Summary: 'Merlin's done his fair share of sneaking around in the dark in long hooded cloaks.' In which Merlin voices his opinion, involves himself in illicit affairs and the knights become suspicious.
Set sometime after series 4 and after Uther's death.
Emrys…
The voice grew louder as he slipped on Gaius' brown cloak, drawing it around himself so that it engulfed his slight figure and shadowed his face.
Foreign knights had recently been visiting Camelot for a treaty signing after Arthur's rise to power and had brought a distinct fashion sense with them. A young French handmaiden had taken to improving the courts clothing where she saw fit and so the cloak now sported a soft blue lining and several embroidered blue-finches on the sleeves.
It was a necessary evil.
Emrys
It was with fast-paced enthusiasm that he crept through the dim hallways. The murky light cast by flickering torches illuminated his path into the courtyard as if laying out a walkway. Not for the first time he considered whether this had been his best idea.
A night attendant shifted at his post, grumbling unintelligibly in his sleep.
Softly, whilst forcing himself to breathe as soundlessly as he was capable, he crept past and continued down the silent corridor, his eyes flickered nervously once more to the attendant before he stepped through the arch and into the deserted courtyard.
The cloak hung just above his heels as he swept across the cobblestones, a mysterious and intrusive shape to be seen in the empty space should any of the castles many occupants happen to glance out the window that night. Eventually, the shape melted into the shadows of the lower town.
In the darkness of the alleyways he could barely see a thing, he had worried a torch would have drawn too much attention, so he comforted himself with the thought that at lease no thing could see him.
Merlin didn't spend often creeping through the darkened streets of Camelot, and it was definitely a first for the cloak, which, although highly effective at hiding his identity and adding to the dramatic flair that came with Camelot life, did make him appear decidedly sketchy in a 'suspicious sorcerer' sort of way.
Emrys
He hadn't bothered replying to the unknown druid yet but sent a wave of emotion to let them know they were acknowledged. He'd known his mysterious caller to be a druid the minute he'd stumbled out of bed in a sluggish haze, the other name buzzing in his ears like a particularly irritating alarm bell. He was fairly certain it was a girl, he had felt distinctly sure of the fact as her cries invaded his sleep-filled mind, tinged with utter desperation.
Getting past the guards wasn't as hard as he had imagined.
With the voice guiding him slowly, unsurely away from the darkened alleys and towards the main gates, Merlin felt the thrum of excitement catch him. It was a particular tension-induced type of excitement that built from the gut upwards into his chest, making his toes tingle; an eccentric enthusiasm that went hand in hand with fear or the sudden urge to run.
Emrys, the voice whispered, as much a part of him as breathing.
I'm coming, he replied patiently.
Both guards stood either side of the gate, studiously not talking to each other, the one on the right seemed to be wearing a rather large, feathery hat that much like Merlin's cloak, had recently become popular after the foreign arrivals in court. Whilst in the castle they were seen as rather pointless silly things, many of the lower town had begun associating them with royalty and adopted the headwear.
Merlin's eyes flashed and the guard on the left yelped in startled annoyance.
"Get off." He hissed glaring hatefully at Guard-on-the-right who was looking vaguely affronted at the accusation but was unable to work out exactly what it was he was being accused of.
"Get off what? I'm not touching you."
Merlin sensed bad blood between the two and felt loosely apologetic for having started something between them. His eyes flashed again, traitorously and ever so slightly mischievously.
Guard-on-the-left was seething now, he spun on his heel and viciously shoved his finger into Guard-on-the-right's angry yet still painfully confused face.
"I've put up with this all night Jerry, all the ridiculous puns and bad jokes right up to your shocking persistence at cheating at backgammon so you can stop poking me right now before I have you reported."
Jerry, who had gone back to ignoring this short yet increasingly volatile rant as he presumably mused his fellow guard boorishness, replied only rather irritably, "My name isn't Jerry, it's Gerallt and I haven't touched you."
Jerry's companion snorted at this but made no other answer until Merlin's eyes flashed molten gold.
"Would you stop it?!" he snapped aggressively.
Jerry gave him a baleful eye, "I don't know what you've been drinking Rodger if you think I'd ever want to touch, let alone poke, your egotistical, sore-losing self."
