A/N: This is cross posting of a story i wrote for After Camlann Big Bang, and its posted in its entirety on my ao3. I suggest you guys give it a read there because there its also accompanied by the WONDERFUL ART my artist made for this. This took me months to write and was worth every second spent on it. I hope you all enjoy it. I LIVE for the feedback... thats the only reward there is for all the hours spent writing it.
Arthur was not afraid.
He was trembling because of the cold draft whistling through the trees, and he was drenched in sweat because of the nauseating humidity of the forest. His knees were bruised and bleeding because of how many times he had tripped and fallen over the roots, and his heart was racing because of how fast he had been moving for the past hour.
Arthur was lost, not terrified.
Fear was not something a prince was allowed. He was ten years old now, old enough to wield a sword, grown up enough to have earned the right to accompany the knights on their hunting trip. His father expected him to bring back a kill deserving of a prince's initiation, and he was more than ready to impress the King.
Somehow, he had failed to account for how difficult it could be to keep up with the party once they entered the forest. The knights were tall, and their legs carried them at a pace Arthur could not manage, but that was just an excuse. He could place the blame of getting lost on the disgusting clamminess of the woods, or the sickening sweet smell of the rotting trees and leaves making Arthur desperate for fresh air and fogging his mind. Or it might be the voice in his head.
Ever since he entered the forest he had been hearing someone calling his name. 'Arthur,' a melodic female voice that beckoned him, growing stronger with every step he took. "You are here." No amount of shaking of his head had succeeded in dislodging the echo of the eerie presence inside his mind. "Come to us. We have been waiting." One step in front of another… Arthur could do that. He wasn't a child and he was not scared.
Ignoring the voice as best he could, he kept trying to follow the footsteps of the knights but his eyes were becoming glassy, his vision fading in and out, a strange darkness enveloping his mind and before he knew it, he couldn't even hear the sound of footfalls of the company in front of him. He was stuck in a really thick portion of the woods, mist surrounding him, with the voice in his head become louder and more insistent, 'Arthur, Arthur, stay there, wait for me,' and Arthur did the only sensible thing he could think of.
He ran.
Not having any sense of direction whatsoever, he ran where his heart led him, in the direction where the voice slowly started to grow feebler rather than louder, tripping and falling in very undignified and un-princely ways. The branches whipping across his face and arms were leaving small lines of trickling blood and his palms were a mess of abraded skin, but he kept sprinting. He was certain that if the voice caught up to him, he wouldn't be able to escape; warning bells were going off in his brain and survival instincts kicking in. His pace became faster and faster, the voice growing fainter and fainter.
"Oomph." Without warning he collided with something solid and fell, all the air rushing out of his lungs.
"Ouch." Apparently it wasn't a tree he had crashed into.
"Where did you come from?" Arthur moaned from where he was lying on the ground, glaring with all his princely indignation.
"Me? You are the one who was running like there were ghosts chasing you." The boy, now that Arthur blearily focused, had also fallen - on his arse, he noted with a vicious sort of satisfaction.
Arthur could not think of a retort to that, so he remained quiet. Saying that yes, he had been running from a voice in his head, would make him look stupid, but raised a liar, he was not…
Noticing his silence, the boy got up and came closer to him, where Arthur was lying collapsed on the damp grass in some sort of a clearing. When the boy saw how harshly he was breathing and took in all the cuts and bruises he had accumulated he immediately grew concerned. Giving him a hand he asked,
"Are you okay?"
"Of course I am okay. I don't need any help," Arthur protested just to be contrary, but took the hand he was offered. He wasn't sure if he could've gotten up on his own.
"Sure you don't." The blue eyes of the boy twinkled. Arthur noticed that the boy was almost the same age as him, but a lot scrawnier, with dark hair and pale skin, and large pointed ears.
"I really don't. I can take care of myself."
"Yes, yes. I am sure." He was being made fun of, he could tell. Nobody made fun of the Prince. Didn't the boy know he could be put in stocks for this? "There is…" the kid tried to move his hand towards his hair, and backed off when Arthur flinched, "there are leaves in your hair," he finished, chuckling.
Mortified, Arthur ran his fingers through his badly entangled hair, and shook off what seemed like a whole bush of twigs and leaves.
"What are you even doing here?"
"I live here." The boy shrugged.
"You mean you live close to the forest?"
"No," he looked at Arthur like he was stupid, "I live here."
"Stop joking. Who even lives in the forest?"
"A lot of things do." The boy started saying, and then suddenly he looked concerned, "You don't?"
"Nobody lives in a forest."
"Listen to me. You mean to say you don't live in the forest?"
"Of course I don't. I live in a castle. I am Prince Arthur."
The boy gasped at hearing that. Served him right. He should know better than to speak like that to his future King. Maybe, finally, Arthur would be shown some respect.
"You can't be here. Why are you here? You shouldn't be." Instead, the boy looked like he was having a downright panic attack, so Arthur thought he should clarify.
"I wasn't supposed to be. I just got lost," he said, sheepish.
"They will take you. You need to leave. You need to get out of here. Go. Go." He was pacing now, making shooing gestures towards Arthur, periodically pulling his hair in agitation.
"You can't tell me what to do. I am the Prince."
"I don't care. They don't care. She… doesn't care."
That made Arthur's heart quicken. How could he know?
"She will take you. Please, you should leave," the boy said ugerntly.
"Why would she take me?" Princes weren't allowed to be scared, so Arthur tried to be brave and stood straighter, ignoring the rapid beat of his heart.
"Because you are pretty." He looked downright miserable saying this, biting his lips and shaking his head.
"I am not pretty. Girls are pretty." Arthur felt happy despite himself though- a compliment was a compliment after all- but the boy just gave him a look that shut him up.
"Why were you running? How did you get lost?"
Arthur felt a sudden urge to confide, and he felt like this boy might not consider him crazy after all.
"I heard a voice," what little colour there was in the boy's face drained, making him look chalk white.
"Inside your head?" he asked in a whisper.
Arthur nodded.
"You should never have come here. Please, don't ever come here again. Ever." He was begging, and Arthur suddenly felt angry.
"I told you, I got lost. It wasn't my plan to be traipsing around the forest all alone, separated from the knights," he said, furious at the boy for telling him what to do, and upset with himself for getting lost in the first place.
"You came with other people?" he looked at him hopefully, taking a deep breath and composing himself.
"Yes."
"How many?"
"Twelve."
