A/N: First of all, I'd like to thank you all for the wonderful reviews and for favoring and following my humble little story.
I wish I could thank you all personally but I'm afraid I don't have the time right now, because I'm busy preparing to leave for uni in another country next month so you could imagine how chaotic everything is for me. Rest assured that I read and appreciate your reviews, and I truly enjoy them, after all, they feed our inspiration, isn't it so? Haha XD.
I don't own Merlin, obviously, unfortunately..
Some of you said - and I don't mind it, I appreciate it - that Merlin is slightly OC in this story, that he'd usually be more fiery and give Arthur as good as he got. While that's true, the story is set in the time frame of season II so he's still pretty young and naive. Also, I wanted my Merlin to be more whumpy, with self-esteem issues so I could then show his growth and development.
I hope you don't mind it.
I'd like to thank those who spotted and corrected my grammatical errors, as I said, English is my second language so beware of mistakes.
Thank you all for reviewing, and here's the next chapter.
Oh, and keep reviewing. It fuels my inspiration, haha.
In the next weeks, Merlin's mood oscilated between terribly depressed and terribly angry.
He felt like paying the dragon a visit and showing him how his great destiny had played out. Sacked from his job. After everything he's done for Arthur and for what?
For not paying some attention on a stupid hunting trip he wasn't even supposed to be on?!
Well..alright, maybe as Arthur's manservant he was supposed to accompany his master on hunting trips, to carry his weapons and his kills.
But still, so maybe he should've payed more attention, but what had Arthur wanted him to do? Fight the bandits? He coldn't even hold a sword properly, never mind handling it.
He sighed as he thought about these things, while coming back from a trip to the lower town, to deliver some medicine to one of Gaius' patients.
Since he's been sacked he realized that he missed doing chores for Arthur. Anything was better than simply laying around, doing nothing.
He could only spend too much time around Gaius before the old physician's patience with his clumsiness and sulkiness ran out and he found himself kicked out of the chambers to 'Do something, Merlin. I have to concentrate on this new healing potion for the King, and I can't do that with you fluttering around this place and breaking my phials and potts'.
Sometimes he'd take his bag with him and go out in the woods surrounding Camelot, gathering herbs for Gaius and practicing his magic.
But even his magic refused to obey him.
Ever since he's left Arth - no, the prince's service, his magic had started to surge up unexpectedly and make him even more clumsy than usual.
It refused to obey some of his commands, and when it decided to comply, it did altogether the opposite of what he wanted.
But the thing that bothered Merlin the most was the fact that he missed Arthur. He missed the prat and everytime he saw him prancing around the castle, or training the knights as if he was better off without the warlock..he'd feel a pang in his chest.
And bitterness.
This situation was terribly similar to another one, that happened not too much time ago.
Cedric.
It seemed like Arthur lost no opportunity to show Merlin how little he valued the warlock, always quick to kick him aside whenever he felt like it.
And to think that Merlin was willing to give his life for the ungrateful brat. It hurt more than it should have.
And Merlin was angry.
Sad.
But angry as well.
He felt like screaming at Arthur, telling him how stupid he was, if he thought he could survive his stupid quests and hunting trips, or whatever else he engaged on, without Merlin.
If it weren't for him, Arthur would be dead ten times over by now. If not more.
He felt like screaming at Gaius, telling him how he was wasting his life away, scrubbing at that stupid leech tank or gathering herbs, or delivering potions. But then he'd feel guilty. It wasn't Gaius' fault that he was so useless at everything..
He was bored, depressed and angry. Angry at everyone and everything. Angry at himself.
One morning, he was just returning with a bucked of water to warm it and take a bath, when he saw something that stopped him in his tracks.
Arthur was teaching Gwen how to fight.
He put the bucket down and watched Arthur's gentle adjustments of Gwen's fighting stance.
Gwen's laughter.
Arthur's twinkling eyes that could be seen even from a distance.
Arthur's careful movements, careful not to hurt Gwen.
His encouraging words.
Gwen's sure stance and firm grip on her sword.
He never pushed her, he never insulted her, he never hit her so hard, she'd have bruises even weeks later.
