To those not interested in excuses/apologies/etc feel free to skip this note, I won't mind. You might want to read the end one though.
To those who are: I'm really sorry this has taken so long. I knew September would be busy with work and religious commitments, plus planning my parent's anniversary dinner (Happy 40th Mom & Dad!) but I what I did not expect was to have to deal with all that on top of the worst cold/sinus/upper respiratory infection ever! Seriously, I coughed for two weeks! Then, just when I thought things were settling, I was blindsided by the loss of a friend that, although I'd only known them a few months, I completely adored. I have complete faith that his family (wife and granddaughters - also the best people you'll ever meet) will be cared for and that we will all see him again soon, but his death hit me hard and kind of killed any motivation to write for a while. As such I don't know how good this chapter is, but hopefully it's at least sort of worth the wait. I like the end part at least. Which I know is a little odd but the chapter was already long and it's seemed like a good place to jump to Arthur's POV in the next one.
So anyway, now that I've totally skewed the word count of this chapter, onwards:
Summary: Life attempts to go on in Camelot leading to a variation of events from S3 Ep 4 though sadly the title character from that episode will not be making an appearance. I don't own any dialogue that may have slipped in from that episode.
"Arthur you haven't slept the last two nights, you're going to collapse if you keep pushing like this. At least take a nap."
"I can't nap Merlin, I have duties. Leon's patrol will be back in less than an hour and then I'll have training. Did you sharpen my sword like I told you to?"
"And your back up sword, and your daggers, and your training mace - no wait I dulled that one, it hurts." He shrugged at the look Arthur gave him. "I couldn't sleep either."
"Well…" the prince floundered briefly, "good. Then while I'm with the knights, you can stay here and pack my gear for a hunt."
"All this going on and you want to go hunting?" Merlin very nearly whined.
Ignoring his distress Arthur slapped him on the back. "It'll be good, you'll see. Neither of us has been out in weeks, and with the melee coming if we don't go now we'll be stuck for that much longer. We need a break."
Translation: I'm going to be expected to bash twenty other knights in the head to prove everything's hunky dory in the kingdom and the only way I can face that is to vent my frustrations on helpless animals.
Merlin bit back a sigh and changed the subject.
"How did you convince Sir Leon to help you warn off the druid communities anyway? I would have thought he'd…"
"The druids saved Leon's life once," Arthur answered shortly. "He's been...sympathetic, to them ever since."
"Really? When was this?"
"Before you got here. Look you'll have to ask him, it's not a story I should know."
"Then how do you?"
Arthur shot him a look that said drop it or else and Merlin bit his tongue in frustration.
There had been more than a week of these rapid changes in behavior (mood swings really but Arthur would kill him if he called them that out loud) and they were getting ridiculous. Arthur alternated between sharp orders one minute and cautious requests the next, as if he couldn't be sure Merlin wouldn't snap at any moment. It was a strange position to be in, made even worse by the fact that he knew now that his facade had cracked - and Arthur was too stubborn not to keep poking despite his worry - it was only a matter of time before there would be good reason for both of them to be wary, if not outright afraid of each other.
No that wasn't really true, he wouldn't be afraid of Arthur. Hurt if the other man rejected him yes, if nothing else because despite Arthur's protests they were friends, but the prince wouldn't deliberately cause him harm. He wouldn't think he could risk it, and that thought hurt almost more than anything else.
Misinterpreting his expression, Arthur's own softened slightly. "Did you give Morgana my message?" he asked.
"Mmhmm, she said, and I quote, "Gwen and I are capable of handling anything that (insert several unflattering names I will not repeat here) gets it into his head to do."
"Guinevere knows now?" Well points to the prat for seeing past the insult.
"Morgana acted like she knows we're trying to make sure innocent people stop getting harmed by the kin- whoever might harm them. I don't know if," on instinct he glanced at the door, lowering his voice, "if she knows about Morgana having magic."
He had to give Arthur credit, he barely flinched at the word and, although Merlin could see a flicker of unease in his eyes, it was more likely to be concern for the safety of his love, not Morgana's actions.
Truth be told Merlin was a little worried himself. As servants both Gwen and himself were the most vulnerable if something went wrong. But at least he had a back-up way of protecting himself, one he knew for a fact she didn't.
He couldn't dwell on that right now though, not when there were more immediate concerns.
"On that subject, has your father said anything more about...his plan from the other night?"
