Disclaimer: I own nothing in this marvelous universe; it all belongs to BBC Merlin.
Author's Note: As promised, here is the long-awaited combat scene! Having never fought or used two daggers, I first had to do some research, so some LotR watching took place (Legolas, who else?)—and quite effectively distracted me. This chapter was also a bear to write, and underwent almost as many revisions as it has words ::sweatdrop::. Nonetheless, I enjoyed writing it—so much so that I actually decided to complicate matters a bit, and therefore have expanded this particular installment to seven chapters ::sheepish grin::. Hopefully that will be the final count! Please enjoy!
Reviewers: All 97 of you, thank you!
Rating: T
Summary: Three months into weapons' training, not everyone is so pleased with Merlin as Arthur is…(Friendshipfic. Bromance.)
"Speech"
Personal Thoughts/Memories (Italics)
.:A Man's Measure:.
By Sentimental Star
The Prince's Favor (Part 5)
Twenty minutes after Arthur had taken his leave of him, ostensibly to examine the practice field, Merlin emerged fully suited from the interior of Camelot's castle, shading his eyes against the noonday sun.
"Merlin, over here!" Gwen's voice sang out over the low murmur of the voices on the practice field as she waved at him from an inconspicuous corner.
Merlin grinned tiredly, and made his way over to her. "Gwen," he greeted her warmly once he reached the young woman's side, "shouldn't you be with Morgana?"
Gwen rolled her eyes, "She's with the king, playing the good ward today, and so, sent me along without her."
Merlin winced. Morgana's relationship with Uther could be rocky at best; had it only been Arthur out there today, and maybe the knights, he knew she would have been standing right there beside Gwen.
"She did send something with me, though."
Before Merlin could ask, Gwen's hands busied themselves at his left shoulder. When he glanced down after she pulled away, he found a securely fastened nosegay of flowers on his (borrowed) jerkin.
Gwen grinned shyly, indicating each bud in turn, "Apple blossoms, cowslip, white heather, and pear blossoms."
They were tied with a yellow ribbon on their metal pin.
Merlin, who knew the meaning of those flowers just as well as the girls did (and the color of the ribbon did not escape him, either), gave a small laugh, "A favor, Gwen? What will Arthur think?"
Gwen blushed brightly, lightly slapping Merlin's arm for his teasing, "Merlin!"
"Not that he's in a position to object," Merlin added wickedly, showing her the daggers' hilts.
There's no way Gwen could have missed the deep, Camelot red of the scrap trailing against their blue, but she merely raised an eyebrow at it, before tilting her head to the left expectantly and watching him with a small frown furrowing her brow, "Merlin…?" she drew out the end of his name thoughtfully.
After all, there's no way she could have missed his uncharacteristic exhaustion, either.
Merlin flushed under her worried gaze, Uh-oh.
Before he had time to even fully process his decision, Merlin leaned close and quickly kissed her cheek, "Thanks, Gwen."
As he had hoped, his friend's lovely face turned three shades of red and her thought process was effectively destroyed.
Leaving a red-cheeked Gwen thusly distracted, Merlin quickly escaped over to Arthur where the Crown Prince stood at the edge of the practice field, lips compressed into a thin line as he watched the growing crowd gather across from him.
IOIOIOIOIOI
"You'll get permanent wrinkles if you keep that up, you know. Where will your princely physique be then, hmm?"
Arthur immediately spun around, scowling at the cheeky remark as the younger man gained his shoulder, "I should have followed my instincts that first time and appointed you court jester, Merlin."
In response, Merlin merely hid a grin, "At least then they'd be laugh lines."
Arthur sighed, turning to regard the milling crowd with a troubled, dark eyes. He felt Merlin's sudden frown burn into the side of his head, but did not particularly care to address it. Instead, he glanced at his manservant from the corner of his eye…and noted the flash of color at his left shoulder.
