Strongest of the Warlocks: Chapter Ten: To Be A Knight
AN: I wanted to get 'Lancelot' over with quickly because it wasn't one of my favorite episodes, but I needed to develop Merlin and Lancelot's relationship
Merlin drew the lavender stalks carefully from the earth, placing them gently into the basket beside her which held both the lavender and the white-petaled flower, feverfew. There was more lavender growing inward in the forest, but Merlin had been warned not to wander too far.
She was still recovering from her poisoning, after all, and Gaius didn't want her to push herself too far (it had been quite amusing to watch her uncle berate the prince, warning him off of making her do too many chores for him for the next day or two). Besides, if she had wanted to go any further, she would have had to bring her sword, which she'd left at her bedside that morning.
Apparently she'd greatly impressed the knights, if Leon was to be believed. After all, not that many servants would take a cup of poison for a prince.
Merlin hummed softly to herself as she pulled up another sprig of lavender only to be noisily interrupted by the loud shriek of an unknown bird. She stood and twisted around to see the creature in question and she positively gaped.
It was a bird, at least part bird, but far too massive to be just a bird. Merlin had never seen anything like it, and Merlin had seen a dragon.
Now arose the problem; the bird-thing was rushing right for her.
A startled noise escaped her lips as she stumbled backwards before breaking into a run, chancing a glance behind her as it gave chase, unfortunately, that cost her dearly and she tripped over a root, leaves tangling in her long plait as she attempted to scoot back.
Surprisingly, a figure leapt into action, rushing before her with a sword in hand, swinging it towards the creature which gave another loud shriek, though the attacks seemed to have little effect on it and a savage strike towards its beak shattered the blade.
"Run!" the stranger yelled, grabbing her arm as she pulled herself to her feet, yanking her after him.
The creature was nearly on them as they raced through the trees, smacking against branches before ducking sharply over a fallen tree, hiding in its shadow as the bird-thing leapt over them, flying up and into the sky.
Merlin groaned, leaning heavily against the log. "It hasn't even been a week and already something's gone wrong."
The man beside her released a short chuckle. "Are you always like this after nearly dying?"
She looked to him. He was a young man with loose dark hair and scruff at his cheeks, chin, and mouth. He wasn't unattractive, she supposed, but he wasn't her type.
"Worse, usually," she admitted, pulling a few stray dried leaves from her hair. "I'm Merlin, by the way, I hope I don't sound ungrateful for you saving my life."
"You don't," the man assured her, "I'm Lancelot."
Merlin frowned, looking at him closer now, seeing the bead of sweat at his brow and the damp stain at his side only a split second before his head lolled back against the tree.
The warlock lifted the tunic slightly to expose the wound, which looked worse than it really was, if you asked her.
She sighed, her eyes glowing brightly golden briefly, summoning her horse, Triton to her side.
Triton was one of the calmer steeds of those in the stables at the castle, but he only seemed to be well behaved when Merlin was around, but a lot of the horses only seemed to behave when she was around. Arthur called her 'Horse Whisperer' saying that all those times she'd had to muck out the stables had clearly earned her a bond with the horses (Merlin just rolled her eyes at that).
Triton nickered softly as he made his way towards her at a light trot before coming to a stop in front of her.
Merlin grinned widely; he was carrying her basket between his teeth.
She kissed his nose, taking the basket. "I owe you three apples," she promised before nodding her head towards the unconscious man slumped on the ground. "We're taking this one with us."
If Triton was less than pleased, he gave no indication.
"I see you're feeling better."
Lancelot had been gazing out the window of Merlin's small bedchamber when she entered bearing a bowl of porridge and he looked towards her, surprised by the interruption.
It was the girl from the day prior –Merlin, his memory supplied–, long dark hair in a tight braid, fringe falling in her deep blue eyes. There was a faint smile on her lips as she held the bowl out to him and Lancelot found he hadn't noticed previously that she was wearing a tunic and trousers with a neckerchief around her throat and cylinder of metal dangling from one lobe.
"Yes, I am," he said quickly, "thank you."
"It was nothing," Merlin said, waving a careless hand as he took the bowl gratefully from her.
But Lancelot knew it wasn't nothing, he had seen where the wound had been before and there wasn't even a mark.
"I see the knights have started their routine," Merlin mused, taking note of his attention out the window.
"Yes," Lancelot said, turning his attention back to the window as he spooned porridge into his mouth, watching the knights with a bit of envy.
"What is it?" Merlin asked, pulling her legs up to her chin as she sat in the chair by the bedside.
