Em flinched when a rough hand grabbed his arm. He yanked out of the iron grip and whirled around, snarling in reply, "What do you think you're doing?" He was faced with a dark-haired man in a sweaty tunic. Even his short beard was glistening with sweat. Em resisted wrinkling his nose.
"Keeping a sorry urchin from taking off with my prize shield," the man snapped. Em took a step back. Shit, he just mouthed off to a blasted knight.
"I was only looking, sir knight." Em tried to keep his voice as mild as possible, but he struggled to contain the low rumble of anger in his tone. "I wouldn't dream of touching a lord's things."
"You're a servant?" The knight looked him over. Em straightened his shoulders.
"Yes, I am," he confirmed, forcing any shame out of his voice.
"Who do you serve?"
"Prince Arthur," said Em.
The knight sneered in a way that made Em's stomach twist. "If I find you near any of my things, boy, I will send word to your master immediately and order you flogged. Is that clear?"
Em's hands curled into fists. He took a deep breathe. He smirked back at the knight, his lips curling into a dangerous smile and his icy blue eyes full of daring and mettle.
"Crystal, milord," he bit out. With that, he marched past the knight and out of the armory.
The next morning, Em got up before sunrise to review tournament etiquette. He found it all so confusing. Why did great warriors, already proven in real battle, feel the need to stage fake ones to prove they were worthy? Why couldn't Camelot concentrate all the money and talent pouring into the competition on more worthy causes, such as defending the outlying villages from bandits or helping the street children in the Lower Town? Druids did not host magical duels or competitions because they viewed it as wasting and abusing magic. The more Em spent in the non-magical world, the more he criticized it.
When he grew sick of reviewing, he walked the dogs to clear his head. When Pike and Trout gazed longingly at Bandit and Sionnach running ahead to chase each other, he muttered, "Blast it," and let the prize hunting dogs off their leashes. He hated leashing dogs; he felt it restricted their freedom. He knew city folks did it to protect their dogs, but he was a farm boy at heart and could not bear to do it. He trusted the hounds' training and knew they would come back as soon as he called.
He encountered Holt when he turned Pike, Trout, and Bandit out in their run. Sionnach was frolicking in the puppy pen, her feathered tail beating back and forth furiously. Holt watched the pups with an amused grin.
"Do you got the day off, Merlin, with the tourney happening and all?" Holt asked Em.
"Not when my master's fighting in it," Em chuckled. "You do, I'm guessing,"—the younger boy nodded—"so does that mean you will be watching it?"
Holt shrugged. "Yeah, there's not much else to do. It's cool, seeing the great folk duke it out. Makes you wish you could use a sword, y'know?"
"I'm decent with a sword. Let me know if you want to ever practice after work," Em offered.
Holt's eyes widened. "Really? That would be amazing!"
Em saw Beckett, who was giving the dogs their morning meal, look up and smile at him. Thank you, he mouthed. Em inclined his head the tiniest bit.
"Do you know what you're doing?" Arthur narrowed his eyes when Em entered the tent with his arms full of armor. Em frowned at the prince.
"I've been studying like crazy, sire, I'm practically an expert at this point," Em promised. He quickly dressed Arthur in his armor. He handed the prince his sword and helm. He could not prevent his lips twitching into a proud smile. That smile faded when Arthur stared expectantly at him.
"My cape, you buffoon!" he barked out.
Em picked up a red cape embroidered with the Pendragon coat of arms. He shook it out, examining the red clothing item. "The capes seems a little impractical to me. Don't you worry about getting tangled up in it or your enemy grabbing it in a fight?"
"Merlin," Arthur half-roared.
Em put the cape on the prince's shoulders, fastening it with a gold dragon brooch. He took a step back and surveyed his work. "I did a great job," he whispered. "You nervous, sire?"
Arthur brushed past Em as he headed out of the tent. "I don't get nervous."
Em jogged after his master. "Sure you do, sire. Everyone gets nervous. Heck, I sometimes get nervous collecting the eggs back home because we have this really mean rooster. My brother calls him Diabhal (Devil), because he really is a diabhal—"
"What are you even saying?" Arthur interrupted.