He blinked, and turned fully to face Merlin. The yellow of what he could have sworn was Guinevere's hair ribbon jumped out at him, and it tied together a tiny bouquet of flowers, Apple blossom—Preference, cowslip—Winning Grace, his childhood nurse's lessons returned with sudden force, after he had gone years without thinking about them, white heather—Protection, pear blossoms—Lasting Friendship.
(Another) favor, clearly from Guinevere and, he suspected, Morgana. By rights, he ought to be jealous, but all he could really think about was how grateful he was that the girls had added the white heather.
"Arthur?" a discreet touch to his wrist startled the prince out of his contemplation of the girls' token, and he jerked his head up to meet a worried Merlin's gaze.
Rapidly blinking himself out of his stupor, he grimaced and angled his head towards the center of the practice field where Sir Kay was already in position, keeping his level gaze unwaveringly fastened on the two of them where they stood partially screened off from the crowd, "You'd better get out there."
"All right," Merlin's worry did not seem to disappear. If anything, it heightened, but for once his manservant obeyed him.
Was it horrible that Arthur actually wished he hadn't?
"Merlin!"
Merlin, who had already crossed half the distance between Arthur and Kay, now started and spun around to face him. "Arthur?"
Arthur quickly loped his way over to his manservant's side, opening his mouth (and closing it) several times, before finally settling on, "Try not to incapacitate him."
Startled, pleased, Merlin gave a soft snort, which quickly developed into full-blown, warm laughter, "Right."
IOIOIOIOIOI
Once both combatants had entered the practice field, those who had gathered to watch the match fell silent. At the center of the crowd sat three, relatively ornate wooden chairs on a raised dais. The Lady Morgana and King Uther had already taken their seats, and the one at Uther's right remained empty, waiting for Arthur to take his place.
Camelot's Crown Prince did not join them. Instead, he exhaled softly and strode out onto the practice field, standing between his manservant and his knight. A few moments later, Sir Leon gained his right shoulder and gave a slight nod.
Arthur inhaled deeply: "Five rounds," he began, "twenty marks each. Sir Leon will tally the hits; the first to reach twenty wins the round. If what would be a killing blow in battle is landed, then that round will be over and the man with the higher count will win. If, for any reason, one of the combatants surrenders, the duel will end and normal practice will resume. Is that understood?"
Naturally there were objections, ill-disguised as they were in obeisance:
"My Lord!" Kay protested softly.
"Sire-" Merlin also objected, fighting a scowl.
Arthur returned Merlin's almost-scowl with one of his own, leveling his glare first at one man, then at the other, "Enough! That is my final word on the matter. I cannot afford to lose either one of you to an ill-timed training accident!"
It stopped their complaints cold. Kay blinked at him, quite obviously startled, but Merlin eyed him intently for a tenth of a second, before his entire expression went soft.
"It will be as you say, My Lord," he murmured, bowing deeply.
Kay, still rather stunned, could only utter a similar acquiesce.
When Leon drew up even with his shoulder, smiling so slightly only Arthur would have noticed it, the Crown Prince released a shuddering breath, and swallowed against the lump in his throat, "Begin."
IOIOIOIOIOI
Arthur would have expected Kay to unsheathe his sword in an ostentatious whirl of steel and leather—his old…acquaintance had always possessed a flare for the dramatic, after all. (Yes, he knew what Merlin might have said in response to that.) Instead, two whirls of steel and leather unsheathed themselves, one to either of Kay's hands; twin blades of steel, much shorter than Kay's customary sword, which nestled snugly in his palms.
Arthur felt his stomach drop to his toes, When did he learn how to use daggers?
For all the mock-duels they had had when they were younger, and for all the skirmishes they had actually fought in together, never once had Kay used those daggers, but he clearly knew how to wield them.
Swallowing, Arthur glanced at Merlin, expecting at least a vague imitation of his own shock to appear on his manservant's face.
