Snapshots Going Home CH 10

Merlin tried to blow heat into his hands as the evening chill settled around them now that the sun was down. Again. The third night, since they'd left. Arthur would be furious with him when he got back. He was, in fact, counting on his fury upon discovering he'd left. He was under no illusions- his husband knew exactly where he had gone and why. He could only hope that the pace they were moving at was quick enough to stay ahead of any search parties, to give the illusion of making haste, but slow enough to give Beonin the chance to catch up.

"We should, at the very least, offer him some dinner, Sire," Ian grumped as he stirred the stew he'd prepared. "He's refusing to even light a fire for fear we'll catch on."

Merlin scowled. It had taken less than half a day to realize what that itch between his shoulders was. "I refuse to feel guilty, Ian. If Gwaine chooses to believe I'm that oblivious, then he deserves a few nights of chill and a light belly." He'd spent many years doing what needed doing on his own, long before anyone ever bowed to him. He often missed the freedom that had come with being a servant. Lately, everyone watched his every move, and it was unnerving. He was developing a deeper respect for all those times Arthur had claimed he had to do what was 'expected' of him. Still. Gwaine, of all people, knew how capable he was. This following was insulting!

It had taken until they'd set up camp the first night for Ian to make the connection. He'd made a point of 'hunting' for their dinner behind them, reporting Gwaine's presence about an hour behind them. Nor had the servant been surprised by Merlin's knowing nod of acceptance. Not for the first time, Merlin wondered as to the history of the man he trusted with nearly every part of his life. He wouldn't ask- he very much sensed the servant would answer him, and he somehow had the feeling he wouldn't like the answers.

"As you say, Sire."

"Ian, we're in the middle of nowhere. Is that really necessary?" Merlin griped.

Ian turned hard eyes on him. "It will remain necessary, Sire, for as long as you continue to request that I stop."

"Well at least stop with the Sire bit. I'm not sure why that even switched over. Camelot law will never recognize the marriage," Merlin sighed sadly, twisting the ring on his finger. "And few other Kingdoms will either. His marriage to Mithian will be the one they bow knee to."

Ian shrugged. "You are the spouse of the King, Sire. Camelot law may never recognize it, but for any who use that title, it is a subtle message to you both that they do. Arthur has certainly made which marriage he validates clear."

Merlin blinked, surprised. "I hadn't thought of it like that, Ian." He smiled, thinking back. "Thank you."

The servant shrugged, handing him a bowl of stew and the thin bread the man made on the rocks. Merlin had watched him, curious. A quick and simple bread that could be made fresh every night, with no need to worry about staleness. The flavor itself largely depended on whatever animal fat the man mixed with it.

"So, you're Lothian, then," Merlin observed casually, taking a bite, enjoying the startled look Ian gave him. He waved his bread. "Bonnoch."

"I wasn't aware you'd ever been to Lothian, Sire."

"I haven't. But the Lothian soldiers used to make something similar. None would ever tell me what the powder was. A flour, I assume, but each one seems to make it differently." He smiled at the memory. For all the horrors of the Battle at Nemeth, the nights spent at soldiers campfires were good ones. "One of them used to make it with lavender- that one was always my favorite, especially dipped in sweet cream. I begged him before he returned home, but he'd never tell me. He was always happy to make it for me when I came to camp, though."

Ian smiled, nodding. "Sacred family recipes, passed down for generations. Soldiers bread, some call it. Another expression translates to 'a wanderer's meal'. Many names, and as many ways to make it. A secret each would tell only the next generation. Your own secrets, Sire, were likely less well kept."

"How come you've never made it before? You've traveled with us more than once."

Ian snorted. "As you said, Sire, the Knight's can devastate any meal, and Bonnoch is difficult to make in large batches. It's always been an individual thing."

"But you don't have the accent?"

"I was young when I left, and at the time, Lothian was not well loved, Sire, as there were troubles with Caerleon. I worked very hard to be rid of it."

Merlin nodded, accepting. He'd pry no further, and settled in to enjoy the meal. He missed his friends, and his husband, but there was a part of him that was enjoying these quiet days and nights. There were always so many people in the castle. He was beginning to understand why Arthur went hunting so often.

Something snapped nearby, and both men were on their feet in an instant, looking around. Merlin had the distinct impression of several moving entities. They were being surrounded.

"Well well, so it's true. The King's pet magician braved the wilds," a voice called from their left. "Though I hear you've been promoted to whore as well." He offered a slow clap. "Well done!"

Merlin took a deep, steadying breath, as Beonin stepped into the light of their campfire. "Beonin," Merlin greeted carefully. "It took you long enough to get to us. I thought I'd have to spend another cold night out here."

"Been looking for me, have you? And what made you decide to make the job of killing you so much easier? I'll confess, I was looking forward to running Arthur through while you watched."

