Thirteen
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It really was late now, though the candles still burned in the halls for the benefit of the guards. Even the servants had retired for the night, leaving the castle in silence.
Merlin stole along the halls towards the guest chambers, keeping in mind to stick to the shadows and be aware of all his nearby hiding places behind statues and tapestries, and disused doors. He had not seen a soul since leaving Gaius' chambers. Guards were posted in various areas of the citadel of course, and some patrolled, but he had plenty of practice in evading them.
He ducked into the shadows of an adjoining passage, pressed his back to the wall and waited until the sound of jingling chain mail and heavy footsteps died away before stepping back out onto the main corridor and proceeding forwards.
Strange as it may seem to hide from the guards when he was perfectly welcome to walk the halls at this time of night, secrecy had always been his tool, and his friend. Camelot's guards possessed quite loose tongues when they believed the information of mild to no importance. The fewer people knew he was stalking the corridors, the less chance this so-called suspicious person would abandon their purpose.
Cautious, Merlin swung left off the main corridor and onto the smaller one housing the first level of guest chambers. He slowed his pace, and concentrated on lightening his footfalls. He must be careful here. At this time of night the antechambers would be occupied by the dignitaries' personal guards and servants, people they had brought with them for their protection in the company of old enemies, and those whose purpose it was to be loyal to them.
The room closest to the head of the corridor was Annis'. Even from this distance Merlin could hear dogs growling. At least, he hoped it was dogs...
Banishing all but relevant notions from his mind, he focused once more. Annis was nothing to do with any of the night's events, he was sure. She had been nothing but a friend to Camelot since brokering the peace with Arthur, and only pure and charitable in her outreach to Gwen since Arthur's death. She was truly invested in peace and unification as far as Merlin was concerned, so he continued on past.
Mithian's chambers were next door – her intent did not bear so much as a first thought, let alone a second – then Bayard next to her, Godwyn, and then Elena three doors down. A short space where the outer wall's architecture bowed in separated these rooms from the next set. Odin resided in the first after the bow. Then the Harlech party's chambers, and then Olaf, Lot and Alined in the following rooms. Everyone had been grouped together on this floor that it did not appear that Camelot was showing any preference between her guests, but previous alliances and conflict between the various Kingdoms had been taken into account, and the chambers allocated accordingly as not to inflame any underlying hostilities or promote sub treaties being formed between allies against any former enemies.
Odin's chambers differed slightly from the others in that they connected to a smaller chamber via a wooden door that was meant to house a guard to keep watch over Camelot's guests. In this instance it was to be the residence of Odin's personal guard, as there was no antechamber in his quarters.
That meant Tiarnan would be staying there.
With a quick glance behind him, Merlin made his way across the hall to the door of Tiarnan's chambers, slowing his pace a few steps from it to inch closer. Hesitant, he pressed his ear to the wood.
There were very faint sounds coming from within – sounds of movement, and the loud rustle of paper as of the pages of a book turning. Somebody was definitely in there.
The jingle of maille, and steady steps of patrolling guards echoed down the hall to Merlin's ears. He broke away from the door and headed swiftly down the corridor and around the corner. A smaller hallway branched off the main into a narrow stairwell. Merlin ducked into it and waited for the guards to catch up to him and pass by. Once they were gone, out of sight and earshot, he stepped back onto the main corridor and returned to the guest chambers.
Not far past Odin's chambers were those assigned to the Harlech delegation. He came upon Lady Branwen's chambers first.
It would have appeared exceedingly creepy, he acknowledged, should anybody have come along and found him listening at the Lady Branwen's door. Perhaps slightly less so than when Arthur had caught him spying on Lady Catrina with a mirror. The fact that she was a troll and not a human woman notwithstanding. In all actuality, that probably seemed worse.
'Spying on his step mother, and now his cousin. Yeah, I'm sure that would look really good.'
He couldn't hear anything... A quick check of the hall both ways, a murmured word, and the lock popped open. As silently as he could, Merlin cracked the door, and peeked around it.
No candles burned in the room, the only light that from the crackling fire in the grate, and the moonlight filtering in through the window panes. The room was occupied however. Lady Branwen lay curled up underneath a blanket atop the bed, fast asleep with one hand resting underneath her chin.