"Ever since I was a child, I've dreamed of coming here," Lancelot admitted with a half-smile as he turned towards her once more. "It's my life's ambition to join the knights of Camelot."
"I know what you're thinking," he added quickly before Merlin could even speak. "I...I expect too much. After all, who am I? They have their pick of the best and bravest in the land."
"Lancelot, I wasn't going to say that," Merlin released a small laugh, surprising him.
"You weren't?" he asked.
"I've seen knights in action," Merlin told him, "I've been to more tournaments than I ever've wanted to go to and I've been to every knight training session that Arthur's had, I've even trained with the prince himself."
Lancelot's eyebrows rose high on his brow. "You have?" Where he came from, the idea of a woman fighting alongside a man wasn't just uncommon, it was unheard of, yet here was Merlin, a young woman wearing a tunic and greaves with a sword resting against the wall.
She smirked. "My first day here I dropped him on his ass," she said proudly, "you should've seen it."
"Besides," Merlin added before he could come up with an appropriate response to that, "the prince has been complaining for the past few weeks about the lack of talent in the most recent recruits, some fresh blood might do the Knights of Camelot so good."
"It will?" Lancelot asked, a light gathering behind his eyes that reminded Merlin of someone else who had a desire to become a knight and was similarly hindered by his common blood.
"Trust me," Merlin's eyes glittered as she grinned. "You'll impress them."
"How can you be sure?" Lancelot asked, dark eyes searching her face.
"I'm friends with one of the knights, and I happen to be Arthur's maidservant," Merlin replied, raising her nose in the air in a sort of affronted expression. Lancelot gathered that she wasn't much a fan of being a servant. "I'm also the apprentice to the Court Physician, but that's a minor detail."
"Minor detail?" Lancelot asked with a wry tone of voice.
"Well, obviously it's not minor," Merlin admitted, scratching her cheek with one finger, "it's my whole reason for being here, but it's not important at the moment…come on, you can come down with me and see the knights in action. I usually take the knights some water, anyways."
Not ten minutes later Lancelot found himself impressed by Merlin's ability to balance a circular tray at her hip carrying a large jug and several empty tankards with ease as she stood beside him, watching the scene before them intently.
Prince Arthur himself was quite distinguishable with blonde hair, even without Merlin pointing him out as he stood in front of what must've been the newest recruit who wore a tunic of dull violet and a crest Lancelot was unfamiliar with, as opposed to crimson and the golden lion of Camelot.
"Right, you jumped up dung beetle, this is it," Arthur said and Merlin snorted beside Lancelot at the insult. "The final test. Pass this and you're a knight of Camelot, fail…and you're no one. You face the most feared of all foes, the ultimate killing machine."
"Now that's laying it on thick," Merlin sniggered beside him.
"You face me," Arthur continued. "You're challenged to last one minute of free combat. Grummond, second son of Wessex, your time starts now."
"Will he win?" Lancelot questioned Merlin, nodding towards the competitor, who happened to be a bit muscular and was swinging to and fro as a showcase of skill.
Merlin shook her head, her long plait rippling at the movement. "He's overcompensating, a better warrior knows to hide their strengths in the presence of an opponent."
Lancelot arched an eyebrow, but he did not comment on how Merlin had learned such a thing, after all, she was the one who had been in the presence of dueling knights for perhaps months.
Grummond kept twisting the swords in front of him before coming to a stop before Arthur (perhaps he had been trying to eat up some time, Lancelot considered, taking note of the sand falling in the hourglass), giving a short yell and throwing a strike towards Arthur that was neatly ducked and a swift knee to the head had him collapsed on the ground.
"Told you," Merlin said impishly and Lancelot gave her a smile in return, joining in the cheers from those surrounding the arena.
"Merlin," a voice remarked to their left and Lancelot glanced up to see a knight with curly ginger hair and bright eyes. The man spared Merlin a fond smile without even a glance towards Lancelot. "Shouldn't you be resting?"
"Why, Sir Leon," Merlin spoke in a daring manner, eyes narrowed and lips smirking, "are you insinuating that I don't have enough strength to carry a tray of tankards and water?"
"Is there a right way to answer that?" the knight responded easily, eyes shining in the sunlight, his lips curling upwards into a smile. Lancelot suspected that this was the knight that Merlin had said to be friends with.
At first he had thought that strange. A knight and a maidservant being friends? He had never heard of such a thing, but perhaps things in Camelot were different.
He watched as Arthur leaned down to remove the former knight-to-be's flag that he had worn at his waist.
