The cart was clean and airy, if a bit crowded. Merlin was comfortable, but here would be no opportunity for escape on the road. Though he and those in his cart had been left free to move about, the stronger and more threatening men in Gwaine's group had been restrained with thick leather cuffs and chained together. Fortunately, Merlin could easily see the cart Gwaine was in behind his own, and all of the carts seemed bound for the same destination.
After a few hours of slow travel, they came to the outskirts of a small city. Merlin was startled with sudden recognition. He stood to get a better view.
"You recognize this place, boy?"
Merlin turned. A thin, bearded man leaned against the thick bars of the cart next to him. His eyes were curious as he regarded Merlin. Several others in the cart glanced up as he broke the long silence, but then turned away, lost in their own thoughts, worries, and regrets.
"Yes," Merlin answered, still taking in the sight before him. "I came here once, years and years ago. With my mother."
"Lintone, crowing jewel of Essetir," the man said, nodding. "I spent some time here in my youth. My name's, Reuben, by the way. Not that it matters now."
"I'm Merlin."
"Pleased to meet you, Merlin, though the circumstances could be better," Reuben said as the carts lumbered into the main town square. The city was as full of noise and color as Merlin remembered, but looked much smaller after years spent Camelot. The people in the streets hardly gave the carts a second glance as they moved to a large, raised platform. Merlin suppressed a shudder as his mind leapt unwillingly to the gallows of Camelot. But no, this was not a structure for doling out justice. This was a stage for selling and profit—an auction block.
"Never thought I'd be returning like this," Reuben sighed.
"What, in a cart?" Merlin said, trying to ease the gloom of those around him. It didn't work, though the man next to him smiled wryly.
"As a slave," Reuben said, eyes distant. "Who would have thought, after years of travel and knowledge, my life would come to this?"
Merlin watched the men in the cart as grim resignation crept over each face.
"Don't give up yet," Merlin said, lifting his voice slightly. "Believe me, I've been in worse spots than this, and I know that your story doesn't have to end on someone else's terms. The fight isn't over until you stop fighting."
The men in the cart shifted uneasily. Reuben fixed him with a piercing stare.
"That's a dangerous attitude to have, Merlin."
Merlin smiled softly.
"Some things are worth facing danger and fighting on," he said. "Hope is one of those things."
Conversation halted as the cart lurched to a stop. Merlin watched as the regular, unskilled workers were unloaded from another cart and lead to the platform in groups of ten. Rough ropes looped around their hands, binding them together in a neat, efficient line. He watched, heart burning, as they were sold off to unenthused bidders. As the last group approached the block, Merlin's eyes were captured by a small-framed young man. He was about the same age Merlin had been when he'd first traveled to Camelot. The youth's eyes darted around, looking for some escape from this reality. They landed on Merlin.
For five heartbeats, the two held eye contact—both lost and afraid in a new and unfamiliar world.
"Sold!"
The harsh cry ripped through the moment of connection. All the slaves in the line were pulled forward as their new owner took the rope. At the end of the line, the boy stumbled and fell.
And somewhere, someone laughed.
No.
No more.
With an angry glance, the barred door at the rear of Merlin's cart exploded.
Screams rang out as splinters of wood flew out into the crowd. Outside the cart, Tiernay's guards ducked and shielded their faces as the fragments went flying, leaving small stinging gouges on hands and faces in their wake.
Merlin fell to his knees, breathless. His magic writhed back inside his chest, flaring from the pain of use. Glancing around, he saw shock on the faces of the men around him. Reuben was breathing heavily, staring at the new hole in the cart. For a moment, he was completely still. Then, he looked up, meeting Merlin's eyes.
"Hope, eh?" He said.
Then, laughing, he launched toward the door to freedom, the other men in the cart following closely. It seemed these men had something to fight for after all. Smiling, Merlin scrambled out behind them.
Arthur glanced at Gaius nervously. The man had listened patiently as Arthur told him everything that had happened since he and the knights had left for Amata. Everything.