"Not to me. And not to the council. But I don't expect that to mean he's forgotten about it. If Morgana's headache hadn't interrupted, who's to say how that conversation would have ended. Now I worry about leaving the two of them alone."
"Gwen will manage."
Arthur hummed in acknowledgement, but the way his fingers drummed relentlessly on the desk belied his attempt at calm. "Do druids run on a hierarchy?"
Merlin blinked at the change of subject. "You mean do they have a king?"
"King, prophet, doesn't matter. Just anyone the model themselves after?"
Oh if you only knew…
But he couldn't exactly reveal all that yet. Arthur wasn't ready for the "you're the king who unites Albion and allows magic to reign free once again" talk, and frankly Merlin wasn't sure he could explain it all even if he wanted to. Better to stick with what he did know.
"Their clans tend to be nomadic, separate from one another. I think each clan has a chief or leader of sorts, but more for organizational purposes than command for command's sake. Why do you ask?"
"I was hoping that if there was a head chief or some such person, and if their clan could be located, then maybe, someday, he or she might be willing to come meet with me. Do you think that's possible?"
Merlin thought it over. "You'd have to be careful in how you suggested the meeting. They'd be unlikely to risk coming if knights were sent to fetch them, even if it was clear you were requesting not ordering."
"What if you went then?"
Unuh no, bad idea!
"No! Um...that is, I don't think they'd take me as an impartial judge. I've been your servant for a long time, they might think me too easily convinced that what you're offering is sincere and not a cover for some plot."
On the face of it, that was a perfectly plausible explanation but Arthur didn't appear to be buying it. He didn't push though, instead commenting, "You think the only way they'd believe me is if I went to them myself."
"I think it would be a good show of faith on both your parts."
"Yeah. Unfortunately faith is all it will be for as long as my father reigns. I wonder if I should even try until then. There's nothing a can offer them besides promises. Ones I can't imagine they would believe worth anything."
"Depends on what those promises are. They want peace more than anything Arthur. Promise them that's you want. Promise them hope, and that you'll do your best to make things right even if you don't yet know how, and they'll listen." He flicked his eyes up to meet Arthur's, watching him intently. "They'll wait. However long it takes."
"If he's open to discussing matters with the druids then you should be pleased. It won't do for him to become king without any idea of what kind of king he's meant to be."
"And therein lies the problem. What I do if one of the druids mentions the prophecy? Or god forbid, mentions my role in it. 'I'm sorry Prince Arthur but you're not going to find our leader living with any clan. You want an alliance, talk to the man who's been keeping you fed, clothed and bathed the last three years.'" Merlin wrinkled his nose at how domestic that sounded. Was he Arthur's servant or his mother?
Gaius, calm as always when faced with his ward's sarcasm merely said. "He's going to have to learn of your magic sooner or later."
"My magic by itself isn't the concern anymore. I don't want him to learn of it and then be told I've been using it for him all along because of what I think it'll get me in the future. He's had enough people using him to get what they want. Enough people holding him to their expectations of what he should be."
"Merlin if it is who he's destined to be…"
"Gaius, when Kilgharrah told me of this destiny we share I hated even the thought of it. I didn't want to be stuck working with an egotistical, overbearing, magic hating prince with the idea that if I saved his life enough times maybe he'd change. It scared me. It still scares me, but it's worth it now. He's worth it now. I care for him, and I respect him, and I want him to be the Once and Future King, but I want him to be the one to choose it as I have. Because it's right and because it's the kind of king he wants to be. If he thinks he's being forced or manipulated, that won't happen. But I-"
"What is it?"
Merlin rubbed a hand over his face. "My patience is slipping too much. I'm trying so hard not to just spill it out the whole truth from beginning to end every time he asks a question. I know he can't take it all at once, but I want to tell him so badly. And he doesn't help what with constantly watching me out of the corner of his eye, or now he's started casually throwing out suggestions or theories, and then staring me down until I tell him what I think of them. I don't want to give him too specific of an answer, because I'm trying not to be ecstatic that he's even talking about this, and I don't want to influence him too much, but he has to go and look so...disappointed when I don't. But then on other things when I do give him advice, or venture an opinion, he ignores me. How am I supposed to guide someone who begs for the truth and then dismisses it?"
Gaius put a comforting arm around his shoulders. "I'm afraid I don't have an answer my boy. Except that no problem was ever solved by overthinking it. Try to put it aside for today and enjoy your time out."
