For three whole days they avoided the bandits. Merlin learned to walk more quietly and Arthur put all his military tactics to use and evaded them quite spectacularly as they led them on a merry chase through the outskirts of Camelot and back again - heading straight for Camelot was out of the question. Each time they had tried scar face and his men had been waiting.
Arthur was well aware that he should have taken the direct route, it was the best chance they had at reaching home but each time if crossed his mind his eyes would light on Merlin who trudged along like a trooper but flinched at shadwos or unexpected touches. He might have been willing to take that chance if it were only his life, but with Merlins, never. Either the bandits would give up there chase or they would loose them, recapture was not an option.
Of course Arthur hadn't planned on falling down a ravine and twisting his ankle. It would appear all his plans were going cockeyed lately.
"Be careful" Merlin had cautioned, "its steep here." Arthur scowled, "Yes I can see that for myself Merlin" he drawls his face flushed from exertion, the bandits had proved tirless int here pursuits and the heat had not improved his mood. "If you were a proper manservant you'd use your magic and magic us out of this mess, but of course you cant do that that would be helpful, you have to be as usless a sorcerer as a manservant" Arthur grumbled as he navigated the ravine with half his attention.
"And whose bright idea was it to go hunting in the middle of a heat stroke that killed two people already?" Merlin snapped, "Oh, right, that was you!"
Arthur scowled and the next words that slipped out made him wish they had cut off his tongue, his words where harsh and cruel and uncalled for.
"At least I'm still a man." The look on Merlins face could have chilled a bonfire, as it was it made the regret building in Arthur shoot higher. He hadn't mean to say, that, really. How could he have said that?
He supposes he could blame the weather, or the bandits, or Merlin - like he usually does - but this time he thinks he's just reverted to a whole new level of prat, and a bit of a bastard besides, and really he'd feel better if Merlin would call him on it rather that look at him with those wounded he could say anthing to make matters worse Merlin's face paled and he squinted over his shoulder to see what was wrong.
There was no mistaking the stomping stride of Daub as he plundered through the forest, the shadowed figures behind were Scar face, Morholt, and the others trailing behind. "Right, lets keep moving" he said, right before he went toppling over the ravine, distantly he heard Merlin cursing his name and scrabling down after him.
The fool, he should be running.
But that was Merlin, to damn loyal. Even when he didn't deserve it.
Beyond that Arthur was busy on protecting his head and neck, wouldn't do to break his royal neck falling down a bloody ravine, Merlin would never let him live it down. He's sure there's a inconsistency in there somewhere but he cant bring himself to care more focused on the blur of scenery he's inspecting far to closely for comfort.
Finally he thumps down at the bottom and his head aches and his leg is throbbing and Merlin is wordlessly insulting him with his bloody loud eyes. One would think there'd be more sympathy for the man who just tumbled down a ravine. Then he remembers what he'd said and thinks perhaps not.
Merlin feels his ribs, checking for a break, and his neck and legs before pulling back, "You've twisted your ankle" he pronounced.
"I what?" Arthur sputtered, who twisted there anckle but damsels in distress? Men broke there anckles, or legs, they didn't go and twist them like that visiting Duchess from Cadorak or the noblemans daughter from Mercia, or the Lady Veridians' handmaiden Sarah.
Merlin might have smiled a bit, but it vanished quickly, "Can you walk, if you lean on me?"
"I suppose I'll have to" he grunted heaving himself to his feet, careful to keep the pressue off his ankle that was broken, surely, not twisted. Merlin put his shoulder under his arm and with a surprising strength tugged him upright, a firm hand on his waist as they stumbled along.
It wasn't that he hadn't thought to order Merlin to leave him behind, if he thought it would have worked he'd have done it in an instant, it was that he knew what a waste of breath it would be. And he quite needed his breath at the moment, his ankle was throbbing like an anvil and the warm press of Merlin at his side was doing strange and wonderful things to him.
It was hot as hell, Merlin was even warmer, and Arthur did not care. He was going to have to apologize sooner or later, and that was fine to but right now he focused on putting on foot in front of the other and not sniffing Merlins hair like a lunatic, there was a time and place and this was not it.
"Arthur you do know where we're going, right?" Merlin asked as they paused to allow Arthur to get his bearings. His head was pounding his ankle was throbbing and Merlin smelled like hearth and sweat and clean - it was distracting.
"Of course" Arthur said grinding his teeth as the perceived insult. To be fair, he had an idea of where they where going and not much more, but he'd be damned for he'd let Merlin in on that. Just past the river Arthur spotted prints in the mud; Gawain's destrier had been this way and sure enough there where the hoof imprints belonging to Kay's mount.