"The rooster's name is Devil," Em said softly, realizing his mistake. He mentally kicked himself; he could not go around saying Druidic words in Nature-blessed Camelot. "My point is, sire, it's okay to be a little scared, these are some of the best knights in the realm—"
Arthur whirled around. "I am not nervous, you dolt! I am the strongest and most capable knight here; I am the reigning champion. Just because you are scared of a chicken and used to being surrounding by spineless peasants does not mean your betters get nervous. Is that clear?"
Em's checks reddened slightly and he nodded stiffly.
Arthur turned around again and continued his march to the arena. "Good."
Em lurked in the mouth of one of the tunnels the competitors entered through. Many knights, Prince Arthur included, stood before King Uther. Hands clasped behind his back, the King of Camelot paced up and down the orderly rows. Not a person in the arena spoke. Em could feel the excitement, nervousness, and tension sparking in the air as Uther opened his mouth.
"Knights of the realm. You have come from all corners of Camelot to prove your talent before your people and your king. As in years past, the winner of this competition will win one thousand gold pieces." Em's jaw dropped at the thought of that enormous sum. His family of ten (eleven, counting Astryd) survived on less than one-tenth of that sum a year. "In each young knight's life, the time will come for him to prove himself. This tournament is meant to mimic real situations that you may encounter in battle. Remember the knights' code. All glory to Camelot!" Em saw Uther catch Arthur's eye. The prince gave his father an imperceptible nod, his blue eyes glinting with determination. Em knew his new master would do anything to win the tournament.
"Camelot, Camelot, Camelot," the crowds chanted.
The roster was announced. Arthur was fighting a knight from the west of Camelot in the fourth match of the day. Em watched the first two with rapt attention. They were brutal; the knights did not use dulled swords, and they fought as if they were in real combat. He wished he could ask them about certain moves or maneuvers they used. He wanted to try them out himself. Even though he still found the tournament silly and pointless, he loved getting to see the knights fight. They were the best swordsmen he'd ever laid eyes on.
Before the third match, Em heard a servant announce, "Knight Valiant of the Western Isles." Em watched as the knight with the snake shield emerged from the tunnel opposite the one he was standing by. His hands curled into fists when he saw the bastard's smug face. He wanted to wipe that look off Valiant's face with his fist, or maybe turn his nose into a mushroom. Mordred did it to Sefa all the time as a small child. Em was always the one who reversed the spell.
The match ended swiftly. Valiant was deft with a sword. Surefooted and swift, he employed clever maneuvers that allowed him to best his opponent. Despite taking quite the battering from the other knight's sword, his shield remained unscathed. Em's mind drifted back to the blinking snake eyes of yesterday. Despite having long since dismissed it as a trick of the light, the shield still made the boy uneasy. Snakes were crafty creatures of unease and mischief, not unlike Knight Valiant. Em's blood boiled when he thought of the knight's threat. He was sorry to see the bastard win.
After Valiant and his opponent left the arena, Arthur and a knight from a fief in the east faced off. Em's own hand drifted to the hilt of his sword, itching to taste the glory of the competition that, minutes before, he had found useless. Em used the tournament as an excuse to strap it on his belt. He insisted to Arthur that the prince might need a second sword if his own got damaged during the fight. Arthur promptly rolled his eyes but did not comment any further. Em took it to mean that the prince of Camelot would not mind using his servant's battered old sword. Even though he was not fond of Arthur, some small part of him still craved the prince's approval. Em chalked it up to being the holdover of a childhood of being one of six brothers.
So, he watched with a hawk's concentration as Arthur raised his sword and charged forward to meet his opponent. The two swords met with a singing of steel that reverberated in Em's bones. The match continued for a good minutes, until Arthur dipped his sword and then wrenched it upward when the other knight tried to go in for a close jab. The sword clattered out of the knight's hand. Arthur placed the tip of the sword on the knight's breastplate. The announcer declared him the winner. Uther's only acknowledgment of his son was a slight dip of the head. Em saw the prince's face fall for a moment, but he quickly recovered and turned to face the cheering crowd with an arrogant grin and cocky tilt of his head.
So the prince was not just an emotionless lump after all. Arthur headed out of the tunnel and Em hurried to catch up. He took the sword from Arthur. Em held it reverently; it was the finest piece of steel he had ever held, with its ruby pommel and ornate hilt carved with dragons. At the thought of the dragon, Em let his shields drop. He sought out the comforting presence of the dragon and let his magical presence wrap around him—
"Merlin, are you even listening?"
