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Merlin was bloody sick of quests! In the span of three weeks, he and Arthur had gone on three perilous journeys for absolutely no good reason at all. What did it matter if some magical harmless beast was spotted in the Forest of Acestir, or if there had been some pretty but useless artefact uncovered, as there was for this quest? It certainly wasn’t worth the loss of resources, and not to mention the strain, demanded by such expeditions.
For one, he couldn’t stop shivering, fingers trembling as they gripped at the reins of his horse. The Darkling Woods, like any other wood in Camelot, offered no protection against the biting cold of winter. For another, his stomach would not stop growling, unsatisfied with the small loaf of bread he’d scoffed down that morning in Gaius’s chambers. To top it off, he knew Arthur had absolutely no idea where they were going and was too proud to admit it.
“I’m fairly sure we’ve seen that branch before,” Merlin hinted, hoping Arthur would finally accept the inevitable - that they were hopelessly lost.
Arthur’s jaw clenched. “We’re in a bloody forest, of course every branch looks the same.”
While the regal hold of his body and the passivity of his expression suggested that, unlike Merlin, Arthur couldn’t care less about the high possibility of frostbite or a slow death by starvation, his tone suggested otherwise.
“I thought you’ve patrolled this forest before? Shouldn’t you know it inside out?”
“When I was ten!” Arthur said, exasperated. “You go ahead and try and tell me every type of tree you encountered when you first came to Camelot!”
Arthur did have a point. The only flower he could recall seeing on his journey to Camelot was a sprig of snowdrops by the edge of the road a couple of miles from the citadel, and only because they were his mother’s favourite.
“I’m just trying to make sure we’re going the right way,” Merlin told him.
“Of course we are!” Arthur spluttered. “I have a map!” Arthur waved it up in the air like a banner. “And the map says to go this way so we’re going to keep going this way!”
Merlin groaned, barely containing the urge to dismount from his horse and strangle Arthur, at least until he admitted how very lost they were. If he didn’t do so soon, then they were never going to make it to their destination, let alone before it got dark. He really didn’t fancy sharing his bedroll with the rats tonight, not when it could be avoided.
“Why don’t you let me look at it?” Merlin asked, holding his hand out. “Maybe you’re reading it wrong.”
“No, no.” Arthur lifted it up higher in the air, glaring at him. “I’ve been reading maps my whole life. Of course we’re going the right way.”
“Would you bet our lives on it? Look how dark it’s getting. I don’t know about you, but I don’t fancy getting eaten by a pack of wolves.”
Arthur rolled his eyes. “When have we ever encountered a wolf?”
Merlin huffed. “Well we haven’t yet but only because if we had, we’d be dead! Have you seen how viscous those things are? Besides, we have come across wildren, griffins, evil spirits vengeful sorcerers,” he took a breath. “Need I go on?”
“Well seeing as we’re in broad daylight I sincerely doubt we’ll come across any wildren,” Arthur scoffed.
“That wasn’t the point. The point is…”
“Quiet.”
Merlin stilled, gripping the reins of his horse, detecting the shift in Arthur’s tone.
“What is it?”
“Do you hear that?”
Merlin craned his neck, hearing nothing of importance. “It’s probably just the cold getting to you. Did I mention it was cold? Here, I’ll mention it again. It’s bloody cold. Now can we get back to getting un-lost? I just want to get the stupid artefact and go home.”
Arthur shook his head. “Don’t be stupid, I definitely heard something.”
“Something completely friendly, I’m sure,” he muttered to himself as Arthur nudged his horse forward. Why Arthur couldn’t just stay out of things that didn’t concern him, he could never fathom out. Arthur was just lucky Merlin would always be there to pull him out of whatever mess he found himself in.
While Arthur had his gaze focused on the path ahead, towards the source of the noise, Merlin used the opportunity to wrench the map out of his hands. “Yes!” he yelled. However his triumph at finally gaining possession of the map darkened into frustration when his eyes met the trail Arthur had been leading them down.