Now, the story was done, and Arthur stared at his hands, clenching and and unclenching them as he waited for Gaius to speak. He wasn't sure why he was nervous. After all, Gaius was the one who had been keeping Merlin's secret all theses years. So why did Arthur feel like he was in the wrong?
"So," Gaius said quietly, "He's alive at least."
"Oh," Arthur felt like ten kinds of fool. Yes, he was certainly in the wrong. "Oh, Gaius, I'm so sorry. I didn't think how it must have seemed to you—"
"Arthur," Gaius reached out a hand to stall Arthur's guilt. "In my heart, I knew he still lived. But it does help to hear it from you. And to hear that you didn't react… rashly when you found out about..."
"About the magic?" Arthur said. It got easier, more natural every time he said it. He didn't know if that was good or bad. "I was angry," he admitted. "I was confused. It felt like every other betrayal, Agravaine, Morgana… but in that other place, we had time to speak. Argue even. And I realized, it wasn't the same. It wasn't near the same. He was hiding the magic, but the rest was real. The others manipulated me and lied about who they were. But Merlin… he really is a selfless idiot, isn't he?"
"I'm afraid so, Sire," Gaius smiled warmly. "There's no pretense with him. He kept the magic a secret, yes, but beyond that his feelings and thoughts were always sincere. He always wanted you to know who he was, but he was afraid."
"Afraid," Arthur shook his head in disbelief, smirking as he thought of Mordred's reaction to Merlin's display of power. "What could he have to be afraid of?"
"That you'd hate him," Gaius said seriously.
The smile fell off Arthur's face.
Hate Merlin?
"I don't think I could," Arthur said quietly.
"But you still hate magic," Gaius said. The physician's face looked old, tired.
Arthur stood running his hand through his hair.
"What am I going to do, Gaius?" He said with a heavy sigh. "I can't have magic in Camelot. I just… can't. But I can't have Merlin here without magic. He's made that clear. And the truth is, I'm worried about the idiot. He's always running headlong into danger, and if someone says they're in trouble, he loses all sense of judgement and just plunges in without thinking. And… I had this dream, or vision. When I try to remember the details, it all goes hazy, but I can't shake the feeling that Merlin's in trouble. I just don't know what to do about it. What do I do?"
"There's very little you can do, Sire," Gaius said. Worry clung to his features, but a rueful smile played on his lips. "When Merlin sets his mind to something, no order or reasoning or restraint will stop him. I've lost count of the number of times I've said goodbye to him, thinking it was the last time. But he always comes back. You have to remember, Merlin isn't without his own skills and cunning. He's capable of battling back against all odds, particularly when he's fighting for something he believes in."
"What is he fighting for, Gaius?"
Gaius looked surprised.
"For you, Sire."
Arthur was silent for a long moment. Turning his back on the physician and crossing his arms, he stared absently into the hearth.
"Why?" Arthur swallowed. "I'm not the man people think I am. At least, I wouldn't be without him. I don't know what kind of king I am, what kind of man I am without him. How can he fight for me when I'm not even sure who I am or what I stand for?"
Arthur heard Gaius move behind him. After a moment, he felt the old man's firm gentle hand on his forearm, turning him. Gaius gripped him by both arms and looked him firmly in the eye.
"Because," he said earnestly. "He hopes. He has faith in you, because he is your friend. No matter what choices you make or paths you choose, he will fight for you. Not an ideal, or a country, or a code. No matter where he goes or what he does, in his heart of hearts, Merlin stands by you."
Gwaine smiled as the last pair of leather cuffs fell to the floor. Giving his dagger an appreciative flip, he turned to the door of the cart. The rest of the men with him, now free, all looked eager to get out and join the chaos now reigning in the town square. One hulking lad stepped up, gently pushing Gwaine to the slide and raising a large, fleshy fist. In moments, the man guarding their cart landed in a heavy heap on the ground. A key was produced after a moment of pawing at the prone form through the bars, and the lock quickly gave way. With a victorious cry, the freed slaves poured out of the cart.
Gwaine paused before stepping down, scanning the frenzied crowd. He finally picked out Merlin near the central platform, working with a bearded man to free some of the slaves that had already been sold. Gwaine began dodging through the crowd, trading blows with panicked townspeople as he went. As he approached, a hulking brute came up behind Merlin and raised a heavy looking club. That would not do.