Em's shields snapped back into placed automatically. He winced, as it hurt just a bit. "Come again, sire?"
"Before the afternoon matches start, you need to sharpen my sword, polish my armor, mend my tunic—"
Em waited in eager anticipation as Valiant took to the arena again later that afternoon. He wanted the knight to lose. The fact that the bastard had threatened to have him flogged—
"Sir Ewan facing Knight Valiant," the announcer shouted. Both knights bowed to Uther and assumed their fighting positions. Ewan came at Valiant with a fierce battle-cry, his sword flashing in the sun. Valiant nimbly dodged the attack, oddly light on his feet for such a large man. Ewan recovered, turning swiftly on his heel. Valiant went on the offensive again—
And so it went. After years of sparring, Em was able to pinpoint the exact moment when Ewan began to gain the upper hand on Valiant. Even though the Druid knew it was wrong, he swore to Nature he did, some dark part of his soul sang with joy as Ewan knocked Valiant to the ground with his shield. Valiant raised his own shield to defend himself as Ewan's sword came down to strike at him. The knights were inches apart, making it difficult to see what happened next. However, Ewan took a stumbling step backward. Valiant sprang to his feet and knocked Ewan down with one strike of his shield. He placed his sword-tip on Ewan's heart.
"Knight Valiant wins!" the announcer declared. The crowd broke into wild cheers. Sullen, Em watched as the announcer tried to help Ewan up. The knight was struggling to get to his feet. Even from the distance he was standing at, Em could see how ashen Sir Ewan's face was. Something was seriously wrong with him.
Gaius hurried from the main entrance tunnel where he had been lurking just in case a situation like this occurred. Not even thinking, Em raced forward to meet his uncle. He was not needed by the prince. Arthur had won his both afternoon matches, making him one of the two finalists for tomorrow's victory match. He would not mind if Em helped Gaius out.
His uncle was crouched next to Ewan, checking his pulse. "I need a stretcher!" he yelled. Several members of the palace guards grabbed one. Gaius and Em lifted Ewan onto the stretcher.
"We need to get him back to my chambers. Hurry!" Gaius said, the very picture of calm. It reminded Em of his grandmother. The skilled healer was always calm during medical crises.
"He's battered and bruised, but that shouldn't cause these symptoms—slow pulse, swelling, unconsciousness, fever." Gaius examined the knight while Em held a cool cloth against Sir Ewan's forehead. Gaius grabbed a knife off his worktable and cut the knight's tunic open. On his collarbone—just where Em's triskel used to be, in fact—were two puncture holes. The area around it was swollen and pussy.
"Snakebite?" Em whispered. "That's impossible. He hasn't been around any snakes, unless you count Valiant—" His eyes widened.
"What is it, Emrys?" his uncle demanded.
"Valiant's shield has snakes on it. In the armory, I swear I saw one blink at me! I thought it was just a trick of the light, but…"
"Are you saying Valiant's shield bit him?" Gaius looked incredulous.
"No!" Em ran a hand through his hair. His eyes darted to the bookshelf. He raced over to it and yanked a book off it. He flipped through it urgently until he found the page he wanted. He slammed the book, titled A Guide to the Magical Weapons of Albion, down on Gaius's worktable. "Look at this! My uncle has this book, except it was written in Druidic… See this? There's a type of dark magic where you trap the spirit of a dead creature within a weapon. It either gives it special abilities, or you can use the weapon to summon the creature. Valiant killed snakes and trapped their spirits within his shield."
"Animals don't have spirits, Em," Gaius said, his eyes real nervous.
"Yes, they do. The entity my people worship as Nature, She gives each one of her children a spirit. Read it!" Em shoved the book in his uncle's hands. Gaius read the book quickly. His eyes seemed to bug out of his head.
"We need an antidote to the snake's venom, Em. Ewan will not make it without it."
Em grabbed his coat and strapped his sword scabbard to his belt. "Leave that up to me, Uncle!"
"Don't do anything rash, nephew!" Gaius called after his nephew as Em tore out of the chambers at a dead sprint. The door slammed ominously behind him.
