Two Destinies


Chapter 11

Words: 7 446


Arthur was trying his very best to relax. He had been trying the same for the better part of the day, and it wasn't working. It seemed like some higher power was working against it, determined that he should keep feeling restless and ill at ease.

The morning had been filled with toil, as had been expected. As soon as dawn arrived he had gone to his father to discuss the situation following the storm. Thankfully the rain had subsided rather quickly and the water had drained away from the city during the morning hours. There was a lot of work left to be done still, but the situation had not been as dire as they had initially feared.

Some of the grain that was kept in storage in the food cellar had been destroyed, but the effort to remove provisions had done a lot to prevent disaster, and the main storages were built to withstand both flood and fire and had remained completely unharmed.

The real trouble would affect the people who made their homes in the lower town and they had arranged for help to be provided for them. Men had been assigned to help rebuild damaged property and some of the food storages had been made available to replace they food that had been destroyed for them.

It was not much, but it was still generous and more than most rulers would willingly give. It made Arthur proud of his father and proud to call Camelot his home. He did not want to imagine a time when Camelot would withhold help from the needful while its lords sat upon storages of plenty. And he knew that such times had passed, he could only hope that they wouldn't happen again.

So far they didn't know how the storm had affected the Kingdom as a whole and it was possible that they did not yet know of the full extent of problems the rain had caused, nor how bad it was in actuality.

Neither Arthur nor Uther knew much about farming, they were willing to admit as much, but they had advisors who knew more and from what they had said it was possible that the rain could have destroyed newly sown fields. As the grain had recently been placed in the soil it wouldn't have rooted well yet. It was also possible that all this water could have caused the grain to be washed away or simply to rot in the ground.

If that had happened the farmers would need new seed to sow if the whole season wouldn't go to waste. They had prepared to give out from their storages, for even if it would cause them to gaping empty it would be far worse if they weren't able to harvest anything at summers end than if they had to live a bit more sparingly for the moths to come.

It was now evening, the sun having set about an hour earlier, darkness falling over the city, bringing with it a nightly chill and comfortable silence. Lady Helen had recently arrived and she was currently seeing his father in the Throne Room, luckily Arthur did not have to attend and he was sitting in his own chambers feeling restless.

He sat by the table, tossing a wrinkly, last year's apple between his hands wondering if he should settle for just eating some fruit or if he should head down to the kitchens and grab something more substantial. He hadn't had supper yet and he didn't have anyone to call on to get it for him as he, like his brother smugly had predicted, had gotten rid of his servant earlier that day, having had enough of the boy's stupidity.

He had been out on the training range, keeping busy in a futile attempt to not worry about his brother, knowing that working up to exhaustion would get him tired enough that he wouldn't be able to think and not thinking would be a blessing at this time.

Normally he wouldn't be the least bit worried when Harry had only been gone for a day, but Morgana's dream and the night's horrible weather had him worrying about his younger brother.

He did not want to put any credence to a dream, but nevertheless it had spooked him. It somehow felt believable. The rain. The village on fire. The dream ending in the colour of blood. If anyone could find trouble on a simple patrol it was Harry. Accidents seemed to be drawn to him, more so than to anyone else he knew, including himself.

Arthur wasn't calmed by the fact that his brother went out on scouting missions all the time. The man practically lived for the life on the road. How Harry could enjoy it so much Arthur would never know. Sure it was fulfilling when a job was well done, but to chose to do menial tasks over remaining in the city… no.

What had to be done in the city was just as important as the field work, and it gave the added bonuses of well cooked food, warm water and a soft bed whenever you liked. They could split their duties evenly, but Harry always offered to take more of the duties which forced him to ride around in the Kingdom.

No, Arthur would never understand it.

To be fair him being worried about Harry wasn't uncommon, he was always more or less worried about his brother. He had utter most confidence in his twin. There was no one he'd rather have at his side in any given situation and he knew that Harry could take good enough care of himself. Until things turns bad that is.

Arthur had seen his brother at his weakest and the image of Harry in bed, pale as a ghost and in pain, not to mention the time of solitude that had followed... Those memories would never leave him and he had a feeling that if anything like what had happened that time were to happen again, if someone close to Harry betrayed him or died, he might fall into a similar state of mind again and that could be dangerous to his continued survival.