"I will never enjoy hunting."
"Perhaps not. But Arthur's right in saying you've been cooped up inside for to long. A walk in the woods might be just the thing to clear your head."
Nice thought Gaius, but with the brisk pace Arthur was setting the only part of Merlin's body getting cleared was his lungs.
At least given that they could only be gone a few hours Arthur didn't feel the need to bring along a whole arsenal, or even camping gear, so Merlin had a comparatively light load to carry. Just a crossbow, hunting knife which he'd tucked in his belt, and a coil of rope to secure whatever kills they made.
"So. You have a strategy for the melee?" he asked after a while. Mostly to keep his mind off Arthur's ever mounting trail of carnage. It was getting disturbing and he really needed a gauge of the prince's mindset.
"Same one I always have." Short answer. Not helpful.
"Think it'll work?"
"Have you ever seen it not?" Arrogance in full swing. So the hunt's lifted his ego if not his spirits.
"Anyone in particular giving you cause for concern?"
"Yes."
"Who?" Maybe this will…
"The person who doesn't seem to realize I'm holding a loaded weapon, and that if he doesn't stop his incessant prattling he's going to get a demonstration of just how effective my strategy can be." Arthur smiled over his shoulder at him. "You want to take a guess as to who that might be?"
..nope never mind. Merlin sighed. "You really need a better way to release your aggression."
"Melee isn't for five more days, I'm afraid you're all I've got until then."
"Ah so you admit it's not a test of strength and courage after all. Just an excuse to bash other people to pieces with blunt weapons and call it honorable combat."
Arthur stopped walking so suddenly Merlin nearly barreled into the back of him. "Look, I might be disagreeing with my father about more and more things, but in this I firmly believe him to be right. The knights need a break, and the camaraderie that comes with competing. And Camelot needs to do something to show the other kingdoms our strength hasn't been compromised. That they don't have to withhold the trade resources we need in the fear of turning the rage of our enemies upon themselves."
"Even if what you're showing them is just that - a show?"
"If it's all we've got, yes. If putting up a front is the only protection we can give the people then at the very least we can make it distracting enough that they don't notice it's all an illusion."
The words struck home in a way Arthur may not have intended them to. Regardless Merlin had to turn away before the tears beginning to prickle behind his eyes made their way to the surface. Arthur would either treat them with ridicule or compassion, neither one of which was needed right now.
Woods. Focus on the woods.
Looking back it would seem obvious, but if he hadn't needed a distraction so badly who knows how long it would have taken to spot the knight lying in a heap at the base of a tree not forty feet from them.
Smacking the prince's arm to get his attention Merlin was off and running before Arthur could so much as yell. Stumbling a little in his haste, he reached the man's side in the blink of an eye and carefully lifted his limp arm.
After several seconds he let out a relieved breath. "He's alive," he said just as Arthur approached from the other side.
"Good. And you very easily might not have been." The prince swept their surroundings with a trained eye. "Next time look around before you just run off like that."
Had he been paying attention Merlin might have noticed the concern just under the surface of Arthur's words. As it was he ignored the scolding and directed the prince in how to grip the injured man. "Here, help me turn him over. Mind his head."
Between the two of them they got the knight settled carefully on his back. He made a choked noise and Merlin reached to open his collar. Just as he began loosening the laces, the man jerked upright, flinging out an arm which caught him square in the chest and knocked him on his rear.
"Whoa easy there!" Arthur, who's faster reflexes Merlin most definitely did not envy, caught the flailing limb sent his direction and locked it against the struggling stranger's side, pinning him down. "We're trying to help you."
"Who are you?"
"I'm Prince Arthur of Camelot. This is Merlin, my manservant."
The stranger settled a little at his words and Merlin retook his place at his side. "Can you tell us your name? What you we're doing on the road?" He asked. There was blood on the man's forehead and one pupil was larger than the other, which Gaius often noted as a sign of head injury. A person's motor function and memories were easily affected by such a wound.
The knight appeared irritated at being questioned by a servant and answered in a haughty voice. "I'm Sir Oswald. I accepted Camelot's invitation to the upcoming tournament along with my companion Sir Ethan." He looked around for the first time. "Where is he? We got separated."
"We've seen no one else." Arthur answered. "There have been no reports of conflict in this area, what happened?"
