A/N: New chapter. Hope you like it :)

Chapter One: Angles and Saxons

"Can't you take Percival?" Merlin grouched while he fastened Arthur's bedroll to the saddle. "Or Elyan. They like hunting."

Arthur rolled his eyes and slipped his leader gloves on. Condescendingly, he informed his unruly manservant, "Maybe it escaped your notice but Sirs Percival and Elyan are knights of Camelot. They have their duties to perform. In fact, Percival is busy training the new recruits as we speak."

Merlin was decidedly unimpressed and mumbled into his non-existent beard, "Sure they have duties… unlike the king. Apparently."

"Oh, come on," Arthur said and grabbed the reins. "Day's nice. The sun is shining. It's going to be a breeze."

"Right," Merlin poured sarcasm into his ears. "Because our outings never go awry."

Arthur gingerly rubbed over the spot right behind his destrier's ear. The horse leaned into his touch and huffed contently. Arthur grinned. Pomers turned out to be quite the fine horse. Still a bit untrained and lacked Llamrei's reliability, but the royal was sure they'd get there. He reached for the saddle's pommel and swiftly mounted the horse. Meanwhile, Merlin, still grumbling, pulled himself clumsily on one of Arthur's palfreys. Truly, so much grace accumulated in one person, the king thought dryly.

Arthur directed his destrier towards the east gate. Soon cobblestones turned to dirt roads and not much later, the spicy and humid air of the forest surrounded them. Arthur took in a deep breath and, unbidden, a smile curved his mouth. He was the king and by rights it shouldn't feel this liberating to leave his castle behind, should it? Still, riding through the forest, Arthur felt as if a huge weight was lifted from his shoulders and his heart skipped a few excited beats.

"It's winter." Merlin's voice cut through his bliss as he pouted, "What can you even hunt in winter?"

Arthur rolled his eyes and didn't hesitated to lecture his silly servant haughtily, "Of course, you wouldn't know. But pheasant, partridge, and hare don't disappear into nothing just because it's a little bit colder. Winter hasn't even started yet. It's still fall."

He didn't turn around but could almost feel Merlin's gaze cutting into the back of his head. A smirk crawled on Arthur's face. Sure enough, the servant's reply was sharp,

"You know, my Lord. Sometimes I find myself wishing you would just disappear into nothing."

The royal turned in his saddle and threw Merlin his most patronising look and reminded him sweetly, "Disappearing your king? You're talking treason, Merlin."

The servant sent him a decidedly unimpressed look. Black hair mussed up by the cold winter wind, Merlin wrapped his cloak tighter around himself… or rather Arthur's old, frayed cloak. The blond smirked at the man and didn't hesitate to inform,

"You're lucky to have such a nice and forgiving master."

Merlin snorted disparagingly and readjusted the strap of Arthur's crossbow that he'd slung over his shoulder.

"Really?" the servant sasses. "Forgiving? I distinctly remember that one time I forgot to put sweetmeat on your breakfast plate for your birthday. You've been sulking about that for weeks."

Arthur turned around on his horse again so Merlin wouldn't see that rather guilty grin curving his lips. Putting the appropriate amount of condescension in his tone, Arthur drawled,

"You know, it's talk like that that gets you into the stocks so often. Makes me wonder if you'll ever learn."

.+.

Merlin was cold, wet, and his feet hurt. Why Arthur had to hunt after that partridge on foot Merlin would never know. He rubbed at his runny nose and followed the king down a little deer crossing. Arthur silently crept along, crossbow at the ready, and his steps were soft on the forest floor, leaving almost no sign. Merlin miserably trudged behind him and, damn, there must be a hole in the sole of his right boot. His sock was soaked through. Merlin pulled a face and threw a dark look at Arthur for good measure. Of course, the blond didn't notice, too preoccupied with trying to shoot innocent little animals. And really, Merlin should jus-

A jolt went right through his magic, leaving it agitated and tense. Merlin stopped, senses instantly thrown into high alert. Something was wrong.

"Arthur," he hissed under his breath, eyes darting about.

Of course, the stupid clotpole wouldn't listen. Arthur didn't turn but chose to ignore Merlin. The warlock jogged up to the man and grabbed his shoulder.