"Alright." He nodded decisively, and then suddenly just flopped down on the ground. He splayed both of his palms on the forest floor, and closed his eyes. To Arthur it looked like he was meditating, and he started feeling annoyed at the boy for ignoring him after all the warnings. It didn't help that he could feel a building pressure inside his mind again. He didn't want the voice to come back.
A minute later the boy opened his eyes, stood up and extended his hand.
"Let's go," he said, at the same time as a whisper spoke inside his head, 'Arthur'.
Actually scared now, he grabbed the hand the blue-eyed kid offered to him, clutching it tightly, and ran with him as he took off in a sprint.
"Where are we going?" Arthur asked breathlessly.
"To your friends." He didn't even sound slightly out of breath.
"Who are you?"
"I am Merlin."
"That's a weird name."
"Shut up and run will you? There isn't enough time. She is close."
"Who is she?"
Merlin didn't answer him. Arthur quieted down and concentrated on the path. He would never admit it but Merlin's hand holding his helped, both in navigation and in giving him courage, and he just focused on keeping up with the supernatural speed the other boy had set.
"I… can't." His feet were dragging, his lungs burning. "Slow down," Arthur wheezed after what felt like hours of running.
"Almost there."
And then Arthur could hear it. Gruff, male voices calling out his name, the metals and shields clanging around, people shuffling in different directions.
So they had finally noticed he was lost. Good to know.
Merlin came to a halt when the voices were very close and Arthur was sure he would be able to see them in a dozen or so steps. Only a few trees were between them and the company of knights.
"Go." Merlin gestured, still looking worried.
Arthur gulped, nodding and turning away. Suddenly he turned back and looked at the boy who had saved him- he wasn't even sure from what.
"Thank you." His voice was hoarse from where his throat had clogged up, but he could easily blame that on the exertion.
"Not a problem." The boy smiled, he had a really nice smile.
"You are pretty too." He suddenly remembered to return the compliment and that made Merlin laugh.
The noise of the party of knights was moving away, and Arthur didn't want to lose them again, so he looked towards the forest and back at Merlin, saying, "I have to go."
"Yes. Don't get lost again."
"I won't," Arthur promised, and turned away, taking a couple of steps towards the other side.
Suddenly wanting to ask Merlin to come with him- it could not be safe to live in the forest, especially if there was a ghost that took pretty people- and he whipped around saying,
"Hey…"
But Merlin was nowhere to be found. Where a minute ago his savior stood, there was empty clearing now.
Feeling disappointed, Arthur followed the cacophony a group of knights could make in the quiet of the woods, and braced himself for their concerns and questions.
Distantly, he realized he had never even asked Merlin how he knew where to find them.
~~12 YEARS LATER~~
Strike! Duck! Jab! Breathe!
Step back! Bend! Thrust! Duck! Breathe!
It was almost hypnotic for Arthur. Getting lost in the dance of warriors, listening to the sounds of metal striking metal and the periodic calculated breaths- because in battle, a second wasted in breathing at the wrong moment could cost you your life. Training the knights was his favourite part of the day. Some people preferred meditation to clear their mind and summon their energy reserves. But the Prince did not have the disposition for it.
His teachers had tried, but they all concluded that Arthur just didn't have the discipline to clear his mind enough. Predictably, Uther had been disappointed. What they hadn't realized was, Arthur did not lack discipline. It wasn't impossible for him to reach a meditative state of mind. Stillness and quiet just wasn't the path to take for it. Instead, he found harmony in action.
Shield! Thrust! Twist! Don't breathe! Shove and…
"I win."
There was a scattered applause when Arthur took off his helmet and smiled. Owain shook his head, smiling ruefully from where he had fallen on the ground. Arthur's sword tip was on his neck, and in a real fight he would be dead.
"I know it's hard to believe, but that was an improvement." Arthur smirked as he withdrew his sword and sheathed it.
"Losing again, for what… the hundredth time? I am sorry if I don't agree with you, Sire." Owain grinned back; winning was never the goal, and the knights knew that.
Arthur turned around and explained, "You can't expect to win against me. That would be foolish. What matters is… you lasted longer." And then his voice took on a teasing tone, "Well, half a minute longer, but it is an improvement nonetheless."
The gathered knights laughed, and Owain joined them. Arthur started moving back to the middle of the field. He took out his sword and swung it in an arc, getting ready to challenge someone else. Before he could choose, a maid came running towards him.
"Sire," she called out.
Arthur held up a hand as a universal sign of 'wait' towards the knights and moved towards the girl- young, plain and looking terrified at the prospect of talking to the Prince. Arthur smiled, trying to get her to relax but by the way the girl stiffened he probably didn't look any less intimidating; armored, swinging a sword, and flushed from exertion- he could hardly blame her.
"What is it?" he asked gently.
"Sire. I am so sorry to interrupt, Sire. But His Highness wants to see you. Sire."
Arthur ran his fingers through his hair. As much as servants respecting him was his right and tradition, it was taxing to see people treating him with so much deference and downright terror. Sad to see the training end, but knowing he didn't have a choice when the King called, he went back to his knights to tell them they could practice among themselves. Their sigh of relief was very uplifting. It was always nice to know that your prowess with the sword could instil fear in the hearts of the most fearless men of the kingdom.
He went to the changing quarters next to the armoury and a servant hurriedly came to help him take the armour off. After ridding himself of all the metal, Arthur craved to go to his room and take a bath before starting the day but if his father thought it important enough to interrupt training, he would be highly displeased if Arthur stopped to indulge in the comfort of warm, clean water.
So much for being royalty.
He stopped by his room long enough to change into something a little more formal, in case there was a delegation in the throne room he had not been aware of, and then started making his way there. A guard flanked his side automatically, but he waved him away. He did not need protection in his own damn castle.
Uther was sitting on the throne, wearing his crown. There was a group of villagers around him, and Arthur mentally patted himself for having the foresight to change. He went and stood beside the King, hands clasped at his back, in full attention. Uther looked at him and nodded once, before turning his attention back towards the man kneeling in front of him.
"Now, tell me. What brings you here?"
"Your Highness,"" he said in a rough, pleading voice. Arthur felt vaguely uncomfortable at the tone. He grew up with the status but never could get used to people treating the royalty like gods. "A grim fate has befallen the people of our village."
"You're from the village of Yinale? At the edge of the Forest of Brechfa?"
"That is correct, My Lord."
"Hmm." Uther nodded, scratching his chin. "What is this misfortune you speak of?"
"There's a siren, Sire. She calls the young men of the village to the woods, and they are never heard of again."
Uther chuckles at that. "You're telling me that there's a woman who is eloping with the men of your village, and you decided to come to me for help."
