Hey guys, just wanted to say real quick how ecstatic I am from all your support. 20 followers already? It took me a year and a half to get that for The Haunted One-Shots. I can't believe how much feedback I have gotten for a brand new story. This is great, thank you for being awesome :D

I think that I've abandoned my resolve to keep chapters shortish compared to what I normally do. Soon, if I'm not careful, I'll near ten thousand words a chapter.

I know the chapter title is super-creative. I think that is just how Merlin would title the chapter.

Previously, Arthur and Merlin are hunting when they are attacked by bandits. Arthur gets shot while knocking Merlin out of harm's way. Merlin just rambles to himself.

-"Burial" by Rob Lane (Merlin)

-"Godric's Hollow Graveyard" by Alexandre Desplat

-"Savannah Dusk" by Ridvan Düzey

-"Sunrise on Mars" by Audionautix

I did my best to explain the bandits (with the information I wanted to be revealed, anyway). More will be explained next time. If you can't understand my reasoning, feel free to ask for clarification.

Let's Go On An Adventure


They Don't Know

A chill hung in the air that night. Merlin kept the fire going, but his insides were still numb with cold. It might have been because he wrapped the prince in his own jacket. Merlin found Arthur's royal cloak in tatters and put it on just for the heck of it. Essentially, it was useless against the frigid weather. It did not do anything other than prevent the wind from hitting his body.

Merlin knew that he would be tasked with repairing the cloak when they returned to Camelot. Arthur would not be caught dead in the thing (Merlin shivered at the thought). Maybe if I use magic to repair it now, then perhaps I can avoid the unpleasantries. "Redintegro Scissum Closk."

Slowly, the threads started to re-stitch each other into a complete article of clothing. Blood and dirt faded away like it never existed. Finally, Merlin made it look like it never was damaged in the first place.

Really, the only reason why Merlin was doing this now was to distract himself. Truthfully, the warlock was getting tired. If he went to sleep, he might endanger Arthur simply by not being there to protect him. Now, if he would just wake up...

There was a crash in the woods. Merlin jumped, his body's actions slowed from grogginess.

"Arthur, was that you?" Merlin asked just to be sure (even though there could have been no other explanation other than bandits).

Arthur snored softly.

He peered through the dark and located Arthur's sword. He used magic to call it into his hands. To most, they would feel better with a weapon in hand. To Merlin, it felt less like an extension of his arm than a mop did.

Merlin shook his head in disbelief. "Again, bandits?" Merlin muttered. He scowled disdainfully at Arthur. "Arthur, this is your own fault, you know. Next time, remind me to tie you to your bedpost when you suggest we go hunting. Or knock you out. Or brainwash you into thinking that hunting is bad. Or do something."

He waved his free hand to perform a mental enchantment. Instantly, Merlin's senses were enhanced. He could see decently enough in the dark, and distance was no longer a problem. He could hear the bandit's thunderous voices as they cursed at whatever soul disturbed Merlin. The only downside was that the smell of blood now overwhelmed him. Gagging silently, Merlin listened through the trees.

A gruff voice crowed, "So, remind me again why Arnold was to shoot the manservant?"

There was a sound like someone was being slapped. Then a squeakier voice urged, "Dumbo, the arrow itself was not fatal. We weren't trying to kill them. Everyone knows that he follows the prince around like a lost puppy. It's obvious that he idolizes him, and that is just by what we've heard."

"I don't idolize the prat," Merlin defended to himself. Not that he wanted them to hear him.

"Shooting the boy would distract the prince even if he hates him. Besides, even if we went for the royal scum, the peasant would have just gotten in the way, anyway."

Merlin cringed. Everyone seemed to think that all he was good for was getting into trouble. I'll show them someday.

"I don't know why the Prince did not leave the servant to die, though. We could have tracked him easily, yes, but it's surprising, that's all. I don't get it."

