Chapter 11 – Goblet

AN: I do not own Merlin. Apologies for being away for so long – between grad school, my job, and a play, it's been a little overwhelming.

I normally dislike scar reveal stories around a campfire where Merlin reveals everything – so, although there is a campfire, this isn't that kind of story.


The plates clanked softly against each other as Merlin rinsed them, crouching by the rushing stream. Fading light streaked between the trees, casting strange shadows through the undergrowth.

Merlin let out a sigh, stacked the last plate in the pot on the riverside, and groaned as he stood from a hovering squat, his knees cracking loudly. Shoving his fists into his lower back, he leaned backward with a growl, smirking at the pop-pop-pop that followed.

Deep breath, crisp air inhaled, and he bent over to pick up the dishes. They jangled around in the copper pot as he looped back to the campsite, crunching leaves underfoot.

The fire was in healthy flames when he returned, shining off the tired faces of the knights, who were propped up around its circumference. Merlin stowed the dishes in their traveling sack, glancing about to see what else needed doing.

Wood. The stack was small and dwindling in the chill autumn air. He took another look, horses fed and cared for, knights fed and cared for, King's bed laid out near the fire, and rose reluctantly, headed away from the warmth of the flames and into the dark, damp woods once again.

He was slightly startled to hear a second set of steps trampling leaves. A glance over his shoulder told him it was Leon, and they wordlessly exchanged a small smile before returning their attentions to their feet.

It was easy enough to find the firewood needed amongst the fallen branches of the forest. Both Leon and Merlin were soon loaded with enough fuel to continue the fire through the night. Hefting their burdens, they turned back and headed toward the warmth and light of the campfire.

The journey was quick and painless, and they dumped their armloads in a haphazard pile near the fire, far enough that it wouldn't catch by an accidental spark. Merlin crouched between the pile and the pyre, setting more fuel to catch and prodding it into place with a longer stick.

His surroundings soon faded into weariness, and Merlin only had eyes for the fiery blaze. The crackling wood and play of the flames across the clearing muted the conversation and raucous indulgences of the party. His vision fuzzed at the edges, and filmed over in the middle, and his thoughts flickered with the light.

A hand on his shoulder jolted him out of his thoughts, and a new log tossed into the fire had him jerking backwards, landing on his rump with a crunch of leaves. He shook his head and glanced up at the amused expression on the intruder's face.

"Leon?"

"Got lost with the fey?" Leon commented as he took a seat on a nearby log.

Merlin flushed, though from the fire or being caught out daydreaming was anyone's guess. "S'pose so." He reached a hand to his neck and rubbed it awkwardly.

Silence settled upon the two. Merlin shifted awkwardly and finally sighed. "Was there something you needed, sir?"

Leon frowned. "No."

Another breath. "Then...why are you...here?"

"Keeping you company."

The popping of new logs took over. Merlin shifted awkwardly.

Leon quirked an eyebrow at him. "You're awful quiet today."

A long breath. "Long day."

"Mmmm?"

"Yeah."

A log snapped, revealing glowing embers.

"Merlin?"

"Yeah?"

"What happened today?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you said it was a long day."

Merlin side-eyed him quizzically. "I don't recall you ever being this interested in the goings on of Merlin, the servant."

"Eh, not noticeably."

Merlin snorted derisively.

Leon smiled slightly in response. "Your boots are well-travelled, young Merlin," he said with a sigh, sliding down to the ground to lean back against the log. "They go into the poorhouses, the kitchens, the holding cells, and the high towers. Your hands are rarely idle. Nor your wit."

Merlin stared intently into the flames, lips pressed into a thin line.

"You've been serving the Prince for how long, now?"

Merlin shifted uneasily. "Four years? Five?"

"And does he know what you do after you dismiss him?"

"Chores, far as he knows."

Leon sat up and turned to face the young man. "Why don't you tell him what you're doing?"

Merlin snorted. "He'd probably … chide me for not finishing tasks or – or – using my time unwisely."

"Is that really what you think of him?"

Merlin rubbed his neck again. "I don't know what to think sometimes."

"Merlin, what happened today?"

Leon watched, unsurprised, as one tear meandered down the servant's cheek, glistening in the firelight. It dropped off his chin into the darkness

"It just…he…erm…" Merlin took in a shuddering breath, then released it smoothly. "Arthur threw a goblet at me, is all."

"Hit you good, did it?"

"Yeah." He ducked his head, hiding his face from the flames.

Leon took it as an invitation. "Yeah, I see where it got you. Took a nice divot out of your shoulder, there." His fingers glanced off the wound, probing the depth, retreating at a sharp intake of breath from the servant. "Did Gaius see to it?"

A wry chuckle emerged from the bowed head. "Yeah, I totally had time to see Gaius before I had to pack for this adventure, saddle the horses, double check supplies, pack my own bag, and leave for the woods for the week."

There was a moment before Leon gritted out, "Stay here."

Merlin resisted the urge to move or look up, taking time instead to wipe his nose and regulate his breathing. A crunching of leaves told him Leon had returned, and the thump indicated his saddlebags hitting the ground.

Stinging gauze probed the wound, and Merlin hissed in response. The gauze was soon replaced with sticky honey, and a fresh bandage procured. Merlin abashedly lifted his shirt, turning away from the fire light, and helped wrap the bandage quickly over his left shoulder and under his right arm.

"Lots of trouble to go to for a little dent," Merlin muttered, pulling his shirt back over his head, grateful their little debacle had gone unnoticed.

"Better to treat it than let it go and then you die," Leon deadpanned.

Merlin lifted a corner of his mouth. "Thanks."

"Take care of that, okay?"

Only minute hesitation. "Yeah."


His forefinger rested naturally in the small divot just to the left of his neck.

Lost in thought, he wondered how well he was caring for it.

A used pair of boots sat dejectedly next to his bedroom door.

And a solitary candle flickered in the draft.