Destiny Takes A Turn...
1
His eye was once again drawn to where boisterous laughter could be heard, narrowing his eyes against the glare of the noon day sun, or at least that's how it would seem to others should anyone look his way, which they don't. Of course they don't.
He was getting fed up with this, it had never been easy trying to achieve his destiny but now... with the addition of Mordred to the ranks of Camelot's knights, it had never been so hard.
Here was this druid, a druid who had been leading he and the king plus a number of other innocents to Morgana, and yes Mordred had quite literally stabbed her in the back, but even now there was no way to truly know where the mans loyalties lay. Added to that was the nightmarish vision he had witnessed, a vision he couldn't shake from his mind, Mordred would kill Arthur, but the diamir had said Arthur was his own bane... so could the druid be trusted or not? It didn't seem to matter to Arthur and the knights who had all happily accepted Mordred among them, counted him as one of their select little band of Arthur's most trusted knights, and didn't that sting just a little?
And still ever since the young druid had come to Camelot he had felt something... dark rising within himself and he was not stupid enough to not know what the feeling was, even though he hated himself for it.
The jealousy tore through him, filling his mind with thoughts he shied away from, thoughts that scared him to the core that he could even muse on such things, thoughts that churned his stomach and made him sick with it.
The worst was discovering the source of his jealousy was not what he had expected it to be and that filled him with a greater self-loathing than anything that came before, a self-loathing that only welcomed the darkness within him and invited him to embrace it wholly.
He sent one last glare at the king and his knights, which no-one noticed, before turning on his heel and making for the coolness of the castle walls.
{**}
He sat under the shade of a large oak tree, letting his mind wander, trying to make sense of his feelings. It would make sense for him to feel jealousy towards Mordred, afterall how many times had he saved Arthur's kingdom, not to mention the prats life and he had never received any kind of thanks, no, instead having his list of chores added to. Mordred had fitted in seamlessly, sparking up instant friendships with the king and his closest knights, whilst he himself was pushed further aside, Arthur not even deigning to look at him now-a-days in favor of teaching Mordred, and Merlin thought that these thoughts perhaps should hurt more, and yet this was not the jealousy he was feeling.
No, it was darker than that, more potent. It was a primal rage that roared up within him, every time he watched one of his 'friends' clap the younger man on his shoulder or pull him into a hug, his vision would darken and his hands would clench into fists, until it was all he could do to keep himself standing still, to not go over there and rip their hands off him.
These were the feelings he didn't understand, growing older he had never once found his gaze straying to other men, had always appreciated the gentle curves of a feminine form, so why was this druid any different? Why should he constantly command his attention? Why were all his thoughts taken over by this young man?
He would like to blame it on them both being magical beings but he knew that was not it, there had been many, many, magic users who had little to no effect on him, so what was it?
He closed his eyes and let his conscious grip on his magic go, welcoming the familiar feeling at being whole, of being in tune to the world around him as he slowly slipped into sleep.
{**}
He jolted awake as darkness closed in, leaping to his feet and charging back to the castle.
He was late! Arthur was going to be furious and right now it would be unwise to have a fuming king yelling at him lest he accidentally turn him into a toad, or worse a pile of ash. So he ran, faster than he had for a while, legs beginning to burn and his breaths coming in gasps.
He entered the gates to the lower town, the guards barely sparing him a glance all too used to his behaviour by now, and unapologetically pushed people aside in his mad dash, thinking only of reaching the kings chambers.
Once inside the castle proper a few servants called out to him, he didn't even alter his pace just called a brief acknowledgement over his shoulder and continued in his haste to the kings rooms.
He threw the heavy wooden doors open, with an apology on his lips, breaths and heartbeat still rapid, only to be met with the silence of empty chambers.
Clasping his hands behind his head he straightened up, attempting to calm his breathing and thought.
Where was Arthur?
Had something happened? No, he would have heard the bells ringing if that were the case. So then... where...
Oh!
Oh, shit!
The feast!
He turned from the empty rooms and ran pell-mell through the corridors, skidding around corners and narrowly avoiding colliding with the wall numerous times, to the banquet hall, bursting through the servants door and drawing every eye to him.
"Err, sorry." He mumbled, feeling his face heat further and hoping the flush would be put down to his exertions in running here. He quickly took his usual place behind the kings chair, keeping his eyes down and trying to regulate his heartbeat so it no longer threatened to pump right out of his chest.
"Ah, Merlin, so glad you could finally join us. Have you been off playing with the bunnies again? Or perhaps drinking yourself to oblivion in the tavern again?" Arthur called in a loud carrying voice, causing the knights and nobles to laugh uproariously. He fought away the blush that threatened to return and muttered a quiet 'prat' under his breath.
He went about his usual duties feeling rather more restless than usual, his eye often being drawn in Mordred's direction.
The young druid was sat between Gwaine and Percival and was laughing happily, his cold blue eyes crinkled in mirth, and Merlin took the opportunity to appreciate the young mans looks, so similar to his own as to be easily mistaken for brothers, still he enjoyed watching the curl of his lips as he smiled happily, the demure almost coy way he cast his eyes down as if uncomfortable, or disbelieving still, to find so much attention on him. The...
'You're staring Emrys.'
Merlin jolted at the sudden voice in his mind, the wine slopping over the sides of the pitcher he was clutching.
"Honestly Merlin, can you not even stand without fumbling, you idiot?"
Another chorus of titters broke out at the kings words and this time he couldn't prevent the flush rising to his cheeks as he stuttered an apology and hastily bent to mop up the spill.
He glared over at the young druid who was attempting, badly, to hide his amusement behind his hand.
'Very funny, Mordred, thanks for that.' He sent telepathically, as sarcastically as possible through mind speech.
'I'm sorry Emrys, so... any particular reason as to why you were staring at me?'
Merlin scowled, a faint blush still colouring his cheeks. Maybe he should try harder to keep his gaze from straying to the druid. 'Just making sure you don't kill anyone with your dinner knife.'
'Hmm, is that also the reason you stare at me during training?'
The wink the druid sent him caused his fists to clench as the darkness rose within him, he bit back a growl that wanted to escape as his mind was filled with images of naked pale skin, soft under his hands, how easily his lips would bruise that pale flesh, letting everyone know that the druid was his.
He shoved it all back down, shaking his head in the hopes of clearing it and made a conscious effort to relax his body, loosening his fists. He needed to get out of here, now preferably, his magic was as restless as he and he feared staying any longer. However it wasn't as though he could just leave, Arthur would never allow it.
Hmm, what to do though?
He hadn't realised that while his mind had wandered his grip had slackened on the pitcher causing wine to spill over the floor at his feet, soaking into his boots, and that Arthur appeared to have been repeatedly calling his name. He blinked, his mind catching up with the sights and sounds of the hall once more.
"-lin!"
Oh, oops.
"Um, sorry. I-I don't feel too well." It was the first thing that came to his mind and it also had the added benefit of possibly getting him out of here, preferably before he made any more of a fool of himself.
"Take the rest of the night off, but be sure to rest. I expect you first thing with my breakfast." Arthur had lowered his voice, the concern clear in his tone despite the attempt to cover it with teasing.
"Of course. Thank you sire." He sat the pitcher on the table with hands that shook ever so slightly and quickly made his way from the hall, being sure to keep his head down and not catch anyone's eye as he went.
'Goodnight Emrys.' Mordred's voice taunted in his mind. He managed not to let his steps falter though, for which he was grateful.