Being betrayed or seeing a loved one die in front of his eyes could leave Harry in a state of reduced congestive ability and severely lowered judgement ability when it came to his own safety. This worried Arthur.

He knew that Harry still had a rough time at it, seeing as he would seek comfort from him on nights when his dreams got to bad, and there was something unnatural about the reoccurring dream about green light that his younger brother suffered from.

Arthur himself was plagued by nightmares at times. You couldn't see the amount of death any warrior witnessed and not be affected, if you weren't bothered you weren't human. He could remember the lives he had taken, the innocent that had been put to death because of him and he would revisit the moments of their deaths in his dreams. But his reactions paled in comparison to how Harry handled the same things. His brother simply wasn't good with death.

So there he had been, out on the training range in the cheerily shining sun, which was mocking the rain of the night and his mood for that matter, enduring the stupidity of his latest servant. The boy was clearly an imbecile and Arthur had already decided that morning that he would forfeit his bet to Harry. He would much rather give up his gold than to play nice to the moron who was called Morris. He having forgotten to light a fire last night had been the final straw and seeing him act on the training range had only strengthened his belief that he had come to the right decision when relieving the young man of his duties.

As if it hadn't been enough that he had to contend with Morris, another idiot had made his way onto the scene, thinking that he could tell Arthur what to do. The man or rather boy actually, had stopped him from having a little fun with Morris.

It was mostly harmless and he had grown tired of the serving boy, trying to teach him a lesson, thinking that maybe, perhaps, possibly, though probably not, it could give him one last chance to prove that he could do something right. Sadly this other buffoon had interrupted his plan.

The boy's name was as stupid as his looks. Merlin. Big eared and gangly, with a silly scarf around his neck and a stupid smile plastered over his face he had told Arthur to stop and then he had actually tried to hit him. Not that he came close to succeeding with that, but still!

The punch was uncoordinated and lacked in strength. It had been almost too easy to use the movement against him and if they had been in battle the idiot would have been dead before he could say "And who do you think you are? The King?"

Sure Arthur may have goaded him into trying to hit him, but it just showed how little character Merlin had if he with a few jibs from Arthur could be talked into doing something so utterly stupid.

Not that it mattered all that much, the encounter had ended up with Merlin in the dungeons and Arthur uncured of his anxiety and restlessness, as well as unable to concentrate on his training any longer.

He sighed, switching the apple from his right to his left hand for the umpteenth time. Arthur was at last ready to admit defeat and head down to the kitchens to get something to eat. He'd also have a talk with one of the servants, to see if they could make sure his chambers were seen to until he found a replacement for Morris.

He didn't have much hope that whoever he managed to hire next would be any better than the previous ones he'd had in his service, but the time of miracles may yet come. Who knew, perhaps the next man given the job would be someone worthwhile.

He put the apple down and got to his feet only to halt when the warning bells begun to chime, their toll echoing through the castle, bouncing off the towers and spreading throughout the city bringing their ominous message.

"What the..?" he muttered, walking out into the corridor, with a few long strides. "Find out what's happened!" he commanded the closest guard who hurried off with a short bow.

He couldn't imagine what had happened to cause it. Things had been quiet. There had been no prisoners in the cells who could have escaped, and there had been no reports of anyone who would attack Camelot coming from the nearby area.

Perhaps his father had been right and sorcery was behind the storm, perhaps someone had been apprehended.

He stood there tapping his foot, waiting, getting more and more impatient as time dragged on. He contemplated if he should go and find out for himself, or if he should keep waiting. The sound of the bells died before the guard returned and he was about to give up and go look for himself when he finally showed up at the end of the corridor, Sir Pellinor at his side.

"What is it?" Arthur asked tensely.

"It's Harry," Pellinor answered.

"Harry?" the Prince repeated, stunned.

"The guards at the gates sounded the warning bell when he was spotted on a horse which was moving at random down the road."

"What?" Arthur could feel his stomach drop. It wasn't possible. Morgana's dream couldn't be true. There had to be some other explanation. Any explanation would do.

"I don't know, sire."

Arthur was moving now. He didn't know where to, just that he needed to get to his brother. As in a haze he got down the first flight of stairs, his heart pounding in his ears, and sight turning to tunnel vision. He exited the tower and walked briskly down another corridor.