He ended the spell. Judging by how clear the voices were, he had to say that they were not that far away. A ten minute's walk at most. If they did not know that Arthur and Merlin were there, he could have performed a disillusionment spell. However, it sounded like that little act of magic would not be enough to keep the bandits away. They knew that they were there. The attack had been planned from the start.

"Arthur, I could really use you by now." Merlin could not risk magic without injuring Arthur further in the process. It was one thing when it was during the day with his mind clear and his body energized. However, even though it was unknowingly, the bandits were the cause of his lack of energy. He performed spells, however mild, all day, and enhancing senses took a lot more energy than one would think.

Let's face it. Merlin was tired. Even if Arthur was not harmed by Merlin's use of magic, who's to say that not one of the bandits would escape and come griping to Uther that Merlin, Arthur's manservant, was a sorcerer?

He held the one-handed sword with both his hands before rectifying his mistake. Merlin's knees bent, and he locked his wrists. At the very least, the warlock should at least pretend to be experienced in weaponry.

Merlin nearly jumped out of his boots when they started charging at him. Secretly praying to the gods that they would not notice his in-expertise, Merlin swung Arthur's blade for his life. His muscles cramped and his bones became sore, but he kept going for as long as he could before he found a steel blade to his throat.

"So," the scoundrel hissed, "Look what we have here, boys."

Merlin recognized the voice of being one of the two conversing bandits. "Pleasure to meet you, Sir Ugly."

"Don't address me in that way, boy. My, my. Aren't you a lot smaller than we expected?"

Merlin knew that he was missing something. He looked at each of the bandit's faces. They were all glaring at him like Uther would at someone with magic. Merlin could not figure out what he had done wrong.

One of them forced the cloak back and examined his shoulders. They were somewhat satisfied that there was no blood or any serious injury upon him.

"We've found his companion," another one seethed. To Merlin's horror, he saw that the bandit was holding Arthur by his arms, and he winced at what the pain must have felt like for his friend. Merlin felt some disgusting relief that he was not conscious.

"Dumbo!" Sir Ugly admonished. "Can't you see that the man is bleeding from the shoulder? What, do you want him to bleed out?"

Merlin blinked in surprise at the faint level of concern in his voice and figured that their boss wanted Arthur alive so that he could kill him himself. However, he could not comprehend their level of hatred for him. There was no way that they could know about Merlin's magic, and he liked to think that he had a very likeable personality.***

"What?"

Sir Big-a-lot, as Merlin called him, dropped Arthur back down onto the forest floor like a ragdoll. He stepped forward to be face-to-face with Merlin. Then he spat, the spit plopping down into Merlin's eyelids. Merlin scrunched up his face as the saliva rolled down his cheek.

"Quiet, you! Just because you demand respect from others does not mean you deserve it."

Merlin scratched his head in confusion, and the majority of the bandits reacted abruptly. One of them wrenched Arthur's sword from Merlin's clammy hands. Another one propped Arthur up and rested his hand on the prince's wounded shoulder, removing it when his hand was stained with blood. Then, with a smooth voice, he stated emotionlessly, "He needs medical attention."

"Take him back to Evony," Sir Ugly ordered flatly. "She can patch him up and cure him of his disease." Two of the masked bandits carried Arthur away with a low level of gentleness.

"Disease?" Merlin spoke up, earning him a foot to the face. By the end of this, he knew that his face would be black and blue.

Sir Big nodded seriously. "Yes. The disease all nobles inflict on their servants to make them loyal. Nobles like you, Prince Arthur."

Merlin felt his heart stop. "Prince Arth-" he mouthed before stopping himself.

So they weren't after the prince. Well, they were, but they weren't. Merlin could have laughed out in relief. One of the two catches was a serving boy, the other was the prince of Camelot, and apparently none of them knew which was which.

They don't know.

Merlin faked a smile. It was obvious now, judging from their actions, that they did not wish the manservant any more harm. And they got the two mixed up. How things were going right now, Arthur could be allowed to heal and maybe even leave if Merlin got lucky.

