Consequences
Words: 3,102
Characters: Arthur and all the knights, mainly focused on Merlin and Lancelot
Warnings: nah
Summary: Mildred succeeds in selling not just Merlin but a Camelot knight to slave-traders.
A/N: Here we go, the Intentions AU I kept promising, originally suggested by Kez26! In case you need a refresher, that was the fourth chapter in this collection, but you don't really need to remember it. Gonna be completely honest, I could have made this one much longer. I'm talking like ten chapters long. Knowing me, probably more. But I resisted, and changed the plot to keep it short. It was very tempting, but considering I already have a new story going, it just wasn't the best idea. I'm very proud of myself. I'm usually horrible with restraint. Anyways, I have plenty of prompts lined up, so know that if you've suggested something, I've taken note of it.
Mildred stared out the window of her small, one-room hut, watching as seven men rode towards her on large, healthy horses. She could immediately recognise Camelot's king from the golden hair and noble red cape he wore, whispered about even out here at the edge of the border. Mildred had heard enough from gossiping at the well with women from the nearby village to know it was King Arthur without a doubt. Which meant those riding with him had to be important too.
The tired woman smiled tremulously, trying to strengthen her resolve. She had to do this. It was for her son.
As they came closer to her isolated farm, she grabbed a heavy burlap sack from the corner and began to drag it outside. She did not need to fake the grunts and heaves of exertion; it was full to the brim with chicken feed, and she was no longer a young girl.
The royal party slowed to a stop by her gate as she tried hefting the sack further towards the rundown shed to her left. Pretending not to realise the significance of these men, she forced a weary smile onto her face and a nod of greeting. She had to play this carefully, and she was gambling on the rumored generosity of her king.
"All right there sirs?" she called to them. As if giving up, she dropped the sack with a heavy sigh.
King Arthur dismounted, the other six following his lead. They were all dressed in shiny armour and red capes except for a younger lad keeping to the back, dressed in plain colours save for a stark red neckerchief around his neck. He eyed her curiously.
"Do you be needin' somethin', gentlesirs? I have some stew boiling away if you're lookin' for a rest - "
"Do you have no one to help you with these chores, madam?" The king asked. Mildred was, for a moment, shocked by his addressing her in such a way, but tried to cover it.
"No, sir, not at this present time." She attempted to keep her voice from cracking and her face from falling as she remembered the reason for all of this. "Just me on my lonesome out here."
His Majesty shook his head. "Surely you know of someone who could relieve some of the burden from your shoulders?"
"Alas, sir, I am a bit a ways from the nearest village, and they do not know me well enough to feel the need to help an old widower." She hoped she wasn't laying it on too thick. She was desperate.
"This is not right," the king said, and Mildred couldn't help but be touched by the genuine unhappiness in his voice. "Merlin!" The plainly dressed man stepped forward as he addressed Mildred again. "You were taking this to the shed, correct?"
"Yes sir."
King Arthur nodded at Merlin, who stared back at him incredulously. "The thing must weigh a tonne!" he exclaimed.
"Yes, Merlin, precisely why this poor woman should not have to be carrying it," came the annoyed response.
Merlin - King Arthur's servant, Mildred supposed - huffed but stooped to pick up the sack, only to grunt and let it drop back to the ground. The other knights, so far silent, snickered and Merlin rolled his eyes, resigning himself to dragging the sack along the ground.
As he moved to the shed, Arthur turned again back to the woman in front of him. "My servant, Merlin, lazy and disrespectful as he is, will remain to help you with your tasks until tomorrow. I will have someone sent out to assist you, paid for by the crown."
Mildred widened her eyes. Camelot's king was more generous than she had even heard. A deep puddle of guilt swirled around in her stomach. "Th - thank you, sire."
The servant did not bother to hide his displeasure at these new arrangements, pointing out one of the much stronger knights would be a great deal more equipped for the job, but Arthur just ignored him and told him to be nice. Just as they were about to leave, one of the knights spoke up.
"Sire," he began respectfully, "I would like permission to stay as well."
"Do you expect trouble, Lancelot?" Arthur asked, and Mildred stiffened.
"You can never be too careful," Lancelot replied with a wry smile at Merlin, who smirked back.
Arthur looked uncertain at the request when another knight added "trouble does seem to follow Merlin like a bee with honey, princess." Mildred was shocked by his callous name-calling of the king, but His Majesty seemed unaffected. "Besides, I could do with one more night away from the city. You can see the stars so much better out here. I'll stay."
Arthur narrowed his eyes at the second knight. "Lancelot will stay. You forget, Gwaine, that you're on guard duty tonight." Gwaine groaned in response.