A small frown creased Merlin's brow as he wondered why she should sleep on top of the heavy quilt, underneath a thin blanket. It wasn't the warmest of nights. He moved to close the door, halting abruptly as he realised – the harp was missing.
Almost as soon as the door was closed, the next one along opened. Merlin darted across the corridor and crouched in the shadow of a lion statue, craning his neck to peer over its raised paw.
Sir Kay stepped out into the doorway, and halted. He glanced up and down the hallway, before stepping out, and reaching a hand back into his chambers.
Merlin watched, his frown deepening as a hand took Kay's, and Nia stepped out. He ducked a little lower behind the statue, realising that he had unconsciously straightened some for a better view. But not so far that he could not see the knight and the maid.
Nia too looked up and down the corridor, caution clear on her face, before her features relaxed, and she turned her attention to Kay where he stood a head taller than her. She had a sword in her hand.
"I do not like this." She told him in a low tone, shuttering her eyes behind dark lashes.
Kay did not say anything. He gently squeezed her arm, ducking his head that he may look her in the face. Nia went on.
"He is up to something. Why else would he have come?"
"I cannot say, though I agree with your feeling. I am uneasy also."
"Your feelings are usually right. It is wise to trust them, isn't it?"
Kay nodded his head lightly, though his expression was grave. "We must be careful. He will foil us if he gets wind of our plan."
"I know that. This is a dangerous game – he will expose us before we can expose him, given half a chance. Bastard."
"That's not very ladylike."
"Hang ladylike. There's a time and a place and this isn't it." The knight's lips twitched up in a smile, but he did not say anything in direct reply to that. Instead, he turned his eyes down on the sword in her hand. Nia started, drawn from her thoughts by his attention on the weapon, and held it out to him.
"Here."
Kay took it, and sheathed it at his hip without so much as examining it. "Good and sharp?"
"Singing like a bird."
"And my armour?"
"I'll do it now in a minute." Nia paused, and took a small breath. She looked up at Kay, meeting his eyes. "Do something for me?"
"What do you wish of me?"
"Make me a promise." Tentatively, she lay her hand on his forearm. "Be cautious tomorrow. You won today, but tomorrow you will be facing those with even greater skill. Don't be over confident." She withdrew her hand and clapped his arm encouragingly, much the way another knight would. "Don't go underestimating your opponents, and don't leave your defences wide open like you tend to do. Even for a minute."
Kay cocked his head at her. "That is several promises. You asked for just one."
"After everything, I think I deserve several more."
Kay regarded her a moment, looking her in the eyes. His gaze lingered a moment as he raised his hand to cup her cheek. "Yes to all."
Their lips met, Nia's arms coming up to drape around his neck.
Merlin ducked down behind the statue, out of view. He blinked, eyes wide. Kay and Nia were lovers? Kay was a knight, betrothed to Nia's mistress. A deep feeling of cold settled over him. If this were to be exposed...
Was that what they had been talking about? Somebody exposing them? Or did they mean something else? Who were they even talking about? Somebody here in Camelot, who had come here? What was going on?
Setting his jaw, Merlin half rose to his feet, careful not to be seen as he turned and settled once again into a position that he could see them easily.
The knight and the maid were still held in one another's embrace, close to each other as though starved of contact.
After a moment, they broke apart, though she did not release his arms, nor he her waist. Nia swallowed visibly, and threw a glance down the hallway behind her, towards Branwen's chambers. "I have to go." She looked up at Kay, her hands tightening momentarily. " I'll return at dawn."
He gave a nod and released her waist. "Sleep well."
Merlin shrank back into the statue's shadow as she passed, keeping himself pressed back out of sight until she found her key and unlocked Branwen's door to duck inside the chamber and close it behind her.
Kay's door closed also, and that was the end of that.
The jingle of maille heralded another pass by the guards. Once they had come and gone, Merlin seized his chance and went. He flew down the hall on silent feet, though his mind was elsewhere.
Branwen's maid and her intended... What was he supposed to do with that information, if anything at all? Did Ector know? He sincerely doubted it. Every new snippet of information he gained about the party from the North brought more questions than answers. If this were to come out however, Nia would be in a world of trouble.