He could have corrected the raiders, but if this was what it took to protect Arthur, then he would do it. Arthur could not stop me in his condition, and the only thing worth losing to these bandits is him.

With mock-arrogance for an imitation of the real Arthur, Merlin said, "Well, that is how all servants are supposed to behave."

The bandits went nuts. All their voices yelled at him for his stupidity, or his ungratefulness, or his arrogance, or his nobility, or whatever other reason they could find to complain about him. They thought that he, Merlin, was the Prince. It seemed like luck was finally on his side. If he could get them to focus the blunt of their rage on him, then Arthur would be spared.

So Merlin took their blows like a champ, acting just like how Arthur would. Like the Royal Prat of Albion.


Arthur blinked several times after waking up to excruciating pain in his shoulder. That's right, he was shot in the shoulder with an arrow after saving Merlin. He craned his neck and discovered it to be wrapped in bandages. This puzzled him. Merlin did not bring this type of bandage with them normally. The fabric was a little rough, and Gaius used royal funds to get top-quality.

He looked down to find himself sitting on a pile of hay. Arthur realized that his wrists and ankles were bound together, but not overly tightly. He realized that he was inside a tent. Bandits.

Arthur winced. In his weakness, he was kidnapped and now at the mercy of strangers. Well, at least Merlin is-

Arthur's senses returned to him when he saw that he was not alone. Merlin was bound in iron chains on the other side of the tent, and Arthur's temper rose when he saw the bruises covering the boy's face. "Merlin!"

Merlin looked up with wide eyes. "Shh!" Merlin hushed, noticing that the prince was awake. "Not so loud!"

Arthur wiggled in an attempt to free his wrists, but the ache in his shoulders was too much for him to handle. He groaned and ignored the concerned look his servant gave him. "Sorry. What happened while I was out?"

Merlin turned his head, wincing, to look at the flap of the tent as if expecting for someone to enter. "Bandits. Apparently, there were more of them."

Arthur sighed and wished that he had been awake to defend them. "Well, it's not like you could have done anything." Arthur frowned. "Why didn't you run?"

Merlin smiled wryly, again alarming Arthur at the state of him. "And leave you? Please, your father would have had me beheaded."

Arthur, even though he believed the best of his father, supposed that Merlin was right. The King had little regard for anyone who worked for him, and if Merlin returned without Arthur, his father would have executed him out of anger.

"Do you have any idea what they want? Money, revenge, or-"

Merlin interrupted, "The Prince of Camelot."

Arthur nodded. Of course. "Oh. So, what do they plan to do with you?" Then Arthur added on hopefully, though he also hoped that Merlin would not see it that way, "Let you go?"

Merlin grimaced. "Yeah, about that, Sire, they hate nobility. A lot. It is the defining point of their existence. They think that bootlickers are brainwashed into serving their masters, and they blame nobles."

"What does this have to do with you?" Arthur asked, lost at what the idiot possibly could have been getting at.

Merlin opened his mouth, but then a large raider entered, followed by a calculative-looking bandit.

The tall one sneered, "So he finally wakes up." He turned to his accomplice. "See, told ya he would be fine. That arrow-wound was not deep." They talked as though Merlin was not there.

The other one rolled his eyes. They were the same color of Guinevere's, and it was discomforting. "I was the one trying to reassure you, Dumbo."

"Humph." The giant looked down at Arthur blankly. "So what do we do with you?"

Arthur felt a vile remark surface in his throat. "Do you know who you are talking to? I'm-"

Then Merlin silenced him with a stare. "My obnoxious manservant," he said cooly and with a tone of disgust. "Sorry 'bout him, fellas. He is a disrespectful twit." He stared at Arthur pointedly.

Arthur widened his eyes and tried to argue, "But-"

"He is a simpleton." Merlin stared at Arthur as if commanding him to play along with whatever scheme he had up his sleeve. "It does not matter what you do to him. Kill him for all I care."