"I didn't come to fight, Beonin. I came with a warning," Merlin insisted, shoving his irritation with the former knight down. He supposed he truly was the fool Arthur claimed him to be. There was nothing in him that feared this man- he felt only pity- despite the madness that was clear in those hard eyes.

"A warning," Beonin laughed. Then he scowled. "To spread more lies into innocent ears. There are none here who would hear it from you, filthy sorcerer!" He took a threatening step forward toward the warlock.

Merlin let his eyes flash gold in warning. "I am not the weakened boy you once betrayed, Beonin. I have no wish to kill you. I came deliberately to avoid that. Arthur intends-"

"Arthur is a traitor!" Beonin hissed in anger. "Filthy enough to know your secret and not execute you, but to bed you is a sickness all on its own." He laughed. "I spent years trying to find a way to break the enchantment I was so convinced you must have put on him. He had the makings of a great King before you soiled him with your lies and whispers."

"Beonin, for all you've lost, I regret. But you betrayed Camelot, and long before you knew about me," Merlin tried to reason.

"I knew!" Beonin raged, moving so quickly Merlin barely had a chance to register it until he felt the man's shaking hand at his throat, and could smell the awful stench of his breath in his face. "No mortal man survives the Dorocha!" he spat into the warlock's side turned face. "I was newly raised to Knighthood, but I wasn't stupid! And the longer Arthur remained blind to it, the more I suspected he knew, too. That's why it was both your lives I traded that day! And for my loyalty to the legacy King Uther left the good people of Camelot, I lost everything! Betrayed by even my brothers in arms! Oh yes, I have dreamed of this day!"

The snarling man then poured a vial into Merlin's mouth, and held his nose, forcing him to swallow even as he struggled in the strong grip. He coughed and spluttered, but a large amount was consumed. It burned it's way down his throat, and sat like acid in his stomach.

"There. Can't use none of your filth against me now!" Beonin grinned, using his grip to shake the smaller man. "It won't last long, but long enough to make you watch me take the lives of those you've corrupted!"

Merlin gasped as the hand around his throat tightened enough to bruise, feeling panic well in him as he tried to call on his magic. It was there… it floated just out of reach. This felt familiar, somehow, but he ignored it. He'd come for a purpose. "You've lost enough of your life to this madness," he panted. "End the bounty before someone innocent gets hurt, and leave. Never return. Live a life of freedom, and find peace in it. I can only give you this one chance."

Beonin burst out laughing. "A chance? I've got you surrounded. And yes, I even found your guard dog an hour back. He's properly chained up like a good puppy. Ah! There we are… is that a spark of fear I finally see? Not so brave without the magic, are you?"

Merlin spat in his face, choking as his air was lessened further. "I don't… need magic… to defeat… you," he pushed out, bringing his knee up into the former's Knight's stomach.

The hand around his throat released, and Merlin stumbled back a few steps, leaning over to cough and choke as he could finally breathe. He felt dizzy, lightheaded. The potion! He blinked hard, his eyes starting to sting. What would it do, besides dampen his magic?

"Kill them both!" Beonin wheezed out the yell, drawing his sword and taking a desperate swing at the younger man.

"Ian run!" Merlin ordered as he rolled away from the swing, his long daggers in hand as he came to his feet. But a quick glance told him his servant was already occupied in fighting off his own attackers, a determined set about him that let the warlock know he'd never leave. Without his magic, he had no way to help him. It was clear the man had some skill, but there were too many and there was already blood staining one arm. He hissed in frustration. There were too many. A dozen more at least, and likely more behind if they'd managed to stop Gwaine. He had no choice. Not if he wanted Ian out of this alive.

"Beonin, face me! One on one!" He challenged the former knight loudly. "Or have you forgotten all it was to be a Knight of Camelot?"

Beonin paused then, stepping back, his face twisting. "You challenge me?"

"Knight's rules. Your sword against my long daggers. You've taken my magic, you know I can't use it." The potion burned in his veins, and Merlin worked hard not to show the tiny tremors it was lending to his muscles.

"Hold!" Beonin called out, shouting it again until all of his men stopped. His eyes shone with a light that made Merlin shiver. "By what right do you have to issue a Knight's Challenge?"

Merlin hesitated. Then his eyes flickered to Ian, and the man nodded at him. He was more than Emrys. He'd said himself, he was no longer the boy Beonin had once known. He'd commanded an army since then, defeated a King in single combat. He'd defeated the greatest evil the land had ever known, and he'd once been the essence of creation. He'd moved through time itself. No, that boy was long gone. When he spoke next, he allowed all he had achieved, all he was and had become, carry in the quiet command of his voice.

"I am an Elder Prince and Battle Mage of Dumnonia, and a First Knight of Albion. By these titles, and the blood with which I earned them, I claim a right. As I came here believing there was still a part of your heart that would always be a Knight of Camelot, I will offer you this last kindness in continuing to believe you are in spirit what you can no longer claim in flesh."

"I accept your Challenge," Beonin yelled out. "Grab the servant."

