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“Come on, Merlin,” Gwaine calls, wadding through the waist deep water, the sun shining down over them. It is hot, hotter than it has been recently. The sun seems to bake down on the ground, making the plants wilt and driving even the hardiest people into the cool shade of the castle, or the cool touch of the rivers and lakes.
“I’m fine where I am,” Merlin says back, lounging against the trunk of a tree, the shade keeping him cool.
The rest of the knights are in varying degrees of undress and wet, Arthur having been the first to strip down and jump into the cool water. It is pointless to try to train today and risk heat stroke.
“What’s the matter, afraid of getting a little bit wet?” Elyan jokes good-naturedly, stepping out of his trousers and running into the water.
A hand lands on his shoulder and Merlin looks up into Lancelot’s kind eyes. “Just ignore them. You don’t have to get in if you don’t want to. Though, if I were you, I’d at least take the shirt off. It’s hot enough out here to give heat stroke even in the water. You must be hot in it.”
“I said I’m fine. Go play with the children if you must, but leave me to my shade.” He tries to mask his annoyance, but even Lancelot catches on to it.
“All right, have fun up here.” The knight steps away, tugging his own shirt off as he makes his way towards the shore line. Merlin ignores the glances being sent his way, closing his eyes and relaxing under the tree.
~*~
Merlin smiles indulgently at the men seated around him. They have gotten well into their cups, well Gwaine had. The others are only partially into their cups, knowing they have training in the morning.
Even then, they are smiling and joking, laughing at Gwaine’s stories as Mary, the bar maid, places another pitcher of mead on the table. Merlin looks on, nursing his third cup. He has to be up early tomorrow, no need to overindulge, unlike what Arthur thinks of him being a drunk.
Then the group goes quiet, turning to look at him after Gwaine voices an opinion. “You’re right,” Percival says, eyeing Merlin. “Hey, Merlin, why do you never take your shirt off?”
“I do take my shirt off, otherwise I’d still be wearing the same one every day,” Merlin evades, eyeing them.
“Yes, but you never take it off around us. Nothing to be ashamed of, were all men, even if you are a twig compared to some of us,” Gwaine says with a wink and a nod at Percy who laughs at the joke.
“Maybe I don’t feel the need to display myself like you do,” Merlin jokes while trying to slide out of his chair subtly.
He doesn’t get far, a hand landing heavily on his shoulder. Looking up, Merlin sees Arthur standing behind him and wonders when the prince had moved. “Really Merlin, there’s no need to be a girl. You can take your shirt off. We won’t laugh.”
Arthur reaches down, tugging at Merlin’s shirt, trying to pull it out of his belt. Then more hands are grabbing, pulling, laughing good-naturedly as they try to take his shirt off. Merlin feels panic rising up his throat, choking him. “No, you guys stop,” they keep going on, mistaking his choked words for embarrassment, “please, stop…Stop!” He jerks out of their holds, stumbling away from their confused looks.
“It’s all right, Merlin. If you don’t want to show us, it’s fine,” Lancelot says diplomatically, worry making him frown.
“What, do you have like a birth mark you don’t want us to see?” Gwaine asks, trying to make light of the panic still in Merlin’s eyes.
“Y-yeah, something like that…I better get going. Gaius is probably wondering where I am.” Before anyone can stop him, Merlin darts from the table and out of the tavern.
“What was that about?” Leon asks.
“I don’t know,” Arthur answers looking after the way his manservant had run.
~*~
Merlin wipes the sweat from his brow with a sigh. Even under the green shade of the trees, it is still hot. Tugging at his sleeve, he slides his jacket off, feeling marginally better now that it isn’t trapping heat close to his body.
Gaius had asked him to come out to get some herbs while Arthur was out on patrol. He had been out here since midmorning and his back is aching from his hunched position. Stretching, his winces a little as his back pops loudly before sighing as a muscle loosens.
“Well, well, look at what we have here, boys,” someone says behind him. Merlin whirls around, still on his knees. Three men range behind him, two on horseback, and the other leading his beast behind him. Merlin can feel the blood draining from his face as he pales.