Arthur paled. The way how that last comment was said was so casual it nearly scared Arthur. Merlin just said that it would be okay for them to kill him. Arthur felt a little betrayed by the remark, but then he caught Merlin winking at him and did not know what to think.

Then Merlin put back on his mask of uncaring as quickly as he took it off. "When my father hears about this-"

There was a loud thwack. Arthur witnessed helplessly as the lanky bandit smacked Merlin, who did not flinch. "Well, it's a good thing you won't be around to tell him, then." He stared at Merlin in loathing, making Arthur feel upset as no one was allowed to feel that way about him. This was Merlin. How dare they?! Merlin is innocent! I'm the one they want. Yet he could not bring himself to speak the truth. At least not while he was unsure what was going on.

As much as Arthur hated to say it, and he certainly would never say it aloud, Merlin looked like he somewhat had the situation under control. Almost.

The other one rapped his hand on a wooden table off to the side, releasing some penned up anger. "It's people like you, your highness, that make the blood of hard workers like us boil. Your arrogance, your outright disregard of the ones who make the world go round, you're all the same!"

The comment stung Arthur. Was that how commoners viewed him and his father? Arthur tried to be fair to his people, especially after Merlin came into his life and he discovered his strictly-noble feelings for Guinevere. But was it enough? Was Merlin telling the truth when he called him a prat?***

The other one seethed, "And you just let him get shot. Tell me, Prince Arthur, what kind of a sick bastard are you?"

To Merlin's credit, he did not even bat an eye, "The kind who will make the world a better place once I rid it from scum like you. When the King, my father, hears about what happened, I assure you-"

He never finished the threat because the mousier of the two bandits spat out, "He'll do nothing but walk right into our trap. Granted, all nobility are assholes, but you Pendragons are the worst. You all think you are above everyone else and murder innocents in cold blood."

Merlin glared at the bandits. "I demand that you treat me with the respect I deserve." His tone was so commanding, so un-Merlin-like that Arthur felt inclined to listen. Even though he shouldn't. Merlin was the servant. He was supposed to follow orders, but he did not. I guess that's what I like about him.

The tall villain balled up his fists. "Oh, it is high time that we treat you like how you deserve: like dirt."

Arthur could almost here the crack as his boot made contact with Merlin's arm. The other joined in, and soon both of them were abusing Merlin. Crunches sounded as ribs were broken. Merlin let out a few moans, and it sickened Arthur. He could not hold in his objections any longer.

"Stop it," he said through clenched teeth. "I think M-" Arthur caught himself and covered it up with a cough. "I think he has had enough."

Blankly, a raider said, "Tell us, has a day ever gone by when you wished that you could do the same to him?"

The question caught Arthur off guard, and he did not know how to answer, but as long as it kept Merlin safe, he would answer as truthfully as he could. "N-no."

He was being honest. Arthur might not hold back during training, or threatened Merlin with the stocks, or threatened to take him to the dungeons, but he was never serious. Arthur could never intentionally harm his servant.

The other clarified coldly, "No?"

Arthur shook his head swiftly, wondering if they would take their rage out on him now, but they didn't.

The bandit closest to the doorway glared at Merlin venomously. "Well, we can't afford to kill the brat. Not yet, anyway. Lord Brucen wants the royal scum alive."

Arthur could not stop himself. "I thought you hate nobility, or was that a lie?" He half-expected for someone to punch him like how they did with Merlin, who looked even worse than before. All Arthur wanted to do was free himself and tend to Merlin.

Then they smirked. The big one said, "He is not of noble birth, just like one of us. However, once he does become king, he'll remember us."

The other one 'assured,' "You'll be thanking him for your freedom soon enough." Then he lost his smile as he faced Merlin. "Enjoy his company, while you can. It won't last for much longer." He exited the tent with a tilt of his hat and a swish of his ebony cloak.

The remaining man bowed mockingly at Merlin. "Later, Prince Arthur." Then he, too, left.