"I will report you," Rodger seemed to decide, nodding approvingly at his own assertiveness. "Cheating's frowned upon by law, you know."
Jerry threw up his hands in disgust, "It always comes back to backgammon with you, doesn't it? Why can't you ever just respect that I'm better than you?"
"Alright, alright, don't get so twitchy and smart-mouthed, I only asked that you stop prodding me, Jerry!"
"My name is Gerallt."
"Is that Welsh for stupid hat?"
"No, it's Welsh for 'bugger off I'm trying to do my job'."
So immersed in this heated rivalry, neither noticed the small cloaked figure slip past them and through the gates.
He half-stumbled, half-ran from the gates, heart rising into his throat in panic when his feet tangled in the long grass. The battlements cast a thin glow down the walls as the spread regally around the castle, faint shadows flickering at obvious intervals as a watchman patrolled his post.
Merlin edged along the wall, his cloak wrapped tightly around him and his hood drawn down over his face.
With that dependable clumsiness he was so well known for, Merlin's foot caught a pebble. A small, unnecessary pebble that seemed far louder than it should as it clattered disobediently across the rocks. Merlin inwardly cursed his constant fate and misfortune.
"Who goes there?" commanded the watchman, leaning precariously over the ledge to peer cautiously into the darkness. When there came no reply he drew his sword and pointed it waveringly down at the dark outer wall as if expecting an intruder to politely present themselves and fly into the blade for him.
Merlin winced and pressed his back against the wall behind him, wishing he could sink into it. He glanced around with a hint of desperation as he searched for an escape.
"Hætende." He whispered, his eyes alight.
The watchman yelped and hissed a curse under his breath as his sword heated up in his hand. He dropped it viciously, far more concerned by the ugly red burn that had suddenly appeared across his palm than the potential enemy lurking warily in the bracken below.
Merlin bolted like a hare into the protective coverage of the forest, allowing the cool peacefulness of it to calm him. Unthinking, he pressed his back to a tree and breathed deeply, then he started further into the trees, pretending not to hear the loud, portentous ringing of the warning bells.
'Sometimes you just have to tally the Good against the Bad.' Gaius had told him one evening as he bemoaned the many faults of the slave-driver often named King Arthur.
So Merlin decided to take Gaius' advice into perspective, if it did nothing else it would at least calm his nerves to lay out the situation for analysis.
He started, as one always should, with the positive. Being able to help the druids, no matter how arduous the task, Merlin was always determined to believe was GOOD.
From there however, it seemed to have gone downhill. A druid calling for help alone in the middle of the woods at night was most obviously never a Good thing. Being noticed by a watchman as one sneaked along the outskirts of the city walls was similarly not-Good. The lingering chill of the night air that somehow still invaded his bones despite the cloak had been the final nail in the coffin as far as Merlin was concerned and all three events were firmly stamped as BAD on his mental list and underlined several time for good measure.
As Merlin tallied up all points on his list he was unsurprised to find that once again the bad outnumbered the good.
He'd tried explaining this to Gaius during one of his many life morality lessons but discovered it useless as Gaius would either just ignore him or pretend he hadn't heard.
He was still considering this as he stumbled into a clearing where the trail abruptly ended.
On a tree stump some several feet away, a young lady, dressed in a long green cloak and shawl sat cradling a bundle of cloth in her lap. Her dark hair was woven into loose plaits that sported a fine coverage of dead leaves and dried mud. On her arm, a lone marking identified her as a druid.
The bundle of cloth mewled softly and the girl hurriedly shushed it, humming lightly and whispering words in the Old Tongue.
By the noises the cloth made Merlin would suspect it to be a small fox cub or a rabbit of some sort, either injured or abandoned by its kind. It wasn't uncommon for druid families to take in the odd stray from to forest and treat it as one of their own. Outcasts welcomed outcasts, after all.
"Hello," he said in a low hushed tone so as not to startle her.
Emrys
"Yes, that's me, who are you?"
The girl had spun to face him and now looked up at him with something akin to reverence and disbelieving awe.
You've come to me.
"Yes, will you not speak and tell me your name?"
The girl regarded him quietly, she tucked the small bundle into the cloth and wrapped two long ends around her waist and shoulder, strapping it to her chest.