"Not a woman, Sire. No." The man shakes his head, "No one has seen her face. We just hear her voice, calling, always calling."
Arthur shivered at that, the words reminding him of a distant nightmare.
"Nonsense," Uther decided. "I am sure this is all just village gossip. You should know better than to waste the time of your King."
Uther motioned the guards to escort the man out. Arthur turned towards Uther as the guards moved, hesitating when Arthur said, "Surely we can spare a few men. Check the village and the woods out. It wouldn't be a hardship."
Uther looked at him in disappointment, "Arthur, we should not encourage such rumours. The knights have a lot on their plates. We have a kingdom to defend."
"But…"
"Enough." The finality in his tone made Arthur close his mouth. There was no use arguing with the man.
At Uther's nod, the guards grasped the man's arms, pulling him away. He struggled against their hold, protesting, "Sire. I beseech you. It's no human doing these things. We have lost dozens of able-bodied men over the last few seasons. You have to help us. There's an evil force driving this. It is magic."
Uther looked bored, until the last sentence. Stiffening, he held up his hand and everyone stilled.
"Magic, you say?" Uther asks.
"Yes, My Lord. I am sure there's a hand of magic in all of this. Please. She took my son. You have to help us."
Uther contemplated, folding his hands and watching. Arthur could tell his mind was made. It always was, where magic was concerned.
"Arthur." He turned towards him after a few moments and Arthur nodded.
Taking a step forward, he stood face to face with the man. "What is your name?"
"Ranir, Sire."
"Very well, Ranir. I will gather a group of trusted men, and they will head towards your village tomorrow morning. You will lead them there and be their guide."
"Thank you." The man dropped to his knees again. Uncomfortable, Arthur pulled him back up to his feet, and patted his shoulder. Ranir bowed again, before hurrying out. Arthur watched his retreating figure for a few moments before slowly turning around.
"You believe him, Father?"
"No." Uther relaxed into his seat, looking at Arthur shrewdly.
"Then why?" he was thoroughly confused.
"Because it's not the first time someone has come to me with this complaint."
Arthur gaped. He had never heard of a siren before. Uther waited for it to sink in before continuing, "Over the past two decades, once or twice a year someone from the outskirts of Camelot, and sometimes even from Mercia, comes a similar plea. Of a woman, a siren, a witch, seducing their men and leading them away… never to be seen again."
"Sounds like a common story of someone falling in love."
"It does," Uther agreed, "But it doesn't hurt to be careful. You can never be careful enough where magic is involved. I want this matter thoroughly investigated, and closed."
"Yes, Father."
"I want you to accompany the knights." Even though he was expecting it, he still could not help the flinch at that order. He always felt a certain reluctance toward going near that forest. "I need to be sure."
He nodded. It was a King's order, not a father's request. The nagging feeling he had in his heart was not something Uther would entertain.
Arthur spent the rest of the day deciding on which knights to take on the quest with him. He had almost made up his mind by the time night rolled around. At dinner, after Uther left, Morgana looked at him with a twinkle in her eyes.
"I hear you're chasing a Siren, little brother." Her voice was all mischief, and Arthur frowned. "An enchantress."
"Shut up, Morgana."
"Want me to make you a talisman, to protect you from evil eye?"
He rolled his eyes, smiling despite himself.
"Do you need instructions? A little help? I wonder if you even know what to do with a woman, once you catch her."
Arthur dragged his chair and got up. Morgana was in a mood for teasing, and that never ended well for Arthur. "For your information, I have been with lots of women."
"Oh really?" Morgana raised her eyebrows and widened her eyes, her expression beckoning Arthur to share.
Arthur huffed and then stomped away, Morgana's tinkling laughter following him. He wouldn't admit it, but her teasing lifted his spirits, chasing away the sense of foreboding that had enveloped him all day.
He went to bed early, knowing the next day was going to be spent on horseback.
It was dark and he was lost, the air heavy and thick, making it hard to breathe. He was running, hiding, because someone was following him… panting, frequently looking over his shoulder. Hours- or it may be minutes- later, he tripped, turning right before he fell, and saw a shadow descend on him. It had bright blue eyes, and a terrifying smile. A beautiful- chillingly familiar- voice murmured, "Arthur, I caught you at last," before slithering down and engulfing him, and choking his scream.
Arthur jerked awake, a scream still lodged in his throat. The sheets under him were soaked in sweat, and he was breathing heavily. He took a few large gulps of air, waiting for his heart rate to calm down, before sinking back into the bed with a sigh, too tired to change the sheets.
It had been years since he last had that nightmare.
It was two days' ride to the village of Yinale. Arthur and the knights, together with Ranir, made their way there with haste. Without the company, Arthur thought he would've covered the distance within a day, but he tried not to be annoyed by their slow pace. He had chosen Pellinore, Geraint, Ethan, and Owain for the quest, and they were the best knights Camelot had to offer.
"Tell me about your son, Ranir?" Arthur asked, when they were setting camp for the night.
"My son?"
"Yes. The one you said the Enchantress took? How long ago was it?" Arthur needed more information to go on. The story didn't make sense.
"Five days ago, Sire!" Ranir looked a little dazed, too exhausted by the journey to Camelot, and the day's ride.
"What is his name?"
There was a pinched expression on his face, and he closed his eyes for a second, grey hair falling in front of his face and covering it. Arthur was concerned he had made him remember some painful memories, before Ranir's eyes snapped open and he said, "Gerard. His name is Gerard."
Arthur nodded, turning away before remembering something else. "In the throne room, you said something about dozens of other men that have met similar ill fate."
Ranir worried his bottom lip before saying, "Yes, Sire."
"Can you tell me about them?"
"I…" Arthur had never seen anyone look so confused before, looking around as if he was lost, "I am afraid I can't."
"What do you mean you can't?"
"I remember it. But I don't. Why can't I remember anything?" He clutched his hair in one of his hands and pulled, looking like he was on the verge of panic.
Arthur thought it was time to intervene. He placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, patting it. "It's alright. You are stressed. These have been difficult days. I am sure a night's sleep would help. Me and my men will do everything in our power to help your village," he reassured.
The man looked at him gratefully, tears shining in his eyes, before whispering, "Thank you."
Arthur left him there, joining the knights by the fire. They chatted idly for a while, everyone exhausted from the ride. Soon, everyone settled down for sleep. Arthur volunteered for the first watch, worried about having the nightmare again. When he did fall asleep, he dreamt of the forest, of running away from something, but then he felt a hand in his, guiding him, and blue eyes, glinting next to him. He felt safe, outrunning the darkness until he reached the end of the woods, into the light again.
