Title: Fighting for Merlin
Summary: One-shot. Tag to 3x12. Sometimes it takes difficult situations like these for Arthur to show just how much he cares. No slash.
This fic is meant to show the "bro-mance" between Arthur and Merlin. It is not slash. I just want to emphasize moments where Arthur cares. Also, this is my first attempt at Merlin fanfiction.
Episode 3x12 "The Coming of Arthur – Part One," the scene which occurs in Jarl's lair, as told from the point of view of Prince Arthur.
If you read, please review.
Enjoy!
I cannot believe that I got shot in the neck with a dart! We are supposed to be questing for the Cup of Life, not trapped in some stinking dungeon. Maybe if Merlin had not been yammering on about dying than I would have heard our attackers, and we could have avoided this entire mess.
Myself, Gwaine (of all people), and several other men are staring down at Merlin, who is still unconscious. It is no wonder really. What with that scrawny body, I'm not surprised it knocked him out for as long as it did. He will probably be lucky if he wakes up fully aware.
I see him stirring, and reach down and slap his face. Not roughly mind you, just enough to get sleeping not-such-a-beauty to wake-up. We need to think of a plan and get out of here. Right this minute. We haven't a moment to lose.
Merlin opens his eyes slowly. I expect some kind of shock, but instead he says, "What was that you were saying about me being a pessimist?" What a smart-ass.
"Must have slipped my mind." I help him stand. Gwaine lays his hand on my shoulder, and for some reason this bothers me immensely. It could just be the situation we have found ourselves in, but I am very irritable at the moment. Did I already mention that I don't have time for this? I grab his wrist and declare, "Touch me again, you die."
Merlin smiles at the sight of Gwaine and they joke. Sometimes I seem to forget that Merlin has any friends besides Gaius. But the truth is, I realize, that a lot of the most courageous and honourable people I know I met at Merlin's urging. It's funny really, how someone as sarcastic as him is so often instantly beloved by anyone who meets him.
"Where exactly are we?" I ask, scoping the walls for any signs of possible escape routes.
"The bowels of an old castle. Belongs to a fella named Jarl."
"Never heard of him." Though I'm not particularly sure that I care to know.
"Lovely bloke. Slave trader."
"We're going to be sold as slaves?" The concept seems quite absurd to Merlin, even more than it does to me, although I can't understand why. Being a slave can't really be much different than what he does now. I mean, isn't 'slave' really just another word for 'servant'? Of course, not everyone is as generous and lenient as I am. Still, I am not so keen about the idea myself, what my being Crown Prince and all. We need to get out of here – quickly.
Just then a man appears on a ledge above us. He's a very filthy bugger really, with a black fur draped over his shoulders. I assume he must be Jarl.
"Right, you filthy vermin." Ha, look who's talking! "Which one of you is ready to face my champion in the arena?" Is he really expecting someone to come forward? For all we know this champion could be some kind of warrior or horrid ogre. It could be suicide. Not that I couldn't take him. I could. I would just rather spend my time trying to get away. "No volunteers? Well, I shall have to choose one of you toerags myself, then. Let me see..." he glances about, contemplating, thinking it over, "How about ... you?" He is pointing at Merlin, who doesn't realize it at first.
"Me?"
"Death or glory, boy. You should be honoured."
And just like that deep frustration creeps into my body. Who does this man think he is? Could he really be so sick? Merlin is easily the weakest man here - why he's still a boy! Even a blind man could see that. All this man wants is some entertainment at the misery of others. It certainly would not be a fair fight. He disgusts me.
I cannot let him hurt Merlin though. I will not. Merlin may be a lot of things, but he has proven to be a good friend. He is the closest thing I have ever had to a brother. An inferior, annoying, and unintelligent brother, mind you, but dearly loved nonetheless.
It is not hard to think of an argument to get Merlin out of this position, I merely state the truth. "Who is this so-called champion? Can he crush nothing but weaklings like this?"
"You think you could offer a better contest?"
"I guarantee it." I step in front of Merlin. With my challenge and physical body between him and Jarl, there is no way he'll take Merlin instead of me.
"Arthur, no." It's the concern in his voice that gets me. Even with his life at stake he still cares about me. This would probably be the point during which he tells me I'll be a great king. But Merlin, the idiot, does he really think I would let him walk into his death? Was I supposed to just stand there and let him get killed? I'll be damned if I let any harm come to him. People can call me many things, but disloyal and uncaring are not among them.
"Very well. But if you lose...I'll feed your little friend to the crows, piece by stinking piece." I look at Merlin. We both know that he means it. I cannot afford to lose, at any cost. "Are you ready, my champion?"
"I am."
Gwaine? We both stare at him. Oh, of all the ridiculous turns of fate! Today is certainly not my day. This surely stifles any plans I was forming. He meets my eye and sighs. He is just as unwilling for Merlin to be hurt as I am, but neither of us wants to do this, not against each other. Yet, perhaps we can use this to our advantage.