"They say only as we near our death will we be blessed by the presence as one so good-of-heart, I am glad my time has come before I could be led from my homeland in chains."
Merlin swallowed and stepped forward further into the clearing.
"Let me help you, tell me what's wrong."
It came like a wave, in quick flashes, like memories he hadn't realised he'd forgotten until now.
There was fire, lots of fire. The air was filled with sticky black plumes of smoke that burnt the lungs and clogged the vision. Flames licked the treetops and encircled them like greedy hunting dogs trapping their prey. He could hear muffled screams through the smog and haze yet could see nobody. An animalistic sense of desperation spread through his bones as he reached for those muted cries; sought for the hope of a glimpse at their source, that there were others still alive and fighting. Hope that he wasn't alone fighting an unbeatable battle in the churning smoke.
As quickly as it had come, it was gone and he was left with no more than a hollow, almost sickly sense that something very big and very uncomfortable was missing in his chest. He rubbed his throat and coughed roughly.
"W-what?"
"I'm sorry."
She didn't look sorry, Merlin thought vaguely.
"What was that?"
Bounty hunters.
Merlin understood; Camelot wasn't the only kingdom adverse to magic usage, there was a high price for any sorcerers caught and brought to be used as weapons in the kingdoms to the North and South. Bounty hunters ran rife in these woods, hunting their fortune which had happened to come in the form of the peaceful druid village. Merlin felt anger flare in his heart.
"Did they hurt you?"
The girl avoided his gaze and stood from her rock to make herself appear taller than she was.
"They hurt everyone." Her voice was hoarse and evasive.
Merlin noticed she favoured her right leg and it caused a slight tilt to her stance.
"Did they hurt your leg? Let me see, I'm the physician's apprentice." Unofficial, he thought, yet Gaius would be thrilled to hear the title used.
She looked conflicted and fidgeted nervously under his questioning gaze.
"I was sent to find you, survivors of my village fled to Camelot's lands for your sanctuary."
Merlin nearly groaned, Camelot was most certainly not a sanctuary for sorcerers and he really didn't have the time to corral a bunch of injured and terrified druids from right under Arthur's nose.
Behind him a twig snapped.
The girl twitched like a startled deer, her eyes widened comically as her gaze snapped to the trees behind him, Merlin didn't dare turn around.
"Who is it?" he asked softly when she refused to tear her eyes away from the sound.
You're being followed.
Merlin's blood ran cold as she responded through his mind. There was no telling how they'd be greeted by a night patrol but Merlin could guess that with the citadel on high alert after an elusive intruder sighting, two suspiciously cloaked figures half hidden the shadows of the trees, one with a druid tattoo would most likely not be greeted with open arms and offers to a welcome-to-Camelot free drink.
Listen, he said through her mind's link, I want you to stay very quiet, are they close behind?
The girl nodded wildly and brought a hand up to her mouth, the other wrapped fiercely around the bundle strapped to her chest that groaned irritably. Merlin took another ragged breath as he felt his heart sink a little.
Please help me, she sounded desperate, the look of the hunted haunted her gaze.
I'm going to help you but you have to be quiet and do as I say. Strong; commanding. Merlin refused to let himself panic.
She nodded again but her eyes glistened in the moonlight.
There was another loud crunch from behind him as Merlin still refused to turn his head, quickly trying to formulate a plan. Then a loud, "hey, who's there?" echoed through the darkness and hushed reverence of the forest.
Merlin took a deep breath and grabbed the druid girl's hand, her eyes looked fearfully into his then over his shoulder as the shadowed figures grew more solid and distinguishable, the brash clump of their footsteps growing louder with every second that passed.
As he listened to their quickened breathing Merlin uttered one word.
"Run,"
And run they did. If Merlin ever did consider a job change he felt sure he could make himself a decent profession in sprinting. Perhaps a page, or a messenger; chasing after Arthur the entire time happened to have its conveniences.
He gripped tightly to the druid girl's hand and refused to entertain the idea of her slipping away through his fingers.
Arthur's voice rang unhelpfully in his ears as it usually did in times of complete panic and peril. Normally the phrases varied between the lines of 'Merlin, you idiot' or 'Well that was rather the most obvious outcome if you'd had a brain to use', something decidedly unhelpful yet so incredibly Arthur that it could induce a sense of familiarity and calmness to almost any situation.