Once they were gone, Arthur scolded, "Merlin, what the devil-"

Merlin snapped quietly, "Keep your voice down, you clotpole! I'm trying to protect your royal backside, as per usual!"

Arthur lowered his voice, but he still wanted answers. "Why do they think you are me?"

"Surprise?" Merlin chuckled nervously. Arthur glared at his servant. Merlin shrugged. "Orders were to shoot the manservant, apparently. That is, me. Almost none of them knew what you looked like. You ended up shot, and I was wearing your cloak for warmth. You looked like a peasant. It kind of just happened."

"And you," Arthur wanted to point at Merlin, "just let it happen?"***

Merlin nodded, a bit enthusiastically. "Yes, that is correct."

Arthur snarled, "You idiot! Why not tell them the truth?"

"Because they'll have you tortured as they will with me," Merlin stated calmly.

Torture. Arthur's blood ran cold. Torture. They want to torture Merlin. "How can you remain so calm?" Arthur cringed at the physical evidence of what had already happened.

Merlin looked at Arthur dead in the eyes. With a serious voice, he said, "Arthur, who's to say that I am calm? On the inside, I am absolutely terrified, more so than you, probably. However, I will not give them the satisfaction of knowing that."

The tent fell silent, filled only with the sound of their breaths. Arthur was disbelieving and found himself wishing that they never went hunting in the first place. Then Merlin would have not been thrown in this position.

He shifted his weight, again feeling the pain in his shoulder. The tent was only lit by a small candle on the table, thus the lighting was dim, yet he could see Merlin as clear as day. Arthur felt a wave of guilt crash over him as he viewed all the injuries on his person. Merlin should not have lied to them.

"What was with wanting me dead?"

Merlin's cobalt eyes twinkled mischievously. "If I played the part of the inconsiderate prince, then they would not bother use you against me in any way. Like torturing you and forcing me to watch."

Arthur's stomach dropped. "I suppose you have thought about this, then?"

"I have."

"And nothing I say will make you change your mind and tell them the truth?" Arthur clarified, his breath quickening.

Merlin confirmed, "That is correct."

"Then I'll tell them myself!" He struggled against the bonds, rubbing and burning the skin against the ropes. Arthur did not care that his wrists would become raw from this. He only wanted to keep Merlin from being hurt.

Merlin shouted, "No!"

A bandit outside called out, "Quiet, you two!"

He paused in his escape attempt to allow the heartless human being ample time to enter before Arthur continued trying to fight his way free. Merlin, in a quieter tone, said, "No, Arthur. If they suspect our ruse, then they won't hesitate to hurt you."

Arthur did not stop, even when his shoulder protested in pain. "I don't care, Merlin. I can deal with them. I don't need your protection." It's my fault we're in this mess.

Merlin looked at him in hurt, and Arthur knew that he had done it, crossing the line. He stopped trying to loosen the ropes in shame. It hadn't been Arthur's intention to make Merlin feel bad, even if the skill sets were... questionable.

Arthur opened his mouth to- What could he possibly say?

Merlin cocked his head. Then Merlin reassured firmly, "Oh believe me Arthur, I will. I'll protect you 'till the day I die."


On one side of the coin, we have a warlock playing prince. On the other, we have the prat playing servant.

Prince Merlin of Camelot and Just Arthur. Can someone write a FanFiction with literal role reversals, with Merlin being the magic-using Prince of Camelot, and Arthur being the servant brought up to hate magic. Or something like that?

So, Merlin has decided to take the lead on this one, and Arthur is not the happiest camper about that. And I need to reveal Sir Big and Sir Ugly's real names soon, because Arthur would never call anyone those names.

Guest Numero Uno: Continued :)

Guest Numero Dos: Thank you!

Now time to thank everyone. This will be fun.

Thank you TheDarkestDreams, Origami Pen, Red Moon Lollipop, TheTownWeirdo, Ladyliz2, Linorien, and all the guests for the reviews.

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~Lya200~