The next day they reached Yinale. It looked calm, the way small villages in the outskirts usually are. There were children running around, and women washing and hanging clothes. Arthur noticed he barely saw any men, other than old gents going about their business. Nobody seemed to find it odd though.
After Ranir retired to his home, wanting to check on his wife and daughters, they asked around about Gerard, hoping to acquire more information about him, but unsettlingly few people seemed to know anything about him. One of the old ladies talked about how he used to steal her chickens when he was a child, but when they asked her about his description she looked confused.
"Doesn't something about this whole situation seem odd to you?" Arthur gathered his knights together at the end of an hour.
Sir Pellinore looked bemused, "There's something troubling about this village. It's like everyone has collective amnesia."
"Yeah. I asked an old man if he had any sons, and he said no. There was a picture on his wall of three young men standing with him. He couldn't remember who they were," Geraint added.
"Something is definitely wrong," Owain agreed. Arthur looked towards Ethan but he just shrugged his shoulders, as baffled as the rest of them.
"We need to go into the forest." Arthur straightened up, glancing where the trees were obscuring the horizon.
"Sire. I don't think now is a good time. We should wait until morning."
Arthur considered Geraint's suggestion, looking around. The sun was indeed setting, and the woods ahead were unfamiliar to them. They would not be able to navigate the forest without light. Even if there was no magical creature lurking there, a wild animal might attack and kill them. He didn't like the delay, but it was the wiser plan. He nodded.
"Alright. We will spend the night in the village, and then move at first light. Let's find a place to rest."
It turned out, Ranir and his family were more than willing to let the Prince and the knights use their beddings and have something to eat. Finding an inn would've been better but Arthur knew that turning away hospitality was considered bad manners; and manners were something that were ingrained in him since childhood. So he ate the bland food, and laid down on the hard cot, and tried not to think about the forest. One good thing about not having comfortable sleep: he did not dream.
Next morning, Arthur decided that it would be easier to scour the forest if they divided into groups. Owain and Pellinore were supposed to go left, Ethan and Geraint right, and he was to go straight ahead.
"But Sire…" Ethan protested, "You shouldn't go alone."
Arthur looked up from where he was crouching, drawing a rough plan on the ground, and gave Ethan a dry look. "Are you questioning my decisions?"
Ethan looked sheepish, but added, "Your life is more important than ours. It does not seem wi- uh, prudent, for you to head into danger alone."
"I am the strongest of you all, or have you forgotten your trainings?" Arthur stood up now, towering.
"No, My Lord." Ethan took a step back, and then kneeled on the ground, lowering his gaze. This was an apology for forgetting his place, Arthur knew that. He clapped the man on his shoulder, forgiving, and then looked at the rest of the men. They all looked a little worried.
"Cheer up, men!" Arthur laughed. "We will meet back here at noon. If you run into a problem, do not engage. Get back to the rendezvous point and we will go in together. Understood?"
They all nodded in assent. Getting ready to leave, Arthur noticed Ranir's wife coming towards them carrying something.
"My Lord," she bowed, "I brought you some food and water for the way."
"Thank you." Arthur took the small satchel, and the knights did the same.
"Good luck on your quest, Sire," the woman wished, "I hope you find whatever it is you're looking for."
That stopped Arthur short. "We are looking for your son, lady."
"Oh." There it was, the blank look Arthur was beginning to dread. She could not comprehend what he had said. Then she shook her head and said, "Well, of course. I hope you find him. May the gods illuminate your path!"
Unease gnawed at his insides as he turned towards his men. Something was not right about this place, and he wasn't sure he would find the answer to it in the forest. Arthur was afraid the woods would end up confusing him more, but there wasn't any other way.
With great trepidation, he stepped into the forest, and motioned the knights to take their respective paths.
Arthur leaned against a tree, sighing. He had been wandering in the forest for a while now, and had lost track of the time. It was awfully difficult to tell how much time had elapsed when surrounded by the quiet stillness of nature. His legs ached, and the humid air made his clothes stick to his skin, the chainmail weighing him down. In all this time, he had found nothing even slightly suspicious about the forest. The most foreboding thing he had come across was a vulture feeding on the corpse of a dead rabbit. He had decided that there was nothing of interest here, and that they must have been mistaken. It was as ordinary a forest as he had ever seen. There were only a few animals- the predators fewer still, and even those were intelligent enough to not attack the prince.
Well to be fair, the lack of any large animal attacking him was a little strange. Animals did not discriminate between types of prey. All food was food. But Arthur assumed that this area of the forest must be lacking in the dangerous animals.
An hour or so ago, he had decided to turn around and go back to their meeting point and wait for the knights to regroup- maybe the other two groups would've had more luck. But the thing about dense forests was- how did you know which way led back?
Arthur tipped the water canister up, drinking greedily, and closed his eyes. He was honest enough to admit this: he was lost. Mentally, he cursed himself for not marking the path he took, and banged the back his head lightly on the trunk of the tree. If he lingered here any longer, the knights would get worried and set out in his search, and that would be plain insulting.
He was startled by the sound of sudden laughter. Drawing his sword, he looked around, alert for any sign of danger, but only saw trees spread out in all directions. The laugh was repeated and he whipped around, swinging his sword, ready for any sort of attack.
"Lost again are we, my friend?" An amused voice called out, and Arthur suddenly understood why he couldn't see the speaker. With a sigh, he looked up.
Perched on a branch of a tree in front of him, was a boy- no, a man. Thin and gangly, with extremely messy hair and a large grin stretching his lips. Something about his appearance made Arthur think about the fairy tales the bards from across the kingdoms used to tell, about the legends of elves. They were banned in the castle, but Arthur had sneaked out enough times as a child to be familiar with them. It was probably his ears, large and slightly pointed as they were, instantly noticeable alongside his pale, thin face.
"Do I know you?"
The boy looked at him curiously, and Arthur noticed his eyes were startlingly blue; familiarly so. It was not a rhetorical question. Then the man smiled again, and jumped from the branch, landing on his feet. Arthur marveled his stability- that was quite a fall, and he had made it look almost effortless, more graceful than anyone else Arthur knew could have. The strange looking man then took a few steps towards him, and extended his hand.
"I am Merlin."
Arthur sheathed his sword, his stance relaxing. "So I don't know you."
"Not really." Arthur could bet there was something amusing about this situation, some joke he wasn't privy to.
"Then why did you call me your friend?"
"That was my mistake," Merlin winced, withdrawing his hand.
"Yes. Yes, I think it was." Arthur hid his discomfort and confusion behind his arrogant mask. He was the prince, and it didn't suit his people to be overly familiar with him.