Leon took a tankard from Merlin's tray, filling it with ease and taking a generous gulp.
"Probably not," Merlin admitted, squinting her eyes until they were blue slits as she considered him. "Are you alright, Leon? You look a little flushed."
Leon was fair-skinned, though not nearly as much as Merlin, so the color wasn't nearly so obvious on him as it was on her.
"Just a small stomach bug," he assured her, "I've already been to see Gaius."
"If you're certain," Merlin remarked swiftly before striding off towards Arthur and Lancelot's eyebrows rose further still at the sound of her berating him with snark evident in her voice. Even stranger was the tone he responded to her with which held similar sarcasm.
Camelot was strange indeed.
Merlin was a lot of things, and willing to bend the rules was included in that category, something Gaius was fairly against. No matter what Gaius thought, she wasn't helping Lancelot for herself, it simply wasn't fair that one had to be born into a noble family in order to become a knight.
She'd get into the bit about it being male-exclusive at a later date.
The ability to become a knight should matter less of the circumstances of one's birth and more on their present abilities.
So…Merlin may have used a small spell…Copying the crest of the House of Northumbria, changing the inked words on the parchment to "Lancelot, fifth son of Lord Eldred of Northumbria".
"Don't look so worried," Merlin admonished as she pulled her new friend through the streets, "the seal of nobility is only to get you into training, after that, you're on your own."
She was decent at swordsmanship, but nothing compared to a master (and Merlin would never ever say those words aloud concerning Arthur; Gods above knew his ego didn't need to inflate further). After all, one could only get so far without a master to aid them; it was one of the reasons Iseldir had taken Merlin under his tutelage as a way for her to learn the healing arts.
"Where are we going?" Lancelot asked flummoxed as they were buffeted by the crowds of people at the marketplace.
"What, did you think anyone was going to take you seriously wearing that?" Merlin quirked a dark eyebrow, smirking for good measure towards the young man. "Maybe if you were a servant."
Lancelot was getting used to her dry wit, and it certainly was refreshing.
"Wait here," Merlin told him as they came to a stop in front of a small cottage. Lancelot barely had time to comply before she rapped sharply on the door and entered once it opened.
"I need a favor," Merlin said before Gwen could say anything.
"A favor?" Gwen asked in surprise as she clicked the door shut behind her friend. "What is it? Are you having trouble with the workload?"
Merlin positively sagged at that. Everyone had been treating her like she was as fragile as glass since she'd started work again.
The only one not falling into that category was Arthur, which was something she was grateful for, for the first and only time in her life, she was sure.
"No," she nearly grated, "the workload is fine, it's something else… I need help sneaking a commoner into knight training."
Gwen's eyebrows rose high on her forehead and her brown eyes widened at her friend's words. "What?" she managed to force out, mouth gaping just slightly.
The whole story came out when Merlin dragged Lancelot himself into the cottage, and Gwen found herself smiling.
It was so like Merlin to help someone she'd barely met (she had saved Arthur's life, after all, the very day they'd met). But forging a seal of nobility was a bit daring, even for her.
Gwen took his measurements in silence, as they had come to her so she could sew up a tunic that bore the crest of Northumbria.
Merlin swung her legs from where she sat on Gwen's table, something that earned her a reproachful glance once Gwen had finished her measurements, and Lancelot was careful to stay very still.
"This," Lancelot forcibly cleared this throat, glancing away from Gwen and Merlin arched an eyebrow at that; now that was something curious to take note of, "This is very kind of you, er…"
The hint towards her name was not missed.
"Gwen," the darker-skinned girl supplied for him.
"Gwen," Lancelot repeated.
"Short for Guinevere," she said with a smile as she stood, measuring the length of his arm.
Lancelot gave a small chuckle of understanding. "Ah, then, thank you, Guinevere."
"Don't thank me," Gwen countered quickly, ducking her head slightly. "Thank Merlin." She nodded towards her blue-eyed friend. "Merlin would do anything for anyone, wouldn't you, Merlin?"
"Occupational hazard," Merlin replied with a sheepish smile. "Helping people is what I do best…even if they don't want it."
Her words had drifted off, tainted with mutiny that made Gwen smile, knowing just what she was referring to.
"I think it's great that Merlin's got you this chance," Gwen continued, skating over the fact that it wasn't strictly legal, in a sense (or in any sense, as Gaius would say) as she measured around his throat. "We need men like you."
Men who proved that you didn't need noble blood to be a knight, to serve and protect Camelot.