"Gawain and Kay have been this way" Arthur said with the faintest beginnings ot hope. "You think your father sent a small contingent of men out looking for your captors" Merlin guessed.
"That's exactly what I think."
"It doesn't change much" Merlin said after a moment, Arthur sighed - he was right. Now was not the time to stop and hope for rescue. Neither of them could aford to take that chance. Merlin clutched him tigher and they picked up the pace, Arthur followed suite hobbling along best he could.
Daub and Morholt where closing the distance faster than Arthur and Merlin could widen it. Merlin gave no outward sign of fear he kept them moving along steadily, and it if his grip around Arthurs shoulder became rather crushing the prince said nothing of it. They where moving as fast as two injured men could, both limping and bruised and tired.
Arthur new they weren't going to make it, and so did Merlin, but that didn't stop them trying. He wondered again if there was nothing he could say that might make Merlin leave him behind, but Merlin knew him to well by far, "There's nothing you could say so stop it, I'm not leaving without you."
Arthur settled for tightening his own grip on Merlin and pressing his nose to his neck for a moment before nodding, "Alright" he said finially giving up the foolish notion that Merlin might've grown some sense of self-preservation.
When they could run no more and Daub and Morholt where breathing down there necks they fought with hands and feet and fist, Arthur felled Morholt and his necklace of bones with a right hook and a knee to the groin - it was a cheap and unhnorable move but these where none of them honorable men.
Daub kept lunging for Merlin who was darting just beying his reach as he danced around him, almost nimble for the injures he carried. A surge of pride filled Arthur as Daub grabbed at empty air. Morholt groaned and he put him out with a vicious blow across the face that left his knuckles stinging fiercely.
Scarface drew his blade in a comfortable one-handed grip while hesfting a long leathery whip in the other, one arch had Merlin tripped up and on his back a bloodied gash stretching across his ankles like a crimson chain.
Arthur, pinned between Daub, Scarface, and the other namelss bandit, was prepared to go down fighting and bloody them in the process but it did not happen that way. "Slit his throat, I'v had enough of princes" scar face said to Daub who frowned down at Merlin.
"Cant I keep him, if you don't want him?"
"No."
"But-" Daub's protest died at scar faces withering look of disgust. "I'll buy you a new whore in the next village" he appeased. Daub yanked Merlin by the hair forcing his head back leaving him staring straight at Arthur as Daub's knife came down. On slash across the jugular and it would all be over.
Arthur paled, God have mercy, no!
He had three options laid before him. Each more dastardly than the former. One, he could put up his hands in the white-flag of surrender and appeal to reason. Two, he could fight a battle he had no hope of winning and pray to the Gods for luck. Three, he could take as many of them with him as he could and let that be vengence enough for when Daub slit Merlins throat.
"You kill him and his father will wreack vengence the likes of which Camelot has never seen before" he said, his body coiled and ready for a fight, "his extermination of all things magical will be as nothing in comparison."
"And what would a lowly servant know of the kings thoughts?" scar face demanded with a fierce scowl as his eyes flicked over Arthur in contempt. "A fathers love can be a great and terrible thing at the whim of a king." The leader looked at him hard and long before speaking, "You speak well for peasantry boy, why is that?"
"I was fortunate to have a indulgent master" Arthur said dryly. Scar face nodded, "Perhaps you did, perhaps you did not. It is apparent though that you are more than you seem."
Arthur neither confirmed nor denied it letting the man draw what conclusions he would.
"I have not accosted you and your master on a whim boy, I to have a master of my own and when he commands me to find the Prince of Camelot and crush his spirit into the nethers or kill him - whichever comes first, I do so" scar face said his eyes locked with Arthur. "Then you've done your job and let us be on our way!" Arthur snarled his anger risting hot and fast, it matter not at all that scar face was driven to these acts by another. It only meant scar face was a weak willed man doing another's bidding and enjoyed it.
"He fights with to much spirit to be broken" scar face said shaking his head absently. "No, I begin to see something more drastic is called for, but not yet," scar face said coiling his whip, "it would be a pity to mar your pretty face boy. Surrender to me now and I will not have Daub slit your princes throat."
Arthur hesitated.
"Or not" scar face said, with a motion to his man who brought the blade down, Arthur cried out and tackled him to the floor grabbing the blade with his bare hand - blood flowed thick and dark down to his forearm but he paid it no mind as he struck the giant of a man again and again until Morholt and the other bandit dragged him off.
Merlin did not lay there on the floor and watch, no he took his cue from Arthur and kicked and bit and gouged in whatever way he could.