“Hello, Merlin,” one of them says and smiled at him with all teeth and no warmth, leaving no misconception to what was going to happen. Merlin tenses, feeling adrenalin surge through his body. “Now, now, Merlin, that wouldn’t be wise.”
Merlin takes one look at the others, all with similar expressions and runs. He can hear them whoop behind him, the sound of horses coming up behind him. Dodging through the trees, he runs as hard as he can, jumping over logs and streambeds, hoping to out run them.
There is a crack and then something snags his wrist. He jerks against it and feels the whip come out of their hand. Not even looking back, he keeps on. Another crack and this one curls around his throat. All he can do is cry out before the whip pulls back and he is pulled off his feet, falling to the forest floor heavily.
~*~
Arthur and his men leave early in the morning for patrol, Gwaine complaining the whole time about it being way too early for this. Arthur figures this is punishment enough for Gwaine’s bar crawl the night before. Elyan and Percival bracket him on each side, teasing and poking at him in jest while the man sends withering glares at Arthur’s back.
The forest is quiet as they patrolled around the castle. A few people stop them to talk as they ride by to discuss problems and news. Most of the problems are easily solved with a word from Arthur and the news they ask for has the people leaving with smiles.
By midmorning, Arthur feels like they have accomplished much. It is a good day and after a quick stop for lunch, he decides his men deserve a break. Signaling for them to start heading back, he smiles inwardly at the smiles, and groan from Gwaine, at his announcement.
They have been riding in relative silence when Arthur signals them to stop, listening hard. He could have sworn he had heard something. The sound of something crashing through the brush has them all alert, eyes darting about.
Arthur starts to turn to look at his men when a flash of red catches his eye. He watches, frozen as Merlin runs into view, three horsemen charging behind him. The first whip crack has him jerking back into reality. The second has him moving, his heart giving a thump as Merlin goes down, dragged backwards by the throat as the man on the other end gives a hard jerk to his whip.
He seems to get tunnel vision as the men dismount around Merlin. He spurs his horse on; the others following close, even though the cramped quarters of the trees hinder their mounts. The men jerk up from their prize as Arthur and his men thunder into the clearing they are in.
“You will release him at once,” Arthur bites out, eyeing the three of them and recognizing them as slave traders. He has dealt with slave traders before, more often than not to collect runaway slaves. Arthur had not enjoyed it, but although Uther had not approved of slavery in general, he did not stop the traders from claiming their ‘lost’ goods.
Merlin is on the ground, struggling against the foot that pins him down, the man pressing down on the back of his neck. Their leader smirks, cocksure of his place. “We are only collecting that which belongs to us, sir knight. We’ll leave once he is secure.”
“Merlin is not a slave and you will leave now before I run you through,” Arthur growls, dismounting in one fluid movement, the others doing so as well.
“I beg to differ, knight.” He gestures to one of his men and the man bends down. Merlin seems to struggle even more, bucking and arching, trying to dislodge the man, gasping noises escaping his throat. There are a few curses as they struggle to hold Merlin down and then the sound of tearing clothe.
The man rips the back of Merlin’s shirt until it hangs open, exposing his back. There, nestled in the dip of his lower back, is the brand of a slave and above it, old lash scars litter his back, pale silver and ragged looking from healing badly. The fight leaves Merlin and he just lays on the ground, limp. Arthur takes in everything, from the brand to the lash marks that scar Merlin’s skin, a few disappearing as they circle his chest.
Calm settles over him as another piece of the puzzle that is Merlin slips into place. Straightening, Arthur glares at the three men. “How much?” Arthur demands.
“For the slave?” The leader asks, baiting Arthur with a smirk.
“For his freedom,” Arthur hisses.
“Hmm, we paid fifteen gold pieces for him and with the effort it’s been to track him down, twenty gold pieces,” the man drawls.
Arthur reaches for his saddle bag. Pulling out a small purse, he counts out each coin in front of the man. Slipping them into a second bag, he ties it and tosses it to the leader, the bag landing with a thump and jingle of coins against his chest. “Take that and leave my kingdom. If you return, you will be killed on sight.”