"You do?" he asked quietly and she noticed how his eyes fixed on hers and a faint blush spread over her cheeks.
"Well, not me personally," Gwen floundered and Merlin hid her smile behind her hand, "but, you know…Camelot." She latched onto Camelot like a lifeline. "Camelot needs knights. Not just Arthur and his kind, but ordinary people, like you and me."
"Well, I'm not a knight yet, My Lady," Lancelot said and Merlin grinned silently at his confidence; maybe they could pull this off after all.
"And I'm not a lady," Gwen countered easily, smiling and releasing a few giggles.
Merlin's smile faltered slightly, recalling words of a similar nature.
"What's your name?"
"Percival, and yours, Milady?"
"Oh, I'm not a lady at all, I'm just Merlin, its, er, nice to meet you, but, er, I have to go, I'll, er, check in with you soon."
Watching how Lancelot and Gwen were reminded Merlin of Percival, and how far from her he was.
In all the letters they'd exchanged, neither had once mentioned the kiss between them and sometimes Merlin wondered if that was all it had been, a simple kiss. But then she knew all too well the dangers of being with someone like her. And the fondness that he still held for her was clear in how he wrote to her.
"Merlin? Are you all right?" Gwen's eyes were concerned when Merlin jerked her head up, her cheeks pinking when she realized she had both their attention.
"I'm fine," she insisted, "you just reminded me of someone I haven't seen in awhile, that's all."
Lancelot's brow creased in confusion but Gwen smiled knowingly.
Lancelot had been certain he had failed.
He had played the part, presented the seal, worn the armor, but then he'd been sent to the stocks. He was sure that meant he hadn't made an impression on the prince, despite the encouraging glances from Merlin and Gwen.
But after an impromptu battle with brooms, Arthur had qualified him for training, and then the warning bell had tolled and both men darted out of the stocks and for the village square.
Merlin and Gaius were easy to make out amongst the crowd of injuries.
"Hold still!" Merlin barked towards a man whose leg she was holding carefully. It had been terribly broken and if not set would result in the man becoming a cripple.
There was a crack and a yell of pain as Merlin successfully splinted the limb before examining the man's arm which bore claw marks.
"I need bandages!" she yelled and one of the palace servants ran off, reappearing a few moments later.
He had never seen her and Gaius in action, but it was clear that caring for others was something she was good at. She moved faster than her mentor, though that had more to do with her body being less worn by age, he suspected.
"What happened to these people?" Lancelot asked as she helped a woman sit on the steps who seemed to mostly be in shock rather than injured terribly.
"Their village was attacked by a winged monster," Gaius answered swiftly, turning back to his charge, missing the glance Lancelot and Merlin shared, and then Merlin's eyes went wide, fixing on someone beyond his shoulder.
"Amena?"
Lancelot twisted to see a woman wearing threadbare clothes with hair a shade of auburn that he had yet to see.
"Milady," the woman rasped, stumbling towards Merlin and the dark-haired girl grasped her elbows before she could sink into a bow. She treated Merlin as if she was nobility.
"Amena, what happened?" Merlin demanded, eyes searching over the woman for any injury, but there didn't seem to be any.
"The creature…it couldn't be stopped…" Her eyes were wide as she clutched tightly to Merlin's arm. "Iseldir—"
Merlin's voice strangled and Lancelot caught a flicker of fear in her eyes. "Iseldir's not…dead, is he?"
She shook her head. "But he's in a bad way, as are several of our company."
Merlin stiffened. "Not…Caedmon?"
"No," Amena said quickly, "not Caedmon…but our only healer is deeply wounded…will you not help us, Lady Merlin?"
"Of course I will," Merlin said, sounding insulted. "Gaius—"
"Merlin," Gaius spoke her name reproachfully, knowing full well that the woman clutching his ward was a Druid.
"Don't tell me not to go," Merlin snapped. "They deserve healing as much as anyone here."
Gaius heaved a heavy sigh, glancing from her to the terror-ridden woman. "I will tell Arthur you are tending to those too injured to travel," he decided.
"Thank you," she breathed in relief, tugging the woman in the direction of the horses.
"Who was that woman?" Lancelot asked once she'd gone.
Aged eyes fastened on him. "A Druid in need of help."
Iseldir roused himself slowly, his dream fading and his awareness coming into sharp relief.
There was something cold and wet on his brow and something warm against his hand, and then there was the dull throbbing that seemed to cover his body.
