It had been surprising coincidence that Arthur and Merlin had happened to stumble into Ealdor after a rather gruesome attack by a rogue sorcerer and his lackeys.
It had all begun with a hunting trip (as it always did, a grumbling voice that sounded annoyingly like his servant piped). Arthur and his father had been on edge for the past couple weeks after a particularly nasty argument over the fate of a servant that had been caught stealing food from the kitchens for a grieving family after their father had died. Arthur managed to keep the servant from any undesirable punishments but couldn't give the man back his position in the castle staff. Needing to get as far away from the castle and his father as possible, Arthur had dragged his servant towards the borders. The plan was to stay a safe distance away from them so as to not accidentally cause even more tensions between Camelot and Cenred's kingdom but, as was their luck, plans often ended up failing.
The sorcerer had been fairly weak, only managing small spells that obviously took more effort than they were really worth but those spells had been enough to do a decent amount of damage. Besides, even if the sorcerer himself wasn't all that much of a threat, the bandits he had managed to round up most certainly were.
They flooded from the trees and two replaced every man Arthur managed to cut down. It was overwhelming. Not to mention, the prince had an inkling that those spells were only increasing the strength and defense of the rouges. He could feel his energy sapping with every blow he had to parry. His head rattled with every block. They couldn't last much longer. Somewhere in his mind, he hoped that Merlin was doing the proper thing and had hidden himself rather than try to do anything idiotic. A bob of black hair just on the edge of the chaos did little to ease Arthur's thoughts.
He couldn't dwell on that for too long though. More men were beginning to bombard him and he didn't have much time to actually think. Instead, his mind had been reduced to just a stream of orders as if his body was nothing more than a battalion of his own knights. Block. Strike. Dodge. Block. Feint. Parry. Opening! More men fell, more flooded in.
It wasn't until the stream of spells stopped abruptly that Arthur began to gain some ground. The men around him stumbled from the spell's backlash, probably from only being half completed before being cut short. Arthur looked to see what had happened to the sorcerer only to find Merlin standing there with a bloodied sword in hand standing grimly above the body. Understanding filled his mind and he finished off the men nearest to him before racing to Merlin. Grabbing his arm, the prince pulled them away from the battle knowing that there were a lot more mercenaries waiting in the trees and this dazed opportunity was their only chance for survival.
The boys stumbled through the forest. Merlin hadn't even made a jest on Arthur's retreat which meant he was either that exhausted or that affected by having to kill a sorcerer or even just a fellow human being. Arthur didn't doubt that it was some mixture of both.
The sun had been setting by the time they stumbled into Merlin's childhood village. Having recognized the forests around him, Merlin led the way.
The people were quick to welcome their old friend and pervious saviors and Merlin was showered with motherly worry that Arthur could only marvel at. It wasn't until Hunith turned around and fussed over him in much the same manner that he realized just exactly where Merlin had gotten his never-ending selflessness and kindness.
The two were whisked into Hunith's home where she spooned out two bowls of porridge and forced the two to eat. Thankfully they hadn't suffered any injuries besides a few shallow cuts that needed little attention. All they needed was rest and Hunith was already setting up the beds on the floor.
Once allowed to sleep, Arthur was already halfway there while Merlin and his mother conversed in quiet whispers that his sleep addled brain didn't bother to process. At some point, the door was opened and one of the two slipped off into the night for a bit. The realm of sleep took Arthur before he could see which one.
The following morning, the remainder of the bandits had been found dead just a league away from the village.
Arthur stood perplexed as he crouched by one of the bodies. A few had been completely drained of their strength and Arthur was willing to pass that off as a side effect of that spell from the day before but without a magic expert like Gaius, he couldn't make any official calls. It was ones that seemed to suffer head wounds that roused the most suspicion. All of those were slumped against trees or rock faces and it was easy to see where the trauma had occurred but the question was how. Magic was the only way to get such force to throw these men like dolls but the sorcerer had been killed so how did this happen?
