A/N: This is my very first Merlin FF, but it's something I've been thinking about for a very long time. I would love to receive some feedback on whether this is something I should continue working on or not. Happy reading!
Making sure no one's watching, I throw my old clothes in a fire and watch as they crumble to ash.
"How's your knee-walking coming along?" I hear someone taunt, and I look up from the fire in front of me. "Oh, don't run away!" The blonde grown-isn guy calls out, to which a darker haired guy stops.
"From you?" he calls back, and even though I already recognised his face, his voice causes an invisible lump to form in my throat. His blue eyes look striking against his pale reflection, as do mine. Our only difference is my blonde hair opposite his raven black. He said I got it from my mum.
"Ah, thank god," says the other guy, clearly the leader as three men as well as two guards stand behind him. It's hard to mistake him; the blonde hair, the tanned complexion – and the cocky attitude. "Thought you were deaf as well as dumb."
The guy with the dark hair, Merlin, shakes his head with humour; "look, I've told you you're an ass, I just didn't realise you were a royal one."
I instinctively arch my eyebrows in surprise, as well as in awe. From the blonde guy's, Arthur, expression he is most certainly not used to this kind of behaviour towards him.
"Ohpf, what are you going to do?" Merlin taunts him, "get your daddy's men to protect you?"
Arthur laughs, obviously finding the situation more humorous than anything else; "I can take you apart with one blow."
I spent hours in the library in my childhood, reading about the great King Arthur. From what I'm witnessing, he really is an ass. Sorry, a royal ass.
"I can take you apart with less than that," Merlin replies, looking slightly cocky himself.
Arthur's facial expression loosely translates to "oh really?", but more in the I'm-making-fun-of-you way, not the I'm-seriously-pissed-off way. "Are you sure?" he asks.
As an answer, Merlin's face takes on an expression of determination before he pulls off his jacket. Arthur, clearly having an amazing time, barks out in laughter. He clearly didn't expect this scrawny looking guy to actually challenge him to a fight. To be honest, I probably wouldn't have taken him too seriously, either.
One of Arthur's mates hands him a chain-mace, which Arthur throws at his new opponent; "here you go, big man." Clearly never handled chain-mace before, Merlin fumbles with it before it drops to the ground, miraculously not hurting himself in the process. It does make him look like a fool who has no idea what he's doing, though. Which, if we're going to be honest, he doesn't.
He looks rather annoyed as he picks it up, Arthur being handed his own chain-mace. He swings it effortlessly; by his side, over his head. "I warn you," he says as he steps closer to Merlin, who's chain-mace pathetically hangs by his side, "I've been trained to kill since birth."
"Wow," Merlin nods, "and how long have you trained to be a prat?"
"It's a natural talent of his," I say, not realising how quiet and easily heard I was. Merlin catches my eye, a smirk forming as Arthur turns around. "Who said that?" he demands, but no one answers. Merlin straightens his back, getting Arthur's attention again. "You can't address me like that," he says, a slight edge to his tone now.
"Sorry," says Merlin, still smiling, "how long have you been training to be a prat, my lord."
Arthur smiles mockingly, turning to his friends who are all nodding and smirking. Without any warning, Arthur swings the chain-mace in Merlin's direction, quickly wiping the smile off his face as he ducks out of the way of the vicious looking spikes. He backs away, Arthur following suit with a large group of people forming behind him, all clearly interested in where this will end. I might've been in the crowd, all the way at the front, extremely interested in how this would end.
"Come on, then, Merlin." The whole things seems natural to Arthur, who's gained back his cocky smile. Merlin looks slightly uncomfortable, quickly backing away from Arthur and his very deadly chain-mace. "Come on!" Arthur continues to taunt as he jumps on top of a wheel barrow. Merlin backs into wooden crate that usually holds a chicken, if I'm correct. Unfortunately for him, his chain-mace gets stuck. He quickly leaves it behind as Arthur swings his weapon at his scrawny opponent, smashing a tray instead. No one complains, though I'm sure the person who owns it isn't too pleased. At least the Prince did it, he's probably telling himself.
As Arthur swings his weapon again, Merlin shows himself to be a great ducker as he tumbles over a fruit stand. Instead of hitting Merlin as creating a flesh wound with its spikes, the chain-mace punters a red cabbage, giving everyone a good look on what can happen if it hits a person.
Poor Merlin looks up from behind the fruit stand, looking middle terrified. Arthur easily jumps over the stand, but Merlin is quick on his feet and leaps out of reach. As guilty a I feel, I can't help but be extremely amused. This is what they call barbaric humour, right?