He opened his eyes finally, blinking a few times to clear his vision and then his eyes flitted towards the owner of the hand that held his. Merlin was nestled at his bedside in what appeared to be a very uncomfortable position, dark plait hanging over one shoulder, neckerchief absent from her neck and instead bound over her brow to keep the fringe at bay.
She blinked blearily when he moved slightly and then she smiled blindingly. "You're awake!"
Merlin pressed a kiss to the back of his hand like her mother had done once when she had fallen ill before replacing the wet rag on his forehead. "Your old age is making you foolish," she informed him reproachfully, "taking on a creature that can rip through you?"
He smiled, closing his eyes briefly.
"The children you protected are fine," Merlin added, casting him an exasperated look that he missed with his eyes closed. "Caedmon is fine, only a few bruises, and Fama just has to wear her arm in a sling for a few days."
The lines of his face relaxed at that and then he opened his eyes again, his face slate serious.
"You should not be here," Iseldir said, his voice coming out as a croak.
Annoyance flickered in Merlin's eyes and her lower lip jutted out just slightly, an old childhood habit that she was working hard to break.
"Amena came to get me after the clan was attacked," Merlin said, not even bothering to counter his words. "You had taken a turn for the worse by the time we arrived…you almost died Iseldir."
The Druid Chieftain seemed remarkably unperturbed by that knowledge, an attitude that had always greatly irritated Merlin.
Iseldir made to sit up, but Merlin pushed him back gently.
"No moving," she warned, "that's a serious wound you've got and I'll not have you messing up my work."
The creature had ripped through skin and muscle but its claws, thankfully, had not damaged the organs underneath. Skin and muscle repair was hard enough without adding organs to the mix.
"You should be in Camelot," Iseldir told her, eyes unwavering as they met hers, his almost a silver color.
The certainty in which he spoke was only slightly unnerving.
"Why?" Merlin asked suspiciously. "What do you know?"
"Many things…Lady Merlin."
Merlin positively sagged at the use of 'lady' in front of her name. She had gotten used to the Druids and their respectful nature towards her, even if she didn't really understand why.
"Are you going to tell me?" she inquired. "Or simply be cryptic?"
Silence was her answer and she scowled for good measure towards the Druid.
"You are the least helpful godfather I could have ever had," Merlin told him shortly, loosening the knot of her neckerchief and retying it loose around her throat, her eyes flashing gold briefly and Iseldir felt the dull throbbing of his wound disappear (though he doubted it would remain that way for long).
Her fingers reached up to rub at the single earring and Iseldir did not miss the movement.
Iseldir's eyebrows drew together. He had never asked her about it, or the vambrace she wore around one arm, or the clumsy sword she had carried –one he now saw was better suited for her slight frame–and he didn't know why she'd been quieter than usual in the months following her sixteenth summer.
But he wasn't going to mention any of that.
She was so very like her father.
"Take care of him, will you?" Merlin asked Amena once she ducked out of the makeshift tent. "I know you all like to move around, but consider staying here for a week at least."
"Thank you," was all Amena said, pale from stress and gripping her son's shoulders as though his presence grounded her.
"It's no problem," Merlin assured her with a kind smile. "Your clan is important to me; you all helped me become who I am. And if you ever need anything, you only have to ask."
She ruffled Caedmon's tousled curls affectionately and the boy couldn't help but blush.
"Are you coming to visit us soon?" he asked her.
"I might be a little busy," Merlin said, the smile becoming brittle. "Days off are hard to come by…but we'll see."
It was just short of a promise and Caedmon would take it.
"What in the name of the gods happened while I was gone?" Merlin demanded, aghast at what Gwen had told her concerning Lancelot, of his fate in the dungeon.
"Well," Gwen gave a small grimace, "Lancelot made it through training with no trouble and he was knighted, but early this morning they found out about the forged seal of nobility and he was thrown in the dungeon."
Merlin swore under her breath, making one of the senior servants walking past them give her a glare.
"You don't think they'll execute him, do you?" Gwen asked fearfully.
Merlin wanted to say "No, of course not" but she doubted that the king would be lenient with a commoner who'd lied in order to become a knight. This was, after all, the very same man who would see her kind slaughtered merely for existing, no matter their peaceful nature.
"I have no idea," she opted to say instead, before branching off in the direction of the dungeons. Getting past the guards was no trouble, she'd been doing it with ease for months.
"Lancelot!" she whispered, grasping the bars, looking inwards.
Lancelot was sitting on the small cot, looking as she had when Merlin had left; wearing sturdy greaves and a worn white tunic that was more grey than white.