"Arthur!"

A few metres ahead, a partridge fluttered away. The king whirled around to him, anger all over his face. At least the crossbow was lowered as Arthur growled,

"Damn it, Merlin! What is wrong with you?!"

Merlin's eyes slid over their surroundings. He couldn't see anything. Yet, his magic coiled inside him nervously, ready for action. The force bristled through him and already prickled over his skin.

"You oaf," Arthur snapped at him irately. "What? Scared of your own shadow again?"

Merlin's eyes flew back to his friend. Arthur narrowed his clear blue eyes at him, thoroughly annoyed by now. Hastily, Merlin shook his head and whispered under his breath,

"Something's wrong."

The king rolled his eyes. He grumbled, dark look on his features, and threw the crossbow over his shoulder.

"This is ridiculous. You know what? Next time I will take Percival along. In the meantime, you can polish all the knights' armour. See if you like that."

Merlin barely listened to Arthur's nagging. His eyes darted about, seeking out the danger that his magic screamed at him about. The warlock grabbed the king's wrist and tugged insistently.

"We need to leave. Come."

"Here we are again," Arthur huffed indignantly. "How many times do I have to say it? I am the king. You are the servant. You can't order me around."

Merlin pulled at a resisting king while his magic urged him to hurry. Under his breath, he whispered, "Come on. You can continue whining when we're back in Camelot."

"I do not whin-"

There was a hissing sound. Instinctively, Merlin grabbed Arthur and wrenched at him. The king released an undignified squeak as he was pulled against Merlin. With a sharp twang, an arrow hit the tree trunk right where Arthur's head had been a second earlier. Arthur's eyes widened as he turned and saw the arrow. His face rapidly lost all colour and he whispered,

"Shit."

To his credit, it didn't take Arthur long to recover. He grabbed Merlin by the arm and pulled him behind the tree, seeking cover. They both ducked as they heard more arrows hit the tree's bark. Nice, an ambush. Merlin pulled a face and couldn't help but tell Arthur wryly,

"I don't think that's my shadow, Sire."

"Shut it!" the king growled and already pulled his sword.

Merlin indulged him, but only because now a couple of men broke through the underbrush. The warlock spied thick leather armour, battle-axes, and fur coats.

"Saxons," Arthur hissed.

Still huddling behind the tree's trunk, Merlin's gaze jumped over the approaching men. He counted four. All with murderous looks on their faces and sharp blades in their hands. Merlin's magic tugged at him, begging to be released. He knew he could take them. The only problem would be doing so undetected… The warlock's eyes slid to Arthur. The king had his back pressed against the tree and his sword in his hand. His face was set into a determined frown as he assessed the attackers. If Merlin managed to knock Arthur out, that'd leave him time to take care of the Saxons, and-

"Stay here," Arthur ordered sharply.

Before Merlin could react, the blond had abandoned their cover. The warlock cursed under his breath as Arthur charged at the Saxon closest. His magic bucked violently, wanting to help. Sword at the ready, Arthur attacked. The Saxon was prepared. He instantly slid his battle-axe through the air in a wide arc, seeking to split Arthur's head. The king deftly sidestepped, so that the axe's blade hissed by him. Arthur's counterattack was swift. In a fluid movement, the blond jabbed his sword forward. The thrust was deadly in its precision. It slid right between the Saxon's breastplate and shoulder guard where there was a sliver of unprotected space. Few swordsmen would be good enough to hit such a small target. Arthur's aim was true and his sword sunk deep into the man's chest. The Saxon's eyes widened, not having seen the attack coming, and blood spurted over the leather armour. The man coughed, blood bubbling from his lips, before he crashed to the floor.

Arthur pulled his sword free and instantly fell back into his battle stance as the next Saxon rushed him. This one held a round shield in one hand and a long seax in his other. The man swung his sword at Arthur. The royal parried, metal scraping over metal, and forcefully pushed back. The Saxon had to take a step back and Arthur instantly struck at him. Now hard blows rained down on the Saxon's shield and he had to retreat another step under Arthur's onslaught.

