Hello again! Yes, it's me… again! I'm updating twice! In one day! YAY!
Disclaimer: Nope, not mine.
Quick info: Uther is still alive and Arthur is prince. Morgana is evil. Arthur doesn't know about Merlin's magic.
Drabble 7- He's at the Tavern… again
Arthur couldn't believe it. As he stormed down the halls to Gaius's chambers, there was all but smoke coming out of his ears; the prince was furious and it was clear as day.
"MERLIN!" He yelled, not even bothering to knock. "Where are you, you good for nothing-"
"Can I help you, sire?" Interrupted a firm voice, and Arthur turned to see Gaius giving him the famed "eyebrow."
"Have you seen Merlin? He was supposed to wake me up an hour ago for an extremely important council meeting, but NO!" Arthur seethed. "My father was not impressed by my late entry, I can tell you that, and it's all that idiot's-"
"I'm sorry, sire," Gaius broke in. "Merlin has been gone since yesterday evening. He… went to the tavern, and I'm afraid he hasn't returned yet."
"He's at the tavern?!" Arthur echoed, seething. "Well, you tell him when he returns that if he ever forgets to wake me up for a council meeting again- I don't care if he's hungover in a tavern or dying in a ditch!- it will mean a week in the stocks for him!" With that, the crown prince turned on his heel and stormed from the room much in the same manner he had entered it; rather dramatically, in Gaius's professional opinion. Not that he would ever tell the prince that, of course.
"Princess! What's got you 'n a fit s'morning?" Slurred the familiar drunken voice of Gwaine from down the hallway.
"Gwaine," Arthur greeted, his anger having somewhat simmered down since leaving Gaius's chambers. Not much, but at least he wasn't yelling anymore. "I suppose you had a great time with Merlin at the Rising Sun last night. Get rip-roaring drunk, did you?" He asked dryly.
"Merl'n?" Gwaine echoed, "At a tav'rn? That's funny!" He chuckled, leaning heavily against the wall to support himself in his fit of laughter.
"Why is that funny?" Arthur asked evenly, rolling his eyes. "I'm beginning to think Merlin spends as much time at the tavern as you, Gwaine, and that's saying something."
"Silly princess," Gwaine hiccupped with a grin. "Merl'n don't have any head for al -hiccup- alcohol. Two cups, and he's out! Why- hiccup- why did you think he never drunk much?"
"If he doesn't drink," Arthur said in an almost patronizing tone, "Then why is he always at the tavern?"
"Merl'n was at the tav'rn? Why didn't anyone tell me? I've- hiccup- been trying to get him to get drunk with me all year!"
"What?" Arthur blinked. "Weren't you just at the tavern with him?"
"No," Gwaine slurred. "I mean, I was at the tavr'n, but Merl'n wasn't there." With that Gwaine continued down the hallway, whistling an off-tune children's song happily.
The prince stared after him, one thought in his mind; if Merlin isn't at the tavern, then where is he?
"Saddle a horse for me," Arthur commanded, lost in thought. Where could Merlin be? He'd check the tavern first, just to be sure, and then… maybe the forest? But why would he go to the forest?
"I thought you'd come," the servant said cheerfully. "After all, your manservant doesn't normally go places without you. I thought it was odd when he saddled up a horse."
"Merlin came here to get a horse?" Arthur asked suddenly, giving his full attention to the servant.
"Yep," the boy said. "Rode out of here like the devil was on his tail, he did."
"Really," Arthur mused, more to himself than the boy. So he wasn't going to the tavern, then- that was barely ten minutes' walk. "Did you see what direction he went?"
The boy nodded and pointed, and Arthur followed the path his finger made, frowning. There wasn't much down that direction- mostly houses. A few small shops, but they would have been closed yesterday evening. There was also…
"The main gate," Arthur realized, shock flooding him. "He left Camelot? Why?" The boy just blinked in confusion, then shrugged and handed the prince the reigns to his house.
Mounting quickly, Arthur rode off, ready to question some guards.
"Sire," said one of the four guards at the gate, bowing deeply.
"Have you seen a young man ride out this was around evening time yesterday?" Arthur asked, eyes trained on the guard. The guard seemed startled by his question.
"Well, sire, many young men travel through here daily. I'm afraid I couldn't remember a specific face if I tried," the guard said apologetically.
"Merlin, my manservant. Surly you've seen him around before; you must know who he is. Did he come through here?"
"Merlin? Yes, he did. He told us he was going to collect herbs for the court physician, sire."
"Oh," Arthur said. He hadn't considered Merlin could be collecting herbs. But overnight? And then why did Gaius say he was at the tavern? "And he hasn't returned yet?"
"No, sire, not that we're aware of."
"I see," the prince murmured, turning his horse back to the gate. Maybe he really did go to the woods… it was a place to start, at least.