Arthur -bloody and weary and dizzy from bloody loss - looked on with pride and a fair amount of shock, that it took Morholt, Scar face, and the other man to hold down Merlin who was dark eyed and flailing about with too sharp elbows and knees.
Daub held him tightly from behind his armtwisted high behind his back, on false move and the brute would snap the bone. Arthur grit his teeth and bore it as he could feel the heat of the mans arousal hardening against his buttocks.
This was not good.
Daub had dragged him back a fair distance from the others who where to busy subduing Merlin, Merlin who was stronger than he looked and quite stunning with his eyes narrowed and dark his face flush with exertion.
In any other situation Arthur would have found the sight arousing. But for the moment he was busy worrying about Daub who was gripping him tight and firm and whose cock was hard against the thin material of his trousers, panic flared when a free hand fumbled about with the laces of his trousers.
Absurdly he found himself wishing for Merlin and his magic gold-flashing eyes and that angry eyed look he got whenever anyone tried to harm the prince.
Maybe Merlin was psychic, maybe they where more bonded than he'd ever thought because quiet abruptly the ground was moving, shaking, and Merlin was looking straight at him and his eyes where brilliantly gold. Scar face noticed too and hurriedly struck Merlin across the head hard enough that Arthur could hear the distinct crack from where he was hunched over emptying his stomach.
Daub glowering at the pair of them still holding him but no longer touching.
"He's powerful," scar face was saying, Daub was nodding dumbly while Morholt and the other man where circling Merlins unconscious body like one might a dangerous and unpredictable animal. "Do not touch the blond one again, it seems his master favors him…strongly" scar face said.
"Fix his hand, who knows what will happen if he dies" Morholt insisted tearing off a piece of his own tunic to wrap the still bleeding wound Daub had inflicted. Arthur grimly accepted it. He was no good to anyone 's head jerked up at the sound of hoozes, for half a second he thought surely it was his knights but it was not them, it was the messenger that had been send for the ransom money.
Scar face smiled, "Finally, I'd begun to think you'd taken off with all the money for unknown lands lad."The newcomer was young, not much older than Merlin really, but what made Arthur's heart harden to stone was that he recognized him. He was a stable boy, a spy!
It began to make sense how these renegades had known where to look for him. A cold wash of fear ran through his blood. This boy knew he was the true prince, if he told these men who Merlin really was - just a servant to them - they would kill him for messengers eyes lighted on Merlin, slumped across the ground barely clothes and something whicked gleamed in his eye.
Scar face arched a brow in question, "You can kill him now if you'd like."
The stable hand nodded, "I have something else I want first" he said.
"Please" Arthur whispered his voice both soft and loud all at once, bracking on the vowels as he said them. "Leave him be, if you must do what you will with me, but leave him" Arthur muttered his eyes daringly locked with the stable was the Prince of Camelot, he lowered his eyes before no man but the King.
For a moment the man considered before shaking his head, "I think not, always was to mouthy and willful your m- Merlin."
The stable hand had dragged Merlin, still blessedly unconscious, to a copse of trees when Daubs grip on him suddenly slackened and there was Gawain with his trsuty axe and sword, Gawain who was trying to pull him away from where he was tied while the bandits where distracted.
"Give me you sword" Arthur commanded, he had no time for thanks or explenations, these men had drawn breath long enough. "Sire, we are only two please I beg of you let us wait" Gawain requested unwilling to rush into an enemy camp with only him to protect the prince. "I have begged and waited enough Gawain, give over your sword or must I beg for that too?" Arthur asked and something twisted unpleasantly inside the knight.
Arthur had such a look upon him that Gawain would gladly have given him his axe, sword, the armor on his back, and the horse he rode in on should he ask it of him for never had he seen his prince thus, and he wished never to again.
He passed over his weapon and hefted his axe as Arthur let loose with a roar that startled even Gawain as he charged the enemy camp at his princes side. The lithe swarthy leader with the unsightly scar died first, writhing in agony as Arthur took him apart piece by piece.
The man crackd his whip and blood bloomed across Arthurs cheek but he did not seem to notice so intent on the kill was he. Gawain spared a moment to appreciate the ease in which Arthur parried and struck the clang of iron, he fought with the fury of ten seasoned warriors and the air of a man wronged.
Scar face lost his sword as Arthurs blade near to cleaved through his arm but that did not stop the prince. He kicked it back at the man, with a snarled, "Pick it up."
The man had refused, "Mercy" he pleaded clutching at his wound.