As it was, he made a run for it, determined to get as far from the guest chambers as possible that he could take a moment to process the new information where it would not matter if he was seen. Aside from that... revelation, both Branwen and Tiarnan were in their rooms. If they were involved in what had occurred tonight, then they had either done with their part in it, or were not involved. Yet, if something more were happening tonight, they had not yet left to involve themselves. There was still time.
His mind was still all a tumble when he turned out of the long main corridor leading from the guest chambers, and onto the wide hall containing the Fleur de lis sculpture. Though slight sleepiness had begun to set in, he still concentrated on what he had seen and heard.
He swiped a hand across his eyes, hoping to dispel the blurriness, and snap himself back to full concentration.
All feelings of sleep and complacency were snatched away, thrown back with a crash at the loud squeak of boots on the tiled floor, and the rush of movement which brought a lean, hooded figure into his view from the shadows on the far side of the draped wall running down the centre of the hall.
Merlin started, drawing his head back reflexively to stare at the figure as they stood still just beyond the wall, head turning back and forth in slow consideration, as though lost. Merlin flared his nostrils, his mind clicking into place as the whole idea of a suspicious person roaming the Citadel came rushing back to him with a smack. The person in front of him was making very little effort to be anything other than suspicious. Merlin's eyes travelled down – there was something in the person's hand.
A chill washed over him. It was a rolled up length of parchment, gilded around the edges and emblazoned across the back with the agreed symbols that would form the standard for the newly unified Albion. Exactly the same as that which graced the back side of the peace treaty intended for signing at the close of the talks. The one currently housed in the council chambers...
Merlin swallowed, and took a step forward. His own old boots scuffed against the polished marble floor with a loud squeak. He halted dead.
The hooded figure straightened, going completely stock still, as though movement of any kind would bring disaster. Slowly, the person turned their head that they looked right back at Merlin, though their face remained in shadow within the hood, out of the reach of the candles illuminating the lit side of the hall.
The unknown figure looked at Merlin. Merlin looked back at the unknown figure. They stared at one another, as though shifting would break whatever spell had descended on the silent hall.
Then, the figure spoke. Their voice was male and soft, and slightly higher than it normally would be, probably, a touch sing-song and perhaps very slightly familiar. Though not familiar enough.
"... Oh dear."
And the spell was broken. The figure gripped the treaty in their hand with a tight scrunch of parchment and took off running with surprising speed.
"Hey!" Merlin shocked back to reality, unsure how it happened as he found himself launching into a sprint along the lit side of the hall after them. "Stop!"
He tore through the hallways after the figure – the man – the thief - making good time and speed. Merlin was also speedy. Being slender had its advantages in terms of wriggling around in tight spaces, providing less of a target for people trying to stick swords in him, and in this case, less wind resistance.
He hit the corner and bore right, following the hall around towards the moonlit Eastern corridor which ran open-sided around the courtyard's wall. Immediately he broke out into the open air he caught sight of his quarry. The man still bolted away from him, moving ahead and widening his already good lead the longer Merlin stared after him. That didn't matter much.
Merlin reached out one hand after him and lowered his head.
"Ascrence mín féond*."
The man's feet went from under him, depositing him in a crumpled heap on the floor. It should have been enough. Merlin thought it was. He turned his hand and flicked it towards himself. "Cume*."
Without any movement on the man's part, he began sliding along the flagstones, back towards Merlin. With a yelp he flipped onto his back, and began turning his hooded head this way and that in search of something to grab onto. To no avail.
Merlin dropped his hands, though the glow in his eyes did not receded. He started towards his approaching quarry in long determined strides.
The man panicked at the sight – despite his overall appearance, Merlin's height could make him seem quite intimidating – and his panic grew worse. He still clutched the peace treaty in his hand, tightly enough to cause creases in the parchment. A few feet from Merlin, the man grew still, despite continuing to slide towards the advancing warlock. He gave a deep sigh, and went limp, his head resting on the ground, his arms flat on the floor, in a dead faint.
Merlin's stride faltered, the court sorcerer unsure what to make of the reaction. He stopped altogether as the hooded man came to rest with a slight nudge against the toes of his boots. The hood was still covering his face, turned to the side as it was. Merlin looked a little closer, finding the coarse, red material of the cloak familiar. It was held closed at the neck with two pewter clasps, in the shape of triskels. Meant to be druidic, or appear so, at least. Where the lower portion had fallen open, the man wore a rough, very oversized tunic of a red so faded it was almost brown. At the hem however, the edge of another, more brightly coloured shirt could be seen peeking out. The faded tunic was likely a part of the disguise, thrown on along with the cloak atop the man's own clothing.
