iv.

Merlin stood by, watching the entire time as Arthur took off the helmet of each man and closed their eyes, saying a few words over them. He kept each prayer short, conscious of Merlin's stare on his back. Although, he was rather grateful for the unofficial look-out; even if that monster— er, Dryad— didn't come back, there were plenty of other things in this forest that weren't the kindest creatures to meet.

"Done?" Merlin asked, suppressing a yawn as Arthur walked by him. Arthur kept walking, ignoring him. Merlin watched him pass by, then started after him. "You humans are very interesting indeed."

"Do you not honor your dead?"

"If I died, the fact that my body would return to the earth is honor enough."

"...And you say humans are strange," Arthur muttered.

"I didn't say strange, I said interesting."

Arthur grunted in response.

Merlin thought for a few more seconds, then skipped up to slide in front of Arthur. The man stopped walking, eying him reproachfully. "You should stay with me for the night."

"And why is that?"

"It's about ten minutes from being dark out." Arthur looked around, only just noticing this. "And it is going to be cold tonight. And you haven't eaten in quite a while. You must be tired as well, no?"

"I need to get back to Camelot."

"Camelot can wait."

"No," Arthur pushed Merlin out of his path to start moving again, "It can't. Guinevere will already be worried. I don't want her coming after me." It was something she would do, regardless of her own safety or duty to Camelot.

"Guinevere?"

"My wife."

"Your what?" Merlin again trotted up to Arthur's side from where the human had left him standing.

"My wife. My betrothed. My love." He glanced over at Merlin, at the fairy's perplexity. "Surely you know what a wife is? You aren't that uncivilized?"

"The word... sounds vaguely familiar...?"

Arthur sighed. "Never mind." He halted again as Merlin gripped his arm.

"You must come with me!" he whispered.

"I told you, I'm n—"

Merlin pressed a hand over his mouth, eyes wide. Arthur had never seen such dark blue eyes; they looked almost black in the dusk. "Shhh," he exhaled softly, casting a look around. Arthur narrowed his eyes, then tensed when he heard a twig snap.

He gripped Merlin's wrist and pulled his hand from his face, whipping around to scan the trees. There was nothing there.

"You won't see them, but they can see you," Merlin murmured. The hair on the back of Arthur's neck stood up with the shiver that ran down his spine.

"Alright, I'm with you, let's go," he whispered hurriedly.

Merlin grinned, snatching up both of Arthur's hands in his own. Arthur stared down at him uneasily, wondering if he was imagining his sudden nausea.

Vertigo swept over him, and he fell to his knees, regurgitating the contents of his stomach against the cave wall. Apparently not.

Wait. Cave wall? He lifted his head. When did he get into a cave?

Merlin was crouching on the balls of his feet, leaning over him. "Don't worry, everyone gets sick the first time. It's hard to stomach flight."

"Flight?" Arthur choked out. "That wasn't flying!"

"Fairies fly a bit differently than birds." Merlin offered a wry half-smile, leaping to his feet in an almost precarious manner, before hopping over to a fire that was crackling near the cave entrance. "Well, at least now you have an empty stomach for dinner."

"Yeah," Arthur grumbled, "wonderful." He heaved himself up and inched his way along the cave wall, leaning against it for support. His head was still spinning, and the flickering shadows the fire cast along the walls did not help. And now he had no idea where he was, and Gwen was probably worried sick about him, and all of his knights' families... he groaned and pressed a hand to his forehead. "If you could... fly, why don't you just fly me to Camelot?"

"I don't know anything about Camelot. I don't know where it is, first of all, and I wouldn't know where to land." He ladled some of the cauldron's contents into a wooden bowl, moving over to Arthur and pressing it into his hands. "Drink this soup slowly. It will help you feel better."

Arthur wrinkled his nose down at the watery substance. "This isn't soup. This is water with plants in it."

"Drink it, you spoiled brat."

Arthur glared at him, muttering a few choice words under his breath. But he lifted the bowl to his mouth and took a few sips.

Merlin got his own bowl, and sat down next to Arthur's legs, his back against the wall. "Do you feel better?" Arthur hmphed and took another sip. Merlin smiled and drank his own soup.

With his dizziness gone, Arthur got a better look around. There was what he assumed to be a chair of some sort, which was actually a rock, but there was a small pile of books beside it. In the far corner there was a hammock made out of vines, a multi-colored blanket of moss and leaves on it, and under the hammock sat a small wooden chest. Aside from those and the cauldron over the fire, Merlin didn't seem to have very many possessions. Arthur eyed the pile of books, not recognizing them from their covers alone. It was strange enough that Merlin was literate, let alone had the money to purchase books, those most coveted of possessions.