He stood with a sigh and ran a frustrated hand through his hair deeply wishing that Hunith hadn't sent Merlin out to retrieve… Was it firewood that she had said? Arthur found he couldn't quite recall but also found that he didn't quite care. Whatever it was that his servant was sent to fetch, it was inconveniencing him because Merlin had always been surprisingly good at interpreting strange cases such as these. (Not that he would ever tell Merlin that, of course.) Arthur blamed the sheer amount of time the boy spent around Gaius.
Surveying the scene once more, Arthur noticed an odd trail of dried blood leading away from the clearing and back towards the village. Eyebrows furrowing, Arthur unsheathed his sword and began to follow.
Instead of going straight toward the village like Arthur had originally thought, it skirted around, moving into another section of the forest. This section had a different atmosphere about it. The air was lighter and thrummed as if it was alive. It almost seemed greener in comparison to the woods around it and there was an almost overwhelming sense of calm. Through the trunks Arthur could see the glistening of the sun off water.
Affected by the atmosphere, Arthur found himself lowering his sword and quietly stepping through this grove, lost in the odd peace of it all. He barely noticed that the trail he had been following was no longer on the ground. It wasn't until a pained hiss shattered the quiet that Arthur was on full alert once more.
The hiss quieted down but there was a rustling and a few grunts as whoever this was tried to keep from making too much noise. The only thing that Arthur couldn't place was where the noise was coming from. This person wasn't anywhere in sight and the sounds were too loud and clear to be carried on the breeze.
Something wet and red fell on his cheek.
Surprised, he put a hand to his face only to feel the warm stickiness of an all too familiar thing. He looked up and could barely hide the breath he sucked in between his teeth at the sight.
Way above him, perched in the tangled web of branches sat a person, an injured person no less. The worst part of it all was that he recognized that blasted tousle of raven hair and that infuriating blue neckerchief that was currently stained a disturbing color of red.
Merlin.
Arthur made a move to call out and order the idiot to explain why he was injured and why he was in a godforsaken tree in that state but something stopped him short. Merlin was talking. It wasn't just quiet reassurances that Arthur had seen many a man speak to themselves when hurt or trying to process some problem. No. Merlin, the odd mystery of a man that he was, was talking to the tree.
"No Bartholomew. ('What type of name is Bartholomew,' Arthur thought incredulously.) I'm fine. It's just a scratch. Just need those bandages…" The voice had dropped into a low murmur as Merlin removed the hand from his side to rifle through a hollow that Arthur was sure was not there two seconds ago. When he straightened, a white roll of bandages lay in his hands.
Merlin tugged off his shirt, sucking in a pained breath through his teeth as he did so. From Arthur's position on the ground, he couldn't see if Merlin's words were actually true. The amount of blood there was certainly didn't help the case. Taking a few breaths beforehand, Merlin began to wrap the bandages tightly around his torso with the ease of someone who had done this way too many times before. Arthur knew that the boy was the physician's apprentice but still, no man should be able to tend to their own injuries that easily. Through all this, Merlin just kept talking.
"Those bandits showed up quicker than I thought they would. Thankfully they still seemed drained so they weren't too much of a problem."
There was a pause and the leaves rustled as a soft wind blew through the branches.
"Alright… Some of them were still a little strong," Merlin admitted, a begrudging tone in his voice. "And one did manage to do this so I guess they might have been a little bit of a threat." The wind died down and Merlin nodded as if an agreement had been struck.
There was a small pause as Merlin tied off the bandage and shoved the remaining bandages and his bloodied shirt into the hollow. Out came a spare, this one a sort of cream color that Arthur didn't feel belonged on his servant.
That thought aside, this moment gave Arthur time to stop and process what he had been hearing. Merlin had been there when the bandits were taken out and from the sounds of it, the gangly boy had helped in the deed. It was completely preposterous to believe that Merlin of all people could do such a thing and besides, there were telltale signs of magic use. There was just no way Merlin would get involved in such a thing. There couldn't be.