Gaius looked up at the ceiling. "Em's Nature, if you're out there, look out for that boy. Please."
Em skittered into the armory. It was abandoned. He found Valiant's shield leaning against the wall. Em narrowed his eyes and took a few steps back. What spell could he even try to summon the snake? Maybe he should have scryed his family first…
No. He needed to stop being so dependent on them. He was a highly trained master sorcerer. He could figure this out on his own.
He tried a few summoning spells, simple tricks that could open a door or make bedsheets in the morning. He needed a spell that tugged, that could yank the snakes out of the shield. Well, the spirits of the snakes. The snakes had been killed in some creepy sacrificial ritual. It made Em shudder to think of it. All he could picture was Valiant holding a bunch of dead snakes—
Wait. The snakes were dead.
The problem with A Guide to the Magical Weapons of Albion was that it failed to mention the spells that were needed to operate the weapons. The author had designed that way, as he wanted to keep the information from falling into the wrong hands. Which spell could make a bunch of snakes pop out of a shield?
His grandmother used to whisper a spell to dying patients and to babies just before they left their mother's womb. Suaimhneas (Peace. Rest).
"Suaimhneas," he whispered.
Em bit back a scream when three of the largest snakes he had ever seen sprang into existence. They pulled against the shield, as their back ends were fused to it. Em unsheathed his shield and took a step forward. When one snake struck at him, he swiftly cut off its head. The other snakes disappeared into the shield. Em waited a minute before he dared to retrieve the disembodied snake head.
"What the hell just happened?" he whispered to himself.
Em paced around the room as Gaius prepared the antidote. "Will he get better, Uncle?" he asked anxiously.
"Only time can tell," Gaius said sadly. He looked at his nephew in that serious way of his. "What are you going to do about Valiant?"
"Tell Arthur, I guess," Em said after a moment.
"It's a serious thing for a servant to accuse a knight of a crime."
"But it's not a serious thing for a knight to threaten a servant or beat him or accuse him of a crime, is it?" Em shot back.
Gaius blinked in surprise at Em's vehement reply. "I never said it was right, my boy."
Gingerly, Em picked up the snake head. "This will be proof enough."
Gaius still looked doubtful but he wished his nephew luck.
"Enter," Arthur called when he heard a knock on the door. His big-eared manservant appeared, clutching something behind his back.
"Sire!" He was panting.
"Please tell me that is my dinner you have with you."
"Um, no?"
"So what have you been doing these past few hours? You disappeared after the match. Have you completed any of your duties?"
"I was helping Gaius tend to Sir Ewan. I know quite a bit about healing," Merlin said indignantly. "I asked Morris to fetch dinner for you, don't worry. I'm here about another matter."
"Oh, are you?" Arthur crossed his arms and tilted his head. This should be great.
"Sir Valiant is using magic. His shield is magic; it has snakes trapped inside. He used it to take Sir Ewan down. Ewan has two puncture marks on his collarbone and he displays all the signs of a snakebite! He was winning that match, you saw. Valiant used the shield to gain the upper hand." Merlin pulled a snake head from behind his back. "Here's my proof."
Arthur hid the disgust on his face when he accepted the snakehead from his servant. "Where did you get this?"
"I went into the armory to look at his shield, and the snakes attacked me. I killed one with my sword."
Arthur massaged his temple with his free hand. "Merlin, this is insane."
"I know I'm only a servant, and my word doesn't count for much, but I swear on my mother's life that Valiant is using magic. You're the better fighter; he'll use it to kill you in the match tomorrow."
Arthur went still. "You give me your word?"
"I swear on my honor," Merlin said solemnly.
Arthur began pacing around the room. "We'll have to alert Father. Perhaps we need to accuse Valiant in the throne room, in public, where he cannot deny it." He looked Merlin dead in the eye. "You better be right."
Merlin looked him dead in the eye. "Oh, I am."
The knights were greeting Lady Morgana and King Uther in the throne room. They wore their full armor and shields. Many of the greater nobles and council members were there. Arthur strode in, holding the snakehead. Em strode behind him, his hands clasped behind him in what he thought was a servantly way. Uther looked up to greet his son, but went still when he saw the urgency in his son's step.
"Arthur?" he called.
