After a fortnight of hard riding, the pair had traveled a fair distance. The past two days they'd ridden until nightfall, and Merlin'd had no chance to hunt game. By the fifteenth night of their journey, Arthur saw the exhaustion in the horses and decided to stop a little early.
"We'll stay here for the night," he said as they reached a small clearing.
"Aye, Aithusa could use the rest," Merlin agreed.
They dismounted and Merlin looked at the sun, now low in the sky.
"I'll go hunt a decent meal, if you've nothing important for me to do."
Arthur smiled warmly, making Merlin's insides turn as hot and soft as tallow. "Can't think of anything more important than that. My stomach will thank you for it. I'll start a fire."
Nodding and shoving down the familiar rising want, Merlin wandered into the woods.
When he returned, Arthur had the horses settled and fed and a fire going. A cloth sling hung around Merlin's middle, filled with game. He untied it and dropped it by the fire.
"How about pheasant this evening, My Lord?" Merlin's face shone with pride.
Arthur opened the bundle. "That's a fat beauty! I'm so hungry, I could eat it raw."
Merlin dug into his pocket and pulled out a handful of plump brown mushrooms. "We could always cook it."
Arthur looked at the mushrooms warily. "You know your way around these things, I hope?"
"Of course. Any archer knows of the poisons in the woods. They're really useful for tipping arrows. These mushrooms, however, are perfectly harmless. Believe me." Merlin popped one in his mouth, chewed and swallowed. "If I'm not dead by the time the bird is cooked, you will know I'm right. As for dessert…" He took another cloth from inside his tunic and opened it. "Blackberries."
At the sight of the plump, dark and plentiful berries, Arthur's stomach made a loud growl of approval. Merlin deserved praise, and Arthur was more than happy to lavish it on him.
"I'm beginning to think you're part forest creature, Merlin." Arthur said in a teasing tone.
"Would that I were. I'd be happy to live here forever." Merlin's tone was lighthearted, but something told Arthur he wasn't joking.
"I'll clean the bird," Arthur said. He reached for the pheasant and took out his knife. He'd let Merlin prove himself, but it wasn't fair to take advantage of the younger man's willingness to do all the dirty work.
"I'll wash the mushrooms then. Do we have any wine left to make a sauce?"
"Aye. Enough for the sauce and more besides."
Arthur felt a tingling warmth as Merlin looked at him with a sparkle in his eyes. He ducked his head and focused his attention on the bird.
In comparison to the past fortnight, this meal was a feast. After they ate they stayed by the fire, passing the wine back and forth. Arthur felt a contentment he hadn't in years. Even his concern about Morgana had faded to a low murmur. Such a pleasant evening was rare happenstance and he knew to value it. The joy, and maybe the wine, made him unusually friendly and talkative.
"You said you were eager to leave your father's castle. Why?" he asked.
Merlin tossed a blackberry into his mouth, "My family is not fond of me."
Arthur frowned. "How can that be? You're a fully trained knight. You excel at archery. The crowd at the tournament loved you from the cries I heard. Especially the maidens."
Arthur said this last with a wink, but a sad, sardonic smile traced Merlin's lips. "Things are different to how they appear to outsiders."
"Then tell me how it really is." Arthur wasn't sure he should press so much, but he felt in the mood for conversation. Besides, he truly wanted to know more about Merlin.
"Well then… My brother Mordred wants my death," Merlin said with no emotion. "The others would just as soon have me gone. My father has always loved and hated me in equal amounts."
"But... Sir Mordred supported your request to come with me."
Merlin barked a harsh laugh. "Well, my apologies, Arthur, but it did sound a rather hopeless cause. It'd be easier for him if someone else sticks the knife in my ribs."
Arthur didn't ask any more, but he wondered. Why would Sir Mordred want Merlin dead? Had Merlin stolen his beloved's heart? Or was there something else?
As if sensing his confusion, Merlin spoke again. "All my brothers share the same mother, Lady Helen. She was my father's first wife and died of a fever."
He took a slug of wine and continued. "My mother was Lady Hunith, my father's second wife. He had her for only one year before I was born. She died in childbirth. He has never forgiven me. And my brothers - they hated my mother for replacing their own - and for the same reason, me."
Arthur's heart ached at the placid, frozen expression on Merlin's face. Merlin had learned to school his emotions well.
"My mother also died when I was young," Arthur said. "That's why I'm so close to Morgana. She was younger than me, but she raised us both in my mother's stead. I am sorry, Merlin."
Merlin shrugged. "They say I look like a great deal like her."
"She must have been a very great beauty."
When Merlin looked at him in surprise, Arthur felt his face redden. "What I mean to say is… you do not resemble your brothers or your father."
"No. I am nothing like them. I was ever smaller, weaker. Not a real man."
Arthur felt ashamed - he'd been guilty of the same prejudice. But he meant it now when he said, "you are a real man, Merlin. A good man."
"I made myself strong, but… it was never enough for them."
"Damn your family, they are all fools! You're an excellent hunter. And a hard worker too." Arthur said it with conviction and Merlin smiled into the fire, but it was a sad smile. For long moments they sat listening to the crackle of the burning wood and the nearby hooting of an owl.
Arthur stretched out his legs toward the fire and accepted Merlin's offer of the last swig of wine.
"We have slain the mighty wine bladder," Arthur said, hanging it upside-down.
"It died a noble and selfless death." Merlin grinned.
Arthur snorted. The mood sobered as he thought about what Merlin had said. He flushed with shame when he remembered how it had felt to stand in front of Lord Balinor and admit that his own father had refused to help Morgana.
"I'm glad you told me why you joined my hopeless cause, that you wished to leave home. It's good to know a man's motives."
"Arthur… that… that is not the only reason I came with you."
Merlin's voice was quiet, but something in it made the hair on the back of Arthur's neck stand up. He looked at Merlin. Merlin stared back at him - and their gazes held.
Arthur was used to Merlin avoiding eye contact. Not this time. Arthur gazed into those eyes, caught by a pull he couldn't break. And what he saw in those deep blue eyes was an undeniable invitation. Heat jumped from Merlin to Arthur, spreading through him, pooling heavily in his groin, and causing his pulse to race like a bolting horse.
Arthur swallowed and tore his gaze away. He could feel his face blazing as he struggled to control his body and his thoughts.
"It's late," Arthur said. His voice did not sound like his own. "We should rest."
He got up and, without looking at Merlin, began his nightly preparations.