“Arthur, you idiot, you’ve been reading the stupid thing upside down! No wonder we’re lost!”
“Forget about the quest,” Arthur said absently, edging his horse closer to the noise still. “We need to find out what’s making that sound.”
Well that was unlike Arthur. For one, he didn’t even try to defend himself, which on its own would’ve been concerning given how much he sulked when Merlin gained the upper hand, and two, he’d discarded the quest, a task Uther had specifically ordered for him to complete, as if it were a moth-ridden tunic.
No, there was something very strange going on.
“Arthur,” Merlin said nervously, turning back to look where they’d come. “Are you sure we shouldn’t just turn around. I mean, we are going in the wrong direction after all.”
“Are you hard of hearing, I said, we’re going to find the source of the sound.”
Merlin flinched. While it was hardly out of the ordinary for Arthur to tease him (and for him to return the favour), Arthur rarely did it was such malice, as if Merlin was an irritating bug on Arthur’s sleeve he couldn’t quite manage to brush off.
“Alright sire, I just think we should be cautious.”
Arthur did not reply, too intent on following the path ahead.
He could hear it now, the sound Arthur was raving on about. The closer they got to it, the higher the screeching became, causing Merlin’s head to throb painfully.
Where is he going?
I’ve got a bad feeling about this.
Without warning, Arthur pulled his horse to a stop and dismounted without so much as a look at Merlin. Merlin followed suit, confused as ever.
“There’s nothing here, why did you dismount?” Merlin asked, hands clutching his head now that he didn’t have to hold the reins. He didn’t know how much longer he could take the noise.
Arthur ignored him, walking as if in a trance in the direction of a clearing a couple of metres ahead. Merlin patted his horse and tied him, as well as Arthur’s mare to the nearest tree before following Arthur closely behind, watching about for any sign of movement that might signal an enemy. The sound was so high pitched now that Merlin felt like his head was going to explode from the agony of it. Arthur however, seemed at ease, handsome face blank and gait smooth.
It wasn’t until he and Arthur stepped out of the trees into the clearing, that the source of the screeching became clear. For standing outside a hovel built into the rock as if it were naturally formed there, was a young woman, her lips parted in song. She looked about nineteen, youth blooming in her fair cheeks, her hair long and golden, and her fine dress dark blue and made of silk. It was her eyes though, sharp and determined that reminded Merlin of the imminent danger they faced. This was no ordinary girl.
“What do you want?” Merlin barked, not in the mood for games. The singing broke off immediately, and Arthur looked around, bewildered. Before Merlin could lift up a hand to stop her, momentarily dazed by the pain in his head suddenly leaving him, the girl tilted her head and Arthur crumpled to the ground.
“Arthur!” he yelled, dropping to his knees by his side where he’d fallen. Hand shaking, he put two fingers to Arthur’s neck and heaved in relief when he affirmed there was still breath in Arthur’s lungs.
Merlin glared up at the woman. “I’m warning you, if you hurt him there will be consequences.”
To his satisfaction, the girl took a step back, but then her expression hardened. “I’m afraid I have no choice.”
“You’re not a druid are you, a relative of someone whose been sentenced to death in Camelot?”
Nine out of ten times that was the case.
“No, I bear no ill will towards Camelot or its king.”
Well it looked like this was that one.
“Then why are you doing this?” Merlin was utterly at a loss to understand. “Why did you lure us here?”
The girl looked away, pain touching her delicate features. “My sister is dying of an incurable disease. He is her only hope.”
“I fail to see how.” He was not at liberty to be kind. Not until his prince was safe.
She sighed. “I sought the advice of the oldest in our village, a healer who has seen much in her lifetime. She told me that according to legend, only a specific potion called the Vitality Draught, could save her.”
Merlin clenched his jaw. “What’s this got to do with Arthur?”
“Part of the potion requires the beating heart of a prince. I…I don’t want to kill him but I have to save my sister. She’s all I have left. Please understand.” The girl’s bottom lip wobbled and Merlin fought viciously against the slither pity that ran within him at the sight.