Arthur offered a short bow to his father. He presented the snake head. "Knight Valiant is using a spelled shield to win the competitions. The snakes on his shield come to life. He had them bite Sir Ewan in order to win the match." His voice boomed out across the throne room. There were audible gasps in the crowd.
"With no disrespect meant towards the prince, I must say this is an outrageous accusation, my lord," Valiant exclaimed. He even let Uther examine the shield. Em had to admit, the bastard was a good liar.
Uther turned back to his son. "This is a grave accusation, Arthur. Have you seen Knight Valiant using magic?"
"No, but Sir Ewan will soon awake to testify against Knight Valiant. In the meantime, I present this snakehead. A skilled swordsman I can vouch for fought one of the snakes when he strode into the armory and they attacked him. He beheaded it and brought the evidence to me." Em's heart might have swelled at his master's praise. Might have.
"Tell this knight to come forward."
Em stood still, waiting for Arthur's summons. He saw the prince hesitate.
"Erm, Father, it's not a knight who killed the snakes—"
"Who is it, then? One of the palace guards?"
"My servant, sire." Arthur's voice was softer now, more uncertain.
"You base your accusations on the words of a servant and on the anticipated but unconfirmed word of a dying man?" Uther snarled. "You ought to be ashamed of yourself."
Em came forward. "Milord, I give you my word—"
Uther turned on him. "How dare you interrupt, boy! You are nothing but a servant. Your word means nothing in this court."
Valiant turned to Em and sneered. Em went still.
"My lord, I underwent a long journey to compete in this competition. To be faced with such baseless, false accusations from a servant is gravely insulting. Now, I understand if Prince Arthur worries about facing me in the finals tomorrow. I can withdraw myself from the competition. However, I do wish to see the boy punished. I cannot stand for such disrespect."
Both Em and Arthur opened their mouths to protest, but a fierce look from Uther shut them up. "I'll have the boy soundly beaten. Shall it be done in front of the entire court?" Valiant nodded. "Guards!"
Em looked at Arthur in horror. The prince looked helpless and pissed off all at once. Now was the time for Em to say the spell. He stared at his feet to hide the golden flashing of his eyes and whispered, "Suaimhneas." Nothing happened. Em said it again. Same results. He grew even more frantic when it happened again and the guards seized him. One forced him to his knees. Another pulled off his jacket and tossed it aside. His shirt was being pulled over his head. His chest started heaving.
Jarl's cronies were pulling Em's shirt over his head. It was about a week into their abduction. Em's shirt was in rags, tattered and filthy. He yelped when they pulled the shirt off the parts where it had stuck to his back, which was coated in dried blood. He could feel the stripes from yesterday start to bleed again—
Em tried to force himself to think as a guard went to fetch a whip. He dared to look at Arthur, who was staring at him in complete horror. Shit. He had seen Em's scars—the whip scars crisscrossing his back, the messy lines on his torso from Jarl's knife, the five thick scars on his arms. He saw how pathetic Em was, how disgusting. How he had let a monster torture him and his sister—
He had to stay rational. Think, Em. Dammit. Why wasn't the spell working? It had worked when he said it to the shield in the armory, before he killed the one snake.
The snakes probably didn't trust him anymore. He was just like Valiant, who had enslaved their spirits and used them for their own gain. He hurt them. He killed one of them.
"Tá brón orm(Forgive me). Suaimhneas. Slán agus beannacht (Farewell and a blessing)." He hoped the snakes understood the language of Nature's children.
Two snakes slithered out of Valiant's shield. Morgana screamed. Uther and Arthur grabbed their swords, and the guards let go of Em. Valiant was swearing as the snakes turned their gaze towards Em.
They nodded to him once and then melted into mist. Valiant's shield clattered to the ground. He was in shock. He did not even fight back as the guards who were just about to whip Em on his behalf arrested him instead.
A/N: Hello! In case it wasn't clear, the snakes did not reappear until Em apologized for what Valiant had done to them and for killing the one snake. By telling them to be at peace and saying goodbye, he was freeing their spirits and thus they faded away at the end. I wanted to make it different from canon, let me know if you like or dislike it! As always, a sincere thank you goes out to everyone who continues to support and read this story, it really motivates me. Much love~