"Arthur!" Sir Osric had showed appeared at the end of the hall. He was pale and wide eyed, looking as worried as Arthur was feeling.

"Do you know what's going on?" Arthur asked urgently, coming to a halt.

"Harry and Edric are with Gaius," Osric said. "When I left they were both unconscious. I was there when they were found. Harry was bound to the saddle of his horse; it was as if he was anticipating that he might faint. Edric was laying front of him… and… Arthur, they're both injured. Gaius sent me to get you. I think he wanted me out of the way. My brother…" The knight gasped, drawing in a shaky breath. "He's badly wounded and even if Gaius didn't say anything I could see in his eyes that he didn't think Edric would pull through." Osric looked like he wished he was a weaker man so that he could give in to the urge to cry, but he only sniffed a bit, wanting to look brave in front of his prince.

"And Harry? How badly wounded is he?" Arthur demanded, feeling his stomach grow heavier as well as filling with icy dread.

"I don't really know. As I said Gaius chased me out of there before I could understand what was going on."

The Prince nodded curtly. "Let my father know," he said and then he didn't stay long enough to see if the orders were followed. He ran down the corridor, taking the stairs two steps at a time now that he knew where he was going and he reached the Court Physician's Chamber in record time.

"Harry!" He called, before he had a chance to look around the room.

"Quiet Arthur," Gaius scolded in a hiss. "They need rest."

"Oh. Sorry, Gaius," Arthur tried for a properly chided look as the older man glared at him, but he wasn't certain he pulled it off, and he was too worried to care much in either case.

Gaius turned away from him, leaning over a cot holding a man whose face was scrounged up in pain, though he appeared to be unconscious. He was pale, his face dirt streaked and he had curly brown hair falling down on his forehead. Arthur could see that Edric was indeed doing badly as Gaius was working on cleaning several wounds on his chest that were slowly oozing blood and disgusting, yellowish pus.

"Hey, Arthur."

He swirled around when he heard the voice. It was weaker than he would have like, rough and tired. Harry was lying on another cot. He too looked pained, and was frightfully pale, his face having taken on a sickly ashen tone that contrasted with the warm colour of his hair, which was matted with sweat and dust. Harry was dressed in his armour which was bloodied and he had dirt and blood across his face, similar to Edric.

"Harry, you're awake," he breathed, falling to his knees by Harry's bedside the next instant. "What happened?"

"I- We…" Harry gasped in pain, tensing up.

"Arthur," Gaius said. "You should let him rest. He doesn't have the energy to speak at the moment."

Arthur nodded his accent, one glance at Harry was enough to ascertain the truth of the words. He looked his brother over, taking in the crude bandage around his thigh and the splintered wooden shaft that was perturbing from his shoulder.

"Why haven't you tended to his wounds?" he asked accusingly. He didn't like that Harry wasn't being attended to. He wanted Edric to get well too, but Harry was the most important, both to him and to the kingdom. Arthur felt a bit bad for thinking it, albeit it was the truth and it was always better to be honest with yourself.

"It's okay," Harry wheezed. "Edric's worse off than I am. I can wait for my turn. He can't. I insisted."

Arthur frowned, not liking it. Harry was too self-sacrificing. "Gaius, is there anything I can do to help?"

"If you can get him out of that armour and cleaned up it would help. Call for warm water." He hummed thoughtfully. "And freshwater as well."

Arthur went to get up, but he was stopped as a gloved hand grabbed his hand and held tight. "Please don't go," Harry begged. "Just stay with me. I don't want to be alone for now. When I close my eyes I see the battle again, the fire and the rain and… I…"

Arthur gasped lightly. Fire, rain and certainly blood too. It couldn't be Morgana's dream, yet it did sound like it.

"Please," Harry said again and Arthur grimaced, not knowing how he'd be able to deny Harry anything he wanted, even when it was for his own good.

"I'd just be gone for a moment," he said soothingly, squeezing Harry's hand reassuringly.

Harry said nothing, he just looked up sadly at Arthur.

The older Prince, bit his lip, opting for humour to try and make Harry see sense. "Face it; you really need to get cleaned up. You smell."