"Yes. I would never be friends with someone who was such an ass."
Arthur jerked back at the insult. "Nor I with one who was such an idiot." The man seemed to have a death wish. "Don't you know who you're talking to?" Arthur asked, outraged.
"Let me see, am I talking to someone who is lost and needs my help in finding their way back? Hmm. No, I don't think so."
"I am not lost." Arthur was honest with himself, but that didn't mean he was going to go around telling the truth to everyone.
"Alright, then. Have fun finding your way out." Merlin shrugged, turning around.
"Wait," Arthur called out. Merlin turned around and looked at him expectedly. Damn it. He chewed his lip, and then lowered his head- and his ego- to admit, "I am lost."
"Aha!" The look of triumph on Merlin's face was insulting but Arthur decided to let it go. He needed the help. But instead of giving him instructions, Merlin just stood there, waiting.
"What?"
"I am waiting for you to ask."
Arthur had to grit his teeth at that. "Show me the way out."
"Ask nicely," Merlin corrected his original demand, and Arthur threw his hands up.
"Forget about it. I can figure it out myself." He turned around and started stomping away in a random direction. It was not like he could get more lost. If he kept walking, maybe he would reach a clearing eventually.
Merlin laughed from behind him, which made him stomp his feet harder, and deliberately ignore the hurrying steps behind him.
"You sure get offended easily." Merlin matched his pace now, walking alongside. While Arthur was focusing on not tripping, and was trying to avoid the branches unsuccessfully, Merlin seemed to be skipping through the rough terrain like it was a clear path.
"You're going in the wrong direction, by the way," he randomly commented and Arthur's feet froze on the spot. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
Looking heavenwards, he bit out the word, "Please."
"Of course." A clap on the back and then Merlin was turning around and saying, "Follow me," with a cheeky grin.
Merlin was good at navigating the forest, and he knew it. He would skip ahead of Arthur, until he lost his sight, and when Arthur would be sure he was lost again, he would pop his head out from behind a tree, or call out from above, teasing him about being slow. It was endlessly annoying.
"How are you so familiar with this forest? Do you live close by?" Arthur asked after the fourth time that happened.
"You can say that," Merlin answered cryptically, walking ahead.
Arthur nodded. Villagers living in the settlements around the woods would know their ins and outs of the forest. He was half convinced that's what happened to Ranir's son. It was easy to wander in too far and not know how to get back out. He realized asking Merlin might be a good idea.
"Have you seen many lost men around here?" he asked after a while, when he stopped to catch his breath.
"Just you," Merlin turned around and teased, but he had a guarded look on his face. "Why do you ask?"
"It's just that I received complaints about men getting lost in the woods, never to be seen again."
Merlin laughed at that. If Arthur had not been looking for it, he wouldn't have noticed the slight hysterical edge to the sound. As it was, he wondered if he had imagined it. "Only people idiotic enough to enter the Brechfa's forest without knowing their way, are the ones that get lost. Like this one cabbage head prince that I know of… you wouldn't believe-"
Merlin was close enough that Arthur could cuff him on his head, so he did. "Ouch," Merlin rubbed the sore spot, and looked at him accusingly, "is this how you treat your saviour?"
Arthur rolled his eyes, "Less talking. More saving."
They continued on, until Arthur almost felt like the woods were familiar once more, thinner. He looked at Merlin, who had been awfully quiet for the past half hour. He knew he was the one who asked for less talking, but the quiet of the forest was plain disturbing.
"Merlin?"
Merlin gave a non-committal huff and Arthur stopped, placing his hands on his hips. "I am your Prince, Merlin" – it didn't matter that he wasn't sure if Merlin's village fell under Camelot's reign- "you will answer me when I ask something."
Merlin looked at him, and the insolence was obvious in his eyes. It was already a familiar sight. "Yes, Sire."
Arthur decided to ignore the tone, because he knew pushing it would only lead to even more frustration. The man had no regard for royalty. He blamed it on lack of proper exposure to society- raised in a forest as he was. "Have you ever noticed anything strange… in here?"
"Strange?" Merlin's smile vanished.
"Yes. Dangerous," Arthur clarified, "Magic."
"It's a forest." Merlin shrugged, "Everything is dangerous here. Everything needs to eat- and hungry looks a lot like monstrous from the other side."
Arthur got quiet after that, an odd discomfort settling into his stomach. "I would be careful if I were you. The woods aren't safe. You shouldn't wander in here." He was a Prince. He had a duty to protect his people.
"Isn't that what I should be telling you?" he countered. Arthur bit back his retort at that- mostly because he couldn't come up with anything better than 'Shut up'. He almost didn't hear Merlin add the next few words, "Nowhere is safe anyway."
"What?" Arthur asked, not sure if he heard right.
"Nothing," Merlin started walking again, turning away, "Let's hurry. We should get back before people start worrying about their Prince being abducted."
That sobered him up. He had been gone too long. He could only hope the knights had not recklessly wandered into the forest again. It took another quarter of an hour until Arthur could appreciate the marked decrease in the density of trees. Merlin stopped after another a few paces, and leaned against a tree.
"We're here. I told you I would get you here, and I am a man of my word."
Arthur stopped, and looked at Merlin. As annoying as his chatter had been, he suddenly realized that this strange man had not bowed to him even once. Had not worried about hurting Arthur's fragile ego. With quite some astonishment he realized that he had actually had more fun being lost, than he had ever before in his life.
And that he didn't really want to leave.
But he could see the sun now, slowly descending towards the horizon, and he had a duty. He couldn't go traipsing across a forest with a stranger- no matter how fun. He nodded.
"Thank you."
Merlin grinned, like he had won something. "Just don't get lost again."
There was something remarkably familiar about that statement. Arthur's head snapped up.
"You." He raised his finger and pointed at him.
"Now he remembers." Merlin threw his head back and laughed.
"You… when I was a child… you!"
"Yes. It was me. I have saved your life twice now. I won't hold my breath for the reward."
"Oh God," Arthur groaned. He couldn't believe it. He had made an idiot of himself in front of the same person… twice.
Merlin laughed and shoved him towards the end of the forest, "I already knew you were an idiot. So no harm done."
Arthur groaned louder.
"You're lucky it was me who found you. Not somebody else." There was a seriousness to his tone that made Arthur turn and look at him, but he was looking into the distance, deep into the forest.
"Merlin?" He asked, concerned.
"Can you do me a favour, Arthur?" Merlin asked, sombre.
"Of course." The man had technically saved his life. He could give him whatever he asked for in return.