Gawain saw that this hardened Arthurs resolve further his face darkening, it was not perhaps honorable to fight a man as Arthur was but he could freely admit he dared not intervene. Perhaps it was deserved, he could only pray that was so.
"Pick it up, or die on your knees."
Scar face grabbed his sword with his right hand hefting it clumsily his lips drawing tight in a sneer, "Killing me wont change whats been done."
"No," Arthur agreed and with two precise movies beheaded the man who had held him, them, captive. "But it will make me feel better."
The lanky man with bones adorning his neck was quick and cunning Gawain noted, he had a cut running the length of his forearm to prove it. "Where they lovers, knight?" he taunted as he danced around the edge of his axe. Gawain ignored him and swung again.
"I think they must be" the man snickered, "though, never will be again I reckon." Gawain grit his teeth and swung and once more the man ducked dodged and left him with another line of blood for his troubles.
"Fight like a man you coward!" he snapped ignoring the sharp sting of torn flesh. "He is so dark and pretty, they must have been" the man chortled, Gawain knew he was trying to get a rise from him but his words where gibberish and made little sense.
"Tell me knight, which was the prince, the fair haired one who fights like ten warriors, or the pretty dark haired one?" he murmured. Gawain gaped like a fool, answering automatically, "The warrior."
Morholt sighed, "Pity, I was hoping to have had a prince not a peasant." Then there were no words as some of that strange fury in Arthur came to Gawain, he charged with a snarl his axe thumping down into the bandits neck. The coprse fell to the floor the head barely attached by a few tendons.
Gawain turned around to see the prince engaging with a large mountain of a man, he leapt forward to assit but Arthurs growled, "He's mine!" stopped him in his tracks. "Your father may require one of them alive sire, to make an example of" he hissed out quickly carefully keeping a few feet between him and his prince. Arthur was blind with bloodlust, it would be all to easy for him to loose sight of whom was foe and friend.
"Then we can drag back the corpse."
Gawain wanted to ask where the tall skinny fellow who was always around Arthur had got off to but he feared the answer, and of what new heights of madness it might drive his prince so he said nothing stepping back as Arthur brought the giant to his knees as he had the scar faced one.
He was stood before Daub's dead body and he felt no better, there was no sudden relief or knowledge that everything would be alright now, all he felt was weary and bloody and sickened.
Arthur knew how to make a clean kill, but he had not. He'd hacked and slashed and taunted playing with there lives as they had played with his and Merlins. He knew he should repent these acts but he could not, and neither could he regret it - and for that surely he was damned.
He could hear Gawain approaching his steps purposefully loud but he could do no more than stand and breath deeply, his sword tumbling from his shaky grasp. His hands weren't trembling, they where just numb and if his eyes where a little watery, well, he didn't give a damn. None here would tell.
"I'm sorry sire, I know you held the boy with some affection" Gawain said crouching down beside him. Arthur brushed aside his words trying to recall when he'd decided to sit down. Oh, right. That'd been when his knees had buckled. "He was a good and loyal servant" Gawain said. Arthur stared at the knight in confusion.
Was he saying what he thought he was saying? Was Merlin dead?
Arthur felt as though gravity had fallen out of sync and he was about to fly in a million different directions and his heart was squeezing painfully and Merlin - Merlin was dead? He forced himself to his knees and then to his feet, where was Merlin? He would need the proof of a body before he'd believe.
"Remember him from before and forget how they shamed him" Gawain said not unkindly clasping his shoulder tightly in brotherly succor. Shame. With that word seeping through to him the sluggish lethargy batting as him fell away. Merlin bore no shame in this. The shame was his, his for failing his friend, and the bandits for defiling him. Merlin had been, was, was he reminded himself, steadfast as always.
"The only shame here is there's Gawain" Arthur said his words clipped and cold backed by a gimlet stare that would had left a lesser man quaking. Arthur did not have to threaten or command or glare, Gawain understood very clearly that to speak otherwise would be to court peril.
The prince surveyed the area in one glance no doubt searching for the body of his servant, Gawain remained a silent by steadying presence at his princes back. Following the scuffed tracks Arthur led them to a small clump of trees no far from the camp and there lay Merlin face down in the dirt his pale skin gleaming wanly in the early nighttime hours his breeches left crudely at his knees.
He was covered in many bruises and cuts and finger printed marks and blood that Gawain could scarce believe the man still breathed, but breath he did. The prince knelt beside him his name a torn and broken whisper on the still air that cut at Gawain. The knight called out a warning when Merlin stirred, best no to crowd, to touch.
He'd had a cousin once. She'd been thus treated and could not bear to be touched for a long time after. Merlin neither recoiled nor withdrew blindly calling Arthu's name before going entirely still - for a moment Gawain held his breath fearing the worst.