Merlin, still crouched behind the tree, could no longer watch Arthur fighting. Another of the Saxon men snuck up on the king from behind. Merlin's heart skipped a panicked beat. Crouched low, the Saxon held a sharp dagger in his hand and a murderous glint in his eyes. He'd ram that dagger's blade right into Arthur's back. Fear curled, cold as ice, around Merlin. He raised his arm and his magic rushed towards his hand. The Saxon raised his dagger to throw it at Arthur and Merlin's eyes flashed gold as he hissed,

"ástríc hine, stânclûd."

(Strike him, stone.)

Merlin's magic coiled around a rather large rock and violently hurled it at the man. The stone impacted hard with the Saxon's head. There was no blood, but the man instantly fell to the floor like a puppet whose strings had been cut. Nausea twisted Merlin's stomach as he looked at the Saxon's still body.

Arthur was still engaged in his duel with the other Saxon. His sword flashed through the air gracefully and Merlin knew it was only a matter of time that the king would be victorious. That left the fourth of their attackers to Merlin. Battle-axe in hand, the last Saxon stood just a couple of meters away. Merlin startled, a spike of panic hitting him. The man stared right at him. A long, scruffy beard obscured the Saxon's rough features, but his eyes burned with a lethal glint as they pierced into the warlock. Clearly, the Saxon had seen Merlin use the spell. He'd seen the magic! Fear brutally slammed into Merlin. There wasn't long to dwell on his panic, though.

A furious snarl erupted on the Saxon's face. He raised his axe and charged Merlin. Shit! The warlock stumbled a step back. The Saxon was upon him in an instant and the sharp blade of an axe cut through the air. Merlin tried to dodge, lost his balance, and landed on his behind. The man swung his axe again to hack into the warlock. Merlin scrambled back, still on the ground, and only barely avoided the blade. The Saxon instantly raised his axe again. Mind clouded with fear, Merlin raised his hand to send a wave of magic at the man and hurl him away.

Before he could, suddenly, the tip of a sword appeared right through the Saxon's chest. Blood was fiercely smeared all over the steel. The Saxon sucked in an agonized breath. The sword was pulled from him and the Saxon crashed to the ground, blood rapidly soaking into the forest floor. Merlin was still half sprawled over the ground, hand raised as if in futile defence, as he stared up at Arthur. The king held his sword in hand, blood trickling from the blade, and his eyes held a fierce look as he stared down at Merlin. His face was sweaty and speckled with blood.

"Merlin," Arthur breathed.

The wild look quickly bled from his features and was replaced by worry. Hastily, the royal crouched down beside Merlin and grabbed his shoulder.

"Are you hurt?"

"Er…"

Merlin could barely think with his magic still boiling inside him and his heart hammering away in his chest. Concern swam in Arthur's clear blue eyes as he looked Merlin over. Sounding a bit breathless, the king asked,

"Did you get hit?"

"Erm…" Merlin pulled his magic close, trying to calm himself. "N- no. I'm… I think, I'm alright."

A whoosh of air left Arthur's lips and he plopped down beside Merlin on the ground. A relieved smile ghosted over his features and he ruffled a hand through Merlin's black hair.

"Fuck," the blond cursed. "I need a break."

The warlock arched an eyebrow at his friend. Arthur was still breathing heavily from the fight and now leaned back on his arms.

"You didn't get struck either, right?" Merlin made sure.

Arthur tiredly let his head sag back and closed his eyes. The grin still curved his lips and he drawled, "Nah. I'm fine. 's not so easy to beat me."

Merlin rolled his eyes at the arrogant reply. Still, a fond smile slid on his face and he shuffled a bit closer to Arthur. It didn't stop him to needle back,

"I told you not to go on this hunting trip. But did you listen? No. Of course, not."

"Ph."

Arthur cracked an eye open and peered at Merlin. The smile on his face sharpened to a smirk and he replied, "What's even your problem? You've been lazing around the whole time, cowering behind a tree, while I did the whole work."

Merlin widened his eyes in faux deference and gushed, "I am but a humble servant, your most exalted Highness. Far was it from me to disrupt your magnificent sword fighting."