It certainly seemed as though he had fainted, which was... odd, but Merlin shook his head, and cautiously bent to retrieve the treaty.
Exactly what happened, he could not say, but the moment he came close enough to reach for the treaty, the man, the thief, sat up, one hand flying to his mouth as he blew a cloud of sparkling, purple dust directly into Merlin's face. The reflexive jerk back out of it sent Merlin reeling sideways, coughing his guts up as the stuff seemed to have poured into his mouth and nose and made a damn fine effort at choking him. He fell against the pillar to his left but kept his feet, hacking and shaking his head. His vision swam, leaving him disorientated even as the thief got to his feet, brushed himself down with a flourish and turned to speed away, leaving a tittering, simpering giggle hanging in the air in his wake.
Merlin pressed the back of his hand to his mouth, coughing around it as he tried to focus his eyesight. Whatever that stuff was, he was under no illusion as to where it had come from.
Magic.
Nobody could pull anything out of the air like that so fast. It had to have been conjured. He supposed he should just be grateful that it was annoying and not harmful, apparently.
Shaking his head one last time, he pushed away from the pillar and stumbled after the thief, coughing sporadically.
By the time he reached the archway taking the corridor back inside the citadel, Merlin knew that he had lost the thief. He stopped to catch his breath, and shake away the last remnants of the dust irritating his throat.
Straightening, he focussed, used his magic to speed his vision through the corridors ahead, twisting and turning around each corner and taking every branch, backing up and heading onwards when he found nothing. Then – up the stairs, the thief turned the corner at the top and took the path forwards, moving towards the South end of the Citadel.
Merlin blinked a few times in quick succession to draw his sight back, and took off for the corridor leading to the Great Hall. The thief did not know the Citradel well. The path he had taken double-backed on itself to descend onto the corridor on the far side of the Great Hall. The only way was down, and it would bring him right into Merlin's path.
Though hunting was not something he had ever enjoyed, Merlin found himself beginning to appreciate at least a small part of it. The way in which Arthur and the knights would heat up over chasing down a defenceless deer, or wild boar going about its business in peace had just seemed so senseless. Not to mention brainless, of course. Now, chasing through the halls in an attempt to outwit this thief Merlin thought that he could understand the attraction.
Adrenaline pumped and pushed him on faster and faster, flying along the corridors in a flat out sprint, and he was fast. Gods did he know that he was fast when he wanted to be.
It didn't mean that he agreed with hunting for sport, though. That was still stupid.
He turned onto the long corridor, boots squeaking on the polished floor underfoot. Up ahead the hooded thief emerged from the area at the foot of the spiral staircase, just outside the Great Hall. An uncomfortable place to sleep, and one Merlin did not intend to use again if he could get away with it.
At the sight of the glowering warlock sprinting towards him, head down and arms pumping, the thief bolted away, heading for the far end of the long corridor with a whimper. He was still fast, and surprisingly fit, even after running through the upper floors. Merlin was faster.
In desperation, the thief reached out a hand towards a candlestick standing in one of the alcoves lining the wall and bade it jump into his grip.
"Arisan cwicum*" He whispered to it, turning and flinging it as hard as he could at Merlin gaining on him behind.
It hit Merlin hard, the kickback from the impact and forward motion of his own momentum sliding one foot from under him and knocking him onto his back. He propped himself up on one elbow, picking up the candlestick from his chest. There were hundreds of these candlesticks dotted about the citadel, decorated with little relief rats running up and down them. Rats which were now very much alive and squealing at him at the top of their lungs.
"Ugh!" Merlin threw the stick away, brushing himself off hurriedly in the hopes that there were only two carved on that stick and no more had clung to his clothing.
He pushed himself to stand, frowning at the distance the diversion had put between himself and the thief. Catching up was not an option here, on the straight. Even if he tripped the man, the damage would unlikely be enough to keep him down. Merlin did not want to kill him after all. He focussed, concentrating on what he wanted to happen.
"Abrégdan cíne ondwearde hit æt mec*."