"He sleeps" he said with no small relief. The prince exercised a gentlness Gawain had never thought him to possess as he rightened the servants clothing and brushed dirt from his face. "One of them escaped" Arthur said absently as he lifted the bundle in his arms.
"We will find him, sire" Gawain vowed. The prince nodded, "Yes, we will."
Gawain watched the prince carry his manservant to his horse and helped carry his burden while he mounted and thought to himself that this man, whoever he was, would rue the day he crossed Arthur. The prince guarded those beneath his protection like a troll hoarded gold, and those he loved like a mother bear with cubs. An angry bear.
They traveled fast by the daylight hours but where forced to stop early into the evening, and the occasional rests when the prince declared himself quite famished meaning Merlin was making quite bitten off moans on the horse they shared and he could take no more. Gawain daren't suggest they pink up the pace more so than they already had; Merlin's lackluster "Don't slow down on my account sire, I'm fine" had done nothing to improve the princes ire which he had focused squarely on Gawain's shoulder for the next several - long - hours.
Gawain had not appreciated the glares that had been borne into his back all of that afternoon, but he understood it.
Merlin was clam, maybe to calm. Having pieced together what he could of the pairs time as prisoners he concluded it had been horrific, for Arthur spoke little of it, and Merlin nothing at all.
There first night of travel Merlin had stumbled off to a nearby river and returned cleaner and the darkness in his eye lessened but not wholly gone. It would take more than a bath to cleanse that.
Arthur had been loathe to let the boy from his sight, the only thing that kept him at his seat by the evening fire had been Gawain's gloved hand clasping his shoulder tightly, "Let him be sire." Arthur had shrugged off his hand but had remained seated glaring into the fire with a tenseness about the shoulder and bated breath that did not ease until the boy had rejoined them.
Merlin assumed his usual chores, tidying the bedroll in the morning tying the horses, fetching water even when Arthur valiantly insisted he had two working legs and could do it himself, and of course the cooking which was as atrocious as ever. Perhaps he was being noble, or had lost all sense of taste but Arthur ate the food without complaint - shooting furtive scowls at Gawain behind the servants back that suggest he do the same.
Gawain discreet tossed his to the bushes, Camelot was not that far off.
To the naked eye the boy was coping well, he no longer limped as heavily - by the fourth day of there sojourn - and while he jumped as sudden sounds was otherwise whole and hearty, except when he wasn't. All pretenses he held during the day light hours vanished with sleep.
The first time it had happened Gawain had rolled to his feet sword in hand ready to defend against invaders, the second he pretended he was deaf and slept on allowing the prince his privacy as he rid the boy if his nightmares with soft words - the sort one used on a spooked animal - and reassuring touches.
Strange that the boy did not appear to resent Arthur, not even a little, nor his touch. Arthur would grip his hand firmly and speak softly with a gentleness that was not in his nature, but because Merlin needed Arthur gave.
In the mornings after Merlin was calm and quiet and he smiled and talked some but he was not fine. The worst of it is that he was the only one refusing to see it. On the fifth day they passed a small shire, Gawain had grunted about its lack of size to which Arthur had shrugged and said it was larger than Ealdor - wherever that was. In fact it was just large enough to merit a smithe and Inn.
Gawain was sent to buy there rooms for the night while Arthur went to the smithe with Merlin to have that God aweful collar removed, no doubt.
Arthur hated the blasted thing; each time he saw it peaking from beneath his servant neckerchief something dark and dangerous rose up in his face and posture. He looked as he had standing over the bloodied bodies of the bandits whom he'd learned Arthur had refered to as Scar face, Daub, and Morholt.
Gawain was half way through negotiating room and board down to two shillings when he felt something strange batting at his senses like the air before lightening struck; it was gone within seconds. A short while later Arthur and his servant trudged in both appearing shaken and frustrated. Merlin stared at the ground his face pinched with concentration, but on what Gawain neither knew nor cared.
He'd always been a strange one Arthur's Merlin.
Gawain pointed them to there room and sat himself at a table with a jug of ale. The hairs on the back of his neck tingled still, rest would not find him quickly this night.
Arthur shoved Merlin through the door and shut it firmly, forcefully, before he began his tirade. Merlin was conspiring to give him gray hairs, he must be, that was the only explanation he could surmise. He would have to contend with them in morning, right now he had an idiot to deal with.