It was only as the patrol came within shooting range that Merlin ducked behind a large oak tree and pulled the druid girl close to him, half to keep her hidden and half to stop himself from collapsing.
His lungs burnt from the strain. He tried to control it by breathing deeply as his large gasping breaths would only serve to betray his hiding place. Pressed flat against the tree he listened to the thumping of his heart, the druid girl hid her face in his cloak and panted quietly.
The clattering sounds of the knight's party echoed ominously in the silent wood, the sloshing of damp leaves and mud as they dug their armoured heels into the soggy earth. The soft snick of a sword sliding from its sheath seemed entirely too loud to Merlin pricked ears.
As slowly as he dared, Merlin edged around the base of the tree, clutching the druid girl to his chest in an attempt to keep her hidden in the cloak. By the tree were large jagged rocks that extended into crevices and caves, easy perhaps for a small, young woman to crawl into and hide unseen in the brambles.
Can you hide in the rocks? He asked and she shifted boldly to glance at where he pointed.
I must not leave you, she looked at him imploringly.
Go, he told her. Quickly, I will be fine.
The druid girl shifted and gasped softly in pain as her left leg flared. Slowly, as if each movement were a battle, she began to untie the cloth from her chest.
What are you doing? Merlin asked her in a panic, it hadn't really occurred to him that he would need a back-up plan should the girl refuse to listen. Then the cloth fell away completely so that the girl now cradled the groaning bundle in her arms, shushing it softly.
Merlin suddenly felt very stupid.
Because it wasn't a fox cub or a rabbit.
It was a baby.
The druid clutched his hand and pushed the small bundle into his arms with renewed vigour.
Take, she murmured, one hand still cradled the child's head lovingly as she tried to force Merlin's reluctant grip.
The message was clear, a lone woman injured and carrying a baby could never make it safely down the rock face.
Merlin looked at her with horrified eyes, a million questions but no time to ask any.
Please.
She trembled as the baby shifted in the cloth and groaned again, a small hand clutched her hair and sifted the soft feathery strands through its fingers. Slowly, as though questioning his own abilities, Merlin wrapped an arm around the baby, one hand curled up to support its head where he let his fingers meet hers.
Go, he told her firmly.
With one last conflicted look the druid girl vanished amongst the bracken, melting into the forest as though she had forever been a part of it.
Merlin allowed himself a brief moment of calm at the thought that she, at least wouldn't be found, by neither bounty hunter nor castle guard. He wondered hopefully if maybe Gaius had been right and the World really was a Good Egg in the end.
He tucked the baby against his chest and brought the cloak up around it, if there was anything that could bring him motivation it was fact that there were now two of them to save.
There was a shout from the patrol and Merlin felt his blood freeze as he recognised Elyan's voice. With a sudden and intense certainty, Merlin knew his next move would be his most stupid yet. He took a deep breath, drawing his hood down further to cover his eyes.
And ran in the opposite direction.
He heard the knights shout and take off in pursuit, barely sparing a glance to the dark foliage where the druid girl had hidden. Merlin paused for about half of a second wondering if he should have left her entirely unguarded but then decided it wasn't really an opportunity he could consider anymore or with any deep thought as the patrol were already pounding at his heels and with the soft weight against his chest.
He started like a deer and bolted. His cloak billowed behind him, he had to grip the hood with one hand to prevent it from flying back and revealing his face; the other hand clutched the babe to chest as tightly as he dared.
As he sprinted past a line of willows he vaguely registered he had no idea where he was heading, or even if it was in the direction of Camelot.
Something vaguely insulting that Arthur had mentioned on one such hunting excursion surfaced unhelpfully to mind in that witheringly Arthur-like tone, 'I have this reoccurring nightmare where I'm lost in a strange forested land, and my only hope of survival is your sense of direction. Good job we'll never need to rely on you, Merlin.'
Merlin decided then that the World was most definitely a Bad Egg.
As if to prove his point further, his foot caught on half-hidden root and Merlin felt his ankle twist unnaturally before he was falling.
A/N: This was meant to be a one-shot but it's somehow mutated and deformed into something more.