Too many times he’d almost lost Arthur, all because he’d been too forgiving.
Not this time.
“No, I don’t!” Merlin snarled. “How does he deserve to die any more than your sister does?”
“I’m truly am sorry.” She lifted up her hands, ready to chant another spell. However, before the words could leave her lips, Merlin’s, eyes flashed gold, and she was lifted her up in the air with a scream, clutching at her throat madly.
“I don’t want to kill you,” he warned. “But if you threaten Arthur’s life, I will have to.”
“You’ll never be able to wake him if you do,” she wheezed.
His eyes narrowed. “How do I know you’re not making this up to save yourself?”
“Are you willing to take that risk?”
He looked down at Arthur, pale and lifeless.
No, he could not.
He released his hold on her and she stumbled to the ground, hand still clutching her flushed throat.
“I have a compromise,” she coughed out. “One that doesn’t involve anyone dying.”
“I’m listening,” Merlin gritted his teeth, at a lack for any other plan.
She got to her feet. “While the beating heart of a prince will ensure a perfectly brewed potion, a substitute can be made, but this substitute, if not suitable enough will destroy the other ingredients which make up the potion. It’s not a risk I wanted to take, I can’t risk my sister’s life for anything.”
“How could you resort to murder first?” Merlin asked, disgusted.
“How could you?”
Merlin opened his mouth to retort, and found he had nothing to say.
Of course he had, but only for Arthur’s sake! It was an entirely different situation!
“That’s beside the point,” he argued. “What is this substitute?”
“If a beating heart of a prince cannot be obtained, a suitable substitute is a token of what the vessel of the beating heart most desires. If a token of anything else but that which he most desires is brewed into the potion then it will disintegrate and my sister’s last hope will be destroyed.”
Merlin groaned. “How am I meant to know what he most desires when he’s unconscious? Some compromise this is.”
Trying to find out what Arthur desired most of all would be like searching for a needle in a haystack – it could be anything, from Uther’s expressed approval to pining after some unsuitable maiden. He was a bloody prince! He could have anything he wanted at the snap of his fingers. What more could he possibly want?
This was going to be much more difficult than it sounded.
She sighed. “I can see why that may be a problem. I will lift the spell on him for eight hours. If you cannot find what he most desires by then, I will take his heart. The spell I have cast will automatically cause him to become unconscious in eight hours time unless you give me the token and there’s nothing you can do to reverse it so running away won’t work, just a warning.”
Merlin nodded, not liking a word of it but knowing he had no choice. “Alright.”
“We have a deal then.” She raised her hands, eyes flashing tawny. Slowly, Arthur came to, his limbs shifting in the shallow grass and his eyes fluttering open.
“I’ll be back in eight hours,” she warned, before she disappeared into her hovel.
Merlin barely noticed her leaving, having knelt by Arthur’s side the second he’d awoken, watching with concern as he rubbed the back of his head. “What happened?” he groaned. “The last thing I remember, you were insulting my map-reading skills, which are superior, mind you.”
“Arthur,” Merlin said urgently, heart pounding. “We’re got a bit of a problem.”
“Don’t we always.” Arthur rolled his eyes, giving zero fucks about the danger he was in, as usual.
“I’m being serious!”
“We’re lost, I get it. You already pointed that out about six times. Now just explain what happened so I can get us un-lost.”
Merlin cut to the chase. “We ran into a sorceress.”
Arthur frowned. “Right.”
“And she cast a spell that made you unconscious.”
“Then how am I still here? You’re not exactly capable of killing a powerful sorceress.”
“I’m getting to that part, you prat,” Merlin said impatiently. “She wants to kill you to save her sister.”
“How exactly…”
“Apparently she needs the heart of a prince, as part of a big potion she’s brewing, however she could also make do with a token of what you want most of all. If we can’t provide her with that then she’ll kill you. No pressure though.”
“You’re really serious about this, aren’t you,” Arthur asked, eyes wide. Merlin nodded. “Fuck, what are we going to do?”