When Arthur did find Merlin, he knew this; the man had a lot of questions to answer.
Merlin's trail was surprisingly hard to find, despite Arthur's skills in tracking. Eventually, though, he did pick up the trail, and it did lead him to the woods. Following the trail, he headed deeper and deeper into the woods, growing more and more worried. What on earth could Merlin possibly be doing out here?
"He'd have you executed!" Came a furious cry, and Arthur dismounted, drawing his sword and creeping toward an all-to-familiar voice. If the prince wasn't mistaken, that voice belonged to Rowan, a sorcerer who had attacked Camelot a few days previously. Although he'd been knocked out toward the end of the fight, Merlin had told him Rowan had been fatally wounded and had escaped to find a place to die.
Apparently not. As Arthur peered through a bush he was crouched behind, he saw his assumption had been right; the voice had belonged to Rowan. Across from Rowan stood Merlin, looking oddly confident and unworried in the face of the evil magic user.
"Maybe," Merlin told the other man, an unrecognizable expression flashing briefly in his eyes. "But I believe in Arthur- even if renegade druids like you do not."
"I could have killed him and his father, and then magic users like us will be free!" Rowan argued, his eyes hard and angry. "You shouldn't have stopped me!" Arthur felt a prick of unease at the ex-druid's words- 'magic users like us?' Maybe he was referring to the druids, Arthur tried to reassure himself.
"I couldn't let you kill them- you know that," Merlin said, shaking his head. Arthur almost laughed; Merlin, protecting him? Like that would ever happen!
"You are a traitor!" Rowan roared, taking a threatening step forward. Arthur wanted to yell at Merlin to get out of there, but his voice didn't seem to want to cooperate.
"No," Merlin snapped, "I'm fulfilling my destiny." He seemed undaunted by Rowan's cold, malicious glare, and even when Rowan raised his hand (which glowed with energy) he didn't budge or falter.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Merlin said evenly, confidently.
"Your petty abilities cannot protect you," Rowan snarled. "And once you're gone, I will go after the Pendragons again. And this time, nobody will be there to stop me!" Petty abilities? Arthur wondered, concern for his friend making his throat seem to close up. Somehow, he didn't think Rowan was thinking about Merlin's juggling.
"My petty abilities," Merlin echoed, seeming almost… sad. "You're wrong there, Rowan. I think you'll find I'm more than a match for you. One last chance- leave, and never return. I told Arthur you were dead; you can start a new life for yourself." What is he talking about? Arthur wondered, growing frustrated. Rowan would kill Merlin in any fight!
"There can be no new life for me while that tyrant lives," Rowan snarled, undaunted by Merlin's warning.
"In that case, I'm sorry," Merlin said, sounding genuinely remorseful.
Of course, it was that moment that Arthur's horse gave an uneasy whinny. Creeping back to the creature, Arthur untied its reigns from a tree- or at least, he tried to. In the dark, it was harder than it looked. Behind him, flashes of light erupted from the clearing and someone gave a cry of pain- whether it was Rowan or Merlin, Arthur wasn't sure.
Desperation made him clumsy, and he cursed as he struggled with the knot. He sorely wanted to leave the stupid horse and make sure Merlin was winning this fight somehow, but it would do him no good if the spooked creature gave his position away or distracted his clumsy manservant.
"There!" Arthur grunted under his breath as he pulled the reigns free, and the horse galloped off. Arthur didn't care; he could walk back, and the horse was trained to return to Camelot anyway. Besides, there were more pressing matters at the moment.
Stumbling back to his hiding spot, Arthur was shocked at the sight that greeted him. Merlin stood in the middle of the clearing, apparently unhurt, although in the dark in was hard to tell. Rowan's limp form was on the ground, either knocked unconscious or dead. The clearing was testimony enough that the fight, although brief, had been vicious. Scorch marks and smoking craters littered the clearing, yet somehow, Merlin had emerged… victorious.
How? Arthur wondered through the undeniable feeling of relief that filled him. The question was pushed aside, though; Merlin was ok, and this time, Rowan really had been taken care of. Everything else could wait.
"Up and at 'em, sire!" Called a familiar voice, pulling Arthur from sleep's clutches.
"Huh?" He mumbled intelligently, propping himself up in his bead. Then it all came back at once: following Merlin, watching him fight Rowan and somehow emerge as the winner, trudging back to Camelot and collapsing into bed, exhausted. Suddenly the reality of the situation sunk in; Merlin snuck out to fight off an evil sorcerer. Had this happened before? Was this why Merlin was always missing? How had he defeated Rowan in the first place?
He turned to look at his manservant (realizing first that Merlin was late… again.) and next the bags under his eyes. He looked as exhausted as Arthur felt.
