever you might face out there. You can't go up against a kraken or a giant shark without foreknowledge."

"I'm sure they all react the same to a harpoon in the face," said Gwaine, already astride his horse.

"I need to go, Gaius," said Merlin, slapping his hands away and sticking one foot into the stirrup. "I'm sure I can manage with just four enormous books about sea monsters to keep me company."

"Are you planning to carry on bellyaching all day, or can we get moving?" called Grace, already nearly at the city gates.

"Coming!" called Merlin, scrambling up onto the saddle and urging his horse into a trot.

"And bring me back some bladderwrack!" Gaius shouted at his retreating back.

Merlin put up a hand to show Gaius that he had heard him and they made their way out into the forest, picking through the sun-dappled woods at an easy pace.

"So what was Gwaine like as a child?" asked Merlin, sidling up next to Grace. She threw her head back and laughed.

"The most impossible little scrapper you've ever seen in your life," she said, not without fondness. "In fights half the time and up to mischief the other."

"You say that like you were any better," replied Gwaine. "If I recall correctly, you're the one who taught me how to throw a punch in the first place."

"Sure, I couldn't be expected to step in every time you got your backside handed to you."

The cheerful insults tossed back and forth between the two siblings kept Merlin entertained for most of the journey, up until he became the topic of conversation.

"What's your job, anyway?" she asked. "You don't seem like one of those knights."

"I'm Prince Arthur's manservant."

"Is that what they call it in Camelot?" she said with a sly grin to her brother.

"Merlin's everyone's favourite, aren't you, Merlin?" said Gwaine, grinning widely. "I'm amazed he ever does a lick of work, considering how we all dote on him."

"I do plenty of work!" Merlin insisted. "Looking after Arthur is a full-time job. Not that he appreciates it."

"No, your man there seems plenty fond of you," said Grace. "He looks at you the way a cat looks at a bowl of cream."

"We should stop for dinner," said Merlin. "I can see a clearing up on the right."

"Is he trying to avoid my question?" Grace asked Gwaine.

"Merlin? Nah, he's just hungry."

Night was falling by this point, so once they made it into the clearing they began to set up camp. Merlin set a pot of water over the fire to heat up, while he dutifully applied himself to one of Gaius' books.

"I'm sure half of these are made up," he muttered. "A fish that holds its own lantern above its mouth? A squid that could swallow a man whole?"

"Too much reading and you'll go cross-eyed," said Gwaine, sitting down next to him and looping an arm over his shoulder. He pointed at one of the illustrations in the book. "That's a powerful ugly fellow. Almost looks like Grace's husband."

"I'll not disagree with you there," she grunted, plucking a pheasant with more force than was truly necessary. "Not that I've seen hide nor hair of the man since two summers ago."

"He finally got sick of you? He must have been more intelligent than I ever gave him credit for."

"I'm sorry," said Merlin softly. "That must have been difficult for you."

"Gwaine's right. There's not much good to be said for the man - and believe me, I've tried. You're welcome to be his replacement, if you ever get tired of cuddling up to a bunch of sweaty soldiers."

Gwaine chuckled. "Arthur'd only insist on coming with him, then you'd have a prince on your hands."

Merlin blushed a deep pink, and busied himself chopping vegetables for the stew. The conversation moved on as the night grew darker, and after a hearty dinner, Merlin found himself wrapped up with Gwaine in his red cloak, head comfortably pillowed on his broad chest as he drifted off to sleep.

"That's never my son in that fancy get-up!" Gwaine's ma greeted them as they crossed the threshold of the inn. She wiped her hands on a cloth behind the bar and embraced them all in turn, exclaiming over how handsome Gwaine looked in his shiny armour.

"I can tell they've been feeding you well," she said, patting his stomach and pinching his cheek. He twisted away from her, batting her hands away and grumbling, his usual cool swagger deserting him in the face of her maternal affections.

"Ma, come on," he whined. "I'm a grown man."

Merlin was doubled over with laughter at his friend's embarrassment, but he straightened when she turned to him.

"I feel like I know you already from Gwaine's letters," she said, pinching his cheek too. "You're so sweet for helping out our little village this way. You must thank the prince for letting you come."

"I will, my lady," he replied politely, with a little bow.

"Call me Anna, dear. Now, you must sit down for something to eat before you go down to the shore. I've just baked a fresh pie."

"Anna, I think you and I will be great friends," said Merlin.

The late morning sun was making the spray from the waves sparkle in the air as they made their way through the empty market stalls, towards the docks.

"What's that smell?" asked Merlin, covering his nose and mouth with his neckerchief.

"It's a fish market," Gwaine reminded him. "It usually smells much worse."

The fishermen, who were gathered around a few tables near the pier, idly playing dice games and fixing nets, looked up when they saw Gwaine and Merlin approaching. They were happy enough to tell their tales about what had happened to their compatriots, and to show them the empty boats which had returned from the sea.

"There's no damage," said Merlin, examining one of the vessels. "Surely if a beast had attacked them, there would at least be marks on the woodwork."

"No remains, either," commented Gwaine, brow furrowed. "No blood, and they left all of their equipment in the boat."

"It's like they just disappeared into thin air."

They shared a look, and then Gwaine sighed.

"I suppose we have to go out there ourselves," he said, not sounding delighted about the prospect.

After a brief break to teach Merlin how to use a trident - which was supervised by the elder fishermen, who had a great number of opinions on the correct arm motion and were not shy about expressing them - they set off in a small rowing boat. Gwaine manned the oars and Merlin was in charge of the compass, which he swiftly realised was largely a ceremonial duty.