"Please don't come here again." Merlin faced him, and there was a plea in his eyes that made his throat go dry.
"Wha.."
Merlin laughed then. It was forced- nothing like the lighthearted chuckles thrown his way for the last few hours- but it broke the tension. "I really don't want to see your dumb face around these parts. And I really don't want to take on the job of being your personal guide through the forest. I am not getting paid for that."
Arthur smacked the rambling idiot on his head for worrying him, and started walking away. A few paces ahead, he turned around and, unwilling to say goodbye, he called out , "I will be seeing you around then."
"I hope not."
It was a joke, he knew it was. But there was a thread of sincerity in it, that made Arthur feel off-balance for a moment. But then Merlin waved and said, "Goodbye, Sire," with as much disrespect as he could muster, and Arthur huffed and walked away.
He looked back when he was at the edge, and could still see Merlin in the distance, giving him a mock salute. He cursed himself for not asking the name of his village- how was he supposed to reward the man if he wasn't sure where he lived? It made him uneasy to be in someone's debt.
The knights were moving around restlessly at their designated rendezvous point and Arthur could see them rushing towards him the moment he was out of the forest.
Pellinore was the first to reach him. "My Lord. We were just about ready to come looking for you."
Arthur clapped him on the back, "It's a good thing you didn't."
"Are you alright, Sire?" Ethan was out of breath, Geraint on his heels.
"I am fine. Just didn't expect the forest to be as dense as it was."
All three of them nodded. "I suppose none of you found anything in the forest?"
"Nothing that didn't belong there. Only animals and such, Sire."
"Hmm." Arthur considered that for a few moments before reaching a decision. "I think it's safe to say that whatever happened to Ranir's son, it doesn't have anything to do with the forest." He waited for them to agree before continuing. "In that case, we cannot linger here any longer. We will convey this information to the villagers, and then we can make our way back to Camelot."
The Knight's faces fell. The long journey sounded exhausting, but Arthur did not want to encroach on Ranir's hospitality any longer. Anyway, a Prince's place was in the castle. He did not like leaving it for more time than was strictly necessary. Despite their exhaustion, none of them protested- they really were the finest knights he could ask for.
"Wait… Where's Owain?" Arthur stood straighter, alert all of a sudden.
"Uh," Pellinore started. Arthur waited for him to continue, "He is over there." Pellinore pointed in the distance. Arthur could barely make out the Camelot red.
"Is he alright?" he asked, concerned.
"Yeah…" the knight looked a little wrong-footed but then nodded, "he… I think he ate some berries in the woods. He isn't himself," Pellinore explained.
"How so?"
"We separated for a while in the woods, wanting to cover more distance. When I found him, he was giggling and behaving like a lad after too many drinks in the tavern."
"Nothing a good night's sleep won't fix." Geraint clapped Pellinore on the back and everyone chuckled.
They went to the village after that, Owain joining them. He did look a little intoxicated to Arthur, and he reprimanded him about eating things carelessly. He was lucky the berries hadn't been poisonous. The knight just grinned in response. Geraint was right; they had to wait till whatever he had ingested was out of his system. Arthur made a note to have Gaius look at him when they got back, just in case.
They knocked on Ranir's door, and waited for the man to come out.
"My Lords," the man looked surprised to see them again so soon, "how can I help you?"
The knights stood a respectable distance at his back as Arthur conveyed his apologies. "We just came back from the quest."
"I hope it was a successful one, Sire."
"I am afraid not." Arthur looked down. He felt awful telling the man the bad news- it was a blessing that the forest was not a lair for a dark magical creature, but not for a man who had lost his son.
"Oh?"
"I am sorry we could not find Gerard." He could not fathom what losing a son would be like, and prepared himself for an angry lashing. Prince or not, he would allow the man to express his rage.
"Who?" Ranir asked instead and Arthur's head snapped up.
"Your son. The one you said was lost. You came to Camelot to ask for help." Arthur could not believe he had to remind the man of that.
"I am sorry, My Lord." Ranir shook his head, "You must be mistaken. I don't have a son. I only have two daughters."
Merlin leaned against the tree, feeling the way it breathed and syncing his inhales with it. He watched the retreating back of the Prince of Camelot and sighed. The air already felt colder, the warm hues that Arthur generated fading with his every step. Everything had been bright- red, orange, gold- for the last few hours and Merlin already ached with the loss of it, surrounded once again by the dull damp colors that constituted the forest, everything mingling with a dark, all-encompassing black, like a disease spreading through all life.
He closed his eyes and tried to recreate what Arthur's aura felt like. How energetic and strong. Alive. He basked in the memory, realizing he might never feel it again. Selfishly, he wanted it. It had been a long time since he had felt something like that.
Merlin felt a sliver of purple permeate his senses, soft and mingling with the merciless black, and smiled when he heard a soft rustle as Freya stepped beside him.
"So that is the Prince," she sounded awed, yet he could feel her envy. He couldn't blame her. It was only natural to want that vitality, starved for it as they were.
"Yeah." Merlin tried not to sound too wistful but failed.
"He seems nice."
"He is." He pushed away from the tree to look at her.
She looked weak- but that wasn't anything new. She always looked weak. Everyone did. That was the life they were cursed to live. There was a haunted look in her eyes that made him more concerned.
"Freya. Did she make you do… did you?"
"No." She shook her head, understanding what he didn't want to say. "No. I didn't." She smiled ruefully. "She said it was too important, and that she couldn't risk me ruining the golden chance."
Merlin sagged, in selfish relief because his friend was safe. Those were the cards they were dealt. He couldn't save everyone, but he wanted to protect the ones closest to him. "But she did hunt."
It wasn't a question, but Freya answered anyway. "Yes."
"Which one?" Merlin wasn't sure he wanted to know, but maybe he owed it to them to remember.
"One of the two in the east. He is strong. Not as strong as the Prince of course, but better than what we had the last few times." Freya chuckled in self-hatred. Merlin could relate to that very well.
He could hear her breath rattle though, feel her aura weakening, the black overpowering it more and more. He felt into his own core, finding it green and brimming, and felt his mouth sour. It wasn't fair.
"Here," he held out his hand so Freya could hold it. She hesitated. "Come on."
"But…" she protested. "I can't accept that."
"You can," Merlin insisted. "I promised I will take care of you. I have plenty. I always have plenty." His words were bitter, and Freya flinched.
Impatient, he grabbed her hand himself. She did not resist. He closed his eyes and let his core unravel, coaxing his essence to move through his veins and into the hand resting in his. He heard her sigh when she felt it, felt his life energy flow into her, and he pushed at it even more.