Harry chuckled, but it turned into a wheezing cough, which was rather pitiful. "You would too, if you'd been riding and fighting without pause since last we spoke."

"I'll be right back, okay?"

"Fine." Harry let go of Arthur's hand and Arthur hurried out of the room, telling the first servant he came across what he required. Before long he was back by his brother's side.

"See, that wasn't so bad," he said, mustering a smile for Harry's sake.

"Yeah," Harry agreed. "Not too bad."

"Come on; let me help you out of that armour. Can you sit up?"

"Yeah. You know I rode all the way here, I think I can manage to sit up for a bit."

Arthur snorted, but didn't comment on the fact that Harry had been unconscious for what was probably a better part of the journey.

He helped his brother into an upright position and as gently as he could he removed the chainmail, taking care where a broken arrow shaft was sticking through it. But it couldn't be done without jostling the wound and Arthur winced as Harry groaned in pain when the arrow was disturbed.

"You okay?" Arthur grimaced in worry, Harry had gone even paler and his jaw was tense as he clenched his that against the pain.

"Sure. That was nothing. I could probably take you in a fight even now."

Arthur stared at Harry. "You have some nerve!" he said. "You think you could win in a fight with me in your condition?"

"It wouldn't be hard." Harry gave a strained smile. "All I'd have to do is whine a little and you'd forfeit the match, being too worried about me."

Arthur gaped, before he closed his mouth and said; "I wish that wasn't true, but it is, damn it."

"I'd do the same. Always."

The brother's smiled at each other, then Arthur went ahead to help Harry clean up using a rag and the warm water which a servant had come with while they were working on removing Harry's armour. As gently as he could he cleaned away the sweat, blood and grime from his skin, his frown growing deeper for each purple bruise that was laid bare.

"I'm beginning to realise that I came close to loosing you this time," he murmured, wetting the rag again, the blood in it flowing out into the no longer clean water, staining it even darker.

"It was bad," Harry agreed, "but I pulled through and that's the important part. Things happened that I'll always regret, but I have the chance to learn from it and do better in the future."

Arthur shook his head. "You're too…"

"What?" Harry asked with a raised eyebrow when Arthur refrained from finishing his sentence.

"Hold on, I'm deciding whether I should compliment you or make fun of you."

Harry snorted, and it turned into a cough. "Then you should take into account that I'm injured, and that you should be feeling sorry for me."

"It was probably all your fault, so… no." It might have been inappropriate to joke around with his brother when he was so weak and injured, but it made Arthur feel better, and he knew the same could be said for Harry. If they could joke it generally meant things weren't as bad as they could be and it was a comfort to use humour. It was their thing and he was grateful for it.

The door to the room swung open and the King walked inside, with the Lady Morgana and Sir Osric at his heels. Uther looked bistre and worried, the corners of his mouth pointing downwards in a frown. He was wearing his crown and ornate clothing, showing that he had just come from greeting Lady Helen.

"Harry!" he said in relief at seeing Harry alive and awake, being taken care off by his brother, though the expression took a sour tone again once he took in how Harry was looking.

Osric immediately went to his brother as the King and Morgana went to Harry.

"Father," Harry said, clearing his throat as best he could. "Morgana. It's so good to see you, both of you."

"Oh, Harry," Morgana stroked his now clean cheek softly, giving him a tearful smile. She was dressed up similarly to the King, wearing a sweeping, deep purple gown. "I've been so worried about you."

"You needn't be. I'll always find my way back home," Harry reassured her, and edge to his voice that Arthur recognized. He knew that Harry was desperate to keep Morgana from crying. His brother couldn't handle a woman in tears, he felt awkward around tears in general, but crying women were worse, because he didn't know how to comfort them.

Arthur felt with him, because he had the same problem. Tears and emotions were hard things to handle. When it concerned Harry it was different. They'd always been there for each other and it never got truly awkward with them, and they both knew how to cheer up their knights, but Morgana was a whole different story and they were more likely to make things worse than better when it came to her.

To Harry's great relief their father spoke before he got the opportunity to make a fool of himself. "What happened, son? Who is responsible for this?" The King's tone was serious and the tone was reflected in his expression.

