"Merlin, look out!" He looked up from where he'd knelt to retrieve his sword from the carcass of a dead wyvern just in time to see one of its flock-mates bearing down on him. Gwaine shouldered him out of the way, slid between the beast's forelegs, and plunged his blade upward into its belly. The wyvern screamed in fury and pain as Gwaine withdrew his sword and rolled out of the way. A split second later it collapsed, right where he had been.
"Fifth one I've killed tonight," Gwaine remarked, wiping his sword on the grass and seeming totally unconcerned by having narrowly escaped a wyvern falling on him. "And you've got . . . how many, Merlin? Three? Four? Looks like you'll be buying the drinks after this battle's over."
Merlin rolled his eyes. "Gwaine, we've chased the flock so far from town that-" he paused to cast a spell at another incoming wyvern "-Conglacior! - that there's no tavern around for miles."
"I know that! But if you can turn a wyvern to ice with a single word, can't you conjure up some mead?"
"Maybe I could, but that's not what magic is for. Frangere." The frozen wyvern shattered, showering Merlin and Gwaine with ice shards and gore. They put their hands up to shield their faces, which was fortunate; the creature's blood hissed and steamed as it struck their chainmail. Neither liked to think what it could have done to their skin.
No new assailant moved in after that; in fact, the wyverns seemed to have had enough for the night. They flew away, leaving behind the echoes of their angry shrieks and the bodies of the fallen. Merlin scurried off to tend the wounded, while Gwaine joined the party responsible for gathering the dead. In the morning servants would arrive with a cart to transport them back to the citadel for burial.
An hour later, when the dead and injured had been seen to, all those who were still standing gathered to hear what Balinor had to say about the day's efforts. "You fought bravely, men, as you have for the last seven days, and your efforts have not been in vain. The wyverns' numbers are less than half of what they were when they first attacked us!" This announcement was met by cheers from the king's warriors. Balinor waited until they quieted down before continuing, "Now we have a decision to make. I've forced one of them to reveal the location of their nesting ground, which is barely half a league from here. If we press on, we can destroy this flock at its source, ensuring that they will never beset us again. If not, I feel certain their ranks are nonetheless too depleted to continue their offensive against our people; therefore I will not order you to keep fighting if you wish not to. What say you?"
"Kill them!" one of the knights roared, and others took up the cry, shouting, "Kill them all!" and "Destroy them! Take vengeance for everyone the monsters have killed and devoured!"
Gwaine glanced at Merlin, who stood next to him, shrugged, and said, "Hell, it's the most action I've seen since coming to Dagon. Why not?" Merlin's only answer was a halfhearted shrug. "What? You can't seriously have a problem killing those creatures!"
"I never enjoy killing anything," the prince said sharply. "Still, I can't say it's not justified this time, and I think the knights need to take revenge for the people they weren't able to save. Father always told me that a good ruler looks to the needs of his people before his personal desires."
Gwaine was surprised to hear that, as it had always been his opinion that royals were only good for sitting around and being waited on, but considering that the king in question happened to be Merlin's father, he wisely held his tongue. Merlin sat down (waiting until after the king had seated himself, of course) and peeled off his battle gauntlets; as he did so, Gwaine spied some red fabric tied to his wrist which had previously been hidden under his armor. "What's this?"
"Nothing." Merlin seemed slightly embarrassed, convincing Gwaine that the matter required further investigation.
He seized Merlin's wrist and pulled his arm out in front of him so as to get a better look at his friend's new accessory. "Hmm . . . expensive silk with a subtle floral scent. Either you've taken to wearing perfume-"
"Of course I haven't!" Merlin protested, trying vainly to free himself from Gwaine's grasp.
"-Or this is some lady's favor. Let's see, Pendragon crest, and there's an 'M' embroidered in the corner - it must be from the Lady Morgana of Camelot. Why do you have this?"
"According to her maid, it's because she hoped I would think of her until we met again."
This came as something of a shock to Gwaine, who had thought the engagement was purely political - but could it be more? He hoped so for Merlin's sake; loveless marriage was a fate he wouldn't wish on his worst enemy. "And do you think of her?"
Merlin gauged his friend's attitude carefully before answering. Unlike Will, Gwaine didn't sound accusing, merely curious. "I do. The Lady Morgana is . . . not like the courtiers at home."
"And you don't like the noblewomen of your father's court, which must mean that you do like her." Gwaine grinned. "So Will's theories about her being Uther Pendragon's puppet or spy are rubbish, eh?"