"Do you want to get yourself killed?" he demanded refusing to let the way Merlin was worrying his lower lip distract him, or how his shoulder slumped, or how his eyes glistened wetly. If they did not clear this once and for all he'd have a full head of gray hairs ere they reached home. "Better still do you want to get me killed?" he demanded pacing back and forth before the meager dinner fare Gawain had left for them in this closet of a room that barely fit one man and his armor, let alone two - and one of which in desperate need of space.
"I'm sorry."
"Your sorry, well that's good shall I tell that to the king when a villager come to him saying the princes manservant is a sorcerer?"
Merlin stared so intently at the floorboards' Arthur half feared they would catch flame, but they didn't mercifully. Merlin stood there stiffly his eyes glinting suspiciously and it as all Arthur could do not to reach out and touch him, not hug, never that, but just place his arms around him and feel that he was alive and well.
Thus is was the prince reigned in his Pendragon temper, allowing that it was merely his worry masquerading as anger. "Merlin, no one can know, ever" Arthur said far more gently his hand hovering at his servant shoulder but not touching, never touching, "because if anyone did it would end badly, and that is something I cannot allow."
Merlin nodded sharply, "I am sorry Arthur."
Arthur's shoulders sagged and he seemed to droop like a sail with the wild all gone out of it, he hadn't the energy to be angry or to worry, what would be would be. Until such a time as someone looked at Merlin and shouted 'sorcerer' they would carry on as though there were no proverbial axe hanging over there collective heads. That was no way to live.
"It was the damned collar wasn't it? You looked like - you looked bad and I thought, well, I thought a lot of things" Arthur murmured his gaze fixated on the empty fire place. Two tentative steps forward - nothing like the old Merlin to breezed through doors and made no apologies - and he rested his hand on Arthur's shoulder, a wordless reassurance.
He could feel the warmth of that hand through his light tunic. Standing this close he could hear Merlin's quiet breaths and if he turned his head just so he'd be looking at his mouth and the sharp edges of his cheekbones, and if he did that he wouldn't be able to resist stealing a kiss. So he didn't.
Knowing there was a time and place for all things stepped away before he lost all sense as he was wont to do with Merlin. Now was not the time. There may never even be a time so he put all such thoughts from his head and patted Merlin's shoulder companionable, far more gentle than his usual bear claps that were sure to send the man tumbling forward, and moved away.
"I was cut off for so long" Merlin said suddenly breaking the heavy silence with stammering sentences, "When it all came back so abruptly it just…overwhelmed me a little is all" he said with a thin smile that fooled none. "All better now see" he said waving his hands about with a smile, a fire flaring up briefly before turning to softly glowing embers.
Arthur did see.
He saw the half faded imprint of teeth peeking from beneath Merlin's worn and tattered neckerchief, the imprint of a mans hand on his shoulders, and the scar that would run from chest to hip hidden by Merlin's tunic, but most of all he saw the cuts done upon his soul that shone through the shadow of his eye.
"Alright Merlin" Arthur said, even if it wasn't. He removed his boots and being the strategist he was placed his dagger beneath the mattress watching with mild amusement as Merlin stole a few of the nicer blankets to throw across the floor in his makeshift bed.
Arthur hadn't the heart to protest; the old Merlin would have insisted they share.
When Gawain was done with his drinking and had settled up his fees with the barman he laid his bedroll at the princes door where he made his bed. He had almost lost his prince once, he would not do so again. Arthur stumbled over him in the early morning hours, out looking for some edible food no doubt, shot him a cross look before continuing on his course. Gawain offered no apology. Arthur's safety came before all else. Even his pride.
The prince returned, and with him came food hot from the cooks kitchen, piled high with extras no doubt won from the kitcken maid with his charming demoeanor, and Arthur could be so very charming - when he chose to be.
Gawain was more than a little startled when Arthur handed him a plate, piled with large portions of fried prok and egg sweetened with honey. All he said as he passed was, "I never said thank you" and a quiet, "I should have." Arthur left before he could form a coherent reply, which was just as well. He was lost for words.
Merlin was sleeping peacefully, Arthur was loathe to wake him. Just his luck that the scent of food did it for him. "You brought me food" Merlin stated eyeing the feat Arthur had walked in with. "I brought us food," Arthur clarified with a frown.
"Of course, us" Merlin murmured.
"Well go on then, eat, I know your hungry" Arthur insisted pushing Merlin towards the table, the timely rumble of his servants stomach only proved his point. Merlin awkwardly sat himself across from Arthur and ate.
"How far to Camelot?" Merlin asked when he'd finished, slouching back against the chair in his usual manner. "Not far, but I was thinking perhaps a stop at Eldor would do you good, see your mother and-" Merlins refusal was so sharp and sudden that Arthur was almost startled by its intensity.