Grinning, the men mount up. They wheel their mounts before riding off towards Camelot’s border. Silence settles heavily around them and no one moves as they wait for the men to disappear into the trees.
Arthur turns to look at Merlin. He is still on the ground, fists clenched, trembling as he waits for them to say something. Crouching down, Arthur touches his shoulder gently and Merlin flinches away from him. “Merlin?”
A twig snaps and Lancelot is across from him, his cloak in hand. He lays it over Merlin, covering him from shoulders to feet. “Come on, my friend, come on,” Lancelot whispers and slowly, they get Merlin up.
As Lancelot gently leads a still shaking Merlin towards his horse, Arthur turns to Leon. “I want you to follow them, make sure they leave Camelot and leave word with the rest of the men to detain them should they come back.” Leon salutes and mounts up. Giving one worried look in Merlin’s direction, he rides off after the slave traders.
“Merlin was out here for herbs for Gaius, can you go find them?” Percival nods and sets off leading his horse and following the easy trail that was left behind by the chase. Arthur turns to Elyan, “Ride ahead and inform Gaius, discreetly, what has happened.” Elyan nods and sets off, leaving the three of them and Merlin to make their way back at a slower pace.
Lancelot already has Merlin up on the horse and is swinging up to sit in front of him when Arthur finishes giving out instructions. Mounting up, they set off at a slow pace. Arthur watches Merlin clutching at Lancelot’s back, shoulders shaking even harder. His heart gives a harsh twist to see his friend so broken.
They are nearly to Camelot when Percival rejoins them, Merlin’s jacket and satchel slung over his saddle. Their arrival goes unremarked and when they pull up in the courtyard, Gaius is already waiting for them, Elyan next to him.
Lancelot helps Merlin down and with a few soft spoken words, has him walking up the steps and into the castle. Once inside Gaius’s workroom, some of the tension Arthur has been feeling dissipates. Merlin is safe were he should be, in Camelot.
Lancelot helps Merlin to sit and soon Gaius is fussing over him. Merlin’s face is covered in dirt, small scraps cutting into his pale cheeks. Gaius thanks Elyan as the knight hands him a bowl of water and a piece of cloth off his table and he slowly starts to clean Merlin.
Merlin is still pale when Gaius finishes and his eyes seem to be unfocused. Lancelot says something to Gaius and the physician nods. Helping Merlin up again, Lancelot leads him up the stairs to his room. “Why did he never tell me, Gaius?” Arthur asks.
The other three see something on Arthur’s face and take their leave, leaving the prince alone with the physician. Gaius sighs, settling heavily onto his chair. “The law is clear, sire. Any runaway slave found in Camelot is to be returned to their master.”
“And he thought I would turn him over, just like that?”
Gaius runs a hand over his face and he seems to become older, his face looking grim. He motions towards the bench and Arthur takes it, waiting expectantly. “Sire, Merlin has been a runaway since just before he came to Camelot. Before that, he was a slave for years. He hasn’t told me when he was taken, but I’ve come to guess he was young when it happened.”
“It…is hard for someone from that kind of life to trust again. The fact that he trusts you as he does now is a miracle unto itself. I think the reason he never says is for two things: one is probably that he didn’t want to be pitied or treated any differently. And I think the second one runs right alongside with his magic in that he didn’t want you to be torn by your friendship and your duty as a prince.” Gaius sends a knowing arched eyebrow in the prince’s direction.
Arthur can still recall vividly the wild, frantic look on Merlin’s face when he had stumbling and with much babbling, told Arthur about his magic. Merlin had looked ready to bolt any moment as he had waited for Arthur to say something.
Arthur releases a pent up sigh. “We’ll help him, you know. I’ll make sure this never happens again.”
“That is all one can hope for, sire,” Gaius tells him.
~*~
The room is dim when Arthur slips in. Lancelot has settled onto the bed, back against the headboard. He holds Merlin in his arms, the warlock curled into a small ball against the knight’s chest. He looks so small and fragile, liable to break at the smallest touch.
