Chapter Text
As usual, it appeared that Merlin was making a mockery of a simple task.
Arthur, Merlin, and the knights were out on a mission, scouting the forest for stragglers from a recent bandit sect they'd dismantled, and just before dusk began to fall, Arthur had called them to a halt and the little group began making camp. They'd divided up tasks, and Arthur was just returning from a nearby river, freshly watered horses in tow, when he found everyone gathered round sitting on a couple logs. Leon was still slicing potato's for their stew, but everyone else was finished and chattering up a storm amongst themselves.
Everyone but Merlin.
He'd gone to gather firewood when the all split off to work, but he should have long since gathered enough by now, not to mention he shouldn't have needed to even leave their sight, the ground was littered with twigs. Arthur furrowed his brow in confusion at his absence, but it was no cause for alarm. He'd probably just buggered off to relive himself and was taking his sweet time about it.
Yes, sure, Arthur had been hoping to return and be met with the warmth a small fire and supper underway, but one could only be so optimistic.
Arthur joined the group in their rather useless circle on the logs and tuned in to the escalating discussion Elyan was having with Gwaine about their skills in swordsmanship. He joined in the conversation via Percival's approach, throwing in a rib at either one of them here or there when they got too cocky, but otherwise staying silent, and they contentedly talked and chuckled for a good little while as the night descended. The later it got however, the more Arthurs thoughts turned to concern about the absence of Merlin, and more importantly a fire.
What could the twat be doing all this time? What could possibly be keeping him?
A particularly chilled wind rushed through their little camp and a shiver ran up Arthur's spine. That did it. With great annoyance, he pushed himself up from the comfort of his damp log and stepped around it.
"I'm going to see what's keeping Merlin so long. The imbecile ought to be back by now," he told the group. The temperature would only continue to drop. It was late Autumn for heavens sake. At this rate, Merlin's incompetence would be the death of them all.
Motioning for Gwaine to join him, Arthur stepped out of the gloomy camp and headed into the thicker forest. Gwaine got up with no hesitation, though he did groan like an old man as he did so. "See you in a moment, fellows," he bade the knights goodbye as he made for the area of woods to Arthurs right. Splitting up to cover more ground without Arthur having to tell him.
There was no sign of Merlin in the immediate surrounding area. Arthur had to trek out so far the sounds of his knights jovial voices faded to a dim lull. Still, it only took a few minutes of combing the wood increasingly outward before his eyes fell upon Merlin, barely a shadow in the darkness, and Arthur squinted to make sure it was truly him and not a bush, a knot in his chest loosening the moment he was sure.
Merlin was facing away from him, crouching on the ground with his head bent low. Picking up firewood Arthur assumed, but when he stepped closer that didn't seem to be the case. Merlin wasn't moving, for one. Not even his arms, which meant he wasn't lifting or loading up an arm full of wood. He must also not have heard Arthur yet because he made gave no acknowledgment of him, or anything for that matter. As for the thing on the ground, well, it was clearly not wood.
Maybe Arthur was still too far away to see for sure. He thought he saw what it was, but he did a double take and yet a triple take before his brain accepted it.
Merlin had a body laying in front of him.
Not only that, Arthur could swear he heard soft murmurs emanating in Merlin's voice.
He was sitting so still that something told Arthur not to make a sound. He crept forward, employing the stealth training he'd been taught since birth, and started to inch around to the side to get a look at the person on the ground.
Sadly, stealth in the woods when he could hardly see the ground was not easy, and Arthur snapped a twig with his foot just as he got far enough to see Merlin's palm spread over the man's chest.
Merlin whirled around and flew to his feet in a blink, raising his hands as if he had any sort of weapon to fight off an enemy. When he saw Arthur, he froze, staring at him like a deer caught in torchlight. Literally. His eyes were wide and panicked and… gold .
They were glowing gold.
Arthur had no torch.
"Arthur!" Merlin's voice rang with surprise and panic.