Gwaine grabbed the weapon, grinning wolfishly as the man turned with a surprised look.
"Hello," he said.
The man dropped like a stone as Gwaine's fist slammed into his face.
At the sound of the large body crashing to the ground behind him, Merlin whipped around, eyes wide. Glancing down at the prone form at his feet, he quirked a half smile at Gwaine.
"Thanks for that," he said.
"Any time," Gwaine replied. He watched as Merlin's eyes widened for a moment. The warlock grabbed his shoulders and pulled them both down as a large clay jug flew over their heads, shattering wetly on a cart laden with barrels behind them.
Popping back up, Gwaine saw that all the slaves were beginning to head their way, forming a crowd of about fifty men. They were unarmed, with only a handful of fighters in the bunch, facing a much larger crowd of very angry, armed— if confused— merchants and guards. This would not end well.
"Run!" Merlin yelled.
The slaves began to funnel into a nearby alleyway. Gwaine pulled a loose board from a large, precarious stack of crates that stood next to the alley's entrance, lobbing it to Merlin to use as a makeshift club. Both friends stood at the mouth of the passage, defending the fleeing slaves from their attackers as best they could. Out of the corner of his eye, Gwaine saw a few men from his and Merlin's carts join them in covering the others' escape. Most were using old cobblestones, chains, and other makeshift weapons. They'd held off the attacks of the merchant guards mostly through luck and surprise. Now, Gwaine could hear the heavy footfalls of the armored city guard approaching. It was time to end this.
"Merlin," he shouted to his friend. "Lead the rest through. Get them to the forest."
"What about you?" Merlin replied, ducking a blow and landing a solid whack to his attacker's shin.
"I'll make a distraction," Gwaine said as he used an opponent's wild swing to spin the man around and give him a solid boot in the rear. "Then, I'll loop around and meet you."
Merlin looked uncertain, but Gwaine gave him a reassuring grin.
He almost felt bad for lying.
After another moment of hesitation, Merlin nodded, and began guiding the remaining men into the alley. As the last man pushed through, Gwaine turned to the cart full of barrels beside him. Lashing out with his dagger, he sliced cleanly through the rope holding them in place. The barrels went rolling and bouncing in front of the alley way, colliding solidly with the stack of crates on the opposite side. The pile crashed down in a heap of splintered wood. The dust settled to reveal a four foot high wall of wreckage blocking the alley's entrance.
As all weapons in the square focused on Gwaine, he calmly dropped his dagger and brushed off his shirt sleeves. Raising his hands, he flipped back his hair and smiled his most infuriating smile.
"Well, now that's done with, would one of you kindly escort me to your cur of a king?"
Merlin tried not to think. He focused on his foot falls as they pounded across cobblestone, then long grass, then undergrowth. The heat of the sun on his neck was replaced by cool shade. Leaves whipped past his face, and roots began clogging the path before him. Soon, all semblance of a path was gone, and he looked up to see the men around him scrambling and pushing deeper into the forest. After a while, the group slowed, then stopped. Merlin could feel their eyes on him, expecting him to take charge as he had in the city. But all Merlin could think of was Gwaine, and how false the man's smile had been when he'd promised to escape and join them.
He felt sick.
"Alright," Merlin turned to see Reuben speaking. "We've taken our freedom. Let's see if we can keep it. Our best bet for now is to stick together. We're going to need volunteers for keeping watch, foraging for what food we can find, getting fresh water, and gathering firewood."
Merlin turned away as men began to step forward and receive tasks. There was only one task for him. He began striding through the trees.
He hadn't gotten far when he heard footsteps approaching from behind.
"Merlin," Reuben called. "Where are you going?"
"Back to the city," Merlin said over his shoulder, not stopping. "I helped get everyone to the forest. You're all free. Now, I have to go back and help my friend."
"Merlin, wait," Reuben finally caught up to him, grabbing his shoulder and turning him around. "Think about this—"
"There's nothing to think about," Merlin batted off the restraining hand, but didn't move away. "He's back in the city, he's in trouble, and I'm going to help him."
