Chapter 1

The weather was really fine for a fall morning. The air was bracingly cool and soft, though the morning had not yet come, the early morning fog was thin and spotty. It would burn off quickly and then the sun would shine. It would be one of those absolutely perfect autumn days in Albion that was made for hunting. Arthur would be ecstatic, thought Merlin darkly.

The pile of gear in front of him wasn't going to pack itself, so the dark haired boy started to arrange the items. Cooking gear. Clothing. Bedrolls and blankets. Medicines. Arthur's hunting gear... the list was ever ending. At least he had done it so often, he had it down to finely honed science. There had been an added advantage to his overall improvement in packing for Arthur's obsessive enjoyment of hunts. He could now organize expeditions at a moment's notice. At least it wasn't one of the big social hunts, with tons of food to carry and royal courtiers all vying for Arthur's attention. No. At least the prat didn't go in for that. They would be after deer today.

Now he only need pick up the fresh food from the royal kitchen and pack it carefully. He stumbled down to the kitchen, feeling quite grumpy and out of sorts. He hated hunting and he had his reasons.

"No long faces now," said Margolys with a toss of her long white braid, rousing him from his reverie " Let's not see that face on you this morning, young master." Merlin had been shuffling past to the kitchen door, when his expression had caught her eye.

"Merlin" he said, echoing Arthur's production of his name

"I'll call you what I want," the old woman said brightly as she scalded the last of the dish cloths using a paddle, in a huge pot of boiling water and hung them out to dry on the line. "Let me have look at you."

Merlin gave her his best mischievous look, but he failed completely. Old Margo, as everyone called her, could always see past his facade. She was like Gaius that way. She had worked in the kitchen for so many years, that she remembered when Hunith had worked in the castle. She smiled at him as she dried her hands on her apron.

"The Prince wants his hunt I guess."

"You can tell."

She laughed with a shrug of her shoulders. She stood on tip toe to place her hand on Merlin's shoulder, her lined face going serious as she looked up into his turbulent eyes. "Maybe you should tell Arthur what bothers you about hunting. You might be surprised." He looked down at her, and suddenly he wondered if maybe she wasn't right after all.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

It had been a long day. Merlin had tramped along beside the horses, helping the beaters as they ran the deer down. Arthur liked to act the huntsman , and he had determined the animal they were after the day before the hunt, giving him an extra excuse to miss a council meeting. It was a strong buck, he said, young enough to not be stringy, and old enough to have sired his share of fawns. Arthur was careful of his game, for he had been taught to love the forest from his youth. When the magnificent animal had come in his sights, it had only taken a moment for the King to site the creature with his crossbow, but a crunching branch, alerted the beast. With a momentary dark glance at the King, the stag had leaped away, safe from the stream of cursing that followed it as it leapt into the dark safety of the forest.

The King turned on his manservant with pent up rage. "That's the second time today, Merlin!"

Innocent eyes met his angry tirade. "I'm sorry, Sire", said the servant more pointedly than he usually did, his penitence not immediately evident in his tone. He looked at the ground, while the prince berated him for his clumsiness and lack of stealth.

"We'll all go hungry tonight, if Merlin has his way," intoned Arthur, after he ran out of insults. The knights around him guffawed, only Leon and Lancelot keeping a pleasant smile for the guilty servant.

Merlin could not look at his master but he kept his eyes down. He hoped Arthur would not decipher the frustrated anger he was holding in. He steeled himself to keep his tongue silent but it didn't work.

"Don't think you know what that means, prat." he said softly.

Arthur rounded back on him. His pale eyes were keen and narrow, almost calculating as he looked over at his servant. For a moment, Merlin thought he might have gone too far and he gave the prince a pleading look. But the master turned from his manservant without another word and urged his destrier after the vanished stag.

Merlin kept a low profile after that, staying with the group, but no longer trailing after Arthur. The prince for his part, kept at the head of the hunt, tracking the animal that had eluded him thanks to Merlin's clumsiness. The morning light faded into the dull flatness of a cloudy afternoon. When they stopped to water the horses and eat a bite themselves, he had quietly served the knights and Arthur, but the prince said nothing to his servant and there was a palpable tension growing. The knights noticed Arthur's gaze on Merlin, with a sort of uncertain, withdrawn intensity. From the lack of banter, they knew to keep their tongues quiet.

The hunt had resumed and Arthur had caught the trail of the stag again. They were nearing the edge of his hunting lands, but the quarry was still within their bounds. Arthur motioned for Merlin to take a position closer to the border of his hunting grounds to frighten the deer back into the boundaries of the King's forest, if he should happen to see it. He could hear the crash of the horses as they followed Arthur.

It would serve the clotpole right, if they caught no deer, he thought mutinously. He moved along the uneven terrain, hearing Lancelot and Leon shouting in the distance. Arthur's horn sounded, calling the hunting party back together again, and then silence descended. Even the bird stopped singing. Merlin wondered if Arthur had lost the trail of the quarry.

He felt, more than heard, the stag when it approached him. It was there almost as if summoned by Merlin's magic, moving silent and unaware, nibbling absently at a few tender leaves, gazing at him from the shadows. The creature alerted. It looked directly into Merlin's eyes, and then he saw it's gaze shift. It sprang away.

Merlin felt a tremendous shove and and he was stumbling to the ground. The deer was gone. He tried to catch himself but he gasped in sudden pain, not knowing what had happened. The agony sucked him into unnatural darkness. The world spun, and the servant cried out. He had only one thought.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

In the silence after Arthur's sounding of the horn, as the knights listened, they heard a cry. Arthur's name. The prince whipped around, his face suddenly pale as he recognized his servant's voice.

Plunging through the underbrush in the direction of the cry, they found nothing. Looking rather panicked, Arthur sounded the horn again, hoping to raise a response from his manservant, but only more silence greeted them. He heard a cry of "Oi" and they followed the sound, finally breaking into clearing.

It was a sight it would take Arthur a long time to forget. Merlin was lying face down near the edge of the clearing, a white feathered shaft of an arrow embedded at an angle almost in the center of his upper back. The dark haired boy was sprawled ungracefully, his blue shirt was already heavily soaked in blood. A man in the deep green cloak was standing over him, bow in hand. He smiled as he saw the prince, bowed and with a flourish he placed his foot on Merlin's back and pulled the shaft out, ignoring the strangled gasp it elicited. He toed Merlin over with a casual brutality. He held the bloody arrow out to the king, his smile never dimming.

"I found this poacher on your lands, Sire."

A/N All my knowledge of medieval hunting comes from several sites on the internet. I have never been hunting, so if there are horrendous errors in the hunting sequences of this story, I most humbly beg your indulgence!