Unlike him.
He was teaching her. Truly teaching, not 'training', as if he really needed to train with a servant.
Gwen was a maiden and Arthur was making sure she could sit on a horse and do nothing – what he accused Merlin of doing – but that she could also join in the fight and not die, if she so desired.
Something he never did for Merlin, and yet expected Merlin to do. How dare a peasant boy from a small village not know how to fight with a sword.
As if Gwen hadn't already proved she could handle a sword. As if Gwen hadn't had a blacksmith for a father.
He could feel anger boiling in his veins.
Merlin knew he was being mean, he knew that Gwen was his friend, but he couldn't help it.
Gwen had barely spoken to him, lately. She had abandoned him, like everybody else, and to think that the other two traitors thought she had a crush on him.
Ha.
Maybe this was Arthur's work as well. Maybe Arthur told Guinevere what happened, - how Merlin had sat on a horse and done nothing, putting Arthur's precious life in danger, as if Arthur himself was in danger, not Merlin who was on the stupid horse, doing nothing, in the first place – and now Gwen was angry at Merlin. That he almost cost her her lover's life.
Ha.
Well, he never asked for Arthur to save him! He shouldn't have stepped in front of Merlin and parried the bandit's sword that would've surely detached his head from his body.
If Arthur was so done with Merlin's insubordination, impertinence and everything else about Merlin, he should've let him die and be done with it.
Because Merlin was done with Arthur as well.
He'd show him how useless he could be.
With clenched teeth, he picked up his bucket and went on his way, steps firm and determined.
Later that evening, after he'd completed the little chores Gaius gave him, Merlin went on a trip to the lower town, to pick up something nice for his mother.
He missed her lately, and he knew, from the last letter she sent, that she'd lost the single piece of jewelry she owned; an exquisite little carving of a merlin bird – he was sure his name came from it – finely carved and hanging from an old black leather strip that had turned soft with time.
Many times in his childhood he'd watched her gaze out their little window, longingly, while fingering the little carving at her neck.
Somehow, he never gathered the courage to ask her about it. He was sure it hat something to do with his father, and if at first he'd been very curious, over time he decieded it didn't matter.
His mother never spoke about his father, it was obvious how much it hurt her, so he decided to let it go.
He searched the merchants' stalls until he finally found it. It was a little - very little, in fact, it was almost minuscule – topaz dragon, wings outstretched as if in flight, and neck and head pointing up, as if to the sky.
It was charming but simple, and although gemstones were usually very expensive, this one was so small it wasn't that much.
And, damn it, Hunith deserved something from her only son. If Merlin was worthless at everything else, in everyone's opinion, he could at least be a good son for the woman who raised him, alone, with the burden of hiding his unruly magic.
He pocketed the little dragon, carefully and then searched for something to hang it on, when he was hit by a peculiar feeling.
Like being watched.
Merlin turned around, ignoring the merchant's scolding to make way for other clients.
He looked around the small stalls, trying to see who was staring at him. It was hard, seeing as it very crowded and Merlin felt a surge of irritation.
It someone had seen him buy the little gemstone, they should know that Merlin would rip their throat out before letting them steal it. It was for his mother!
He turned back to the stall and finally decided on a brown leather cord, thinking that it complimented the golden colour of the topaz.
He pocketed that as well and turned back towards his and Gaius' chambers, suspicion hanging heavily around him and a little voice in the back of his head which said that maybe it was something worse than a thief wanting to steal his new purchases.
It was his old paranoia, that someone had seen him practicing magic. He scolded himself for getting careless lately, doing magic in the open, in the forest outside the city.
But then, maybe he was only exaggerating.
Maybe it had been only his imagination and no one had been following him at all.
Suspicion aside..Merlin decided that everything was enough.
He had always managed to get right back up from where he'd been forced to the ground by the bullies in Ealdor, he wasn't going to let a bully of a prince wipe the floor with him anymore.
If Arthur wanted Merlin to know how to fight, but didn't want to teach him, that was fine.
Merlin will teach himself. Starting tomorrow.