Arthur stumbled back. His heart stopped. Genuinely, fully quit beating. He wouldn't have been able to blink right now if he'd tried, so it was only for those damned decades of training that his hand found the hilt of his sword and drew it.
The tip was to Merlin's chest before Arthur even registered he was holding it.
Merlin's eyes dimmed back to blue and his face dropped from panic to an expression of deepest despair, but only for a moment. As quick as the look came, it was gone, eyes hardening, the air about him faded into some unsettling confidence that didn't fit him. Like his body was a puppet for someone else entirely. Merlin was confident, yes, he never gave a damn what Arthur thought, but this wasn't that.
Arthurs breath shook, his lungs struggling to work at all. Merlin tilted his head and stared him straight in the eye. "Arthur."
Arthur couldn't talk. It's hard to when you've forgotten how to think or breathe properly.
After a moment Merlin dropped his gaze to the sword in Arthur's hand, then he looked back up. Unblinking. Staring into Arthur's eyes. It was so cold.
He wasn't saying anything. Wasn't moving.
Apparently Merlin gave up on Arthur finding his words because he eventually opened his mouth to speak.
Against his own will, Arthur tightened his battle stance. His body refused to lower Excalibur even though this was Merlin.
Merlin saw this and sighed. "Shall we get on with it then?" He asked, quiet enough that Gwaine or anyone nearby wouldn't hear.
"You have magic," Arthur managed, devastation cracking his voice.
Merlin shrugged and looked at the ground, acting somehow casual in this life altering moment. He chuckled. "Would you believe me if I said it was a trick of the light? The sunlight in my eyes?"
"There is no sunlight."
"Yeah, well. Suppose that excuse couldn't work forever."
This was awful. Merlin was being awful, and he wasn't denying the magic. One last time he said it, to give Merlin one last out. "You're using magic," he whispered, and in his heart he begged for a denial. Pleaded to any god that would listen. Not Merlin. They'd already got his sister, but they couldn't get Merlin.
His sword was still up. He didn't want it to be.
Then Merlin said it, short and simple.
"Yes."
Arthur was really going to collapse now. He'd never lost his bearings so drastically in his life. Not since the day Morgana betrayed him. Maybe Merlin had already attacked him. Used magic to dig into his mind and pick it apart until he couldn't do anything. A sword could do a lot but it could never combat that.
Another thought tugged at him behind his shock. This could all be a deceit. Perhaps it wasn't Merlin at all, but some wicked creature putting on his face or controlling him. A way to torment Arthur. It was certainly the right way.
"Arthur! Merlin! Is that you?" They both jolted. The bushes rustled to the side of them and Gwaine shoved his way through, looking as cheerful as anything until he saw Arthur. His face dropped like an apple from a tree. His jovial demeanor wiping away in the blink of an eye. To be fair, Arthur was sure he looked awful. He felt like a ghost, feeling frozen and clammy and sweaty all at the same time. But of course, it was his sword that Gwaine zeroed in on. He flicked his eyes to Merlin briefly, no doubt seeing him looking unarmed and innocent. That didn't make Arthur look great. "What's going on?" He asked cautiously, placing a hand on his own hilt.
"He used magic," Arthur answered, sounding far more broken than a prince should ever sound in front of his knight.
Gwaine looked at Arthur, to Merlin, to Arthur again, then back at Arthur's sword. "I see," he finally said. He took his hand off his own sword, walked calmly over to Arthur, and quick as a whip, Gwaine's fist collided with his face.
It was a hard punch. Arthur reeled back, totally disoriented. Before he could get his bearings back, Gwaine grabbed his shoulders and kneed him hard in the stomach. Arthur doubled over and hit the ground on his hands and knees.
Through the corner of his eye, squinting and tearing up from pain, Arthur saw Gwaine grab Merlin by the arm. "Run," Arthur heard, and fear of a whole new kind pierced him. Fear of Merlin running away from him and never coming back.
Arthur felt like he would throw up if he moved. He couldn't get up in time to stop them.
Gwaine and Merlin sprinted away.