"Oh, Lancelot," Merlin murmured, her brow resting against the cool metal of the bars. "This is all my fault."
"You're not to blame," Lancelot countered swiftly, pulling him upright and moving until he was opposite her.
"It was my idea to sneak you into training," Merlin retorted.
A few of his fingers brushed against hers, giving them a comforting squeeze. "The choice was mine. The punishment is mine to bear, and mine to bear alone."
Merlin looked upon him in fond exasperation. "If I'd been here—"
"There's nothing you could've done to help me," Lancelot disagreed, "besides, someone needed you more than me."
Merlin blew out a puff of air but she couldn't disagree with him there.
"Did you save your friend?"
Her lips twisted upwards in the corner. "Yes, he'll be fine in about a week…and so will the others who were injured."
"I'm glad," he said with a smile that was far too genuine to be faked. "You're a good person, Merlin."
"Says the man who's in prison because of said good person."
The sarcasm was evident.
"Don't worry about me," Lancelot said, the firelight from the torches reflecting in his dark eyes, giving them an odd light. "And don't blame yourself…the prince is probably looking for you."
Blue eyes widened and Merlin swore once more in a manner that earned her a raised eyebrow from her friend.
"Oh, he's going to kill me!" she bemoaned, gripping her face with both hands before tearing out of the dungeon with a hasty farewell.
She took the steps two at a time, diving around several servants and almost falling three times before she reached the right floor and then she raced across stone, rounding the corner quickly.
"There you are!"
A small squeak –traitorously– parted from her lips and she reeled back, trying to make a quick escape when two arms grabbed her before she could make her getaway.
"Oh, no, you don't!"
Merlin yelped as she was lifted to be slung over Arthur's shoulder like a sack of flour.
"What the ruddy hell d'you think you're doing?" she demanded, her face coloring bright red in embarrassment.
"What do you mean what the hell am I doing?" he snapped back. "You know my servant's been missing for the past day?"
A growl escaped her at that. "I was off doing my job, Sire, you know, the one that involves taking care of injured and ill people? Where the hell are you taking me?"
"Gaius needs to see you before he speaks with my father," Arthur told her shortly over his shoulder.
Merlin winced as the chainmail pressed against her stomach. "This is by far the worst position I've ever been in," she declared sullenly.
"I'm sure," Arthur retorted dryly.
"It is!" she exclaimed, curling her hands into fists, stopping just short of beating at his back to get him to release her when he set her on the ground suddenly.
"Merlin, there you are!"
Merlin rounded in the opposite direction to meet Gaius' wizened expression.
"Gaius—" A stretcher carrying a knight garbed in crimson was rushed past them. "I've missed a lot, haven't I?"
Arthur spared her a glower and she ignored it, choosing to scrutinize his face instead. He had a slice to his jaw and a bruise on his cheekbone that seemed likely to have been caused by his own sword and shield.
"Ow! What're you doing?"
Merlin had grabbed his face, examining the slice closely before releasing him just as quickly.
"Just a flesh wound," she decided before giving a jaunty wave and turning on her heel to join her uncle, ignoring the annoyed huff made towards her.
"Is this about Lancelot?" she asked as she came to a stop in front of him before following after him in the direction of the council chamber.
"This is an entirely different matter," Gaius informed her, extending a thick tome, opened at a certain page. Merlin didn't bother looking over the words when there was an image that had been inked across the page, a very familiar image.
"This is—" she started, eyes widening slightly.
"It is the creature," Gaius agreed with a sharp nod. "I hadn't considered looking in the myths."
Merlin arched an eyebrow. "This creature has never been seen before?"
"No," Gaius said as the double doors opened to permit the king and his son within.
"It's still out there," Arthur was telling his father.
"Let's not wait for it," Uther concurred. "The kingdom has been menaced by this creature for far too long. We finish this now."
"Sire, if I may?" Gaius interjected, causing the pair to turn towards the Court Physician and his ward, the ward who was studiously keeping her eyes down, reading the words on the page in an effort to ignore Arthur and his father.
"Gaius?" Uther asked.
Gaius took a few steps forward, though still remaining at a respectful distance. "I've been researching this creature, Sire. I believe it to be a griffin."
"A griffin?" the king asked, clearly unfamiliar with the creature's species. "What's in a name?"
Merlin's eyes widened slightly as she read the passage silently.
The griffin is said to be nothing but the creature of the Old Religion, conjured forth by the High Priestesses of old. It has a form that is half from a lion and half from an eagle. Invulnerable to mortal weapons, it can only be killed by magic.