"She's definitely no one's puppet, and she's afraid of magic - she wouldn't dare spy on us." Merlin actually had no idea whether this was true - remembering his midnight encounter with Morgana, when she told him she was trying not to be frightened of him, he thought she might be brave enough to spy on them in spite of her fear - but he had another reason for doubting she had any nefarious purpose.
If she turned out to be a spy she would have to be executed, and that would be a huge obstacle to Merlin's supposed 'destiny' to unite Albion alongside Arthur Pendragon; Merlin had no sister, but if he did, he knew any man who killed her would certainly not be his closest ally and assumed the same was true for Arthur. You would think that when the dragons told me all about my destiny, they could've mentioned how the Lady Morgana fits in. He rolled onto his side, inwardly cursing those damnably secretive overgrown lizards and trying to get comfortable enough to fall asleep - not an easy task when one was wearing armor and lying on hard-packed dirt.
###
It was all over before noon the next day. By riding at a hard gallop they had reached the nesting ground in less than an hour and discovered that it was actually an extensive labyrinth of caves running through the base of a mountain, which worked in their favor; the sorcerers in the group caused the caves to collapse, crushing the young wyverns and any adults that might have been with them under several tons of rock, ending the fight without further bloodshed on their side. The entire company cheered.
"Well done, men!" Balinor called over their shouting. "Now turn these horses around - let's go home and celebrate our victory!" This order was received with more cheers.
As the army executed an about-face and regrouped, Merlin urged his horse up beside Balinor's. Now what's he doing? Gwaine wondered. He clucked to his horse. "Come on boy, let's see what fresh mischief Merlin's getting himself into."
He moved closer just in time to hear Merlin ask, "Father, if you have no further need of me, would it be all right if I joined Sir Lancelot and his company? To ensure that they reach home safely?"
"I'm sure they can manage without you, but if that's what you want to do and if you can find them, I won't stop you."
"Thank you, Father." Merlin separated from the group and slipped away without anyone noticing - or so he thought.
"Tell me," a loud, familiar voice demanded, "is this sudden desire to join Sir Prancelot down to you missing your comrade-in-arms, or because he happens to be traveling with your fiancée?"
"His name is Lancelot," Merlin corrected, "and what if I do want to see the Lady Morgana again? Nothing wrong with that, is there?"
Gwaine admitted that there was not. "I just want you to know I'm missing free drinks for you."
"You don't have to come with me."
"Ha! You wouldn't let me ride off on my own, would you?"
"Of course not - you can't keep yourself out of trouble."
"Neither can you," Gwaine pointed out, to Merlin's annoyance. "So how are we going to find Sir Prance-" Merlin glared. "All right, Sir Lancelot?"
"As you said, he's traveling with my fiancée, and I just happen to have something of hers. The books recommend that you use a bit of the actual person for this spell, like hair or fingernail clippings, but it should work just as well with a personal belonging as the focal point." Gwaine, who had no clue what Merlin was babbling about, just nodded. "Ostende mihi viam qui habet hanc!"
As time and space bent around them, Gwaine thought that keeping company with Merlin just might be interesting enough to make it worth missing a trip to the tavern.
###
Morgana had just completed the most awkward, uncomfortable, embarrassing bath of her life. They had reached the river two hours ago, and as she hadn't had enough water or a place to bathe properly in a week (actually, when she counted she realized that today made it one day more than a week) she insisted that they stop and allow her to wash herself. The current was too strong for her to safely go into the river, so she was obliged to strip and stand naked on the riverbank while Gwen poured the icy water over her and Lancelot stood a few feet away (with his back turned, of course), ready to spring into action should one of them fall in.
"There," Gwen said at last, after emptying the fourth bucketful of river water over Morgana's head. "I'm afraid that's the best we can do with no soap."
"Th-that's qu-quite all r-right," Morgana replied through chattering teeth. "I d-do feel better."
"Let's get you dressed before you catch cold."
Morgana nodded her fervent agreement and slipped quickly into her shift, dress, and over-gown. As Gwen fiddled with the dress's fastenings Morgana called out, "Sir Lancelot, how long do you believe it will take us to reach Dagon?"
"If we follow this river to the border we should get there in three days, perhaps less if we ride hard. Once we cross the border it should take another week to reach the capital city by the most direct route, again depending on our speed, my lady."