He even added an exaggerated bow for good measure. Merlin didn't quite manage to ban that teasing grin from his face, though, as he looked up at Arthur again. The king arched an unimpressed eyebrow at him and deadpanned,

"Sure. Humble, my ass."

"My Lord!" Merlin gasped loudly. "Such language is unbecoming of your great lineage."

Arthur pursed his lips, pensive look on his features, and mused, "I'm not quite sure whether I should put you in the stocks or make you muck out my horses for this."

Merlin dropped the act and rolled his eyes. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and threw it at Arthur's face.

"First you should clean up. You're filthy."

Arthur spluttered at that, but the warlock ignored him. He got up and rubbed a hand over his sore shoulder. His magic was still twisting and coiling inside him, but it already calmed down.

"Let's go get the horses," Merlin decided. "And then go home."

Arthur was busy rubbing the dirt, sweat, and blood from his face, using Merlin's handkerchief. Now he looked up at the servant and replied waspishly,

"Seriously? I'm the king, Merlin. I give the orders around here."

"Yeah, yeah," said Merlin and offered the king a hand. "Now, come on. Time to leave."

.+.

"At the very least it is cause for concern."

Merlin schooled his features, but didn't quite manage to keep the irritable scowl at bay. To hide it, he bent over the fireplace and carefully bundled up the tinder.

"We should double the patrols."

A seemingly good idea. Merlin glanced at Agravaine, suspicion whirling through him. The man sat at the table across from Arthur, both with a goblet of red wine in hand. There was a very concerned frown on Agravaine's face as he scanned his nephew.

"Arthur," the man said beseechingly. "Saxons never got so close to the city. We have to react to this affront."

Gritting his teeth, Merlin hit the fire steel against the flint. A few sparks erupted and fell into the tinder. He heard Arthur sigh softly.

"Maybe you're right, uncle," the king said. "But we still need more intelligence on the Saxons' movements and strength. Otherwise, we're running into this with a blindfold on."

"If we hesitate in our retaliation," Agravaine remarked innocently. "The Saxons might interpret it as weakness and grow even bolder."

The tinder caught fire and Merlin carefully pushed it under the piled-up wood. He chanced another glance at the two men. Troubled expression on his face, Arthur took a sip from his wine. Then he replied,

"So far, these attacks seem to be acts of isolated groups, ransacking and pillaging their only aim. If so, we could throw them back easily." The king placed his goblet back on the table. "But if this is something more, if these attacks are more coordinated than they seem to appear, we do need more information."

Agravaine nodded his head. He threw Arthur a small smile and said, "You're right. I think this attack on you has just shaken me. Let's not rush into anything. The Saxons are not a threat on Camelot City yet. We have time. The outlying villages will just have to hold on for a while longer on their own."

Agravaine's words did not manage to reassure Arthur. Of course, they wouldn't. An insecure look flittered over Arthur's features. Guilt swimming in his clear blue eyes, the blond bent his head and fiddled with his goblet of wine. Merlin sharply bit on his tongue as Agravaine's mask slipped for a second and he could see vile glee underneath. Merlin's magic roiled vengefully and he wished he could throw it at the offending man. Like Agravaine's, Merlin's control slipped for a second. A strand of his enraged magic darted out and crashed into the stand with the fire pit tools. A wrought iron poker loudly clattered to the stone floor.

"Merlin!" Arthur threw a glare at his servant. "Can you for once not be clumsy?"

Merlin hastily scrambled to pick up the poker. At least it had rattled the royal from his dejected mood.

"Sorry, Sire."

Agravaine barely hid the sneer on his face as he stared at Merlin. The warlock stood up and simply returned the look. He didn't bother to hide his aversion either. Slightly, Agravaine's eye narrowed and the corners of Merlin's lips curved into a mocking smirk. Arthur, oblivious to the tense atmosphere, snubbed at Merlin,

"Really, you're just hopeless."

Merlin threw the king a sheepish grin and sassed, "I do what I can."

Arthur huffed out an irritable breath. By now Agravaine had managed to hide the distasteful sneer behind a mask of honest concern and suggested gingerly,

"Sire, maybe we should continue this conversation in private."