"The griffin is a creature of magic," Gaius said, his voice making his resignation plain towards Uther's attitude towards magic.
His eyes grew cold. "I don't have time for this, physician."
But Gaius blazed on, impressing Merlin as she lifted her gaze from the book to look between the king and her uncle whilst Arthur frowned in contemplation. "It is born of magic, Sire," he insisted, "and it can only be killed by magic."
"You are mistaken," Uther disagreed. "It's a creature of flesh and blood like any other. Arthur proved that today."
"I'm not so sure, Father," Arthur countered quickly, raising a hand lightly to his sliced cheek. "I think there may be some truth in what he says."
"What truth?" The king scoffed.
"The griffin was unharmed, Sire." Arthur's eyebrows drew together in the memory of the attack. "Our weapons were useless against it."
Gaius' eyes shifted to Merlin's, giving her a significant look that couldn't have been missed, and Merlin remembered her first run-in with the griffin that had caused Lancelot's sword to fragment.
"Useless? I think not." Uther turned away and Arthur glanced towards Merlin briefly, too short for her to read his expression. A frown marred her lips. "No, it's tasted our steel once, the next time will be its last. When will your knights be ready to ride again?"
Merlin watched Arthur flounder. They had already been bested in one bout with the beast, and he clearly wasn't ready to send them out again.
"An hour," he said finally, "maybe two."
"Good. We finish this tonight."
And then they all swept out council chamber, leaving Merlin and Gaius alone.
"Really, the foolishness of Uther has reached a new high," Merlin finally uttered, shaking her head as they took the side entrance out into the corridor.
"Uther is blind where magic is concerned," Gaius had to agree with her there as they took the staircase up to the Court Physician quarters.
"Well, he's completely mental if he thinks anyone has a chance of killing the griffin without magic," Merlin said once the door was shut behind her. "Of course, I always think he's completely mental, so that's not really different."
Gaius cast a reproachful look towards his ward, but she missed it completely, opting instead to rifle through the pages of the book she was still holding.
But he couldn't fault her for feeling such a way towards the king. Really, it was remarkable that she could stand to look upon him without a hint of the anger boiling beneath her skin.
So many innocent and good sorcerers had died because of him.
"Magic is our only hope," he murmured aloud to himself.
"What in the name of the gods are you going on about?" Merlin asked, shutting the book swiftly with a bit of disappointment that it yielded nothing as to how to kill the griffin.
An aged eyebrow quirked and Merlin cottoned on.
"No," she said, shaking her head so fiercely that her plait whipped behind her. "You can't be serious! I'm a healer, Gaius! Healing and defense! Offensive magic isn't my forte and it's much more difficult for me to use! And look at the last warlock that went against it! Iseldir nearly died and his magic is much more powerful than mine!"
"If you do not then Arthur will perish," Gaius insisted, resting his hands against the table as he looked her in the eye. "I cannot save Arthur, it is not my destiny; it is yours."
Merlin pursed her lips together, raising her hands and curling them together into fists, words beyond her.
"You expect too much of me," she said at long last.
"My dear Merlin," Gaius said with a small laugh, "I fear you do not expect enough of yourself."
And then he held a book of old spells out to her and Merlin released an audible sigh, slumping into the seat as she found the spell he wanted her to use.
Her fingers ran through her bound hair, knotting into the long plait. "I don't think I can do a spell this powerful," she said, looking up beseechingly.
"Only you can," Gaius told her. "Here—" He grasped an old knife he used for cutting up herbs for potions and held it out to her. "Try. You have it within you, I know you do."
"That makes one of us," Merlin grumbled as she took the blade, holding it up before her eyes. "Bregdan anweald gafeluec!"
But the knife didn't change.
"See! I'm not good with this sort of thing!" Merlin threw down the knife angrily.
"No one gets it right on their first try," Gaius disagreed. "Don't give up, Merlin."
Merlin scowled at him, shoulders sagging, but she still picked up the knife and started again.
"Arthur just left."
"You're not helping!" Merlin sang, glaring daggers at the knife as though it was its fault that she was in this predicament.
"I don't want to rush you—" Gaius said as he gazed out of the window, watching as the knights left the lower town, heading out of Camelot entirely.
"Because when has rushing ever done anyone any good?" Merlin muttered to herself, her eyes flashing gold.
She released a hiss, clutching her hand as she dropped the knife. Her annoyance had transferred into heat and had given her a small burn.
"Great, just great—" she drawled when the door into their chambers burst open suddenly and Gwen followed after, her hair flying from the rush and her cheeks flushed.