"My Lords, my Lady," Gaius interrupted them, "it would be best if Harry was allowed to rest for now. He needs all the strength he can get. Once I've attended to his wounds, if they aren't any worse than I expect them to be, he'll be able to return to his chambers. Once he'd had a nights rest you can ask him whatever you like, but until then I advocate restraint."

"It'll be fine," Harry said, "it's not that bad. I can answer anything they need."

Gaius looked at him with a levelled stare. "That was for your benefit too, sire. You mustn't tire yourself unless you wish me to impose bed rest for more than the night. Do not think that I will hesitate to do so."

Harry gulped. He might have placed himself in house arrest once when he was sixteen, but both before and after he had shown little to no respect to healing injuries, and from the Court Physician's perspective that was not all right, even if the Prince had shown remarkable healing properties, often recovering much sooner than what should be possible he should still take care off himself in a proper way.

"Of course, Gaius," the King said, nodding. "Harry shall have his rest."His voice was stern, the words not only an agreement but also an order to Harry, whom he turned back to and stared into the eyes until the injured prince nodded. "How are you feeling, Harry?"

"Not too bad, all things considered." He glanced in the Court Physician's direction. "There are a few things I need to tell you right away." Both the King and Gaius gave him harsh glances. "They cannot wait," he insisted when he saw them, and drew a deep breath to steady himself. "Reinforcements need to be sent out as soon as possible. A force that I estimate to be of at least fifty was headed into the Kingdom. The villages of Néahdún and Ǽdre have been destroyed. We somehow managed to kill about thirty in the second village. But by the time we arrived the rest had already moved on and some fled during the battle. I fear that they will keep destroying villages in our lands until they are dealt with."

Arthur and Uther looked from Harry to each other.

"See to that a company of knights are ready to ride out in the morning."

"Of course, father."

"I promised that we would help the villagers rebuild," Harry continued. "It is our fault that their homes were destroyed. We should have investigated earlier."

Uther sighed, anticipating his youngest son's reaction to the words he were about to speak. "I'm not certain we will be able to honour your promise."

"Why ever not?" Harry asked in a loud tone, staring with blazing eyes at his father through the coughs that rocked his body.

"I am sure you too experienced the storm last night."

"Yes, we did."

"It left its part of destruction in the city, and every man we could dispense with was set to help rebuilding destroyed properties, until their work is complete they cannot go."

"I promised them aid!"

"It is unfortunate that we are unable to do so, but at this time it is impossible."

"I can't believe you! It has to be possible! We have many men at our disposal; all of them cannot be needed in the city. These people require assistance, and it is our duty to provide it!"

"Be quiet, Harry!" Uther roared, making the younger Prince recoil slightly, followed by a grimace of pain. The King closed his eyes, taking care to speak more softy. "It's the end of this discussion. You need rest. Let's speak no more of it tonight."

Harry opened his mouth to continue speaking.

"Let it rest, Harry," Arthur employed. It pained him to see his father and brother arguing. He didn't even know who he should side with on this matter. Both were right. If Harry had made a promise they were bound to it, but the storm had wrought a lot of destruction in the city and it needed to be seen to. They didn't have the option of pleasing everyone, although it pained him to admit it, when he just hours before had been proud of their ability to help their people.

He also didn't want them to fight. As Gaius said Harry needed rest, and getting upset would not help any. His coughing was not nice to hear, and he knew that moving was painful for him.

Harry let out a small sound of disgruntlement. "Then I suppose neither of you are interested in the fact that the men responsible for the attack bore the crest of Cenred."

"Cenred?" Uther's tone changed, holding anger directed at their neighbouring king, as well as worry about the situation, instead of irritation with Harry. "Is he the one responsible?"

"It appears so. If you look in my saddle bags you'll find one of their tunics."

Arthur got up and went to the bag which had been put in the room at some point. He rummaged through it, making a face when he touched a smashed apple, getting sticky from the juice, and he withdrew his hand with a small yelp when he cut his fingers on the edge of a blade.

"Who the hell packed this?" he muttered, grabbing a bandage from one of the tables and binding it around the finger.

"I did," Harry answered a bit sullenly, making Morgana hide a smile behind her hand and Uther suppress a sigh. Though he loved his boys, he sometimes wished they didn't act as much as...boys.