He did not expect the look of fierce, primal joy that abruptly lit the younger man's face. Going by the swiftly concealed flash of worry in Kay's eyes, his knight had noticed it, too.
Arthur had, however, never known Kay to be a coward, and his…his old friend, if Merlin insisted on labeling the other man as such, proved that once again, by straightening up his spine and setting his jaw.
Suddenly not at all certain he could determine the outcome of the match, Arthur swallowed hard, and took a step back. He desperately desired to stay here, stay close, in case he missed something, could warn Merlin somehow.
Such a desire was neither chivalrous, nor noble; Arthur knew that well. Just as he knew that Merlin would never listen to him even if he had tried…but chivalric codes did not exactly take into account extraordinarily reckless manservants.
"Sire?" Arthur started just as much at the first crash of steel against steel as he did at Leon's voice near his elbow, "Do you intend to judge the combat from here?"
At his young monarch's jump, Leon quickly shot out his hand to gently grasp the prince's elbow, "…Arthur?" prompted again, voice low and more than a little worried, even as he tried to keep his focus on the match heating up in front of him.
"N-No," Arthur coughed, unable to tear his eyes from the two men, who now warily circled each other, intent on finding an opening. He cleared his throat, wrestling his voice steady, "No. I-I'm…I mean, I'll watch it from-"
Kay abruptly darted forward, swinging both daggers down simultaneously at Merlin's neck. When his manservant swung his own two daggers up in an arc, effectively blocking Kay's from landing, Arthur choked on his own saliva.
Leon did glance at him then, eyebrows knitting together in clear worry.
Arthur coughed again, hastily trying to clear his throat, "—Seat!" exclaimed perhaps an octave higher than he cared to admit. "I'll watch it from my seat!"
Leon watched him back away (still battling his inability not to look), brows high and green eyes concerned, "As you say, Sire."
IOIOIOIOIOI
Not that moving away from the combat had done much good, Arthur reflected dizzily sometime later, as he watched Merlin narrowly avoid a double-bladed sweep from Kay's daggers by ducking and lashing out at the back of the knight's shins with his right foot.
At his elbow, Uther spoke with something like admiration as Kay stumbled backwards and Leon called out the hit, "Did you teach him this, Arthur?"
Wordlessly, Arthur shook his head, the sizeable lump in his throat growing no smaller as he watched Merlin twist around a second sweep, this one aimed at the vulnerable flesh between ribs and hip. In retaliation, the younger man crashed his daggers against Kay's right wrist.
It would have done little good (Kay, unlike Merlin, wore a guard on his vambrace), except that the sun had long since passed its zenith, and the lengthening shadows told Arthur it was nigh half past one o'clock. Slowly, both Merlin and Kay were growing tired, but both men refused to give any ground. Inevitably, something had to give.
And it did. Kay lost his right dagger, his grip on its hilt now too loose and too sweaty.
Merlin, not one to waste an opportunity, kicked it away with his boot. It spun off to the side, colliding with a dull thud against one of the nearby stone walls of the castle (if "nearby" constituted a distance of fifty feet).
Arthur would have expected Merlin to follow it up with a double-bladed, downward sweep at Kay's neck. His manservant even added Arthur's signature spin as he twirled the left dagger's hilt.
Instead of bringing the blade down for a "kill point," however, as Leon had since termed it, he shoved the dagger into his belt.
"What is he doing, what is he doing?"
Guinevere's worried chant, though under her breath and near inaudible, expressed Arthur's sentiments quite well, and he found himself torn between pleasure that Merlin had kept the dagger that carried his favor, and anxiety over the fact that his manservant had chosen now of all times to display every chivalrous bone he contained within his body.
When Merlin brought up his single dagger, holding it still and level between them as he waited for Kay to regain his equilibrium, Arthur promptly resolved to no longer assume anything when it came to his enigma of a manservant.
End The Prince's Favor (Part 5)