Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin, dammit. *Sobs*. It belongs to BBC. And the songs used, and occasional quote belong to Disney and whoever wrote the script and lyrics.
Notes: A new chapter for you all. I hope you enjoy. The last chapter got away from me a bit, Merlin and Uther weren't really meant to know each other, but, as I didn't want Uther lusting after him as Frollo lusts after Esmeralda (not sure why... but hey ho) it works out as to why he wants Merlin so much I guess. You'll find out the story between them in a later chapter. I would have read through this but I am tired and can't be bothered. If there are mistakes, let me know.
In other news, I do have a twitter and I am going to use it to inform those who are interested on progress of stories/future story ideas/recommendations (as well as those pointless updates I do sometimes on the general crappiness of my life outside of writing) all most likely to be Merthur fics, although a few other fandoms (Sherlock, Naruto, Harry Potter mostly with the occasional Final Fantasy) may make an appearance on the rec list. If any of you would like to follow me, say so in a review or PM and I'll tell you the name to look up and tweet me to tell me who you are aha
Chapter three:
"I'm Phoebus. It means 'sun god.' And you are?"
"Is this an interrogation?"
"It's called an introduction." – Phoebus and Esmeralda
There was a moments of stillness. Of silence. Even Uther was frozen, in horror, in rage, in a mixture of emotions all angry and harsh and ugly. Arthur just stared at the spot Merlin had been standing, eyes cold as eyes and hard as diamonds. He was enthralling then as when he had been dancing lithely amongst the crowds alive with magic and wonder.
Then all hell broke loose.
His father was screaming for the gypsy's head, the soldiers were struggling into their formations as the crowd seemed to catch the fury and the panic zinging through the air and reacted. The Gypsies scattered like startled birds, flying in all and every direction, each was a burst of chaos and trouble. They sprang and darted and jeered and taunted. They slipped and slid, battled and tumbled and tricked. The soldiers were floundering embarrassingly, wading through the tide of panicking commoners, sorting out scuffles and arguments on the way, delays that were only worsened by the gypsies' skilful interference and prodding. Arthur watched this from his higher viewpoint upon his horse with a bitter twist of amusement and respect.
The gypsies knew these streets better then the soldiers, they knew the hidey-holes and the alleyways, they knew how to disappear and reappear moments later in a different part of town and they were running rings around the soldiers and the Parisians. They knew the triggers of men, how to enflame them, how to enrage them, how to make them stupid and blind. But Arthur was no basic knight with little real applicable knowledge, and barely honed battle skills. As his father screamed his condemnations, Arthur watched from the back, taking in the swirls of colour that was the gypsies, the brutish fights of the criminals taking advantage of the chaos and the bumbling of his soldiers. He searched for a sweep of dark hair and startling eyes.
From the display on their first meeting (if one could call it that) Arthur figured Merlin wasn't the type to leave his friends to fight a battle of his own making, and knew he would spot the enigmatic, childish man among the crowd at some point.
What he would do when he found the gypsy however, was another thing altogether.
"Looking for me, lads?" Arthur wrenched his eyes away from a heavily scarred man throwing exploding vials at the feet of his attackers, blinding them in an instant, to stare up at a low roof only a few feet away. Merlin sat rather casually there, a wicked grin on his face that made Arthur groin flare in desire before he squashed it down. Merlin was idly tossing a ball of what appeared to be flame, rolling it over his hands and fingers in a careless manner. "I really expected better from Paris's finest, attacking the innocent when the one you want is right in front of your faces." He tutted and shook his head. Did his eyes glance over in Arthur's direction? Or was that just Arthur's wishful thinking?
A whistle sounded from the left and Merlin jerked, obviously recognising the noise and reaching out a hand to grab whatever had been thrown – a cloak, Arthur surmised. Merlin, apparently oblivious to the fast approaching soldiers, shook out the fabric with the flair of a showman.
"I just suppose the practice of punishing the innocent still hasn't died out." He throws a contemptuous glare in the direction of Uther. "I'm not surprised." He turned his attention back to the advancing guard. "Do try to do your jobs properly," he grinned, before throwing the cloak around himself and vanishing beneath it, leaving only the whisper of fabric falling to the rooftop and settling.
"Seal off the area!" Arthur yelled at the shocked soldiers after gathering himself after the shameless display of tricks and illusions (for surely it could not be real magic..?). "Ignore his tricks, idiots, and seal off the area!" Arthur didn't mention the fact that he suspected where Merlin may have vanished to. The other gypsies had taken Merlin's reappearance as a cue of some sort, and where slowly, almost unnoticeably withdrawing from the square, melting down alleys and rat holes and slip ways, leaving only the soldiers and the commoners – both innocent and criminal – battling it out in the square.