"We stopped for a rest, us two knights and Sir Ethan's servant, maybe half a day's journey from the city. Men came out of nowhere. We'd had no indication we were being followed and they made no demands before attacking. I'd defeated three, maybe four of them when I realized they'd been leading me away from our camp. I tried to get back but before I reached the others I got caught from behind. How I ended up here…" Sir Oswald patted at his belt before frowning painfully over his shoulder. "They took my money and didn't take my sword?"
Merlin followed his gaze and saw his confusion was warranted. The knight's blade lay uncovered a short distance away. Arthur saw as well and moved to retrieve it. "Don't question, just be grateful," he said as he handed the sword back to the knight who sheathed it carefully. "It's well made."
"Thank you, it was my father's finest, rarely ever used. Pity no one will get to feel it's full impact."
"I thought the idea was to avoid injury?" Merlin couldn't help but mutter. Arthur rolled his eyes but ignored him. Sir Oswald on the other hand looked at him coldly.
"Like you could ever hope to understand. What do you know of a knight's honor boy?"
"Quite a bit actually," Merlin replied not heeding Arthur's warning look to drop it. "What I know even more about though, is that if we don't get you to my uncle soon you're bound to collapse again."
"What's your uncle got to do with this?"
"Oh nothing much, he's just the court physician."
The knight blinked at him. "Oh... er, right."
Merlin hid a humorless laugh while he gathered their supplies and Arthur helped the knight to his feet. Gaius title was meaningless, a fact any thinking nobleman would know. And even if it wasn't, without a formal declaration of succession, his niece's son would receive no benefit from his rank. Clearly this knight had more in the brawn than brain department.
This was going to be a long tournament.
"You were extremely lucky," was Gaius conclusion of his examination. "I don't see any signs of damage to your skull or the joints of your neck. But even still I don't think you should compete."
"Don't be ridiculous! Um, I mean thank you physician but I must. It's what I came here to do and I owe it to Sir Ethan."
Gaius reply was cut off by Arthur entering the room.
"Sir Oswald. How are you feeling?"
"Fighting fit Your Highness."
Gaius coughed and the prince glanced his direction.
"Is that your opinion as well Gaius?"
"Forgive an old man his caution my lord, but I've seen far too many cases of head injuries in which the victim feels perfectly fine one minute and is in critical condition the next. If Sir Oswald is to compete he must take extra caution to avoid any jarring movements of his head or neck and absolutely no impacts to those areas."
"Duly noted. Sir Oswald you can join us for morning exercises but you're on strict watch and I want you to check in with Gaius between each round up until it's time for the melee to begin."
"Your Highness, I assure you there is no cause for the physician's worry."
"Then you need have no fear in giving your best in competing. I'll expect a challenge in the ring."
The knight's eyes darkened almost imperceptibly. "You'll get one I promise you."
"One other thing, Camelot's resources are unfortunately limited but I've assigned a patrol to see what information can be gathered about your attackers, and to try to discover what may have happened to Sir Ethan."
A look of irritation flashed across Sir Oswald's face so quickly Merlin barely caught it. He answered respectfully however. "I'm grateful sire. Now if I'm through being poked and prodded, I would like to retire to my room and prepare for the competition."
Arthur laughed. "That's the spirit. Merlin, see to it a place is found for Sir Oswald. Whatever necessities he requires are to be provided without question."
"Yes sire. If you'll follow me please."
Sir Oswald must have frequented Camelot in the past. Or else the man just didn't understand the meaning of the word "follow". Merlin spent the trip to the knights quarters trying not to ram into any of the numerous squires and servants that had begun pouring into the citadel, all the while trying to keep an eye on his charge who seemed to take every accidental jostling as a personal offense.
Halfway there he spotted Morgana fighting her way through the hustle and bustle in the opposite direction. She met his eyes then immediately looked away. No surprise there. He was prepared for her to pass by without comment, as she had every other time they encountered each other. Her steps slowed to a halt however, gaze fixed on his companion. Sir Oswald didn't notice her, (which was odd, who didn't notice Morgana?), but Merlin decided it was probably a good thing given the flash of cold fear that built in her eyes the longer she watched him.
Merlin would have given anything to stop and ask what was frightening her but at that moment Sir Oswald broke through the bulk of the crowd and he had rush to catch up with him.