"The books fell out of a wagon in my woods, so I took them."

Arthur startled, looking down at the man. "I- I wasn't- did I say that out loud?"

"No, but you do a poor job of hiding your thoughts."

"You're just like my wife," Arthur muttered. "I have no idea how she reads my mind like she does."

Merlin shifted, putting his bowl aside and standing up. "What is a 'wife' anyway? You never explained." He reached out and began pulling on the end of Arthur's overtunic.

"Your wife is the woman you are married to—what are you doing?" He stepped back a bit as Merlin pulled his outer shirt up. "Stop it!"

"What is this?" He couldn't see over the fabric in his eyes, but he felt Merlin picking at his chainmail.

"It's protection. Will you let go of me?" He swatted Merlin's hand off of his shirt, and Merlin dropped it, looking at him.

"It doesn't look very comfortable."

"It's not supposed to be comfortable. It's supposed to be armor."

"It didn't work very well for your men."

"That's because it's iron," Arthur hissed, not quite enjoying the reminder of his dead knights. "Like our swords." He yanked his sword from its sheath and shoved it dangerously close to Merlin's nose. "Get it?"

Merlin didn't even flinch, blinking at Arthur over the blade by his face. "I'm sorry. I upset you."

"Yes, you did," Arthur growled, sheathing his sword again. He returned Merlin's unnerving stare, though he doubted his gaze was as unnerving. Those blue eyes gave him a strange tickle in his stomach. When they didn't move from his face after several long seconds, Arthur tightened his fist, debating the temptation to punch him.

Then he remembered the faceless knight standing over him, the gripping fear, and the pale face that came out of nowhere and screamed at him to run.

The man—fairy—had saved his life, after all.

Arthur inhaled slowly, turning away from Merlin and looking down at the soup he had spilled over his gloves. "Never mind," he said gruffly. "It's fine." Merlin grinned and pressed his face close to Arthur's again. His lack of understanding personal space was also getting on Arthur's nerves. Maybe he could punch him, just to force some sense and caution into the idiot.

"What is married?"

Arthur looked at him, having to pull back a bit to do so. He wanted to be surprised, but by now he didn't really care. The man didn't know what chainmail was, after all. "Marriage is when you swear to devote your life to one person."

"Ah." Merlin began picking at Arthur's hood. "So you are married to a woman, and she is your wife... what if you are married to a man?"

"Then he is your husband."

"So those knights of yours, are your husbands?"

"W-what?! No!" Arthur stumbled a bit, then elbowed Merlin away from him and his hood. "I'm not married to them! You can only be married to one person! You can only love one person!"

"So you don't love your knights? But I saw you willing to die for them. Isn't that love?"

"Well—no—I do—you're completely missing the point!"

"It just seems strange, is all. Who decided you can only marry one person? What happens if you love more than one?"

"You don't. Not the same way, anyway." Arthur sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Just forget it. You're giving me a headache."

"Okay then." Merlin pulled the bowl from Arthur, since most of the soup had been spilled out anyway. "We'll sleep now, then leave early tomorrow." He walked over to the fire to dump the uneaten contents back into the cauldron.

Arthur watched him, then cast a wary eye around. "Sleep... where?"

"You can sleep on my hammock. I don't mind sleeping on the floor. But you better take off that... armor. You look heavy enough without it on, and I don't know if my hammock can support that weight."

"Alright, calm down, I was going to take it off anyway." He pulled his overtunic off, then unbuckled his belt and sword sheath and dropped it with the chainmail on top of the tunic. Then his gloves, and boots.

Merlin looked expectantly at the bundle of clothes now on the ground. "You're just going to leave that there?"

Arthur looked between the pile and Merlin, scowling. "I'm a king. I don't pick up my clothes. That's servant work."

"How does someone become a servant?"

Arthur rolled his eyes. "You're born as one."

"Just as you were born a king?"

"Exactly."

"And what if you had not been born a king, Arthur? What do you think you would have been born as?"

Arthur stood still, and Merlin watched the range of emotions pass over his face. Confusion, bewilderment, rejection, and anger. His scowl deepened. "That is not something you ask a king!" he burst out, stepping close to Merlin. "Were we in Camelot, I would have your head for such impudence!"

Merlin gave a small smile. "Alas, we are not. So you ought to think about it." He walked over to the hammock and spread the multi-patched blanket across it. "Have a good night's sleep, Arthur." Merlin turned and met the king's stare, holding the angry light eyes with his own solemn dark ones. The mood in Arthur's shifted, from anger to intrigue, and then Merlin was flitting past him and out of the cave.