Arthur glanced at his father who was glaring loathing into the roof. He wanted to ask. He wanted to know. What had happened between the two off them to invoke such blatant disrespect and antagonism? His father was cool headed, had to be to pass his judgement as fairly as he had always told Arthur he had. Who was this slight bird that made Uther lose his composure so quickly and easily?
Uther, as if sensing his sons' questioning gaze, turned. "Find him, Arthur," his father commanded in a tone of steel. "Bring him to me." There it was the cool detachedness that Arthur had come to associate with his fathers' 'judge' persona, but this had an underlying chill to it that made Arthur shudder.
"As you request, father," he conceded, although he was unsure as to whether he would or wait to hear Merlin's side first.
Kicking his horse in the flank, Arthur rode south out of the main square and towards the cathedral instead (only just missing the collapse of the stack ale barrels outside the tavern, tumbling across the square and mysteriously avoiding the commoners and crashing into soldier and the influx of squawking birds and mangy cats joining the din). The cathedral was a safe haven for all – a single claim of sanctuary could save you from the guards and grant protection. It was a guaranteed safety, unlike the kind found in holes and abandoned places. The Archdeacon was a good man, a man who truly followed the word of God and forgave all. He sheltered those who required it, he would make the trip to the palace of justice often to provide comfort for those who request him before their executions, and sometimes even to those who didn't. Arthur had fond memories of the man who was a close friend of his fathers' despite the often disagreements they had on all subjects relating to justice and the price of crime.
He slowed his horse as he approached, breathless as always at the beauty of the cathedral. Such a majestic creation in homage to their lord – beautiful and kingly, the pride of Paris. He would always hesitate as a child before entering and now he done the same – although for different reasons. He fought his Lords' war, but still he had killed – despite being in the name of God, it was listed as a sin and it caused hesitation. But then Arthur shook his head and climbed off his mount – trusting it not to wander – and stepped up to the great oak doors to slip inside.
Splendour assaulted his senses. After months on the battlefield with only blood and death and screams, this was a true paradise. The hymns and whispers of the prayers filled the vast chamber with a pleasantness that Arthur had missed and revelled in. Candles flickered throughout, the great stain glass windows casting colours across the walls. The noise from outside was all but blocked out. Only peace waited here.
He moved in silence through the church, sometimes catching a brief phrase of those prayers, a low murmur that he didn't understand before he continued. His keen eyes seek out the gypsy, flicking along the congregation and eyeing the shadows. He turned to the left at the end, and caught sight of him then, bathed in the light streaming in through the stain glass window, hand outstretched as if to touch the statue of the Virgin Mary. His face was at an angle, and Arthur recognises the sharp cheekbones and large ears. The expression on Merlin's face was questioning, curious. There was sadness there as well, Arthur thought as he stepped a little closer.
That, however, caught Merlin's attention and his head snapped around and his expression was dangerous. In the time it took for Arthur to raise his hand in surrender, Merlin had an iron, tall candle stick holder in his hand and was brandishing it threateningly. He appeared uneasy with the makeshift weapon, but determined; Merlin's eyes glanced around the room, conscious that he was preparing for a fight in a holy place, but ultimately undeterred should violence be needed.
"Easy there," Arthur said coaxingly, as if Merlin were a startled colt. He certainly had the gangly, awkward limbs of one.
Merlin paused, frowning. "I'm not a frightened animal, solider boy."
"No, you're a prize idiot, but I figured that wouldn't get you to stop the half-wild brandishing of that candlestick." Arthur glared at said item and Merlin smiled sweetly. "Which you should, you know. You could have someone's eyes out."
Merlin looked pensively down at his weapon and made a noise of agreement. "I really could." He glanced back up with a wicked gleam in his eye. "Got one you're less attached too?"
Arthur barely held back a snort. He had guts, this Merlin. But then he knew that from the very first time he saw him, standing up to a guard twice his size and much meaner. It's what interested him, what made it so he wasn't forcing the man out one of the side doors and delivering him up to his father, as he may have done a few days ago when his father's approval was more important when stupid banter with a gypsy whose eyes had him enraptured.
"I'd rather keep them both and have you put the candlestick down. The Archdeacon won't be too impressed."
Merlin shrugged, but Arthur noticed his grip loosened on the stick. "The deacon knows me."
"I'm not here to hurt you, Merlin." The use of his name startled the gypsy, pretty mouth falling open a little in a slightly gormless, but endearing way. Then he closed it with a snap and licked his lips absently. He didn't put down the candlestick but he was no standing tensely, a coil waiting to spring.
Those eyes skimmed over him, observing, searching, studying. Arthur didn't know what the man was looking for but hoped he would find it. Arthur tried not to shift under the scrutiny that seemed to last hours before Merlin quirked his lips a little.