Two grueling hours later he finally managed to escape the man's clutches. Honestly Arthur could go an entire week without equaling half of Sir Oswald's complaints. Nothing was right about his room, from the temperature to furniture arrangements. The first Merlin could do nothing about (safely), and his muscles were crying out for a hot bath due to his attempts to fix the other intolerabilities. "Necessity" was another word the knight needed to learn the definition of.
Grumbling, he trudged to the door of Arthur's chamber only to experience an intense moment of deja vu when a hand reached out to grab his wrist and drag him back into one of the many alcoves along the castle's inner hallways.
"Who is that man?" Morgana hissed at him.
Unexpectedly pressed into a confined space with the king's ward, who went out of her way to avoid him at every opportunity, it took him a few seconds to find his voice. "His name is Sir Oswald, and he making Arthur out to be a saint by comparison. We found him when we were out hunting. He and another knight were on their way here for the melee and got attacked by bandits."
He repeated the details to her as best he could remember.
"You don't sound as though you believe him." Morgana observed. She sounded almost eager for that to be true. He answered cautiously.
"His head wound is consistent with an attack from behind-"
"Spare me the medical evaluation. Do you believe he's who he says he is?"
"Do you.. I can't...something doesn't feel right about his story but I have no way of saying if it's him that's the issue. And as for who he really is…" He shrugged helplessly. "Arthur recognized his name, says he's competed here before, but I've never met him."
"Oswald, Oswald," Morgana's brows pinched in thought. "I've met him, I'm sure of it. He was always thoughtful and kind, really stood out from the others. But this man...
"You think he's an impostor." Impostor? Of all things why was that his assumption? She seemed to have hit on the same thought though.
"I think...yes. He looks the same as before but...it feels like an illusion," she looked away. "It's just a feeling I've had since the other knights started arriving. I can't even explain why I'm thinking it."
"I doesn't matter how you got your suspicions." And really it didn't. If Morgana was willing to mention a danger - and to him of all people - Merlin wasn't about to ignore it or pick apart her reasons for doing so. "Do you believe Camelot is in danger?"
She stared at him hard, as if trying to detect a falseness in his words. Finally accepting he was sincere in his belief of her she nodded. "Camelot in general or just Arthur I don't know, but whatever his reason, whatever he's planning, it's cunning. I think… whatever power he's using, he came here prepared. He's not going to be easy to defeat."
Nothing new there then. "Still thank you. At least with your warning we have eyes on the problem ahead of time. We have a better chance of stopping him before he puts whatever plan he has into being."
"You'll warn Arthur then?"
"Unless you want to yourself."
A shadow passed over her face - the memory of years worth of warnings being met with patronizing and ridicule if Merlin could guess.
"No," she finally answered. "No, there's a better chance he'll listen to you. And if he doesn't, and the attack comes, you have a better chance of being on the spot and doing something to stop it."
He gave her a surprised look.
"Oh don't be like that. I know the only reason Arthur survives half the time is because you're around to bail him out. He doesn't really deserve it you know. Not with how he treats you."
"Well...let's just say I have that on my list of things I hope will change one day."
"I don't care! Nothing he's done the last three days has been anything outside the norm for a man in his situation. Even Gaius had to admit he's had a remarkable recovery."
"Did you hear about the strange crystal he's wearing?"
"Yes and Sir Oswald said it's a family heirloom. Strange yes, but he's not the first superstitious knight I've met. You don't have any personal knowledge of him as basis for your claims. At this point it's just your word against a knight's, and that won't hold Merlin."
"Would Morgana's?" Merlin snapped back. That 'one day' was clearly a lot further off than he'd thought. This latest argument had been going round and round for what felt like hours. The more reasons he gave to support his accusation, the more the prince dug in his heels.
Arthur drew up sharply at his words, casting a glance at Sir Leon who'd been standing just inside the door, very carefully not interrupting the two of them.
"What does Morgana have to say?"
"Apparently you're not the only one who's made prior acquaintance with Sir Oswald. She spent an hour with him yesterday regaling all their prior interactions, and he expressed delight at every memory she brought up."
"What's wrong about that?"
"Two thirds of the things she 'remembered' were complete nonsense. They never happened, and they never would happen. And don't say he was just too polite to correct her, it would've been far better for her dignity if he had."
"If I may sire?" Sir Leon interjected. "I can confirm what Merlin's saying about this. The Lady Morgana's reminisces would have provoked any true knight to refute her claim. Sir Oswald just laughed."