Merlin glared at the man, hands balling into fists. Arthur sagged back in his seat and took a sip from his wine, annoyed frown between his eyebrows.

"Probably for the best."

Instantly, Merlin protested, "Arthur-"

"Dismissed."

Arthur just waved a hand at him and now Merlin's glowered at the king. The blond shrugged at him, picked a grape from the plate, and popped it into his mouth. Merlin narrowed his eyes at him and snapped,

"Fine!"

Magic storming inside him, the warlock stomped from the king's chambers. Agravaine's gaze followed him, dancing with scorn.

.+.

"What a pompous prick."

Fuming, Merlin slammed the door shut behind him. Gaius, obviously used to such outbursts from his ward, didn't even bat an eye. Bent over his workplace, he held a vial of something decidedly foul-smelling over the flame.

"How can one person be so pig-headed?"

Merlin stomped over to the table and, magic crackling around him fiercely, plopped on the bench. Gaius just hummed non-committally and poured the foul-smelling substance from the vial into a bowl, green smoke puffing up. The furious warlock crossed his arms in front of his chest and ploughed on,

"I saved his stupid neck today. Again. And what do I get? A thanks?" He released a derisive snort. "No. Oh, no. Not for Merlin. No. All I get as a thank you is having to wash his dirty socks. Because that's what Merlin is for. Right?"

He glared at Gaius accusingly. The physician released a long-suffering sigh. He put the spatula down and finally pulled his eyes away from the strange concoction in the bowl.

"What did Arthur do now?"

Merlin narrowed his eyes as he heard the patronizing tinge in Gaius' voice. He was too angry to address that, though, and preferred it to nettle on about the king, "He is so blind. I mean, how is that even possible?"

"Considering your situation," Gaius replied dryly. "Shouldn't you be glad that Arthur isn't the most perceptive person?"

Merlin's magic gave an angry budge and a roll of parchment on the table singed dangerously. He ignored that as well as the logic in Gaius' statement. He was too annoyed for logic.

"Agravaine," Merlin spat the name in disgust. "He is so clearly working for Morgana. How, how, can Arthur trust that man?"

"Well," Gaius pointed out calmly. "He is Arthur's uncle."

Merlin sent his mentor a dark look. "And Morgana is his sister. Didn't stop her to try to kill the silly king. You'd think Arthur would learn."

The physician sighed. Merlin's mood only soured as Gaius didn't want to show the appropriate outrage at the situation. By now, the roll of parchment on the table smoked. Gaius turned to the pot hanging over the fireplace. Then he scooped some of the pottage into a bowl. He placed the bowl and a wooden spoon in front of Merlin.

"Eat."

Still fuming, Merlin reached for the spoon while Gaius patted at his parchment, dousing the smouldering. Meanwhile, the warlock grinded out,

"The problem isn't even that he trusts Agravaine. I can kind of understand that. That man is pretty good at lying. But why does Arthur never listen to me? Doesn't matter that we're friends at all."

Feeling bitter over that realisation, Merlin spooned pottage into his mouth. Gaius sat down on the chair across from him and listened patiently while the warlock ranted on,

"He barely even knows Agravaine. And I've been Arthur's friend for years. But that doesn't count, right? Because I'm just a servant."

He swallowed the spicey pottage and instantly stuffed more into his mouth. Around the spoon, Merlin mumbled, "'s good. Thanks."

Gaius nodded and poured his ward a cup of water. Merlin gulped that down as well before he returned to his pottage. With the warm food in his stomach, he was starting to feel a bit better. Still, he told his mentor acridly,

"God forbid I ever speak out against a noble. I think if I ever accused Agravaine, Arthur would chuck me in the dungeons and throw the keys away. I'd rot in that cell forever, I tell you."

Gaius unrolled the singed parchment and pursed his lips, seeing if it was salvageable. He threw Merlin a look and noted placidly,

"I don't think so. Surely, Gwen would let you out at one point."

Merlin rolled his eyes. It did manage to coax a laugh out of him though. The warlock's lips curled up into a lopsided grin and he supplied, "At least the queen's on my side."

.+.