“We’ve got to find out what you want most of all, as I said.”
“How in the gods am I supposed to know that?”
“You seriously have no idea of what you most want in the world?” Merlin snapped. Maybe he wasn’t being fair on Arthur - the situation certainly wasn’t his fault - but they were running out of time and he needed Arthur to at least try.
“You have to give me time to think!”
“We only have eight hours! Eight! You need to think as quickly as you can.”
“That’s plenty of time,” Arthur argued. “Too much time even.”
“Arthur I wasn’t kidding. You’re going to die if we don’t figure this out. DIE! Do you want to die? I’m not going to let you die. You can’t die! You just can’t!”
Merlin’s breathing had grown jagged and uncontrollable now, bordering on hysterical.
They only had eight hours.
Eight hours.
“Merlin it’s going to be okay.” Arthur put a hand on Merlin’s shoulder, voice soft. “We’re going to figure this out like we do every other time we get ourselves into a situation like this. I swear it! I don’t have a death wish.”
Merlin forced himself to take a deep breath. It didn’t make him feel any better, but it didn’t make him feel any worse either.
“Sometimes it sure seems like you do,” he admitted, not even sure if he was joking.
Arthur laughed. “Life would be so dull without a bit of danger here and there. If we had it your way then I’d die of boredom, which would be much worse than dying honourably in my opinion.”
“Better to die of boredom than to die of stupidity,” Merlin muttered.
Arthur smiled fondly, shaking his head. “You should worry less, smile more, you know. It suits you far better when you do,” Then his cheeks reddened and he looked away.
“If only you made that a bit easier, maybe I could,” Merlin murmured, oblivious to Arthur’s discomfort.
They both were silent for a minute after that, pondering a way out of the mess they’d gotten themselves into. There wasn’t much Merlin could do – only Arthur could decide what he desired most of all, but gods would he still try. He meant it when he said he couldn’t let Arthur die. Not today, not ever. His heart clenched at the thought of Arthur, pale and unmoving for eternity, and knew with certainty that if this future came to pass, the pain in his chest and the sorrow in his heart would never cease, so long as there was breath in his lungs. Arthur had to live; it was the only acceptable outcome.
“It’s hard enough thinking of things I want generally, let alone what I want most of all,” Arthur grumbled, pulling Merlin out of his reverie.
“Maybe that’s it then!” Merlin exclaimed, his fears momentarily forgotten. “Maybe you should just say all the things you do want, and we can figure out from there which one you want the most.”
Arthur cringed. “That’s going to get awfully personal.”
Merlin gave him a look. “I clean and empty your chamber pot every day.”
“Point taken.”
“Come on then, what do you want?”
Arthur sighed. “Give me a second to think.”
He paused.
“What if what I want is not physical? I have all the physical things I need. I don’t think its physical. Does it have to be physical?”
“She didn’t say but I doubt it. Maybe its something you want to earn,” Merlin suggested. “Like your people’s respect.”
Arthur frowned. “Earning something takes time! No wonder she gave us eight hours. It did seem a bit excessive.”
“Please don’t tell me what you want most is to be high king of the five kingdoms. There’s only so much we can do in eight hours.”
Merlin crossed his fingers behind his back.
Arthur snorted. “That’s not something I want right now. Being the prince of Camelot is responsibility enough.”
“I have never been so relieved in my life.” Merlin wasn’t kidding. “What about winning your father’s approval?”
Arthur flushed. “As much as I…that would…no. And we should be thankful that it is not that for I fear I’d never earn it. No, in fact I know I wouldn’t.”
He looked away, fists clenched.
“Arthur”, Merlin said gently, patting his knee as they sat side by side. Usually only the intimacy of campfires on quests were able to bring this personal side out of them, but it seemed that Arthur’s imminent death worked just as well. “Your father is proud of you, he just sets high expectations because he believes you are capable of achieving them. If he wasn’t proud of you, he wouldn’t have sent you on this quest today.”
