Author's Note:
Hi everyone:)
I'm back again, after a long time... but to my defense- I was sick for a few weeks, then was stressed for a while, then had a writer's block (still have one, but I decided to just write because I will participate in Camp NaNo. Which means no fanfiction at all next month. So I want to update before, damn writer's block and school).
Sooo... this was written during a writer's block and is rather short, but I hope it's still alright. I've got a bit of a problem with this fic right now, because I forgot that there was a prophecy and a villain for about half of it, then remembered last chapter. And now there would only be a few chapters left, but it doesn't feel enough to wrap it all up. Well, I'll definitely try :).
As always, thanks for your reviews, alerts and favourites. And sorry for the long A/N^^.
Enjoy and please R&R! :D
Disclaimer: Don't own.
Chapter 22: Back and Forth
"Well, that was fun."
Arthur just glared back, like he hated every centimetre of the thief's grin. Maybe because he did. The two of them were on the way back to Igraine's chambers after saying goodbye to the children. They had all looked sad that their new playmate had had to go- all sweet and innocent, even they'd probably seen and lived through more than any child should. The Prince did like them- as long as they didn't dogpile him.
Not that he would tell the thief that.
"What the hell was that about?"
The thief didn't even turn as he led the way (Arthur could have found it easily, but he didn't want to let his captive walk behind his back- a habit countless years of training had made sure of). "You wanted to get to know them, didn't you?" he asked back with a small shrug. The Prince pinched his nose.
"I just wanted to see them, see how they were acting, not to become a living toy!" He sent another glare. "And you knew that very well."
This time Emrys turned back, so Arthur could see his grin widening. "You know me. I'm a terrible thief- of course I would make such a dangerous attempt at your health and life. I simply like to kill people after saving them."
The Prince shut his mouth at the last comment, still gazing at Emrys' back as they continued. Emrys had saved him. It was something he couldn't quite grasp- at least after the initial anger had worn off. He had captured the thief by using his fox, then come to taunt him in the dungeons. What had Emrys said on their very first encounter?
"You can't understand, Pendragon. Your world is gold and Ladys, knights and servants for everything, all shiny. Wake up! There's never enough glimmer for everyone. There are people who have to beg just so they have a piece of dry bread to eat, orphans."
Apparently he really hadn't understood anything back then. Not that now he could say he knew what their life was like. But at least he had met those children, seen in what area they lived, without anyone to look after them other than themselves and a thief.
"Innocent people who are killed or punished because of what their hunger forced them to or what they were born like."
Had he referred to the position they were born in? To the laws that prevented peasants from becoming knights and forced them to steal? But there were lots of peasants who led a good, safe life in their own houses- with their own food and money. They weren't exactly forced to steal or sign their own death sentence.
It could relate to Camelot's laws on magic. Magic users were indeed killed simply because they existed. But then again, people chose to learn magic, didn't they? That's why it corrupted them so easily and made them evil. But how could Emrys, a simple thief despite everything he had done, be that powerful? It needed years to learn and study, he wouldn't have had the time... except if he had been born with it. Which was, as mentioned before, impossible.
"Not everyone can have the money. I-"
And then the arrow had come, interrupting their conversation with its traitorous aim. Emrys had never tried to continue it. Maybe because he felt the Prince wasn't worth it, after all that had happened.
He had never mentioned anything about being born with magic again either.
"When did you study?"
Emrys stopped again and turned to stare at him, obviously completely confused at the change of topic. Arthur felt his cheeks redden. He hadn't meant to say that out loud, but well- now that he had, he could just as well follow through with it.
"What?"
"Your magic. When did you learn it?"
A spark of realization startled alive in the thief's eyes, narrowing as he glanced the street up and down. "Could we have that conversation later? This place isn't exactly safe. Sometimes the walls have ears- and quite litterally, I fear."
Arthur grabbed his arm just as he wanted to march on, turning Emrys back towards himself. Now it was the thief's turn to glare, but Arthur only raised a brow. "You will be dead anyway if they see you, no matter what you can tell me about your magic. Plus, the guards don't often come down here and it would take some time for any listener to call them. By then we would already be gone. So?"
Emrys paused for a moment, caught between thoughtful and angry, before he sighed. "I didn't study. I was born with it."
Arthur first reaction was joy- pride that he had guessed right. His second was less pleasant.
"What?!"
Emrys sighed, glancing around worriedly. "I told you it wasn't good to talk about that here. Now could you please shut up?"