Before the thief could stop it, the treaty was torn from his hand. He turned to see it caught squarely in Merlin's. There did not appear to be any weighing up of options going on. The thief whimpered again, though this time with much more than an ounce of audible despair that it may as well have been an out and out wail, and kept on running. Even when he was thrown forward off his feet it only seemed to affect him for a moment as he shoved himself back up and ran for it again.
Merlin lowered his hand and followed at a quick trot. He clutched the treaty tightly, partly through a need for its security, partly through irritation. Up ahead he heard a series of crashes, like that of multiple objects breaking. As far as he knew there were no breakable objects in this corridor. Strange.
At the end of the hall he followed it to the right and came to the stairs leading downwards. They were in darkness, as was the corridor following it. A thief the man may be, strange, definitely, but not an idiot.
Still. "Bæl on Bryne*."
Nothing happened. Uncertain, Merlin tried again.
"Bæl on Bryne."
Something was wrong. Slowly, keeping his hand raised defensively, he descended the stairs.
His thief couldn't have gone far if he'd put the candles out. There were a good few of them. With the latticed windows, the moonlight filtering in was sparse, and fractured. Something crunched underfoot. Merlin glanced down, finding the shattered remains of a candle under the toe of his boot. The next candle was the same, and the next.
Well, that explained why he couldn't light them.
There were a good many places to hide along this corridor. Another of his favourites when it came to avoiding guards, and Arthur in particular. The architecture provided deep indents, and juts of wall to hide behind. He kept his mind on these as he progressed towards the corridor's end.
After what felt like a painfully long time, he came to the junction at the end and stepped out into the light of a flickering candelabra. Two choices presented themselves: left, or right. The thief had taken one of them. If he had remained in the darkened corridor, then surely he would have taken his chance and clobbered Merlin whilst he had the chance, put an end to this chase and reclaimed the peace treaty? The man was clever enough to smash up the candles in order to slow Merlin down, but possessed no common sense.
Merlin frowned, taking a moment to work out exactly when he had started thinking of hiding out and clobbering someone as sensible, but quickly realised what he was doing and put a stop to it.
Left, or right?
To the right was one of Camelot's many guardrooms, fitted out with its own small armoury seeing as it was so close to the Great Hall, therefore normally occupied by persons meant to protect whichever important people were attending whatever in the Hall above. It was the perfect place to tool up for a fight, and the thief did not appear to have any weaponry on him. Why would he throw dust and rats if he had something more deadly? Though, he did not seem as though he was interested in a real confrontation with Merlin. Not when he was so preoccupied with running away.
To the left was the courtyard. There was a fresh breeze rising from the stairs to the left.
Merlin made his decision and hurried down the steps and out into the cool night.
Guards were stationed at all the usual points, none of them looking particularly disturbed. This had to be the way, though. The door had been left ajar.
Merlin halted just outside it, and scouted ahead with his magic. He made a round of the courtyard, but found nothing. His near constant frown deepened. Odd. The man couldn't have vanished into thin air. He would have heard it. He tried again, this time noting the door at the right hand edge of the courtyard stood very slightly open.
He didn't try and avoid the guards. They didn't even react as he crossed the courtyard and slipped through the open door. Not that he didn't have every right to creep around after dark. He was well known for doing so. They probably just put it down to a sorcerer thing. Most of his other unexplained oddness over the years had been put down to being a sorcerer thing now that his secret was out, Percival had told him.
Right then, it was not important. There was no sign of his quarry beyond a slightly bemused looking guard just inside the door who could not explain what had happened to leave him bemused. The thief had definitely come this way, though locating him with magic proved to be fruitless. He was definitely cleverer than he looked, slowing Merlin down enough to make his escape. Not that that would deter the court sorcerer.
Merlin left the confused guard be and glanced up the stairs leading back up into the citadel in front of him. Only one thing for it. He would have to continue his search the traditional way.
Everything was quiet. Too quiet. Creeping down the hall, hand raised ready, Merlin found his mind beginning to wander. Tiredness had started to poke at his concentration with deliberately irritating fingers. He made an effort to wake up, and continued taking slow, cautious steps along the corridor, all the way to the junction and foot of the steps leading up to Morgana's old chambers.