"No! I mean we shouldn't, we should go to Camelot straight away or your father might actually send out an army for you" Merlin said desperately trying to regain his calm. "I will send a notice to the king with Gawain" Arthur said lightly, "Its easily done."
"Arthur…"
"Merlin."
"I cant, alright, I cant go back home like this, not right now. Mother worries enough, there's no need to add more" Merlin said his words rushing together as he spoke only worrying the prince further. "Can't go back like what Merlin?" Arthur cajoled a hateful suspicion nagging at his mind. "Let it go Arthur."
"Cant go back like what Merlin?" Arthur repeated more firmly as his eyes bore into Merlin, catching the tells of his reddened ears and wandering eyes; his thumb tapping a off balance tune into the wooden table.
"Like this, damn you, like a-a-" Merlin never did finish that sentence but Arthur heard his words clear as bells. Whore.
Merlin's face scrunched up like he might cry - but he didn't - his shoulders quivered and his head was ducked to the side but no tears fell and there was no sound but harsh drawn in breaths as thought it took everything in him to keep himself together. Arthur wanted to offer what comfort he could, but he feared to touch him would be to break him.
Merlin seemed as though about to shattered into a million pieces that even he couldn't put back together again. For all his skills and tactics he was once more useless to Merlin. He could not turn back time, or undo what was done. Daub, Morholt, and scar face were dead but still their ghosts haunted Merlin and Arthur could not kill a ghost. But for Merlin, he would try.
"Fine, if you are certain" Arthur conceded, Merlins releif ovious as he nodded mutely. Arthur knew going home would be good for his friend, his mother might mend the broken pieces he could not reach, but it had to be Merlin's idea; he needed to regain what control he could, Arthur understood that. "I'll go and ready the horses then" he said striding towards the door but Merlin got there first.
"No, Arthur, you finish your breakfast, I am the servant after all" Merlin said with a lopsided smile. Arthur snorted, "And yet you insist on giving me orders."
"I wouldn't dare to presume, sire" he said, and there was that mocking banter Arthur had begun to sorely miss peaking through. "Of course not, that must be the other Merlin." Merlin rolled his eyes and ducked from the room, leaving Arthur to his thoughts. The prince did not have long to stew before Gawain ducked in his face drawn tight in an impressive scowl.
"What? Surely Merlin hasn't gotten himself in toruble already…has he?" Arthur asked his hand already angling for his sword, it only dropped when Gawain shook his head. "No sire, but the village yonder is under attack by a fell beast" he explained, "we must leave for Camelot at once."
"And what of the villagers?" Arthur asked his eye narrowing, "have they any defence?" Gawain grit his teeth but remained respectful if not exasperated. "You are the kings heir, I must return you to him at once" was the knights tight lipped reply. "Meaning they have none, tell me Gawain" Arthur asked stalking forward slowly, "do you take me for a coward?"
"Of course not sire!"
"Then do not tell me to run home and hide when there are people who need my help, my people Gawain" Arthur snapped his fist banging down on the table, a cup clattered to the floor rolling to the knights feet. These were people he knew how to help - people he could help and as for the monsters, well, those he knew how to slay.
Gawain fearing for his charges safety searched for some reasoning that might reign in the princes' desire to rush headlong into danger and then it came to him. Merlin. He was surely the princes weakness. The chink in his armor that would bring him back to reality. "And what will be done with the boy, Merlin, sire?"
Arthurs brows drew like thunderheads over his eyes before smoothing out, a wolfish smile breaking across his face. "I think a bit of beast slaying will do him good" he said aloud then more softly, no doubt not intending for Gawain to hear, "yes, this might be it exactly."
"Which village?" Arthur asked buckling his belt and grabbing his saddle bags, Gawain stared hard at the floor his jaw clenched. Arthur took a deep breath before repeating, "Which village, that's an order knight."
"Buckland."
"Stay here" Arthur said fastening the cloak beneath his chin and sweeping from the roomed he added, "and that's an order Gawain."
Gawain watched the prince go with a terrible predicament weighing on his shoulders, did he do as told and allow Prince Arthur to battle an unknown beast with no backup but his big-eared manservant? The boy was loyal, true, but a bit of an idiot as well. But if the prince were to be slain whilst under his guard the king would have his head on a pike.
On the other hand if he broke post the prince would not forgive it easily. What was he to do when neither choice was in the least appealing. He could loose his position or his life, depending upon which way the pendelum swung.