Morgana sighed - the prospect of at least another ten days in the saddle was not an inviting one.
"If it pleases you, my lady, I told the men we would take a quarter hour's rest here, and Prince Arthur agreed."
"Very well." Of course Arthur agreed; all this riding must be wearing on his backside as well, not that he'll ever admit it. And these are not his men - if he disagreed with Sir Lancelot, perhaps they wouldn't listen to him. I wonder how much it annoys him, having someone else in charge? "Gwen, why don't you take some water to the knights, so they can all have a cool drink?"
"Yes, my lady." Gwen filled her bucket again and, just as Morgana had predicted, Lancelot helped her carry it, giving the lady a much-needed moment of privacy.
She sat down on the riverbank so that she couldn't be seen over the shrubbery that formed something of a dividing wall between her and the knights and wondered if there would always be people hovering around her like a cloud of flies after she married Merlin and became a princess. Ah, the disadvantages of improving one's station. But now we are out in the open, and these men have been tasked with my protection; I'm sure I can manage a few hours alone when I have an entire castle to hide in . . .
A pair of men and their horses suddenly materialized on either side of her. Morgana scrambled to her feet with a cry of alarm, punched the first man in the jaw, then slammed her knee into his groin. As he doubled over in agony, she bashed him on the side of his head with a multicolored river rock she had picked up to admire. He went down in a heap. She threw the rock aside, drew her dagger, spun to face her second attacker - and the dagger flew out of her hand into his. That was the moment Morgana knew she was done for.
Her breath came in gasps as she stared into his glowing eyes, awaiting her fate with all the dignity she could muster . . . until the gold faded to blue and she thought, I know those eyes . . . When he smiled and said, "Hello again, Lady Morgana," her uncertainty vanished.
"Merlin," she said sharply, forgetting in her anger to address him properly. "You-I-What is wrong with you?"
Merlin's gaze darted from Morgana's furious expression to the unconscious form of Gwaine. "Are you going to hit me too?"
"I should!" Morgana fumed. "You'd deserve it! I shan't, though."
"Thank you, my lady. Look, I'm sorry, I didn't think the spell would bring us so close-"
"I don't want to hear about your stupid spell!" Morgana yelled. "Must you really use magic for every little thing?"
Merlin's smile disappeared completely. She's more like Uther than I realized. I should have known better than to think that anyone from Camelot, anyone raised by him, could accept this part of me. "Here, have this back." He stiffly offered her dagger to her.
She took it as graciously as possible while inwardly railing at the shame his hurt look evoked in her. Perhaps I should not have shouted, but what am I supposed to do? Watch passively as he destroys his soul with magic? Not even try to save him? That was something her sense of altruism simply wouldn't allow.
The instant her dagger was out of his hands, Merlin brushed past her and knelt to examine Gwaine.
"Is he . . . dead?" Morgana asked hesitantly. Though she had genuinely believed he was there to attack her, now that she knew that wasn't the case she would feel horrible if she had killed him.
"No, he's breathing, but his head's bleeding and there's a soft spot on his skull where your stone struck him; he has a concussion. I'll need magic to heal him - unless saving someone's life bothers you, my lady."
Morgana flinched at his cold tone. "No . . . Help your friend, by all means."
Merlin held his hand over Gwaine's head wound, fingers splayed, and whispered, "Sana."
The crack in Gwaine's skull mended, the blood stopped flowing. He opened his eyes, looked up to see Merlin kneeling over him and the beautiful girl who had concussed him standing a little way off, and said, "I should've just gone to the tavern."
Believing she had inflicted serious mental damage on her fiancé's friend, Morgana was horrified, but Merlin only laughed. "It's good to see you're still yourself after the knock your head took."
Just then Arthur and Lancelot crashed through the bushes, swords drawn. "Morgana, are you all right? I thought I heard you screaming." Arthur began to berate her for wandering away from the group, then noticed Merlin. "And why is he here?"
"It's nothing, Arthur," Morgana sighed. "Just a small misunderstanding."
So Morgana's attitude toward magic has put a crimp in her relationship with Merlin. Just so you know, magic will continue to be an issue between them for a while, possibly a long while, but will be sorted out eventually.
Question: do I make Gwaine too obsessed with hanging out in taverns? It seems in-character for him, but I don't want to turn the man into TSB's standing joke. I'm gonna try to do a little character development with him and various other secondary characters, but how much I'll end up with is questionable since my main interest is Mergana.