After a few minutes, Freya pulled away. He tried to resist, he had more to give, but her pulling was decisive, pulsing violet now, stronger than it had been moments ago. She sagged against the trunk next to him, and Merlin followed suit. He could feel his head reeling from the backlash of giving away his energy so recklessly. And yet, already, he could feel the tree behind his back lending small tendrils of it back, the ground under his feet replenishing what he had lost. Once, he would've tried to resist, tried to argue with nature that he didn't need more. The tree was already fading, the smell of its decay evident. He couldn't possibly justify taking more. But the forest had decided Merlin had to be brimming with magic, even if everything else died, and he couldn't fight it.
It wasn't fair.
But it was life. And he was trying to do the best he could.
He watched as Freya opened her eyes slowly, clearer than he had seen them in months, and caressed the trunk behind him, thanking it wordlessly. One day, he would repay the earth tenfold for everything it had given him.
"Thank you," she whispered, grateful and ashamed.
"You never have to thank me," he reassured vehemently. She shook her head, unable to see farther than her own weakness, unable to see that the cards she was dealt were not just.
They stayed like that for a while, until Merlin could feel the familiar pull inside his mind. Freya grimaced.
"She isn't very happy with you." She told Merlin needlessly. He could already feel it in every breath he took. He had displeased her.
Good.
He wasn't afraid of her. But Freya would not understand that.
"At least the Prince is safe," Freya offered as consolation.
"Yeah." The thought did cheer him up, despite everything.
"What is he like?" Freya asked, curious.
Merlin considered that for a few moments, and then grinned. It was strange how smiles came easier to him when he thought about the blond idiot. "He's a Prat."
Arthur tried very hard not to think about Merlin in the next couple of weeks.
He immersed himself in his duties as the Prince, holding court, helping Uther with legal matters, and training the knights. The last one was where he took out most of his frustration, the knights dreading becoming his target. But their reflexes were improving and Arthur took vicious pleasure in that. It also helped that he was usually too tired to linger on any thought whatsoever come nightfall, collapsing into his bed.
The dreams were another matter.
He had not slept a single night without blue eyes haunting his dreams, a laugh ringing in his ears, or a cheeky smile lingering at the edge of his vision. Every time he tried to reach out and grasp it, the image slipped from his fingers like a mirage. There was the forest, always the forest, sometimes suffocating and closing in around him, but Merlin always seemed to come crashing in and brighten it up. Every night, Arthur woke up in his bed with a smile still lingering on his lips. He hated it.
So every day, he threw himself into work like a man possessed.
"Come on, Sir Bedivere. You know you could do better than that!" He taunted him as they sparred, cornering the Knight, waiting for the opportune moment.
"I am trying," Bedivere protested, but he wasn't trying hard enough. Frustrated, and wanting to block out the memory of Merlin's smile, he moved fast, jabbing and thrusting, until he had the man collapsed on the floor, the dulled edge of Arthur's practice-sword digging into his ribs.
"Pathetic." He spat on the ground and turned away. He needed a challenge, some way to get rid of the excess energy. "Who's going to fight me next, and this time, can someone please put some real effort in it?"
Nobody moved. He looked around, and everyone had their heads bowed. Well, everyone except one.
"Sir Owain?" he called, and the knight shook his head as if coming out of a trance. "Would you care to leave the dream world and join us in the present?"
He lowered his head, murmuring a quick apology. Zoning out during practice was absolutely unforgivable. "You're next," he decreed, and waited for the man to join him on the training ground.
Owain was a good knight, one of the better fighters in the group, and Arthur was looking forward to enjoying a good spar. But two moves into the fight, he realized that the man's concentration was somewhere else entirely. After one strong shove, Owain dropped his shield. Two lunges and one well aimed strike of his sword later, Arthur had managed to make the knight drop his sword too. He kicked it away and snarled, "What is wrong with everyone today?" He closed his eyes and tried to calm himself, managing to rile himself even further when he saw the image of a messy haired idiot behind his closed eyelids.
"Twenty laps of the ground, and a hundred pushups. All of you," he ordered, and didn't wait to hear their groan. The knights of Camelot could not afford to slack off like this. It was his responsibility to keep them in shape. "Or you're going to be the ones cleaning the stables tonight. The servants can have a day off."
"A hunting trip?" Uther rubbed his thumb on his chin, looking at him curiously.
"Yes, Father. The Kingdom is safe at the moment, and I am sure I speak for everyone when I say fresh meat would be very welcome."
"You have a valid point," Uther allows. "It can also serve as an opportunity for you to patrol the border villages, notice if there is any unrest."
"Precisely."
"Alright then, you can leave at dawn. Take a few knights with you, you might need them. Good luck, Arthur." Arthur sighed in relief, turning around, but Uther's question stopped him. "May I ask where you plan to go?"
Arthur hesitated, guilty, wondering if Uther would know his true intentions, before answering, "The Forest of Brechfa, Father."
Uther simply nodded, unconcerned, and Arthur hurried out of the door before he could be stopped again.
The truth was, Arthur loved hunting trips. They gave him an opportunity to stop being a Prince for a few days, and just become a normal person, using a crossbow and hunting game to feed people. And he was damn good at it.
He had been stalking his prey for the better part of an hour, keeping an eye on it, quiet and patient. He waited for it to settle, then slowly raised his bow and took aim.
The deer never stood a chance.
Just before he released the arrow, there was a loud snapping sound, like that of branches breaking under someone's feet. It created enough ruckus to startle the deer. Suddenly aware of the danger, it ran away. Arthur cursed, trying to chase it, but it had a natural advantage of speed that Arthur lacked.
"Damn it," he swore, and turned around to give a tongue lashing to whichever knight had been stupid enough to ruin his game. He gaped at the sight.
"You," he exclaimed, raising a finger and pointing it accusingly.
"You!" Merlin retorted.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" He was far too annoyed right now to acknowledge the warmth blossoming in his chest.
"Err… Walking. You don't own the forest, you know?"
"I was trying to hunt a deer, and now you've chased it away by your bumbling."
"Sorry." Merlin shrugged. He didn't look even a little sorry.
Arthur sagged. He wasn't really angry. Not when a smile was tugging at his lips because of seeing Merlin again, hearing his voice. He would die before admitting that, though.
"What the hell are you doing here again?" Arthur asked.
"Actually, it would make more sense for me to be asking that question, considering I live here and you don't."
Arthur scrunched up his face, "Considering I am your prince, you don't get the right to ask me any questions."