Jarl disappears above. I use the time to speak hurriedly to Gwaine in hushed tones. "Any ideas?"
"We fake it."
"Good. Then maybe we'll be able to fight some of them off, and make a break for it."
"It's worth a shot. Hopefully they don't kill us first."
"Well, we haven't any other options have we?"
The lock turns loudly, and the door swings open. We step forward, into the smiling face of some wretched thug. Another man enters in behind us, grabs Merlin's arm, and drags him out. Things continually keep going from bad to worse. I figured Gwaine and I could have taken Jarl's men, or at least have created a distraction, and we could have returned to get him. Maybe he could have even gotten free himself (he's not completely useless). Certainly, it would have been safer. Now we'll have to be careful.
We are brought into the poorest excuse of a mead-hall I've ever seen. This 'arena' is nothing more than a circle of even uglier men. Jarl rises to greet us. "Gentlemen. The rules are simple. One man lives and one man dies. If you cannot, or will not, finish off your opponent I'll kill you both." Laughter explodes and echoes off the walls.
Inconspicuously, I glance at the man restraining Merlin, pinning his arms behind his back. Is that really necessary? Merlin looks worried. At least now I know where precisely he is.
Jarl tosses two swords at our feet, "Let the battle commence!"
Gwaine and I look at each other, and a mutual understanding passes between us. This is it, show time. I sigh heavily, again.
From all sides men are jeering and yelling. Suddenly, Gwaine swings and I jump back instinctively. They shove me back towards the fray, rough hands pushing. He will not catch me off-guard again, I assure you. Metal clashes against metal, and an over-whelming sense of déjà vu hits me.
Briefly, I push down his sword and am near enough to say, "Take it easy, will you?"
"It's got to look real, hasn't it?"
"Fine. If it's real you want."
I am no longer holding back. There is nothing on my mind except battle. I do not think of Camelot or the Cup of Life. I can not even remember who I am or where I am. We fight, giving our all, and soon both our swords are on the ground. We follow them down, grabbing and reaching for each other. The circle tightens around us, and I feel claustrophobic. I can no longer see Merlin, but I don't have time to worry about it.
"So far, so good," I declare, Gwaine's hand squishing my face.
"What happens next?"
"Uh, there was no next." I recognize just how much trouble we are in.
"Finish him!" Jarl demands, and I am not sure to which of us he is speaking. We look at the slave trader, whose face holds nothing but raw amusement, then at the swords. We are frozen in time.
Then, as if by magic, the flame of the nearest torch grows and spreads across the ropes on the ceiling. All is lost in a moment of blind panic, and animal instinct, as men flee. They scramble, clamour, and push towards the exit, myself included. I am aware of Gwaine at my side.
Merlin is free now, coughing in the smoke. He is looking into the crowd, for us I'm assuming. I waste no time, but grab his coat tightly, and don't release it until the door is in sight.
I run faster than I ever have in my entire life, putting as much distance as possible between me and that place.
We stop, and the three of us catch our breath. Gwaine enquires as to how we ended up here in the first place. I am reluctant to tell him, but I owe him some sort of explanation. I know I do, especially after all we have just been through. "We're on a quest," I offer.
"We're looking for the Cup of Life." I smack Merlin, hard.
"What?"
"What part of the word 'secret' did you not understand?" I should have just left him behind. He couldn't keep his mouth shut to save his life. What good is a blabber-mouthed servant to a future king?
"It's...Gwaine."
"Gentlemen, gentlemen," Gwaine intercedes, "it seems whatever it is you're after, you could use some help." Great, just what I need, more trouble. I start walking, assuming they'll follow... They do.
"So according to Merlin here, if you tell me where this cup is, you'll have to kill me." Gwaine has matched pace with me.
"That's correct."
"May as well tell me, then. I mean, let's be honest, you couldn't kill me even if you wanted to."
"Yeah? Try me."
'I already did. Back in the arena. I had you bang to rights, did I not?"
"That... was just a game." Had it been under other circumstances I would have defeated him in an instance. He would never have stood a chance.
"Oh, a game? Right. I won that game, did I not?" We stop and face each other. He really has me riled now.
"No, you didn't! One more minute..."
"One more minute and you both would have been dead! Neither of you won. Your plan was a half-baked disaster and if it was not for that fire, we would all be pushing up daisies." I stare after Merlin, dumbfounded. Ugh! Unbelievable. Yet... As unintelligent as he can act sometimes, he is right. Though I will never, ever, admit it aloud. The fire was a lucky break. A miraculous occurrence actually. One of the many I've seemed to have had since I met Merlin. Something, or someone, is watching over me, fighting as hard for me as I do for others.
END