"Figures," Arthur muttered. "You need a servant to do theses things for you," he said and continued to search through the bag.

"How can I argue with that when you seem so happy with yours?" Harry retorted his lips quirking up into a smirk. "How is Morris?"

Arthur didn't answer; instead he turned around with a piece of torn and bloodied, green and gray fabric in his hands, which he presented to his father.

Uther accepted the cloth turning it over in his hands. As he examined it, looking at the embroidered black snake, his expression grew increasingly grim. "I want patrols by the border, day and night. Increase the number of men who will be going after the ones who are already in the Kingdom. I want caught and I want and it made certain that they do not destroy any more villages. I want them interrogated, we must find out what they know."

"It will be done," Arthur said with a court nod.

"Why would Cenred be attacking us?" Morgana asked, a wrinkle appearing between her dark eyebrows. "I remember all the meeting between you. It was tense but you both wanted peace, if you hadn't wanted it the negation hadn't been possible."

"It appears he has changed his mind," Uther growled. "And he will regret it dearly. Sir Osric!"

Osric rose from his kneeling position by his brother's side, though he did so reluctantly. "Yes, sire?"

"I want you to lead the company searching for the force headed into the Kingdom."

For a second he looked like he wanted to protest, his eyes searching out the unconscious form of his brother. Then his shoulders sagged in defeat. "Of course, my Lord."

"But father, I thought I would…" Arthur began to protest.

"You'll be staying in the city during the celebrations. Afterwards we'll see."

Arthur lowered his head in submission. There was no brokering when his father used that voice. "Yes, sire."

"I'm ready to have a look at your wounds now, Harry." Gaius announced, defusing the tension. "I've done everything I can for Sir Edric."

"Will he be all right?" Harry asked looking over at his injured friend.

"It's hard to say. It could go both ways now, but I wouldn't have too much hope. It is possible that his right lung has been punctured and if so it is likely that it will slowly fill with fluids, causing him to die from asphyxiation. It is also likely that he is suffering from internal bleeding, something I haven't been able to ascertain. As he hasn't been coughing up blood I cannot be sure, but as I said it is very likely judging by the wounds he has sustained. If the bleeding is only mild, he should be able to pull through, otherwise…"

Harry sighed. "I understand, thank you Gaius."

"Do what you can for him, will you?" Sir Osric said, in a choked voice.

"I will. Well then, let's take care off that arrow, for you Harry. Arthur, my Lord, if you could hold him down so that he doesn't twitch while I remove it. This would have been so much easier if the shaft wasn't broken."

"I had no choice at the time."

"I understand that, yet it does complicate things."

"Let's just get it done."

.oOo.

The dungeon was not a nice place. It was cold, it was damp, the straw on the floor smelled of mould and the thin sheets of rough fabric that were to be used as blankets were barely enough to cover even a leg.

Somehow Merlin had fallen asleep despite all that, covering under his jacket to keep some of his body warmth, wishing that he could be more or less anywhere else.

Before he fell asleep he had been thinking about how he had ended up there and the scene had followed him into his dreams. He should have known better than to argue with that man. Even had he not been Prince Arthur it had been clear that he belonged to the noble caste and nobodies like himself had no business talking up to knights.

He should have known better considering the reason why he was in Camelot in the first place, and following the warning Gaius had given him. Sure he hadn't used magic, but part of keeping safe so that no one would find out about his abilities was going unnoticed. Defying the ways of the rich and noble by talking back was not the best way to do it.

"Merlin!" Merlin woke with a start and got up from the floor where he thought the sound had come from. He wasn't certain though. He'd not been completely awake so he hadn't been able to process the information. He stared at the floor, seeing only the straw he had spent his night sleeping on.

"Merlin!" There it was again. Someone was definitely calling his name.

"Merlin!" A rumbling voice that sounded as though it should vibrate through his body, he couldn't here it with his ears though.

"Merlin!" It was all in his mind. And at the same time he was certain that he could tell where it was coming from.

"Merlin!" It was coming from below, penetrating the floor of the dungeon. He placed his ear to the ground, trying to see if he was right, to see if it war really coming from beneath.

"Merlin!"

Merlin got to his feet, stumbling as he did so. This time it was Gaius who had called his name, making the young man feel a bit stupid, both about his behaviour right now, which Gaius hopefully hadn't seen and his behaviour the previous day.