"-thur doesn't know…" His head snapped up as he realized he missed some of Merlin's one-sided conversation. "There was absolutely no way that prat would have let me go alone to face these guys and if he did come, I wouldn't have been able to take them out so easily."
What? Had he heard that correctly? Merlin had been right about not letting him go alone but what was all this about not being able to "take them out" with Arthur's help!
Merlin paused once more and let out a sigh. If Arthur squinted, he could barely make out the look of guilt on his friend's face and even if he couldn't see the expression clearly, the feeling was very clear in his voice. "Well of course I trust him but… He's the prince of Camelot. If I tell him, he would have to choose and why would he pick me over his own father and the laws of the land?" Merlin's voice had dwindled into a quiet murmur, carried down on the wind.
The prince couldn't help the stab of pain in his heart when Merlin said that Arthur wouldn't have his back but he didn't understand what could be so important that it would cause Arthur to have to choose between his friend and father. And why mention the law? The only thing that Arthur could even think of was- Oh.
Arthur's face paled and the hurt in his chest began to bubble with feelings of hurt and betrayal. Anger rose its head like a beast.
Magic.
It was the only explanation. Merlin had magic. Merlin was a sorcerer. There was no reason for him to lie out here. There were no ears around to hear and the servant had no idea that Arthur was just below him listening to him spout off his treason to a freaking tree. He would tell a tree and not a friend who trusted him with everything.
And that was what hurt the most. It wasn't the magic. It wasn't the betrayal or treason. It wasn't even the fact that Merlin had covered this up for who knows how long. It was the fact that he didn't trust Arthur enough to share his biggest secret. No, the boy felt so alone and unsure that he turned to a plant to vent his worries to.
Not Arthur. Not Arthur who he had seen at his worse. Not Arthur who trusted him with his own secrets and insecurities. Not Arthur who he rode into battle with and complained to. Not Arthur who he joked with and gave advice to. Not Arthur who trusted him with his life and would gladly do so still (because gosh knows Merlin was too much of a selfless idiot to even considering using his powers for personal gain). Not Arthur.
No, he didn't trust him with his. But he trusted this blasted Bartholomew tree! His knuckles were white as he clenched them at his side resisting the urge to stab his sword into the very tree that was causing all this anguish.
An outburst from above brought Arthur back to the present.
"It's his father Bartholomew! They may not see eye to eye sometimes but Arthur still loves him, wants to make him proud. I'm not going to put him in the position to choose; I would never want to do that." There was a sigh. "Yeah, he's a bit of a prat sometimes and more than a little arrogant. Not to mention his anger issues! Do you know how many things he throws at me on a daily basis?" Arthur resisted the urge to growl in annoyance, not in the mood for this belittling prattle.
Merlin let out a soft laugh before looking to the light that filtered through the leaves. "But he's my friend and one day he'll be a good king. He just needs to survive that long and that's why I'm here, to protect him. I'll tell him one day. It might not be today or tomorrow or even in the next year but I'll tell him. I'll tell him of all that I've done for him and show him all the good he has done for me and the kingdom. For now, he's not ready for it and neither am I. So, until that day, I'll be by his side, protecting, advising, leading him in the right direction… because he is my friend and my magic is for him and only him. You understand that right Bartholomew?"
Arthur had almost forgotten that Merlin had been talking to the tree. The anger had died and the pain had dulled. For a moment, there was only warmth and Arthur swore he couldn't breathe. He wondered how he was worthy to have someone as loyal as the childish man in the tree above him by his side at all times, how a sorcerer was willing to live in a Pendragon's shadow in order to protect them. It was humbling and moving and just so Merlin that Arthur resisted the urge to laugh at the absurdity of the entire situation.
Merlin had been trying to convince the tree but had instead convinced his sovereign and king, the very person he had been hiding from.
The prince let out a fond sigh and sheathed his sword. Without a word, he turned on his heel and left the grove.
Merlin would tell him when he was ready and Arthur was more than willing to wait.
Up in the tree tops, Merlin looked down at the forest floor in confusion almost positive that he had heard someone there.