“Well he certainly won’t be proud of me when I return without the prize he instructed I bring,” he grumbled, still not looking at Merlin.
“Well he won’t be able to be proud of you, if you’re dead, will he?” Merlin said fiercely. “We need to figure this out, then we’ll finish your quest, I promise.”
“Even if you’re dead on your feet?” Arthur finally looked at him then. He nodded.
“Even if I’m dead on my feet. Just point in the right direction and we’ll go. This time though, read the map the right way up.”
Arthur cracked a smile. “I’m glad you’re here, Merlin. Although I’m loathe to admit it, I can’t think of anyone else I’d rather spend my last hours with, if these truly are my last hours.”
“And I you,” Merlin said, throat raw. “And they won’t be, as you said. We’ll find a way. I’m going to save you.”
During their talk, they had begun edging closer and closer together, their faces growing nearer in proximity with every second.
“Merlin…” Arthur said quietly.
“Yes?”
“I do know what I want most of all. I’ve known this whole time.”
Merlin groaned. “Why wouldn’t you…? You know what I don’t even care. What is it? Tell me so I can get it for you!”
Arthur shook his head. “It’s not that simple.”
“It is, and we’re going to try and get. Now just tell me what it is!”
“I don’t even know if it’s possible.”
“You and me do impossible things all the time. What’s one more thing?”
“This is different.”
“Try me.”
Arthur hesitated for a minute, staring at Merlin with something akin to desperation.
Then he leaned forward and pressed his mouth against Merlin’s. Merlin sat up immediately in shock, staring at Arthur, wide-eyed.
“Huh?”
“Was I wrong?” Arthur asked, looking absolutely devastated.
“Wrong? What? Oh!” Merlin exclaimed. “Oh!”
Then he tilted his head and kissed Arthur. The moment Arthur kissed back, the whole world melted away. There was no curse, no forest, no time at all, just the sweet sensation of their mouths moving against one another. It was if he’d been born just for this sole moment in time, as if this was what living was.
To kiss.
To be kissed.
To love.
To be loved.
He would never have pulled back at all, if not for the human need to breathe, so exquisite was the kiss.
“That is what you most desire?” Merlin asked, breathless.
“Only if the kiss meant something,” Arthur whispered. “Please tell me it meant something.”
Merlin smiled crookedly. “Why else, if not for loving you, would I go on all these ridiculous quests with you?”
Arthur beamed then, his entire face lighting up like the sun. “I guess I never thought about it. You do whine about it a lot.”
Merlin grinned and then kissed him again, until Arthur pulled back abruptly and got to his feet, brandishing his sword.
Merlin turned around, confused, until he noticed the sorceress from earlier standing mere metres away from them. To her own credit, only her eyes betrayed her slight surprise at how the events had transpired.
“I see what you’ve found what you want most of all,” she said softly. “All I need now is a token of that love.”
“Were you watching us that entire time?” Merlin asked, outraged.
She shrugged. “I had to make sure you weren’t finding other ways to wake him. Now, the token.”
Merlin put aside how violated he felt by that statement and asked, “I don’t know what would work as a token.”
“Give me something that represents you as a person. Something that Arthur loves about you.”
“Like what?”
“Give her your neckerchief,” Arthur suggested. “You wouldn’t be Merlin without one.”
Merlin pulled at the fabric at his neck until it came apart in his hands, not arguing with that logic, and handed it to her. She stared at the piece of red cloth, as if she could hardly believe it was really in her hands. “Thank you,” she whispered.
Merlin nodded. “I wish your sister well.”
He could afford to be kind when the danger had passed.
She disappeared without warning, leaving nothing behind but the rustling of leaves.
They both stared at the spot she’d inhabited for a few seconds before Merlin said, grinning, “Ready to finish the quest?”
Arthur raised an eyebrow. “I was rather hoping we might take an hour’s break.”
“That is by far the best thing I’ve heard you say all day.”
“The best?” Arthur contested.
“Okay, maybe the second best,” Merlin agreed, as Arthur’s mouth collided with his.