Caerleon was not a man to sulk. He was not one to cower. He normally wasn't one to fail either, but here he was at the mercy of the youngest monarch in the five kingdoms. A monarch who had seen less than half the number of battles Caerleon himself had faced. Yet he had bested him.
Caerleon knew it was his own rash decision that had led his small group into what should have been an obvious trap. The young knight sent alone for medical supplies was too tempting a target. Caerleon had witnessed the older knights teasing him in the tavern. They 'accidentally' spilled mead on him no less than four times, had tripped him once or twice, and the largest knight had nicked the oaf's coin bag. Every time he apologized for his clumsiness, and thanked them for their grace. It was like any other hazing ritual.
Their merry drinking had lasted an hour before the loudest knight cried of a headache. Camelotian knights really are pathetic, Caerleon thought to himself.
"William," The brunette addressed the younger man. "will you be so kind as to fetch me some butterbur?"
"I haven't got any money." The boy panicked after patting his clothes and finding his purse missing.
The knights were clearly drunk, especially the one with the headache who had emptied pitiful William's tankard every time it had been filled. They snickered rather loudly. If the boy didn't understand they were messing with him he was dumber than they were sloshed.
"So go pick some!" Was the response of a blond haired knight with striking features, whom Caerleon would later realize was king Arthur himself.
The boy nodded hesitantly and reached for his sword, but couldn't grab it before the blond.
"You're a knight of Camelot!" He howled. "I'm sure you can make a short trip into the forest without this."
They all laughed as the knight shook the sheathed sword in the younger knights face before sitting back down. William did not seem too confident in this plan. To Caerleon's knowledge Knights never went out alone. They were probably planning to scare him once he made it to the forest. Caerleon quietly spoke to his small band about the group. When twenty minutes had passed and the group made no attempt to get up Caerleon could not stave off his hunter's appetite. The prey was too small and scrumptious, and had been handed to him on a silver platter. It would be a waste to leave the pretty little thing alone in the forest, when his body could paint the knights a beautiful message.
That was how Caerleon ended up here, sat on the ground, his troop dead and the king deciding his fate. The two men guarding him were the largest and loudest. While the largest was a sizable beast, he had watched the loud one fight. His skill with a sword far outdid Caerleon's and the captured king knew it. The question became not how he would escape, but should he. If he did manage to sneak away or trick them, would he be able to hold his head high when he returned. Would he be able to tell his dear Annis that not only had he fallen for their trap, he probably could not best a single one of their knights. Except possibly young Sir William. Caerleon had to admit that Even he had not only outrun the group by a fair bit while in full armor, but also fought decently with an axe despite being more accustomed to a sword.
"Thanks Merlin, I'm starving." The loud knight took the bowl and started spooning it into his mouth, finally shutting him up.
'Merlin' called the loud one as Gwaine and the large one Percival. Knights of the round. The whole act they had put on at the tavern was beginning to make more sense. The knights of the round table's reputation proceeded them. A rather unusual bunch with unorthodox but effective methods. Gwaine in particular was known for his skill with a blade which Caerleon had already witnessed. Percival was big, but he didn't quite live up to the role of 'giant.' He was big by normal standards, but a child when compared to Caerleon's personal guard, Derian.
When a bowl was put in front of Caerleon's down turned face he looked up at Merlin. He was dressed in plain clothes. Caerleon sneered. Of course the pampered prince playing king couldn't go anywhere without a servant or two. Caerleon looked the boy in the eyes, glaring. He was shocked to be met with the same goofy grin and bright blue eyes from earlier that day illuminated by the fire. Sir William.
"Where's your armor, boy?"
"Returned to it's rightful owner." Merlin said as Caerleon accepted the food. "After you're done eating Arthur has asked me to address your wounds."
If there were proper words to describe the situation before him, Caerleon simply could not find them. He knew a good portion of the knights were of common birth, which was of no consequence in his kingdom, but dressing as servants was something he'd not heard before. Maybe he had been looking at it wrong. Maybe the servant had dressed as a knight. That also seemed too far fetched. Under Uther's reign impersonating a noble was a crime punishable by dismemberment of the hands. The late king had not even had the chance to rot yet.
"Does he make all the young knights wear peasant clothes off duty or does he not pay you enough to afford decent clothes?" Caerleon asked not touching his food.
Merlin gave a little chuckle and sat across from the king, waiting for him to at least start eating the stew he made. Gwaine was beaming with pride at the insinuation that Merlin was good enough to be one of them. If only a certain other king weren't too stupid to see that.
"I'm just Arthur's servant."
Caerleon was far from a scholar and his place was not in the home. His place was on the battlefield. Still it baffled him how a servant that was able to lie convincingly, hold his own in battle, and then patch up the wounds afterwards would be considered any less than the men around him. Caerleon let out a laugh. While the boy in front of him had been blessed by the gods, the young king seemed to be lacking the insight to see it. Nevertheless the boy served him which meant Tiw's favor would be on Arthur.
This was why Camelot's losses had gone down. While Arthur was new to kingship, he had fought as a knight for the past decade. He trained up fine men, and had even managed to teach a servant to fight at his side. Camelot's citizens had been easy to terrorize from the border to the heart of Camelot. But with the terror came praise for the name of Arthur. Hope that he would arrive swiftly. And he did.
Caerleon took the first bite of his last supper. For in the morning Caerleon, who had been humiliated enough already, was asked to sign an absurd treaty on the land Arthur's grandfather had stolen from his. His kingdom could not survive a war with Camelot. If he remained captive Annis would start one, if he escaped without the treaty then Arthur would. But he could not sign that treaty, so he asked instead for a quick death. Maybe his wife would forgive him in the afterlife.
AN: I had intended for this to be more BAMF!merlin but it turned into this... not upset just curious why my brain brains this way sometimes.