Chapter 1
It had been as quiet a year as Merlin could remember – nothing had happened. No magical attacks, no vengeful sorcerers and no news of Morgana. He should have been happy. Arthur was King, with Guinevere as his Queen; the land was prosperous and the people content and he and Gaius had settled down to a clear routine of caring for the sick, studying magic and eating badly cooked food. It was the beginning of the flowering of Camelot and almost all he could have hoped for.
But the reality was Merlin was bored and lonely.
He had not fully realised quite how dull a life of servitude and civic duty could actually be and whilst he knew he should be grateful for the peace he had to admit that he occasionally missed the excitement of the first few years of his life in Camelot. It wasn't so much the fighting and the danger – he'd never enjoyed that. He often thought of all the trauma and effort involved in trying to keep Arthur alive; all the deaths and pain that had been part of the battle to ensure that the Crown Prince actually became King. No, that was not what he yearned for. It was the camaraderie, the intense friendships forged within danger and the feeling of belonging that came with shared fear. That was what he missed. Of course he still met up with the Knights and shared a joke or story with them and even joined them on the occasional trip to the Tavern, but it was not the same. For a while now he had not even been going out on patrol with them as he used to. Arthur's duties as King had increased a hundred-fold and therefore so had Merlin's. They rarely had the chance to ride off into the Forests on official duty, let alone for pleasure. Merlin couldn't actually believe it but he was even missing going hunting!
It was close to midnight and Merlin had just returned to his rooms after yet another evening spent standing behind Arthur's chair at yet another interminable official banquet. Arthur had spent the last year in an almost constant round of treaty negations, re-affirmations of old alliances and reassurance visits from other Kings. And Merlin had been at them all, waiting to serve, to support and (if necessary) to protect.
But nothing had happened; literally nothing and the dusty endless evenings had just worn on and on, seemingly without end. It was very quickly driving the Warlock mad.
And as to what it was doing to Arthur – Merlin shuddered as he thought about the young King. Arthur was unbearable. There was no other word for it. Whilst he'd been Prince he had been insufferable, arrogant and quite often pompous but never dull. Now it was like all the life and fun had been leeched out of him and all he could think about was discussions, politics and town planning...
Actually that was a little unfair, thought Merlin. Initially Arthur had tried to carry on as before, going on patrol, fighting bandits and so on but it had all been slowly eroded away by cares of state and the Council always having an important meeting or paperwork to do just as Arthur was due to leave on patrol. He railed against it for months; but had eventually succumbed and his dry, administrative duty took over. All of which meant life was awful for Arthur and, by natural extension, seriously, seriously awful for Merlin.
Whenever Arthur got cross, annoyed, irritated by petty problems, aggravated due to lack of adventure or just plain bored it was Merlin who got it in the neck. And he had had enough. As he collapsed into his small, uncomfortable bed Merlin decided – no matter what, tomorrow he would get the King out of Camelot. A ride, a picnic with the Queen, even (God forbid) hunting. One way or another he and Arthur would be off on horseback, ridding their heads of cobwebs and problems, if only for a day. With that thought Merlin sighed, turned over and fell fast asleep
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In his chambers Arthur lay wide awake, all sleep bored out of him by that evening's banquet – for the life of him he couldn't even remember what the whole thing had been in aid of. Enough was enough he decided as he lay there, listening to the soft breathing of Guinevere beside him, "I will become old before my time if I don't do something" he thought. "Tomorrow", he promised himself, "tomorrow I will hunt." With that thought Arthur sighed, turned over and fell fast asleep.
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It was midmorning the next day and Merlin was already carrying 4 surprised looking and very dead rabbits on his saddle. Whilst he did not particularly like this fact, what he did rejoice at seeing was the look on Arthur's face as the pair of them cantered along the pathway. It was as if he was alive for the first time in months and Merlin, for one, was glad.
When he had entered the Princes chambers that morning he had hardly been able to believe his ears as Arthur told him to prepare for a day's hunting. Since awakening earlier that day Merlin had been trying to think of a way to persuade Arthur to leave his duties and take a day off and now here was the King himself actually proposing such an activity. Despite flinching when told it was a hunt Merlin had run off to prepare as quickly as possible; not wanting the King to have a change of heart.
It had taken all of Merlin's considerable "creeping-secretly-out-of Camelot" skills to get the King away unnoticed that morning. They ended up taking lots of dark and little known passages through the Citadel – corridors that Arthur had never known existed. But it had been worth giving up few of his clandestine escape routes Merlin thought as he watched Arthur ride away, a few hundred yards ahead of him on the small path. He was looking happier than he had done for a very long time.
"Come on slowcoach" bellowed the King as he stormed off in chase of a particularly large and majestic looking buck "If we lose him I'll have your guts for garters Merlin."
Putting his head down and with his face wearing an expression best described as a grimace crossed with a smile, Merlin raced after the suddenly invigorated King. It seemed as if his plan to liven things up had worked.
But then came a yell and a loud crashing noise from ahead and Merlin looked up to see Arthur's horse galloping away up the path, it's saddle worryingly empty. It was running for its life and without the King. Merlin's heart stopped, frantically his eyes flew everywhere but he could not see Arthur. The King had completely disappeared from Merlin's sight.
Urging his horse on, Merlin fought to keep calm in the face of a rising, all encompassing fear.
"Arthur" Merlin yelled as he raced forwards. Where could he be? Panic gripped the young Warlock as he jumped down off his horse and rushed over to where he'd last seen the King. Nothing! Nothing that was except some badly crushed undergrowth, a newly forged path through the overgrown forest and, oh Gods, an arrow sticking out of a nearby tree Merlin took one look and, imagining Arthur unconscious and dragged away, immediately took off down the trail. Coldness gripped his heart; it had been his job to protect his King and he had failed. And now, God knows what was happening to Arthur.
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