Merlin, too busy – and probably too frightened – to look where he's going, stumbles over a pack of flowers, causing him to fall on his back. Grinning, Arthur stands above him, still swinging his chain-mace. "You're in trouble now."
Then, for a brief moment, I see the tiniest flash of gold in Merlin's eyes. If I didn't already know of it, I'd either be blaming the sun, or it'd happen to fast for me to believe it happened at all. For no reason at all, Arthur's professionally handled chain-mace loops around two scythes. It merely takes Arthur half a second to loosen it, but it's enough time for Merlin to get back on his feet.
Arthur swings the chain-mace over his head, and I notice a little wooden box shift ever so slightly into Arthur's path, causing him to step on it and make it slam into his chin. "OW!" he roars, and Merlin grins as he makes his escape – he thinks.
Arthur is properly angry now, and slams his weapon into a bowl of innocent potatoes. Merlin ducks out of the way, and suddenly Arthur trips over a rope and falls flat on his face. I can't help but laugh; there's nothing funnier than someone falling flat on their face.
Merlin grabs Arthur's chain-mace as Arthur himself gets on his feet. Merlin swings it, actually looking like he know what he's doing. "Do you want to give up?" he shouts, weirdly enough sounding very angry. "Do you?" Arthur retorts, clearly back to his humorous nature. "DO YOU?" Merlin shouts back, "DO YOU WANT TO GIVE UP?"
Arthur fails to notice a basket on the floor, causing his to trip and fall backwards onto a pile of flour bags. Merlin looks extremely pleased over his assumed victory, but his smile falters as he looks onto the crowd, his eyes falling on one person in particular. I turn around to notice an elderly man standing not far behind me, his hair white and shoulder-length. I gaze back at Merlin just in time to see Arthur grabbing a broom, slamming it into the back of Merlin's legs, before using it's brushy end to punch Merlin's abdomen and then hit the handle of it on his forehead, causing Merlin to crumble to the floor, moaning in pain. Arthur stand above him, twirling the broom through his fingers, before gently sweeping some dust on Merlin to rub his victory into Merlin's 'wounds'.
A couple of guards rushes over and drags Merlin on his feet, but Arthur quickly stops them with an outreach of his hand and the simple word "wait".
"Let him go," says a now much calmer Arthur, "he may be an idiot, but he's a brave one." Just as he passes Merlin, their gaze lock on each other and Arthur frowns. "There's something about you, Merlin. I can't quite put my finger on it," he says before walking away. The people int he crowd quickly realise today's fun is over, and gets back to their daily chores.
Before the elderly man, my guess Gaius, gets his hands on Merlin and drags him off to have a little talk, I grab his arm. He abruptly stops next to me, looking down at my face. There's not a single hint that he knows who I am, other than the girl whose comment almost got her in trouble only a few minutes ago. "I thought you did good," I smile, to which he smirks. "Thanks," he says, but as he tries to leave and tighten my grip. "Just be a bit more careful with the magic next time," I whisper to him. He looks terrified as he quickly scans my face, probably of a sign of what I choose to do with his secret, but I only give him a slight nod before letting go of his arm. He makes his way over to Gaius, but as they walk away and towards the castle, Merlin turns back to steal another glance at me.
The next morning I make my way to the castle, following the path he guards had told me to take. I stand in front of a wooden door, before knocking, hard, three times. The elderly man, Gaius, opens.
"Can I help you?" he asks, his raspy voice making anything he says sound wise.
"I am looking for the court physician," I say, "Gaius?"
"I am Gaius," he says, looking slightly sceptical. I give him a big smile, as my father always told me I looked kind and innocent when I smiled. Which I am, of course, but you know – we all have our darker, less enjoyable sides.
"I'm sorry to bother you, but I am working to become a physician and my father told me about you and your talents," I say, remembering as well how my father told me that Gaius had a way of telling when you were lying to him. I try to speak the truth, but as vaguely I can so that I can't be accused of telling lies.
"Who is your father?" asks Gaius, and I press my lips together. "His name is John. He said you probably wouldn't remember him, that you were never close, but a couple of winters back when I start my training he told me of you, and suggested I one day ask you to become your apprentice."
Gaius nods slightly, opening the door for me. "Well I must surely ask you in then."
I smile as I step into the room, packed with a kitchen, a bed and a table with books sign absolutely everywhere. At the back there's a few steps that leads to another door, behind which I can guess is Merlin's room. Gaius gestures for me to sit down, so I pull out a wooden stool and cross my fingers I won't get a splinter in my bum as I sit down.
He sits down opposite me, laying his arms on the table. "Now," he says, "tell me about yourself."