"I've known these waters since I was old enough to reach the handles," laughed Gwaine, setting a comfortable pace. "As long as I can feel the wind and know where the sun is, I'm not going to get lost."

Their destination was roughly due South, near a stretch of water that was known to be a good spot to find cod. Most of the disappearances had been from boats headed in this direction. Gwaine did the lion's share of the rowing, but he did take Merlin into his lap to show him how to work the oars, and let him take over for a little while.

The waters were quiet apart from the sound of waves breaking on the boat's hull and the occasional seagull's call. It was easy to forget the urgency of their mission in the calm, soothing environment.

"What was that?" asked Gwaine, looking back over his shoulder and straining to hear. A faint, musical sound was floating over the air. He sculled gently towards the noise, trying not to disturb the water too much with his oars.

"It sounds like singing," said Merlin, "but I can't hear the words."

"I can almost make it out," whispered Gwaine as the sweet, mingled voices washed over the boat. His hands went slack on the oars and his eyes gained a faraway look. "They sing of adventure, a hearty fresh pint of ale... and a couple of raven-haired beauties to help me drink it."

"Strawberry pie," murmured Merlin, a warm kind of longing filling his chest. "A soft bed, and golden hair in the sunlight- what are you doing?" he yelped as Gwaine stood up, making the boat wobble alarmingly.

Gwaine just shook his head and readied himself to dive out of the boat and into the deep, cold water. In vain, Merlin grabbed at him, trying to pull him back down to sitting, but Gwaine shook him off as though he were a gnat.

"Forth fleoge!" yelled Merlin in desperation, eyes flashing amber as he knocked his friend unconscious, catching him as he fell and setting him gently on the floor of the boat.

Huffing and puffing, Merlin took over the oars and began to row towards the source of the sound. The voices still swam through his mind, singing about freedom, love, and destiny, but he shook his head in irritation and carried on, their power no match for his determination.

Before long, a rocky shore rose up out of the water ahead, and as he looked over his shoulder he was shocked to recognise the Castle of Fyrien, a great and seemingly impenetrable fortress. The secret entrance to the tunnels beneath the castle was on the opposite side of the island. He landed on the beach, cursing when the water lapped over the top of his boots, and dragged the boat out of the water.

He set off up the slope, scrambling over rocks and loose, shifting gravel, until he reached a plateau near the castle walls.

"Why do you interrupt our rehearsal?" said a sweet, musical voice. He whipped around, and saw three women, clad in white robes, shining with an otherworldly, ethereal beauty. Two of them continued to hum a gentle tune while the other was addressing him.

"Your rehearsal is making men drown themselves in the sea!"

"Men are always drowning themselves in the sea," sighed one of the women.

"In fact, they seem to do little else," said another. The three singers continued their harmony, taking over from each other so that the sound never stopped.

He dredged up a scrap of memory from one of Gaius' books. "Are you sirens?"

"Yes, and our purpose is to sing. We cannot do otherwise."

"We have tried to stay as far away from mortal men as we can, but we cannot stray too far from the sea."

"What are you rehearsing for?" he asked.

"We are always rehearsing."

"One day, when the seas rise to take over the land, we will sing for the last of humanity."

"Right, well," he stuttered, filing away this unsettling piece of information for later. "Until then, could you just... take it inside the castle, where nobody can hear you?"

"We have tried, but nobody can penetrate the Castle of Fyrien. The walls are too strong."

He grinned. "I think I can help you there."

Merlin had been rowing for at least an hour by the time Gwaine woke up, hazily peering up at him from the floor of the boat.

"What happened?"

"There were sirens," he said simply. "You tried to jump out of the boat and go swimming to them, so I had to knock you out."

"Sirens, eh?" he replied, resting contentedly back against the boards and closing his eyes again. "I would have liked to have seen those."

Merlin rolled his eyes and carried on rowing. By the time they arrived back at the coast, he was exhausted and quite damp. The fishermen were delighted when he explained the story to them, slapping him on the back and cheering for him.

"You shouldn't be able to hear them through the castle walls, but it'd be safest to plug your ears if you're going that far south," he cautioned them, accepting a mug of ale.

"You've heard a siren's song and survived," said one old mariner, throwing an arm over Merlin's shoulders. "There's not many men as can say that, my boy. There must be something about you."

Eventually they managed to extricate themselves from the conversation, politely declining offers of oysters and fresh fish, and made their way back to Grace's inn to say their goodbyes.

"Keep him out of trouble, won't you?" said Anna, kissing Merlin on both cheeks and pressing a loaf of bread into his hands.

"If I can," laughed Merlin. "It was wonderful to meet you."

Grace and Gwaine seemed to have a fairly violent farewell ritual involving a lot of shoving and slaps on the back, and Merlin was slightly alarmed when Grace turned her attention to him. To his relief, she just enveloped him in a bear hug, lifting him into the air.

"Tell that prince of yours, he's all right by me," she told him when she released him. "Now, get on your way, before Gwaine gets into the cider."

Two weeks later, Merlin was polishing Arthur's boots by the fireplace when the prince stopped behind him and loudly sniffed him.

"Why do you still smell like fish?" he lamented.

"Really?" asked Merlin, dropping the boots and smelling himself. "I thought I'd gotten it all out by now."

"This is what happens when I let you out of my sight," grumbled Arthur, wandering off to put his tunic on.

Merlin picked up the boots again and got back to work, humming a mindless tune as he went. After a few minutes, he noticed the silence in the room and looked up to see Arthur watching him with a dreamy, hazy expression on his face.

He snapped out of his trance quickly when Merlin stopped humming.

"What was that tune?" he asked, turning away rapidly and clearing his throat.

"I don't know," said Merlin, looking curiously at the prince's back. "I must have heard it somewhere."