The door to the cell was opened and Gaius stepped in, looking much like Merlin feared.

Merlin smiled sheepishly as the older man began to rant, before he was filled with happiness as Gaius said that he'd been able to use a favour or two to get him out of the prison, followed by a light sense of dread as he was informed that there would be another price to pay.

.oOo.

Merlin was very grateful to Gaius for getting him out of the dungeons. Truly he was, but he wasn't all that delighted at being stuck in the stocks.

He blinked away the juice of rotten cabbage that was running into his eyes, and groaned as what he was hit him on the side of the head, hard, with what he was pretty certain was a beet. And it hadn't been fun when Gaius walked passed, laughing at him, either. But perhaps he deserved it, it had really been stupid of him to try and hit the Prince. He should have known when to quit.

What had been a bit better was when Guinevere had come up to him, saying that she hadn't had a change to introduce herself that night and that she'd seen him stand up to Arthur, thinking it very brave of him to do so. It had made him feel a bit better about himself, even as she expressed her opinion on him not being a muscle-y, save the world sort of fellow. She seemed to be a nice person and with a little luck he would have gained a new friend in her.

As the few children who were returning again and again to strike him with rotten vegetables and fruit were away, Merlin took a few moments to think about the voice he had been hearing. At first he had thought that he had just dreamed it, but after hearing it again in the dungeon this morning he could no longer believe the same. Someone was calling for him and he wanted to know who this someone was and if it meant trouble for him.

He could only conclude that magic was involved in some way. Otherwise he wouldn't be able to hear the voice inside his mind, but who would know of him? And what did they want form him? He wished that he knew.

Thinking about what Gaius would think he was feeling conflicted. He should probably stay away from the person whom the voice belonged to, if it even was a person, but he knew that his curiosity would get the better of him sooner rather than later, and he reasoned that it was better to have all the facts than there being someone knowing about him, while he deliberately kept himself in the dark, so if he got the chance he would get all the information he could.

Merlin groaned when the children came back, and tilted his head so that the new batch of cabbage and… was that onions? wouldn't hit his face. He really didn't want any of the onion juice to get into his eyes, he'd be crying for sure as the acid formed and it was not something he wanted to experience.

He could feel pieces of the vegetables getting stuck in his hair, and he drew in a breath when something got inside his ear, then he wish he hadn't for when he opened his mouth a piece of mouldy carrot came into his mouth, making him choke.

"I can't believe this is happening," he muttered miserably once he'd spat it out. He followed it up by more spitting to get the awful taste off his tongue, but he wasn't close to succeeding, feeling his throat contradict as his gag reflex got to work.

His misery didn't end there though. He looked up and felt his stomach drop, barely managing to suppress another audible groan. A man who just had to be the Prince was walking his way. There was no mistaking the blond hair, or proud face, through his gait was a bit differently from what he remembered he seemed to be limping, each time he put down his left leg he twitched a bit as if the movement was painful.

He supposed that the prat had come to make fun of him. It would be just perfect. He couldn't even be left alone to suffer through his humiliation; the Prince just had to come and watch and make it all worse.

"Come to gloat, have you? Couldn't leave it well enough alone?" he called making the Prince pause. An expression of puzzlement flickered across his face and he walked up to Merlin. As he came closer it was unmistakable who he was. Though he was dressed simply, Merlin could see that the cloth, as well as the cut and the workmanship of the clothes were of the highest quality, showing that he was indeed a prince of Camelot.

The hair was the same, as was the jaw and broad shoulders. There was a bruise on the side of his chin though that hadn't been there before, if he remembered correctly and there was the limp. Perhaps he'd gotten into a fight he couldn't win. It would be no more than he deserved.

"Why would I gloat?" the Prince asked, crossing his arms across his chest, making a slight grimace as he did so, and he tilted his head lightly to the side, like a confounded dog. The comparison amused Merlin.

"It seemed to be your style," he answered.

"My style?" he blinked. "Excuse me I don't think we've met. I just returned to the city late last night and since then I certainly haven't been gallivanting about having a chance to… erm… make any trouble, let alone making any new acquaintances."

"What?" Merlin said uncomprehendingly.

"Why are you in the stocks?"