Merlin arched an eyebrow in a 'see?' fashion which Arthur, despite the look of alarm building on his face, still argued with. "That's not conclusive proof."
Merlin leaned in close and lowered his voice. "Maybe she's too worried you'll condemn the source of it to give you her conclusive proof."
The look Arthur gave him could've melted steel, and he was grateful to Sir Leon for choosing that moment to tactfully shift the tone of the conversation.
"Sire, proof or not should we not at least consider what other motive for being here he might have."
A snort escaped Merlin. "Motive is easy, he wants to kill you."
It was Arthur's turn to snort. "If he wanted to kill me why didn't he attack when we first found him. I was completely off guard, I didn't even have my sword drawn."
"His head wound was actually legitimate, and he was probably still dealing with disorientation from whatever means he's using to alter his appearance. Besides I was there."
Sir Leon gave an amused grin at that comment, although his smile quickly faded when faced Arthur didn't join in. An uncomfortable silence lingered for a few moments before the knight finally broke it.
"Merlin how can you be sure it's Arthur he's after?"
He met the other man's gaze evenly. "Because this happens every time there's a tournament."
"Not every time," Arthur scoffed. Merlin turned the look on him. "You can't be serious."
"There have been nine tournaments in the three and a half years I've been here. You've nearly died in seven of them. Including the one no one knew you were a part of."
Leon's brows pinched together. "Which one was that?" At least he was taking this seriously now.
"Not important." Arthur told his knight. Merlin watched the prince think hard before finally acquiescing partially, "Look, everything gets underway tomorrow. I'll be surrounded by knights, guards and palace attendants almost 24 hours a day for the next three days. If he tries to make a move on me he will have a lot of other people he'll have to get through first."
"People he'll have to try to get through first," Sir Leon muttered.
"That's tomorrow," Merlin reminded them, not at all reassured by the 'I'm humoring you' look on the prince's face. "What happens until then?"
"Well you've been so attentive to him since he got here, I'm sure he'd find it odd if you disappeared on him now. Go on, don't let him out of your sight."
Sir Leon tensed. "Arthur you're not going to let him face this man alone?"
"Why not? You can handle keeping me safe, can't you Merlin?"
Clamping his teeth down hard on an already aching tongue - this conversation being a prime example of everything he'd been telling Gaius the other day - Merlin matched Arthur's fake smile. "Thank you for your concern Sir Leon but I'll be fine. I'll just say goodnight then if I may sire." He sketched a bow and was out the door but not without missing the wince on the knight's face at his tone.
What he did miss was the questioning look Arthur received after he'd left, and the protectiveness on the prince's face as he nodded in return and gestured for Leon to go following after him. As things would turn out he was very grateful the knight obeyed without hesitation.
Oswald - for whatever his occupation, Merlin refused to acknowledge him as a defender of Camelot - wasn't in his room when Merlin arrived. The chambermaid changing the bed linens mentioned he hadn't been seen since lunch.
Worry mounting with his every step he raced back through the palace, checking all the places a visiting knight was likely to be and some of the places they weren't. Finally he poked his head in the main armory. No sign of the man but his sword was in its proper place along the wall a fact that made him breathe a little easier. Except, now that he thought about it, even the man's sword didn't ring true.
Pinching his nose he let out a groan. Maybe he was overtired, maybe it was Morgana rubbing off on him but he needed a clear head if was going to stop whatever the true plan was. Only question was, what was that plan? Standing here doing nothing is pointless, pick up the stupid thing and find out before you go mad!
Spotting no one in his quick glance around, he slipped into the room and lifted the sword from its resting place, running a critical eye over it.
The weight was alright, balance.. off for him but for someone with shorter arms it was probably fine. The blade looked like it always had, the same as all the others that had been prepared for the melee. A frown tugged at his brow.
All of those swords had been blunted after the knights had arrived in Camelot. He'd done Arthur's just this afternoon. Why had Oswald brought his like that from the start? If the man was an impostor surely he wasn't going to march into enemy territory with only a blunted weapon at his side. Unless the sword was just a front and his true weapon was something else? Well there was one way to find out.
Grasping the hilt in both hands he held it out directly in front of him and closed his eyes calling on his magic to help him focus. It screamed a warning seconds before he felt the blade being ripped from his hand, leaving a sizable dent in the process if the pain in his left palm was any indication.