"Breakfast is on the table, sleeping beauty," Merlin grinned, going over to lay out his clothes. It was only then that Arthur noticed that Merlin was limping. Worry coursed through him (though he'd never admit it.)
"Merlin," he said, much more calmly than he felt. "Why are you limping?"
"Limping?" Merlin echoed, the picture of wide-eyed innocence.
"Yes, limping. Favoring your left leg. Injured. Need I go on?" Arthur replied without missing a beat.
"Oh, that," Merlin said with a slightly nervous-sounding laugh. "I tripped yesterday and twisted my ankle."
"Really? Tripping at the tavern?" Arthur asked dryly. "You must have a horrible headache, too, staying there overnight. Is that why you're late again this morning?"
Merlin muttered something illegible, turning away with a roll of his eyes. Arthur thought he heard something about "talking to Gaius" the term "prat" as well, but wasn't sure.
"I see. Now what's the truth?"
"What?" Merlin asked, turning back to Arthur, looking confused.
"When you twist your ankle, Merlin, it swells up. Yet you managed to get your boot on this morning. So what's the real reason you're limping?"
"I-uh-" Merlin stammered, looking like a dear cornered by a hunter. "Gaius… gave me something for the swelling, that's all."
"Right," Arthur said, unconvinced. "Let's see your ankle, then. Take off your boot."
"That's not really necessary-"
"It's completely necessary, because I'm the prince and I'm telling you to show me your 'twisted ankle.' Now sit."
Merlin sat. Removing his boot grudgingly, he rolled up his pant cuff so his ankle could be seen. As Arthur suspected, it was fine. Just above his ankle, however, the edge of a white bandage could be seen.
"What's that?" He asked, pointing to the bandage. Merlin winced, taking a deep breath.
"Nothing," he lied weakly.
"Show me," Arthur ordered. Merlin seemed to sense Arthur wasn't messing around, and pulled his the fabric further up, revealing the thick white bandage spotted with crimson blood.
"How did you get that?" He asked, feeling slightly sick as he looked at the bandage.
"Fell down the stairs," Merlin muttered, not meeting Arthur's gaze.
"Then why did you say you tripped?"
"I tripped… and then fell down the stairs."
Arthur shot him a doubtful look. "Merlin…" He said, raising an eyebrow and trying to hide his growing fury; fury that was directed not at Merlin, but at Rowan. He knew the sorcerer had to be the cause of Merlin's injury. And it infuriated him. How dare that sorcerer hurt his clumsy, idiotic manservant? "What do I always say about you playing hero?"
"That it doesn't suit me," Merlin replied automatically, before freezing. "Wait- what?"
"I saw you," Arthur said simply, deciding to come right out with it. "In the woods. Fighting Rowan." Merlin's expression would have been funny in any other circumstance. His mouth dropped open like a goldfish, and his eyes bulged.
"You saw me? All of it?" He asked in a strangled voice, gulping.
"Almost all of it," Arthur admitted, not sure why Merlin looked so… scared. No, scratch scared. The man looked terrified. "I saw you tell him to leave. And then… you fought, I suppose. How you beat him, Merlin, I'll never know-"
"Wait," Merlin interrupted. "So you didn't actually see me fight him?" He was staring at the royal intently, as if his life depended on his answer. Arthur found it unnerving.
"No," he admitted. "My horse spooked. In the dark, it took me a while to untie the knot. By the time I had… well, it looked like you'd handled things somehow." At his words, Merlin looked oddly relieved. Some color returned to his face and he relaxed somewhat, which confused Arthur further.
"Merlin…" he said slowly, almost fearing the answer. "How exactly did you defeat Rowan?" Merlin paused again, looking like he was having an internal argument with himself.
"He defeated himself, really," Merlin said slowly after a moment, obviously choosing his words carefully. "He went for the flashy spells that were easy enough to dodge. I got close enough to him that he went down pretty fast."
"Oh," was all Arthur said. Something sounded off about Merlin's answer, not quite right; but Arthur wasn't about to press the matter. Some part of him was relieved- Merlin had just gotten lucky, after all. All that talk in the woods had been a bluff. Arthur had nothing to worry about. There was something he did want to know, however.
"Why?" He asked, studying his friend's face carefully.
"Why what?" Asked Merlin, looking blank.
"Why, Merlin, would you fight a sorcerer? We've established that you're not a knight, and you haven't looked for any recognition," the prince clarified.
Merlin gave a kind of sad smile before saying, "because you're my friend- prince. My prince," Merlin corrected hastily. "And you already have a lot on your plate. The last thing you needed was some renegade druid making trouble. I was just trying to help."
Arthur would never admit it- never in a million years!- but at Merlin's words some of the weight on his shoulders seemed to disappear. His manservant- no, his friend- was right; the prince was under a lot of pressure.
But for the first time, he felt like maybe, just maybe, he wasn't in this alone, after all.
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