Merlin rolled his eyes skyward, before walking towards him. He looked the same as he had before, even his clothes were identical. Rough red tunic with a brown coat, frayed at the edges, and a blue neckerchief. As far as sartorial choices went, this was as awful as it got, and Arthur wished he didn't find the look fetching on the man.
"You aren't lost again, are you? 'Cause that wouldn't surprise me."
"I certainly am not!" Arthur was offended. Get lost twice, and suddenly people wouldn't let you forget it. Granted, most people didn't know about it- this was all on Merlin- but it was a totally unfair accusation. "Don't you have any work? How do you have so much time, always traipsing across the forest?"
"I could ask you the same thing. Aren't princes supposed to be very busy, with tasks of extreme importance?"
"I am very busy. I am hunting."
Merlin looked around, clearly surprised. "Oh, so that's what you're doing. I couldn't tell, what with the lack of any dead animals."
Arthur resisted the urge to put an arrow through Merlin's eye, grinding his teeth. "I would've killed that deer, if you hadn't been a clumsy idiot crashing all over the place."
He stomped away, eager to find another large animal to take home. It would look really bad- and not to mention humiliating- if he went back to the camp without having anything to show. Merlin followed him, with a clumsiness that felt almost deliberate. He wondered if Merlin was actively finding all the branches that he could step on, just to rile Arthur up. If he kept making this much noise, Arthur was sure the animals would be able to hear them from miles away.
"Shhhh," he scolded, but didn't tell Merlin to go away. He couldn't bring himself to do that.
And then there was the talking. The man seemed to have an inability to stop his incessant chatter, rambling about one thing or another. He talked about the forest, or the lifecycle of flies, about animals as they skittered away, and insulting Arthur. Always insulting Arthur. Arthur tried to put together what he could discern about the man from this information but Merlin had a unique talent of speaking but not really saying anything at all.
He managed to kill a few birds, and a rabbit. The moment his arrow sank into the small mammal, he heard Merlin gasp. Merlin hurried forward, sinking the arrow deeper and easing the rabbit's suffering. When Arthur reached him, he could hear Merlin murmur something in a language he didn't understand. There were tears shining in his eyes.
"Don't be so dramatic, Merlin," Arthur scoffed. "It's just an animal."
"It was alive. Its heart was beating. And now you have killed it. There should be someone grieving." There was a fervency in his tone, a deep hurt. Arthur was startled for a second, but then shook his head.
"It's food! Don't tell me you don't eat meat." Merlin shook his head at that, and Arthur continued. "See."
"Everything lives to feed something else," Merlin whispered, as if quoting an old memory.
Arthur decided this was enough dramatics for the day and smacked Merlin on his head, saying. "Now, if you won't stop stalking me, you had better make yourself useful and carry the animals I hunt."
He ignored the disgusted face Merlin made, stalking away to find more hunting opportunities. He felt a thrill of satisfaction when he heard Merlin following.
It was later afternoon when he heard his stomach rumbling and decided to call it a day. The sun would be setting soon anyway. He looked at the pathetic collection of animals he had killed, and hoped the knights had had better luck.
They settled down, and he went to collect some firewood. Merlin was surprisingly good at starting fires, he found, and soon they had a pair of rabbits cooking over the flame. Arthur tried not to stare at Merlin, glowing in the firelight. The flames gave the impression of his eyes being golden, and his cheekbones cast shadows on his cheeks. Exhausted from the exertions of the day, Arthur allowed himself a moment of weakness to appreciate how utterly beautiful Merlin was. Not that he would ever say that out loud, but there was something… magical… about him. Something otherworldly. It made Arthur want to unravel the mysteries that formed the man, take him apart and see how he worked.
Merlin glanced towards him at the end of a sentence to which Arthur had not been paying attention, and their gazes met. Arthur should've looked away, but he found himself unable to. Merlin's eyes were like vast oceans, pulling him in, and he found himself lightheaded with want. "Merlin," he whispered, bending closer…
Merlin jerked back, as if struck, and quickly looked away. The moment disintegrated and Arthur felt a split second of disappointment, but then shook his head. He had no idea what had overcome him. He never let his guard down so easily.
"I am sorry," Merlin apologized, sounding wretched.
Huh. The idiot made no sense sometimes. He wanted to ask why he was sorry, but Merlin took that moment to busy himself in setting up their food; the conversation dissolved into idle chitchat once more.
The sun was almost setting by the time they put out the fire. Merlin looked at him hesitantly, when he stood up.
"Spit it out Merlin. There is no need to hurt that tiny brain of yours by overthinking."
Merlin huffed at that, "Are you planning to camp in the forest for the night? Alone?"
Arthur stared at him. What did he think Arthur was? An idiot? "I don't mean to say you can't. It's just… it would be better. You see… it's not safe…"
Arthur shut him up with a cuff on the head. "Of course I am not camping in the forest. We camped a few miles away. And yes. We. There are five knights with me."
"Oh." Merlin deflated, relieved.
"Yes. Oh. I am the Prince of Camelot. Not an idiot."
"Could've fooled me." So the insolence was back. Arthur didn't want to admit he had missed it.
"Shut up!"
They walked for a few minutes, and Arthur liked to think Merlin was as reluctant to say goodbye as he was.
Something occurred to him. "Are you going to stay in the forest?"
"Yes," he replied solemnly. Arthur turned around in shock, about to be the voice of reason when he saw Merlin laugh. "Don't be ridiculous. I am going home after I am done escorting your fancy ass to safety."
"Where's your home?" He made small talk, as they neared the edge of the woods. By now, Arthur could already feel the trees becoming less dense, the air becoming fresher. He could've easily told Merlin to go his way, but he lingered, slowing his pace.
"Ealdor."
Night was falling by the time they were out of the forest. Arthur looked at Merlin one last time, saying goodbye.
"Don't come here again, Arthur," Merlin cautioned. It sounded too sad to be a warning. Arthur could not decide what to make of it.
"See you later, Merlin." Arthur said instead, gladdened by the frustrated chuckle Merlin let out in reply.
A few days later, at practice, something gnawed at the back of Arthur's mind. He couldn't exactly put his finger on it but something was not right. He looked at the knights, searching their faces and it clicked.
"Is Owain sick? I haven't seen him in a few days."
Geraint looked at him in confusion and the other knights mimicked him. Hesitantly, he turned towards the Prince and asked, "Who is Owain, Sire?"
Arthur thought about it. The name sounded familiar, the image of a black haired, bright eyed, young man appeared in his head, but he couldn't place where he had seen it.
He shook his head, dislodging the image. Must be a leftover from some dream.
"Never mind. Let's get on with the practice."