With a grunt, Arthur settles onto the floor, resting against the wall. He’s not sure how much time passes like this, the two of them watching over Merlin. He is awake though when Merlin finally stirs, voice barely a whisper.
“Eleven,” Merlin says softly and they both of them start at the sudden noise.
“What?” Lancelot asks softly, looking down at Merlin.
“I was eleven, when I was taken. I’d gone out for some herbs for mum and they found me in the woods,” Merlin says, eyes far away as he remembers. “They took me away to the capital and I was sold for 15 gold pieces to one of the nobles there. They didn’t know about you know what or else I would have been sold for more.” His voice fades off at the harsh memories.
“My master was a man named Galdrian who was fond of the whip. He liked to use it whenever he could on his slaves. He seemed to take exception to me, often having me service him and deliberately make me mess up so he could whip me,” Merlin whispers, hands fisting in Lancelot’s cloak which he has wrapped around himself again.
“One…one day, he had his men bring me to his room in the middle of the night and locked me in with him. He…he ordered me to…to sleep with him. I refused; I’d not been used for that sort of service before. He beat nearly to death with his whip and whatever came to hand. My magic snapped from my control and…and I killed him. His head hit the wall and he didn’t get back up and I panicked half delirious with pain.”
“My magic forced the slave ring from my neck and I fled the keep he lived in. I holed up in a cave for a couple of days, trying to figure out how to get back home. I knew how to live off the land but I wasn’t sure I could out run Galdrian’s men.” Merlin stops for a moment, taking a breath.
“I think it was luck more than anything that let me escape notice. I stuck to the forests, never took roads. I’d seen maps and knew Ealdor was on the border with Camelot so I headed that way. I stole clothes and food when I could. Finally, I made it back to Ealdor. Mother wept when she saw me. I’d been gone seven years. Soon after that, she started to write to Gaius. She knew they would eventually trace me back to Ealdor and there was the possibility they knew of my abilities.”
“Then I came here and I met you Arthur and I thought you would be like Galdrian and then you weren’t and you threw my whole world in chaos. I wasn’t sure what to make of you. You were an arrogant prat with a heart of gold,” Merlin says with a small smile at Arthur’s sound of denial.
“You’re free now,” Arthur offers.
Merlin shakes his head. “As long as I bare this mark, I’ll never be truly free. Any slaver who sees it will know I am a runaway.”
“There is a way,” Lancelot offers.
Merlin glances up at him, frowning.
“It will likely be just as painful, but a tattoo would cover up the mark. I’ve seen many warriors who have them cover up scars and other such marks,” Lancelot explains. “There are a few tattooists in Camelot right now.”
“You could get something meaningful to cover it up,” Lancelot says.
“I’ll pay for it, to make you free Merlin,” Arthur pledges.
“I…thank you,” Merlin says softly, tears streaking his checks.
~*~
A soft knock at his door has Arthur looking up from his desk where he’s doing paper work. “Enter,” he calls out.
Merlin slips in silently, more shadow than person. He’s smiling softly as he steps into the light cast by the fire. “What do you need Merlin?” Arthur asks, setting aside his work to look at his manservant and friend.
“I…it’s just…it’s finished,” Merlin says softly, hands clenching at the hem of his shirt. His customary belt is missing and it hands loosely around his waist. “Do…do you want to see it?” he asks softly, not looking at Arthur.
“If you would like to show me, then I’ll see it,” Arthur says, standing to come around his desk, closer to Merlin and the fire to have better light. Merlin turns as he draws close and reaches up to pull his shirt up high enough for Arthur to see the small of his back.
There, nestled in the dip of his spine, rests the crest of the Pendragons in sharp black relief against Merlin’s pale skin. The skin around it is red from irritation but soon, it will heal.
“Merlin…I don’t know what to say,” Arthur admits.
“It so everyone will know whom I stand with,” Merlin says softly, lowing the fabric and turning to look at Arthur. “My king.”
“Thank you,” Arthur says softly, resting his hands on Merlin’s shoulders, head bowed. “I will work to make sure you never regret taking my mark.”
“I know,” Merlin says simply.
End.