There had been no sign of his thief. Occasionally a patrol of guards had crossed his path, but they had seen no one, and they knew better than to ask too many questions so let him get on with it. Whether that was through sense, laziness or general incompetence, Merlin could not be sure. Probably an equal mix of the three. He had been doing their job for them more effectively than they could since the day he arrived in Camelot, after all. Why upset the status quo?
He shook his head at himself. He really had become a bitter sod of late. Though it wasn't like he had nothing to be bitter about. Tracking down ne'er do wells in the middle of the night, for one, discounting all of the myriad other, more heart-rending reasons floating at the back of his mind.
He passed underneath the carved arch above which the stairs ran, and turned left towards the griffin staircase. The treaty rustled lightly against the ever-present list tucked into his belt as he moved. He had just passed the foot of the spiral stairs, when a muffled sound reached him.
He halted dead, not daring to move lest he himself should make a sound.
There it was again. A voice. It came from behind him, down the corridor he had turned from. Swallowing, gathering his concentration, Merlin turned, careful that his boots did not squeak, and made his way back to the corridor and followed it left.
The muffled voice was still there, distorted by an effort to keep it in a whisper, and distance. Merlin approached the corner ahead with his head cocked, attempting to hear more clearly what was being said.
There was something else. Another voice. Two voices now? His heart skipped a beat, not through fear, but anticipation. Had his thief found a friend? He certainly hoped not. It would be easy enough to deal with two, if the other was as apathetic about fighting as the first, but he was bloody tired and more than a little fed up. That thief had better be aware what he was messing with. When he was caught, there were any number of humiliating punishments waiting for him at Merlin's hands before being handed over to the knights. There was still that old gibbet hanging above the drawbridge. It hadn't been used in a while, but it looked like a good place to put someone while they had rotten vegetables hurled at them. Teach him to make things inconvenient...
A short way from the corner, he halted. There were definitely two voices now. He tried to get a look at them, but his magic seemed unable to show him clearly. His mind's eye appeared to be reflecting his actual eyes and coming up bleary he felt so tired. That was annoying. From the blurry shapes he could see, he could make out two separate entities, and they were both definitely armed.
He steadied himself. They were just around the corner. This was it. He took a breath. He had faced much worse.
The whispering had stopped. They must know that he was there. He had to move first, attack before they did. He steeled himself, raised both hands and leapt around the corner to face his enemies.
Right into the path of a shaky battle cry and a similarly leaping body wielding a sword. He swallowed the spell on the tip of his tongue, the words instead twisting into a surprised cry of "Gilli!"
The sword did not stop, too far advanced in its swing to be pulled back and Merlin ducked in time to avoid a grisly death. It bounced off the wall behind him with a resounding clang, that, and the sight of Merlin there leaving Gilli looking more than a little wide-eyed and shaken.
"Gods, Merlin!" He croaked, unable to release his sword he gripped it in white-knuckled hands. It came to rest against his knee, its wielder unable to straighten from his fighting stance as he stared back at Merlin.
Behind him, leaning round to stare at Merlin with as close to an expression of surprise as he could possibly form, was George. "Master Merlin." He greeted levelly, eyebrows raised to a height that would make Gaius proud.
"George."
The three of them stared at each other, stunned into silence.
At last, Merlin shook his head. "What are yo two doing?"
"We thought we could give you a hand." Gilli managed, finally able to straighten and sheathe his old sword.
"I don't need a hand."
Gilli and George looked at one another. It was George who spoke, in such a matter if fact tone it was as though he were reading from a scroll. "We believed that your search would be made more efficient by extra sets of eyes, Master Merlin."
Merlin was going to refute that claim, remind George that he had magic, and had been doing this sort of thing for the better part of a decade, when he set eyes on the thing that his manservant was brandishing as a weapon. " What is that?"
It took a moment for George to realise that Merlin was referring to the object in his hand. He almost inflated with pride when he did. "Ah, you mean this. "He waggled the thin piece of wood stuck all over one end with speckled brown chickens' feathers. "It is a device of my own making. I call it a feather-duster."
Merlin stared a moment longer, before shaking his head quickly. "Right."
He turned his attention to Gilli, truly unable to think of anything that could match George's expectation of his dusting thing. "Have you found anything?"
Gilli shook his head, somewhat surprised that George's nonsense apparently made Merlin more amenable to the idea of their help. "Not yet. Everything is quiet tonight."