The matter of the beast was dealt with easily enough. It was stalking the villagers as they made there daily trip to the river but it chose wrongly when it laid its hungry eyes on the prince. Startling the horses into a panic with a howl the creature set upon the two travelers with tooth and claw. Arthur suffered a gash across his arm before he freed his sword from his belt staving off the creature with quick footwork and vicious slashes that left the creature maimed and bloodied and angrier than ever.
His face flushed with adrenaline he backed it into a corner a ravine at its back and a wall of rocks to either side, Arthur's sword coming down for the final stroke - that's when it opened its mouth and spewed fire. Up to then Merlin had remained close, but in the background, his eyes glinting gold at Arthur's shoulder as he threw rocks and branches at the beast.
"A rock really, Merlin?" Arthur had taunted mockingly, Merlin grunted wordlessly, "what would you suggest, sire?"
"Oh I don't know, something bigger."
"Right then I'll just magic up a castle to drop on it shall I" Merlin bit back ducking a slash that would have taken off his head. "That would be nice" Arthur snapped thrusting forward before backpedaling from another clawed slash. With some maneuvering Merlin and Arthur had the creature where they wanted it cornered and helpless, and then had come the fire.
Arthur had a moment to think, bugger, he'd gotten them both killed but before the fire touched skin a blue shield took form redirecting the blast, then the ground shook. Heaving mightily, once, twice, before splitting open. Arthur had never seen its like, but then he'd never known any such as Merlin. The creature whatever it had been was clearly no more crushed beneath the weight of the earth.
"Well that was…" his words trailed off as he took in the sight of Merlin standing still and pale the glow of his eyes slowly fading to blue. All the prince could think was he'd never seen anything more lovely, after which he promptly kicked himself for such a ridiculous thought. There were plenty things lovelier than Merlin he just couldn't think of them right now.
"Brilliant?" his manservant suggested with a lopsided smile. Arthur snorted ruffling his companions hair before sauntering off. "Overdone" he said, "I mean really Merlin? The ground moved it was a bit much don't you think?"
"Oh now you want me to think, do you, sire?" Merlin mocked shaking his head in exasperation. The prince grinned to himself, his back still to his manservant. "You're right, best if you don't wouldn't want to overtax that head of yours, best done if you leave the thinking to me."
"If I left the thinking to you we'd be charbroiled."
Arthur rubbed his chin biting back a genuine smile. How good it was to see the old Merlin, the Merlin who bickered and whined and new his worth. At least he hoped he did, seeing as Arthur was utter rubbish with words and feelings.
"Still, did you have to open the earth, I mean really I get that you wanted to impress me Merlin-"
"Oi! I just saved your royal hide your prat" Merlin grumbled stalking along behind as they bickered their way back to the horses, "Ah, so you do recall that I am in fact a prince" Arthur muttered. "Sure I remember, you're a prince, I'm a lowly peasant, and your still a ungrateful prat" Merlin grumbled. Arthur laughed, he could not help it any longer. The mulish expression on Merlin's face was to much.
"That was fun, admit it" he said when his laughter abated. A slow answering smile spread across his companions face, "it was, wasn't it?"
Arthur and Merlin left the village of Buckland a little worse for wear but with higher spirits than they had rode in with and the prince applauded himself on a plan well executed. Merlin seemed more himself and he was glad for it. The battle had been over quickly, but the people were safe, and Merlin looked almost normal. He could hardly ask for more.
"Merlin, did you pack lunch?"
He took the open-mouthed silence as no. Arthur kept his face fixed on the road lest his lack of true anger show to clear. Normal indeed. "Right, of course not, what was I thinking."
He supposed he could ask for a better servant, but then that servant wouldn't be Merlin. He'd long ago concluded that he preferred this big-eared idiot as his friend - his secret confidante - than just a servant. He had hundreds of those, and but one Merlin.
From the trees watched Gawain, wide eyed and worried at this new revelation. "Merlin is a sorcerer" ran through his head on an unending loop. And Arthur new, of course he knew it would be preposterous to think he didn't. The prince was a smart man, it only made sense that he would know. The question was, why hadn't he told his father?
But then Gawain was not stupid either, and the answer was clear enough. Merlin's loyalty to Arthur was unquestionable. Arthur would not be quick to throw away such friendship, and a friendship it was from the manner in which the two carrier on when not under prying eyes. The knight cursed foully wishing he had remained in his room at the inn, there at least he could have stayed blissfully ignorant. This at least explained how Camelot's prince still drew breath when every magic-user in Albion wanted his head.
Steel alone did only so much against a spell casters curse.
Gawain sighed, perhaps he aught have been a book-keeper or a clerk, they at least needn't ponder thoughts that could have them tried for treason and lawfully executed.