10
Thanks so much to jade2nightwing for your reviews, and inspiration for this chapter! (I'll probably be basing more off the idea too) Set around the season 3 finale when Morgana has taken over the throne.
"What?" Merlin's face paled, and he felt as if someone had dumped a bucket of icy cold water over him. Arthur looked at his feet, steeling himself and gathering the courage to look at his manservant – his friend – in the eye.
"You should leave. You're not a soldier. You can still go back to Ealdor, and be safe there."
"I'm not going anywhere."
"It's not a punishment Merlin. We don't know how strong Morgana is, or how long it will take us to overthrow her. It's going to be dangerous, and you're of better use with your mother. You're welcome back to Camelot whenever we've regained control."
"I'm better off with my mother?" rage tinted his voice. "I'm not useless Arthur. Believe it or not, I can fight."
"Really Merlin? Because you're useless with a sword."
The others had gathered around, not wanting to interfere, but knowing that they may need to. It was no breach of privacy, the ruin they were holed up in echoed loudly enough for even whispered conversations to travel.
"I don't need a sword to fight Arthur!"
"I suppose you disarm your opponents with your charm and wit then?"
Merlin sighed heavily. He walked away from the argument and dropped onto the floor, leaning against the rough stone wall. He looked up at Arthur, frustration and pain etched into his features. He was warring with himself, but Arthur had no idea why. Lancelot seemed to though.
"Merlin," he started, a warning edge to his tone "think before you say anything stupid."
He chuckled slightly. "Since when am I not stupid?" He let his smile fall, and returned his gaze to his hand, twisting his fingers together until he seemed to come to a decision. He looked straight at Arthur and held out a hand.
"Forberne."