He pulled himself from the startled Prince's grasp, forcing him to hurry to keep up with his long strides. For a few moments they walked in silence, Merlin angry and Arthur again unable to grasp what had been said. This was a thief, he was lying, right? He had to be lying. But there were so many things supporting his words...
"How is that possible?" Arthur finally managed to get out, more hissed than actually spoken. The thief still understood him and turned slightly back without slowing down.
"Apparently there is the possibility that someone is born with their magic. Those people are called 'warlocks' or 'witches' instead of 'sorcerers' and are extremely powerful. You can be glad it doesn't happen too often, maybe that's why you've never heard of them."
He didn't look to see whether Arthur believed him, and that was what convinced the Prince most. Emrys didn't seem nervous or uncertain anymore. He was simply stating facts.
"Alright."
This time the thief froze, staring at Arthur incredulously. "You believe me? The filthy thief?"
The Prince almost wished he could shake his head and laugh at Emrys for so much as thinking that, but somehow he couldn't. The thief had been honest, it was time to give a bit of that back. No one else had ever managed to make Arthur's whole beliefs crumble with three sentences. But then again, Emrys was unique. He just hadn't decided if that was good or bad yet.
Arthur nodded.
"But then-"
The Prince would never know what Emrys wanted to say, for that moment they stepped round a corner- and walked straight into two other persons. Two persons with a lot of shiny armour and big swords hanging on their sides. Damn. How could it be that he had wanted to return to his chambers all the time and now, when he was finally found, he was angry?
A short glance told him that Emrys had been fast enough to pull his hood up and without a second thought he copied the movement. It could buy them some time. After all it wouldn't do for Emrys to be captured again, with the prophecy and all- maybe if he could get away, Arthur was fast enough to tell Gaius or meet Emrys at Igraine's chambers before he fled. He still needed to tell the thief about the prophecy, at least see his reaction towards it.
Arthur could barely stop himself from groaning when he recognized the blond and black heads. Finlay* and Bran**. Why had he even knighted them- and especially, why had they stayed knights after telling him Emrys had been killed by the arrow? He could have saved himself a lot of stress.
Finlay, Blondie as Emrys had called him, managed to get up first and stood above them, looking slightly embarassed and helpless. "Sorry for knocking you over, really. We were just talking-"
"Stop explaining yourself to peasants and rather help me get up!" Bran or Blackie snapped at him, causing his younger companion to turn even redder.
"Of course, of course."
He grabbed Bran's hand and pulled heftily. A bit too strong apparently, since both of them fell over in the other direction. Finlay groaned when the older one landed on him, only just missing Arthur who struggled to get to his feet. Emrys had already stood up and now was lingering on the edge, half hidden in the shaddows. Arthur glanced down on the two guards who were still arguing, before he sighed and made to round them and return with the thief. Funny how someone can change their mind.
And had those guards really always been that dumb? No wonder they had needed so long to catch Emrys!
Suddenly a foot shot out, Finlay involuntarily hitting Arthur's leg just as he stepped around the guards' feet. The Prince ended up once again on the floor, listening to Finlay's excuses as the guard had finally managed to sit up. He could just imagine Emrys' smirk.
"...really sorry, I didn't do that on purpose. I mean-"
Arthur lifted to glare at the two of them and Finlay stopped abruptly, gasping. Bran hid his shock a bit better, but still his eyes widened almost comically. The Prince instinctively reached for his face, feeling for anything strange. There was nothing- nose, eyes, mouth, all still intact... then it hit him.
His hood. His bloody hood had slid back when he had fallen for the second time. Why did his life have to be like that?
The Prince quickly glanced around, eyes finding Emrys' gaze, fighting the urge to shout at the still form. Run! Damn, just get away!
Something in them must have conveyed the message, for the thief nodded quickly and set off, blending into the shadows behind him until he was nothing more than a shadow. Another quick glance told the Prince that the guards hadn't noticed anything. Typical. Not that he would complain, at least not this time.
"My lord, we have found you!"
Finlay sounded like a small child that had just found out where their Mum hid the sweets. Arthur sighed to himself.
"Yes, you have. Well done."
Why did he always have to get stuck with such idiots?
*Finlay (Blondie)- Celtic name that means Blond-Haired soldier
**Bran (Blackie)- Gaelic name meaning black raven
Umm... yeah, I hope you like it. The names Finlay and Bran were the ones most voted for in the poll (yup, quite some time ago). Thanks to Galacticwolf for those two great ideas! :)
Now- was alright? Good? Bad? Should I stop writing when I've got a writer's block?