"What?"

The man, who had to be Prince Arthur trying to have a go at him, chuckled lightly. "Let's start with something simple. My name is Harry. What is yours?"

Merlin gaped.

"Is something the matter?"

"I- ehum. Aren't you Prince Arthur? If you're having me on please say so. I don't want any more trouble."

The man stilled for a second before he began to laugh. It took the man, Harry, some time to calm down and then he shook his head, grin still firmly in place. "I see now. I do get mistaken for him a lot."

"I could have sworn that you were him. You look very much alike."

"So I've been told. So is the Prince responsible for your predicament?"

"Yes, I suppose you could say that."

"Hmm. So what did you do?"

"Nothing much."

"Oh, but you must have done something to deserve being pelted with rotten vegetables."

Merlin hesitated, still not sure if this was the Prince having him on, or if it was a different man actually named Harry. He supposed telling the truth wouldn't hurt, he'd already done the crime and simply repeating what he'd done shouldn't get him in any more trouble. Hopefully.

"I might have called the Prince an ass," he mumbled.

To his surprise the blond man in front of him let out another roaring laugh. "I would have loved to see that!" he wheezed out. "That shouldn't be punished; such an act should be rewarded!"

Merlin felt like he was missing something. "What?"

"He can be something of a prat."

Merlin looked incredulously at the man who he was beginning to believe wasn't the Prince. Arthur didn't seem the type to laugh at himself. Let alone call himself a prat. "Perhaps you shouldn't say such things," he cautioned. "You might end up making me company here."

Harry snorted out a laugh, but didn't answer. "So who is it that I have the pleasure to speaking with? Who is the one brave enough to insult a Prince of Camelot?"

"I'm Merlin, pleased to meet you."

Whatever Merlin had expected what followed wasn't it. The man paled a couple of shades, turning slightly ashen, making the bruise more pronounced and his expression drained of mirth, making him look solemn and serious.

"Merlin?" he repeated. "Your name is Merlin?"

"Yes, it is."

"I see."

The man closed his eyes, for a second, Merlin looking on, trying to figure out what was going on. He appeared to be at once afraid and exited, which was strange to put it mildly. When Harry opened his eyes again, Merlin though he could see them glowing gold for a brief moment, but it might also have been a trick of the light. Then he felt a tingling in his fingers, the feeling swept through him, leaving him a bit breathless.

Magic had just been performed, and the magic was reminiscent of the magic he had felt in the rain. It had the same flavour, yet not really. He could best compare it to food, and he would say that the dish had the same main ingredient, but at the same time the two courses were nothing alike. It was strange and he didn't have enough experience with other magic than his own to be able to tell.

The man was looking expectantly at him, making Merlin suspicious that he had been the one to use magic just now. He made sure to not move a muscle, knowing that it was safer to pretend to be ignorant, weather this man was the source of the magic or not. He'd try to find out more before doing anything.

"Are you okay?" he asked in lieu of reacting, referring back to when the man had closed his eyes, pretending that it had made him look faint.

"I'm fine," the man said shortly and there was a hint of disappointment flashing across his features, but it was gone just as soon as it had appeared, making Merlin think that it might have been a trick of the light too. Nothing was certain at the moment.

"Just a little sore," the man continued a bit absentmindedly, pressing a hand at his left shoulder. "I'll have to go see Gaius again I think."

"Gaius?" Merlin questioned. "Are you injured?"

"Nothing too bad. Though I am sure he believes I shouldn't be here. Hmm. Well then, Merlin," he pronounced his name with care, his tongue rolling over every letter with care. "I shall see that you are released sooner and if you meet Arthur again, do not hesitate to take him down a peg or two, God knows he needs it."

With those words the man left, leaving Merlin completely baffled and a bit apprehensive. It didn't matter if he tried to avoid trouble, it seemed determined to find him.


End Chapter 11


AN 17th July 2013:

Ladies and Gentlemen; Merlin and Harry have met!

I don't know if it was all you wished it would be, but there you have it. I do hope you liked it. I know I got close to the series again, with a few scenes, but I think I handled it well by retelling it by having the characters think about it. Let me know what you thought and I'll try to have the next chapter ready soon.

PS. Once again I've broken the record for longest chapter in this story.