A/N: Sorry it took awhile to update. Thanks for reading!

Chapter 3: A Flying Kerfuffle

Arthur had gotten into many scrapes in his young life. The worst ones, he noted duly, had only been after Merlin (literally) tackled his way into becoming his manservant, with astonishing speed considering his lack of warrior (or any) training.

That's why, in Arthur's mind, he often divided his life as Before Merlin (B.M.) or After Merlin (A.M).

And in this seventh year of our Lord meeting Merlin, the Lord—King Arthur—was finding himself having an existential crisis while running for his dear life.

Is this really what I want my life to be? he contemplated as he shoved aside passersby in the crowded street to screams of "Watch where yer going ya ingrates!", and "Ill-bred lunatics!", Gwaine and Merlin close behind him as they ran from the fully armed mercenaries. It was midday, the market in full-swing, and moving in this raucous crowd was like swimming upstream. They simply could not make any headway without hurting these people seriously, and that was something none of them were willing to do. Unfortunately, the warriors had no such compunction, and were gaining on them quickly.

"Uh, guys?" Merlin yelped as he barely ducked a sword swing from behind. Even Arthur could feel that whoosh of air above Merlin's head. Under normal circumstances, Arthur would take the fight of three versus seven. After all, he's faced much worse odds before and emerged victorious. But it really wasn't three versus seven. In fact, it was closer to one and a half versus seven. Yes, Arthur and Gwaine were each one, but Arthur had to take away half a person because one of them would need to watch and make sure that Merlin wasn't skewered to death. Having Merlin around was a liability, and this was one of those times that Arthur cursed himself for not properly outfitting his servant with a weapon.

Up ahead, Arthur spotted a merchant stall brimming with goods: hanging rabbit furs and steaming carcasses, bowls of apples and cherries, and barrels of root vegetables. Can't anything in my life go simply, or must a shadow follow me everywhere I go? he asked as he tipped a barrel in front of their pursuers, a cascade of onions rolling into the cobbled road and tripping up multiple innocent people, whose flailing bodies made convenient inconveniences for the rather angry enemy warriors.

Gwaine laughed and clapped his back. "Nice one, princess!"

Arthur glared at him. "Quickly, over here," he said, pointing to an alley. "That bought us maybe a minute at most."

Swords form only when they are forged by flame, a voice that sounded suspiciously like Merlin's resounded in his skull. "Shut up, Merlin!"

"I didn't say anything!" Merlin yelled over his shoulder, his breath short. Merlin scrutinized the alleyway they were in, his eyes comically large. "Arthur, you realize you just led us into a dead-end? As in, as soon as they find us, which should be any moment now, we're all dead? Pushing up daisies? Kicking the buck-" Merlin jumped as a voice yelled behind him.

"They're in here!" The warriors crowded around the entrance way, the only way out, their weapons drawn as the advanced slowly, but deliberately.

Perhaps, Arthur thought, I should have renounced my inheritance and become a farmer after all. It would be worth it just to watch Merlin reap all the grain with a sickle he could barely lift. And of course, there would still be plenty of horse stalls for Merlin to muck. Oh, the glorious, simple life.

"Can you imagine, men, how much the head of Camelot's King is worth?" The man, who was obviously the leader of their merry band judging by the length of his beard alone, sneered at Arthur.

"Come on!" Arthur turned to Gwaine. "I'll give you a boost." He latched his fingers to give Gwaine a foot hold. Gwaine took it and used the momentum to jump and grab on to the roof, pulling himself up with his considerable strength.

Arthur turned to Merlin, only to find that he had already mimicked Arthur's movement and had his hands ready to give Arthur a boost. "No, you idiot! You are going up, now!"

"No Arthur, I am not going up until you do!"

The mercenary was merely paces away from Merlin, his sword drawn. "Merlin, I am your King and this is an order! Go now!"

"As sweet as this all is, please save your public display of affection for later," Gwaine called from above. The mercenary raised his sword to strike Merlin.

"Merlin listen to Arthur for God's sake!" Gwaine yelled as he hurled a dagger at the mercenary, managing to lodge it in his shoulder. The man screamed and dropped his sword.

"Now, Merlin," Arthur said through gritted teeth, and this time Merlin didn't need any further prompting. Merlin jumped off of Arthur's clasped hands, grabbing onto the edge of the roof. Gwaine pulled Merlin up all the way. They both leaned over and offered their hands to catch Arthur. But at this point, the warriors had closed in on Arthur. The leader, furious and shoulder dripping with blood, charged him.

"Jump, Arthur! We got you!" Gwaine yelled.

Arthur managed to smash into the leader's bad shoulder as he backed up and took a running start toward their outstretched hands. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw another warrior swing at him, but the man seemed to miscalculate his footing and plummeted to the ground instead. As he jumped he felt a bolt whiz past him, a rather embarrassing miss considering how close he was to the archer. Gwaine and Merlin caught his outstretched hands and hauled him up.

Arthur doubled over a little to catch his breath. "I don't think those warriors are all they're cracked up to be."

"Or we've been blessed by the gods," Gwaine said, clapping Merlin on the shoulder.