"Alright," Reuben said, "But we need to be smart about this. If you go rushing in and get caught, it's not going to help your friend, and it won't do us any favors either."
Merlin took a few calming breaths. He had to admit, he wasn't thinking very clearly at the moment.
"What do you suggest?" He asked.
"Take me with you." The lad that he had noticed during the auction stepped forward.
"No," Merlin said immediately. He didn't want to be responsible for another life. He'd failed too many times.
"Listen," Reuben said, stepping forward. "If the two of you go into the city quietly, you can look around, find you friend, see what's happening. Then, the lad can bring us a message if we need to move or take action."
"I'm fast," the boy cut in. "And the two of us will be able to blend in, no problem."
Merlin crossed his arms, thinking. He wanted to help Gwaine, but he might not be able to do it on his own. And like it or not, their fates were now tied up with the rest of the former slaves. He looked at the boy appraisingly.
"What's your name?" He said.
The boy fidgeted slightly under his scrutiny.
"Will," he answered.
Merlin looked down and swallowed hard, stomach somersaulting. Another journey to Essetir. Another fight against an oppressor. Another chance to fail at protecting those in need…
Stop it. Hold together. For Gwaine.
Merlin straightened his back, meeting the youth's eyes once more.
"Alright, Will. Let's go."
The great hall of King Lot was full of colorfully dressed nobles. Scarlet and violet silks and feathers they wore clashed violently with the poison green hangings on every wall. Raucous laughter was only slightly dampened by the sumptuous carpets and furniture scattered throughout the space. Red faced lords lounged, beckoning for more wine from nervous-looking servants. Ladies gathered in multi-colored flocks, eyeing the delicate foods presented to them with unsatisfied eyes as they discussed the latest bit of intrigue. It was everything Gwaine hated about nobility. He expected nothing less from the man he was about to be brought before.
The throne at the far end of the room was covered with pillows and silks. The green-clad man on it leaned back, leisurely holding a silver chalice in one hand. His other arm was draped around the hips of the lightly-dressed dancer perched on the arm of his chair. He absently ran his hand across her bare midriff as he spoke with a man seated nearby.
Gwaine was all but unnoticed in the midst of the swirling party. However, a sharp and sober looking woman caught his eye as he approached. She rose from her place at the side of the room, stepping almost involuntarily toward him. The gray streaks in her brown curls were new, but the features on the determined-looking face were all too familiar. He quirked a mocking smile at her. She scowled and turned away, marching toward the king. She threw a disapproving glance at the woman in the man's arms before crossing to his other side. A look of annoyance flashed in the king's eyes as she bent to whisper in his ear, but his face cleared into a look of surprise as she spoke. Lifting his head, his eyes fell on Gwaine.
A flood of emotions passed over Gwaine as he locked gazes with the king. The other man smiled and stood, striding forward. Thickly built but robust, he commanded the attention of the room when he moved. His well-groomed silver hair fell just past his strong, bearded jaw. His eyes, clear and cunning as ever swept over Gwaine from head to foot. Gwaine's hands began to sweat, and his stomach tightened. The smells and colors of the room seemed to gray out as his vision tunneled on the face before him. Shaking himself, he clenched his fists, willing hot anger to replace the icy anxiety in his chest. Setting his jaw, he forced himself not to step back as the king drew nearer.
Settling right in front of Gwaine, King Lot reached out a hand. Gwaine just managed to suppress a flinch. The king lifted the pendant on Gwaine's neck, examining it in the bright torchlight of the hall.
"So it's true," Lot said, still smirking.
Gwiaine glared back silently. Lot didn't seem to mind.
"Welcome home, Son."
(AN: I just wanted to say, don't get mad at me. I'm not retconning Gwaine's past. I'm merely weaving in additional content. Again, Gwaine's backstory from the show still applies. I'm merely adding to it. Trust me. Also, this is very loosely based on the legend of Gwaine and the Green Knight. As with in the show, there will be many differences.
Thanks for sticking with this story. I should have more time to write this summer.)