"No! Leave him alone!" Merlin shouted, frustrated. "This is between us!"

"Indeed it is, boy. But I want a little insurance against any tricks or clever plots! If you kill me, he goes free, the bounty is released, and we'll even release your guard dog. When I kill you… you all die, and the bounty moves to your precious King Arthur as the target," Beonin grinned. "Punishment for the whore thinking himself worthy of being a Knight!"

Merlin didn't miss the change from if to when, but let it slide. He swallowed. He'd made the challenge with the intention of a distraction so Ian could run to Gwaine. "It doesn't have to be like this," he murmured to the former knight. "I have no wish to kill you. I believe you've suffered enough in punishment of your betrayal. You can still leave, fade away into the forest, start a new life."

"Fool boy! It was you who betrayed Camelot!" Beonin shouted, raising his sword. "You and your filthy kind!" He swung a little wildly.

Merlin blocked the blow with his vambrace, and hardened himself. This was Beonin's choice, not his. He'd done what he came to do.

"Then let's finish this, once and for all."

MERLIN1010101010100MERLIN

Gwaine quietly slithered through the forest, seeing the light of the campfire ahead. He was a little surprised to see about a dozen men simply standing, then heard steel on steel. His eyes widened as he took in the fight currently occurring between the former Knight and the warlock.

He took a moment to observe. Merlin was more than holding his own against the skilled swordsman, but there was something a little off in his footwork, his reflexes a little slower than normal. Deciding to take advantage of the distraction, Gwaine slipped up behind the men toward the back.

He'd managed four slit throats before he was noticed, and he raised his blade to defend. A part of him was impressed even as Ian took his own dagger from the belt of his guard, slashing his throat before he had a chance to object, then joining the fight with the others.

Well then. Time for some fun.

MERLIN1010101010101010MERLIN

Merlin barely registered the commotion going on beyond his own battle. The flurry of activity left no room to doubt his 'guard dog' had gotten free. He was relieved, knowing the Knight would free Ian and he no longer had to keep one eye on the servant.

"So much for honor," Beonin hissed at him, leaning his sword heavily against his daggers, having seen enough to know his numbers were being greatly reduced with every breath that passed.

"My honor is intact, Beonin. It's not my fault your men couldn't handle a puppy," Merlin snarled back, using his own momentum to twist the blades and his body, ramming his elbow back into the man's nose. It gave a satisfying crunch he thought Gwaine would have been exceptionally proud of to hear.

"Sooner or later you'll have no choice but give in to the potion in your blood. Then I'll kill you, and haunt the steps of the traitor King until his soon to come dying day!" Beonin gloated with a grin, noting the shake in Merlin's arm as his swing connected with the vambrace. The former knight didn't seem to notice the blood streaming from his own damaged nose, and his lopsided grin was macabre in the glow if the firelight.

"I won't let that happen," Merlin hissed, and swung his leg into the back of the man's knee, frustrated with his increasingly slow reflexes when his follow up blow was blocked by the sword.

MERLIN10101010101010MERLIN

"So, are we going to let this go on?" Gwaine asked, standing by the servant now that the minions had been taken care. Most were dead. Some would be unconscious for a good while yet.

"He made a Knight's Challenge, Gwaine," Ian replied calmly.

Gwaine snorted. "Did he, now?" He watched his student move, measured it against what he knew the warlock to be capable of. "He's slow."

Ian nodded. "Drugged."

"Ah. So… you think that's fair?"

"Fair or not, the rules of the challenge are clear."

"I wonder what made him change his mind. Knowing our too kind for his own good warlock, he came out here intending to talk the mad man out of his revenge."

"He did." Ian smirked. "Too kind, perhaps, to save his own life. Not so to protect those around him."

"You came to force his hand," Gwaine breathed with respect for the manservant.

"Did you and Arthur really think you were being that subtle? Ah. There we go. It's finished."

Gwaine turned just in time to see Merlin twist, defending with one upraised vambrace while the other slid neatly into Beonin's throat. Huh. He'd have to remember that move.

MERLIN1010101010101010MERLIN

Merlin felt the warm blood spurt on his hand, met the former Knight's eyes. "Your mistake was threatening those I care for," he wanted the man to know before life completely drained from his eyes, "and underestimating what I'll do to protect them." Then he yanked out his blade, and watched emotionlessly as the body fell sideways, dead before it hit the ground.

"Not bad, mate," Gwaine praised, coming up beside him.

"Are you alright?" Merlin asked as he cleaned the blood from his hands and blades on the clothes of the corpse. He stood, turning inquiring eyes to the man on his other side. "Ian?"

"Nothing a steady hand with a needle won't repair, Sire," Ian answered smartly.

Merlin nodded. "Good." They were safe. Everyone was safe. The bounty would be lifted once he made it clear no payment would come. While not what he'd hoped for, it was over, and he'd done his best.

He barely felt the two pairs of hands on his arms as he collapsed.