Arthur straightened. "Yes…or that. Come on, follow my lead." He darted across the wooden logs, his feet nimble and sure. Gwaine and Merlin looked at each and ran after their king. Arthur saw the gap ahead across to the next roof, steeled his muscles, calculated the distance, and pushed off. He made it easily and gave off a little guffaw. Perhaps I'm not cut out to be a farmer, he thought, as adrenaline pumped through his system. He turned back and watched. Gwaine pushed off from the roof and landed on the edge, pulling himself up with no difficulty. Arthur tensed as he watched Merlin. Now, as this was the year 7 A.M., Arthur knew that Merlin was no coward. An idiot, definitely, but without a single cowardly bone in his body. And so Arthur was not surprised when Merlin jumped with almost no hesitation, flying through the air with flailing limbs and, according to Arthur, a rather girlish scream.

Merlin's fingers managed to clasp on to the ledge, but his body hit the side of the building hard. Arthur and Gwaine quickly moved to help Merlin scramble up, and Merlin laid there on the roof, breathing heavily.

On the first building over, the last mercenary had already been pulled onto the roof and they thundered toward them.

"Come on, now's not the time to be lazy, Merlin. Let's go!" The next building was a story higher than the one they were on, with a thatched, sloping roof.

"You sure that's a good idea, Arthur?" Merlin huffed.

One of the warriors was readying to jump behind them, and Arthur could hear the string of the bow being pulled back. "It's not like we have a choice. Just…follow what I do alright?"

Arthur ran toward the taller building, but he was distracted by the sound of the arrow knocking and the shout of "Watch out!". The split second before he took off Arthur knew that he had misjudged and would not make it the distance. It was as if time had stilled; each second suspended mid-air felt an eternity. Yes, oddly, he had enough time to form all these thoughts and to even look around him and below him. His mud-caked boots—Arthur would need to make Merlin clean and polish them after this, that lazy arse of a servant—had nothing to hold them up, yet here he was, two stories high above the ground and not plummeting to his death, or to at least very serious injury. He felt the air dragging across his body, holding him up like it was a physical entity, and he had the distinct impression that he was flying.

Time returned to normal speed like a jolt, and Arthur slammed into the building. He had enough instinct and presence of mind to grab on to the roof before falling, and pulled himself up, using a window ledge below as leverage. He rested on the thatched roof, waiting for his pounding heart to calm. He sat up and assisted Merlin and Gwaine up as they made their jumps. Merlin squeezed Arthur's shoulder as if checking for himself to make sure Arthur was still there. Arthur shook his head. Merlin always was an odd one.

The three of them scrambled up, using their hands to try and not slip against the sloped roof. Arthur reached the peak and rested briefly. Gwaine and Merlin joined him, but as they did so, they heard a suspicious creaking under the combined weight of all three men.

"Arthur, do you think that perhaps this spot is rotted throu—" Merlin could not finish his question as the roof collapsed below and they found themselves falling. Arthur fell first, broken by the second story floor and then by the ground floor, Gwaine next, his fall broken by Arthur, and Merlin last, his fall broken by Gwaine.

Each of them moaned on the ground floor, until Arthur pushed himself up unsteadily. "Yes, Merlin, I do believe that spot was rotted through."

As Arthur assessed his surroundings, his saw the markings of a rather humble home. A child, no more than perhaps five, was looking at them with wide eyes. And beside him, an elderly woman, perhaps his grandmother, weaving at a loom. She looked at them briefly, then continued to weave as if three men falling through her roof was not worth her time.

"We do apologize for the disturbance," Gwaine started.

He was unable to finish however, as they heard the warriors stomp on the roof above. They came upon the hole and jumped, landing much more gracefully and purposefully. The circled around Arthur, Gwaine, and Merlin, cutting off the entrance. The young boy ran to hide beside his grandmother, and she stopped her weaving.

"Let's take this outside like real men," Arthur addressed the bearded leader.

He snarled. "No, I think I like you exactly where you are."

"There's an elderly woman and child here. You're after me, leave them out of this."

"Well the way I see it, you're not going to put up much of a fight if you think they'll get hurt. So…Erik, hold the sword to the woman and boy. If you so much as raise a hand, Arthur Pendragon, Erik will run his sword through them both."

The boy let out a whimper as the man named Erik pointed his sword to his neck.

Arthur raised his hands in surrender, and Merlin and Gwaine reluctantly followed his lead. "Do not hurt them. Take me instead."

"I don't plan on taking you anywhere. I have a platter already picked out for your head." The leader pushed Arthur to kneel with a thud, and grabbed a battle axe from his subordinate.

"Surely King Arthur is worth more alive!" Merlin said. "You could demand an unfathomable ransom!"

He stilled his axe and thought a moment. "No. The instruction was dead or alive. And frankly you lot are a lot less trouble dead."

And he struck.

Arthur felt that moment of timelessness again as the axe descended onto his neck and another current of air pushed past him. Except this time, the forceful blast was aimed at the warriors. Each and everyone of them flew back with such force that they hit the walls, shelves, and even the loom with sickening cracks, falling into unconscious heaps like sacks of flour.

Arthur, still on his knees, took a moment to register what happened. Magic. Arthur swirled around to look for the source. The grandmother looked decidedly unpleased at the mess and especially at the destruction of her loom.

Something made Arthur turn around, and he saw Merlin there, with his arm outstretched. Merlin met Arthur's look, terror-stricken. Arthur froze and could not look away.

The boy, his eyes wide with awe, exclaimed, "Wow! Can you do that again?"