"You're not like the others." He sounded surprised, pleasantly surprised and perhaps a little relieved. "I hope I don't regret believing you." He set the candlestick aside, adjusting the upset candles with practiced ease.
"Do that often?" Arthur asked and Merlin grinned a little sheepishly.
"I'm a little clumsy," he admitted and Arthur was not wholly surprised. "You know my name, soldier boy. What's yours?"
Arthur smiled at him then. "Arthur, it means bear-king."
Merlin shook his head. "You flatter yourself. A bear has far more intelligence."
Arthur's smile didn't fade and he stepped forward towards the gypsy, who eyed him a little warily but otherwise allowed it. "But much less charm."
"Less arrogance too, probably."
"Have you ever seen a bear?"
There was a silence before Merlin bit out: "Have you?"
Arthur laughed, nodding his head. "Fair play, gypsy." Somehow the word didn't seem like an insult but then, it wasn't meant to be.
Merlin tilted his head slightly, looking up at the solider with gentle mirth in his eyes and seeing a likeness in reflection. He opened his mouth to retaliate when the cathedral doors burst open: Uther was framed by the sun outside, himself cast in shadow, and flanked by half a dozen soldiers. Arthur leapt away from Merlin shock and the gypsy himself had tensed.
"Well done, my son," Uther boomed and Merlin further retreated, a betrayed expression on his face even as Arthur turned to him with pleading eyes. "Now arrest him."
Arthur didn't turn back to his father, but stared at Merlin's expression, one that twisted into ugly anger. "You tricked me," the gypsy hissed and Arthur swore he could hear the crackle of magic behind it. Arthur knew that he couldn't let his father get his hands on this particular gypsy. He cared not if this was just another of the mans' tricks or magics, he couldn't let this man be swept up by his father, imprisoned and most likely killed.
Not his gypsy.
"Claim sanctuary." It was a whisper so quiet Arthur almost thought he had said it only in his head. Merlin's expression faltered but didn't soften.
"Say it!"
"Arthur, I'm waiting." The impatient call of an impatient man. Arthur flinched a little, gritted his teeth and hardened his expression.
"I can't, father, he claimed sanctuary." He had never lied to his father before. "There's nothing I can do." He didn't dare snatch a glance behind him, to see Merlin's expression.
Uther practically snarled, marching forward, finger pointing and swinging in the direction of the door. "Then drag him outside–"
"You won't touch him, Uther." Gaius, the aged Archdeacon and well-loved figure of Paris society in all classes, slipped in, coming to stand beside Merlin, a protective hand on the boys' shoulder. Arthur, back to the gypsy, missed the expression of genuine relief and affection, which was probably a good thing because it would only have made his heart ache. "I thought you had learnt years ago to respect the sanctity of the church." His voice was reproving in only the way Gaius could produce.
A dirty trick, playing his father off against his religion but it worked. Visibly Uther backed down, glaring at the clergyman before ducking his head. His eyes were still ablaze however as he answered: "My apologies, old friend."
A quick nod to the soldiers had them filtering out of the church, and a meaningful glance had Arthur trailing after them, sneaking a glance over his shoulder. Merlin had turned then, talking to the Archdeacon but Gaius noted the blonds attention with interest before turning his full attention to the waif in front of him, missing Uthers' detour from the group and behind a pillar.
Merlin thanked his friend profusely before being waved away to 'think on his stupidity.' Merlin smiled fondly at the man who had become a father in recent years. The man didn't know that Merlin stunt was due to his bored probing through the clergy mans' office and coming across some startling papers on just what had happened to his parents.
The man didn't need to know.
His breath escaped him in a surprised whoosh as his arm was twisted up behind his back painfully and his other was pinned by his attackers' arm, the hand of which was wrapped around his throat – tight enough to hurt but not enough truly restricted his breathing.
"You think you've outwitted me, witch," Uther snarled into his ear. "But I can wait; your petty tricks won't work here." Those fingers flexed threateningly and Merlin choked and gagged. "Your prison is beautiful, but it is still a prison. One step outside and you're mine." And with that, Uther cast Merlin aside forcefully, practically throwing the boy to the floor with a sneer before sweeping out the church.
"You think you've outwitted me, but I am a patient man, and gypsies don't do well inside stone walls." - Frollo
Again not too sure on this part. Oh well. I'll probably rewrite the whole story at some point anyway aha. Below is just a repeat of what was said in the above A/N
"In other news, I do have a twitter and I am going to use it to inform those who are interested on progress of stories/future story ideas/recommendations (as well as those pointless updates I do sometimes on the general crappiness of my life outside of writing) all most likely to be Merthur fics, although a few other fandoms (Sherlock, Naruto, Harry Potter mostly with the occasional Final Fantasy) may make an appearance on the rec list. If any of you would like to follow me, say so in a review or PM and I'll tell you the name to look up and tweet me to tell me who you are aha "