"Merlin!" She came to a sudden stop, speaking breathlessly. "Lancelot's riding out to kill the griffin!"
"What?" Merlin positively gaped at her, slack-jawed for a few precious moments before grabbing her jacket and sword and leaping over a chair in her haste to leave, ignoring the call of Gaius.
"You just get out of prison and you think the best way to stay out is to kill a creature that can't be killed with a mortal blade?" was the first thing out of her mouth when she found him at the Rising Sun's stable, saddling up a horse that she was pretty sure didn't belong to him.
"You can't stop me," Lancelot countered, not looking up from his task.
"Oh, just because you've never seen me use a blade doesn't mean that I can't, thanks though."
"That's not what I meant," Lancelot sighed.
"You can tell me what you meant on the way, then," Merlin said shortly.
"You're not coming with me!"
"Oh, yes I am!" Merlin snapped. "Who else is going to keep you and Arthur from losing your heads completely?"
Lancelot opened his mouth to say something, only to abruptly shut it, a conflicted expression on his face.
"Triton!" Merlin whistled sharply, the noise piercing the air as the horse –all the way in the royal stables– made its way down to where they were (though a bit of magic might've helped him along).
"I'm going," she said, hoisting herself up into his saddle in one surprisingly fluid movement. "You can come too if you want."
"Are you always this difficult?" Lancelot asked, pulling himself onto the back of his own horse with an exasperated expression present on his face.
"Oh, my friend," Merlin smirked widely and even in the darkness her eyes glittered, "you've only begun to discover how difficult I can be."
She clicked her tongue and for a moment Lancelot swore he caught a reflection of gold in her eyes before her horse took off, but it must have come from the flames of the torches.
He put it out of his mind as he followed quickly after her.
It wasn't all that hard to find the griffin, mostly since the sound of a bird's screech, metal against metal, and the yells of men were only coming in one particular direction.
Lancelot sped forward in front of Merlin and she moved slightly to the side in her saddle as his lance came close to her, but then she was distracted by the sight of the bodies.
Merlin was off her horse in seconds, moving to the first body she saw, but it was too late.
One, two, three…they all seemed to be dead of the patrol that had gone out, all except—
"Arthur!"
His closed eyelids fluttered at his name and his pulse was strong. "He's alive," she said as Lancelot came up beside her. "He's only been knocked out."
A bit of a lucky shot, if you asked her.
The griffin's shriek startled them, echoing high into the air and making it impossible to pinpoint just where it was, until it landed in the clearing.
Lancelot was moving faster than her, grabbing his lance up from where he'd dropped it and riding his horse forward, but Merlin stayed where she was, hovering her body protectively over Arthur's.
"Bregdan anweald gafeluec!" Merlin managed to chant as the man with the armor flew right past her against the charging of the griffon, her eyes glowing a bright gold as the lance flamed a brilliant blue, unmistakable in the darkness.
The lance struck true and the griffon gave one last screech as it fell.
Merlin might have made a little jumping cheer, not that she would ever admit that to anyone.
"There is a small village beyond Camelot called Meldran, in Mercia."
Lancelot looked down to Merlin who had come to see him off. He had been given a pardon by the king at Arthur's insistence, but he was opting to leave anyways and begin again somewhere fresh. And with him he would take Merlin's secret.
Who would have thought the maidservant to the Prince of Camelot a sorceress?
But Merlin had a good heart and a good soul; he didn't doubt that she would use her powers for good.
"Is there?" he asked. "I've never been so far north."
Merlin rolled her eyes for good measure. "In the village there is a man who works at the forge…if you give him my name, he'll help you, as a favor for me."
Lancelot considered her. "You have very strange friends, Merlin."
"So people say," Merlin agreed with a smirk, extending her hand to grasp his arm as the knights did with each other. "Look after yourself, Lancelot, won't you? I don't have many friends, but they do seem to make a habit of finding trouble."
"I'll try not to," he promised with a laugh of his own. "In the mean time…keep yourself out of trouble."
Merlin shrugged her shoulders as she leaned back, away from the horse. "A girl with a sword and a witty tongue…who could resist a little chaos?"
Who indeed.
AN: Oh, thank the gods, the chapter's done! This chapter practically sapped me of my writing ability. The next one will be shorter, I think, and one of my own imagination. It will be like chapter nine, in that it's a scene I'm adding into Series One that wasn't originally there.
I've got plans for its glory, it'll be great, just you wait.
As always: PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW!