Blinking through involuntary tears he opened his eyes to see the twisted face of the sword's owner sneering at him.
"You have a lot of nerve for a serving boy. I can't imagine Camelot takes kindly to thieves."
"It doesn't take kindly to impostors and assassins either."
"Oh is that what I am? And how long did it take you to figure that out? Don't think I haven't seen you watching me. You and that fancy little flirt the king keeps as decor for his court. I know you suspect me. I also know if you had any real proof your prince would be the one threatening me."
The man paused, his head to one side."Maybe I should let you try to convince him you're right. I like fair play. You can tell him all your suspicions. Despite his numerous flaws, Arthur Pendragon is no fool. A woman and a peasant," he laughed darkly, "nothing you say will hold any weight with him. Well go on, I won't stop you. Or do you want to have a go at me yourself. Think I'll confess to spare myself the agony of your torment?"
He stepped closer and tapped the tip of the sword against Merlin's bloody hand. "I assure you that's just a taste of what this blade can do. Do I need to give you another?"
"Merlin there you are! Arthur's had me looking everywhere for you."
Sir Leon, you are a godsend.
"You might want to tell the prince to get someone else." Oswald laughed, hastily backing away as the knight entered and cleaning the sword off. "Relying on this boy, the only thing he's going to find is defeat."
Leon ignored him, his eyes fixed on the red leaking from Merlin's clenched fist. The other man followed his look.
"Ah there's my point being made for me. Only an complete ignoramus could manage to cut himself on a dull sword."
Leon took up a casual yet protective stance at the warlock's shoulder. "What are you doing in here Merlin?" He asked.
Pushing down his rage Merlin managed a falsely bright tone. "Arthur wanted me to see to it everything was in order here so there would be no delay in the competitors equipping themselves in the morning. I though Sir Oswald's sword needed a polish."
Everything from his eyes to his posture probably screamed blatant liar but Leon accepted his explanation and pushed his way in between him and Sir Oswald, taking the sword from the later as he did so. He paused briefly in placing it back on the rack with the other swords then turned around and wrapped a hand - comforting or restraining Merlin couldn't tell - around the servant's arm.
"It's late. Return to your chamber Sir Oswald. Prince Arthur won't take kindly to anyone who's late for their assignment tomorrow."
"What about him?" the man with Oswald's face protested.
"I'll see to it he gets where he's supposed to be without anyone interfering with him. Or him interfering with anyone."
Merlin's cheeks burned as the charlatan knight chuckled, all traces of malevolence gone from his demeanor.
"Good man. As a thank you I promise to not beat you with one blow tomorrow." Still laughing he strode confidently from the room.
Merlin's attempt to follow was stopped short by Sir Leon's tightened grip on his arm. The other man held a warning finger to his lips when the warlock turned to protest. He was quiet a minute or two, listening intently, before dragging Merlin out into the corridor with him.
There was no sign of anyone lingering and Sir Leon finally slackened his grip. "Come with me," was all he said. In a tone that men more stubborn than Merlin had been forced to obey. Reluctantly he moved to keep pace with the knight.
"Where exactly are you taking me?" he asked after they'd gone a shot distance. "Both Arthur's and Gaius' chambers are the other way."
Leon gave him a sidelong glance. "Is your cut bad enough to need stitching?"
Merlin opened his fist enough to study the split skin. "No, I don't think so."
"Then Gaius can wait."
Still retaining a hold on his jacket, Leon led him down several twisting hallways toward the wing containing the senior knights chambers. Merlin remembered Arthur saying once that a select few were allotted their own living spaces apart from the barracks. When one of those knight's died, retired to their own home, or were recalled to their lord's lands, then another with enough years of service or one who had earned a special privilege, would take their place. Leon was one of the youngest ever to occupy his own room.
The chamber was certainly nothing glamorous but it was warm, would have plenty of light even well into the evening and, Merlin observed with some amusement, was nearly as messy as Arthur's got when Merlin didn't stay on top of it.
The curly haired knight pushed him, not ungently, down onto the only chair that wasn't piled high with papers and pieces of weaponry, and turned to dig in a cupboard. Looking around Merlin couldn't help some surprise at what a contrast the room was to the impeccably neat and methodical individual he saw day to day. He wondered what else he didn't know about Arthur's best knight.
Long minutes of fumbling noises and muffled exclamations later, and Sir Leon emerged triumphantly with a roll of bandages and a small jar. Pouring some water into a bowl, he came around and sat on the end of his bed opposite Merlin.