Merlin almost snorted. Clearly they had not been to the places he had. "You should both go back to Gaius' chambers."
"Merlin." Gilli stared at his friend, trying to get the measure of him. "Let us help you."
The answer to that was immediate. "No."
"You helped me out, stopped me from making a terrible mistake. Now you're letting me stay with you, making sure I have somewhere safe while this tournament is on. Give me a chance to repay you."
"You don't owe me anything, Gilli." This was not about repaying a debt. Whatever George was doing there, it was probably something to do with ensuring that correct courtly etiquette was observed while the bad man was apprehended.
"Just let us help."
Uncomfortable, Merlin shifted. There was a reason that he still did things alone, why he voluntarily headed into danger without telling the people who would insist on going with him. It was not something that he particularly wanted to disclose to anyone else.
"I would be better doing this alone."
"Why?" Gilli all but demanded. "I have magic, too. I can fight." He waggled the hilt of his sword as though to remind Merlin of that fact.
Still, Merlin shook his head. "It's just better."
"Gaius said that you do things alone."
"I do."
"And that you get into trouble when you do. Merlin," Gilli's hands rose to rest on his hips, the rest of him leaning forward that he stared up into Merlin's face with something approaching disbelief and anger in his expression, "stop. Being. an. Idiot."
"I can't." Merlin winced slightly, and corrected himself, "let you help."
"Why?"
"Because you'll get hurt." He blurted the words before his brain even got a chance to moderate them, let alone to stop them.
Gilli and George looked at one another, the latter actually raising an eyebrow in response, albeit briefly. Merlin swiped a hand across his eyes, feeling as though he was backed up against the wall at his back and unable to get away. "Everyone does. Always. It's better to do things alone. That way, it's only me at risk."
As much as he had fought against explaining his behaviour to others, perhaps on some level he had wanted to tell someone. Now that he had, it did not feel anything like the weight off his shoulders that he had imagined it would be. Since he had come back, everything was a potential threat, everyone was a potential traitor. Gwen was not safe, the knights were not safe. Nobody was safe. He couldn't feel that they were, not since...
His throat bobbed.
Not since he lost Arthur. He had lost many over the years, but he had never really thought, not really, really thought, until that moment in the cave with the Vates, that he would really lose Arthur. He had saved his life so many times – protected him so many times, and in the end, he had still lost him.
Nobody was safe. If they were with him while he did the things he did, then they were in danger. He couldn't let anyone else put themselves in danger while he was there with them. He couldn't lose anyone else. He just could not.
As it was, Gilli simply glanced behind him at George, who clasped his servile hands behind his back and inclined his head.
"Merlin." Gilli turned back to his friend, a sincere expression on his face. He managed a smile, "it will be easier to find this person between us."
Merlin fixed him with a 'look' that should have sent both Gilli and George running back to Gaius' chambers with their tails between their legs. Instead, Gilli looked back at him blankly.
"We're not going anywhere."
After a moment, Merlin relented, and sighed. "Come on."
He brushed past them and continued on his way along the hall. He was not going to endanger them. As much of a threat as the thief posed, he was not going to run the risk of them getting hurt. Maybe he could lose them somewhere?
Gilli and George glanced at one another once more, and followed.
ͼ ~ ͽ ~ ͼ ~ ҉҈҉ ~ ͽ ~ ͼ ~ ͽ
* Trip my enemy.
* Come.
* Rise to life.
* Parchment come to me – or something similar. I didn't write the translation for this one down as I'm a clever girl.
* On burning fire.
Note: This took a lot of fine tuning to cut down. I think I must have been suffering from the written form of verbal diarrhoea when I wrote it. Anyway, the plot thickens. I'm off on my hols for the next week, but I have left an update on how my fics are doing on my Livejournal, accessible via my profile. I also documented my last holiday with many pictures that took in a lot of Merlin filming locations. We're checking out North Wales this time, as we've never been despite living here our entire lives. I also did the ALS Icebucket challenge which was a load of fun! As was watching the ones by the Merlin cast members. Because of Bradley James I had Ice ice baby stuck in my head for an entire shift. Vanilla Ice should never be stuck in anyone's head. Ever. Curse you!
See you all next week! xxx