"Thought you said it could wait," Merlin protested as Leon claimed his hand and began wiping it clean with a soft cloth.
"I said you didn't need to go to Gaius. I need to talk to you, but there's no need to let you bleed all over everything while that happens."
Merlin frowned at that statement and tried not to squirm as Leon finished cleaning and spread a noxious ointment on his cut. He recognized the smell as that of herbs used to prevent infection, and was both impressed and thankful for the added level of care. That didn't stop him from reaching for the bandages for himself when the time came to wrap it however, nor from protesting when Leon smacked his hand away.
"I am fully capable of bandaging my own wounds."
"I'm sure," Leon agreed, tying the last knot. "There. Not the highest standard but it'll do."
Merlin rubbed at the bandage absently, not looking at him. "Thanks."
"Good, there's one. I do believe you owe me a second."
"How much did you hear?"
"Enough. After this tournament is over I'm going to insist Arthur give you actual training not just treat you like a punching bag."
"Thanks, but what good will that do exactly?"
"Keep you from getting trounced the next time you stick your nose where most would say it doesn't belong. You're smart Merlin, and I know you can talk yourself out of a lot of things, but words don't stop a sword from piercing your chest. You need a skill you can rely on."
It took all of his self control to keep from laughing outright at that. What would the knight think if he told him exactly what skills he had at his disposal? Still the older man meant well, and Merlin was sensible to the possible ridicule he was opening himself up for in sticking up for a servant, no matter how untypical the situation. Keeping his gaze down he nodded in understanding.
"I am grateful for your help," he said.
"I know you are." Leaning over, Leon pushed his shoulder in a friendly way. "This will work out. And in the meantime, at least it's your left hand ay?"
Merlin jolted his head up, startling the other man back.
"What is it?"
"Left hand!" He exclaimed, waving his own for emphasis.
"I beg your pardon?"
"Sir Oswald - the real Sir Oswald - is left handed. I remember reading it in the dossier on the entrants. I like to know what Arthur's going to be facing," he added at Leon's raised eyebrow.
Technically that information wasn't supposed to be shared by anyone outside the knights themselves, but under the circumstances Merlin didn't think the other man was going to report him for it. Arthur probably knew anyway, seeing as the two of them had discussed the prince's opponents before, and Merlin had been the one to provide half of the facts in those conversations.
Leon nodded slowly. "That explains our practice fight this morning. I remember having the feeling something was different about the way he held his sword versus the last time I saw him compete. Now it makes sense, he's been using the wrong hand this entire time." His expression grew perturbed.
"It's an easy thing to overlook," Merlin tried.
"Oh I know. Aside from the king, Camelot doesn't have many left handed fighters. You rarely remember who is until they're using that fact against you. Still it's no excuse for forgetting. We should count ourselves lucky. Clearly whoever this man is wasn't as careful with his research as he should have been when he planned this scheme. He missed that detail."
Merlin couldn't help a smile, worried though it was. "Nice to hear someone believes me in all this."
Leon looked up sharply. "Arthur believes you Merlin. He's trapped by the need for proof, and that's frustrating - for both of you - but don't think for a minute that he doubts your word. He might do everything he can to hide it, but when all is said and done you might be the only one he trusts."
And I'm the one who's lied to him the most.
He sighed and Leon squeezed his arm reassuringly. "No man is an island, not even one who's been trained to be from birth. We all need someone watching our back. Remember that next time?"
"I will."
"Good, now get back home."
"But-"
"Now, and don't argue," the knight ordered, getting to his feet. "I'm going to find Arthur. Using his 'off' hand in training isn't enough in itself to claim he's not Sir Oswald, but impostor or no impostor, sharpened swords are forbidden. At least we can get him banned from competing."
"You heard what he said about the sword. Even if Arthur believes me Uther will never accept a servant's word that an oh so noble knight is using a forbidden weapon." Merlin reminded him, unable to completely hide the bitter edge to his voice.
Leon gave a secretive half smile and held up his own hand, revealing a shallow cut running the length of his finger. "He'll take my word for it."
So next chapter is started but I have 20 hours of upcoming Continuing Education credits I have to get in order to keep my Pharmacy Tech license and I'm going to try to get most of them in October so I'm going to have another busy month. But (hopefully) not as bad as September. Please have patience. :)