Lancelot looked almost guilty about Gwaine being forced to go back. Merlin just grinned at the other knight. "We'll go apple picking when we get back. I'll dodge my chores and you can duck out of training."
Gwaine laughed as Arthur protested with an "oi!"
Appeased, the knight said "I'm holding you to that, mate!"
Finally Arthur and his knights minus one rode off and Mildred watched them go as the butterflies in her stomach only increased. She still had to do the deed. And what would she do when Arthur expected the two men to return? A mouthy servant surely he wouldn't miss, but a knight of Camelot…
She shook her head. It didn't matter. Whatever happened, it would be worth it to get her son back.
The next few hours found Mildred watching as the two men hefted sacks, locked up the pigs and even began to patch up the rotting wooden fence around her vegetable garden. She had been surprised at the knight's ready willingness to help the servant, but even more so at their constant chatter. They talked like old friends, made jokes, and occasionally lowered their voices to murmur something private to each other. It was… so odd. As if they were complete equals.
They even occasionally included her in the conversation. "How long have you been alone out here?" asked the knight as they took a break in the setting sun.
She started at being addressed. "Not long," she admitted. After all, it had only been a couple of weeks since her son had been kidnapped by slave traders. "It's… very difficult," she admitted.
Lancelot nodded and Merlin tilted his head in sympathy. "I'm sorry. No one should be alone."
Mildred nodded and quickly walked away, into her house. She didn't want them to see the tears fall. Gods, was she really going through with this?
When they were finally blanketed by the darkness of night, the three sat at Mildred's small table as she served up the stew no one had eaten earlier. She'd added a few extra of her special 'herbs', ensuring they hadn't weakened by stewing so long, and placed bowls in front of her two guests. Sitting down to her own, she played with her spoon but failed to eat any of her dinner. She only watched as Merlin and Lancelot hungrily consumed theirs.
"I'm sorry," she muttered softly.
Merlin smiled kindly at her. "We don't mind helping out. I just like arguing with Arthur. It's not a big deal, really."
Lancelot nodded in agreement, and Mildred sniffed, her eyes welling up. "I'm sorry," she could only repeat.
Merlin frowned, just as Lancelot's eyes suddenly snapped closed and he fell face first into what was left of his stew. Merlin jumped back in surprise before pushing his friend back into his seat, staring at his lax face. The servant then looked to Mildred, his eyes hard. "What did you do?"
Before she could answer, the herbs kicked in and he too passed out, falling backwards onto the dusty floor.
"Well? Do we have a deal?"
A shaky voice was the first thing Merlin registered when he regained consciousness. He kept his eyes closed, trying to settle the awful nausea in his stomach, and tried to listen over the ringing in his ears. Gods, he felt horrible.
"Lady, you got us a knight of Camelot. That's worth ten of your weakling son."
Braving the strong moonlight, Merlin cracked one eye open. The flash of light and colour brought about an awful headache, but Merlin forced himself to ignore it and try to understand what was going on. The world was sideways, him lying on the rocky floor by Mildred's vegetable garden. Four dirty, rugged men stood on the other side of the fence, one of them leaning on the post Merlin and Lancelot had put into the ground only that afternoon. By the light of the torches the other three held, he could just see a scraggly horse standing behind them, hitched to a large wooden cart.
As he watched, one of them men approached the cart and dragged out a bound man, not much older than himself. He appeared dazed, and had a horrible black eye.
"Samuel! Oh, Samuel, thank god!" Mildred rushed forward and grabbed the injured man, hugging him before the other even had time to let go of him.
"Hey mum," Samuel muttered into her shoulder.
"Get these two loaded up!" ordered the man leaning on the fence post. The others moved forward and one froze when he caught sight of Merlin.
"Oi! This one's awake!"
"So?" the first man turned and leered at Merlin. "Put him back to sleep." His lackey chuckled and grabbed a hefty stick off the ground. Merlin tried to move, to get away, but the nausea and dizziness overwhelmed him. He hadn't even rolled over before he was whacked across the side of the head and shoved back into darkness.
When Lancelot awoke, it was to a splitting headache, a queasy stomach and complete disorientation. But his knight instincts kicked in and he immediately forced himself upright to take in his surroundings - interrupted by his stomach rebelling and causing him to throw up the remains of the stew.
He heard laughter behind him and looked up from where he was tied to a wooden cart. It was early dawn and a handful of men - thugs - were sitting around a fire, cackling at Lancelot's moment of weakness. He glared and shifted as far away from the foul-smelling mess as his bonds allowed him. Running into something solid, Lancelot looked to his right to see Merlin with a nasty gash on the side of his head, slowly raising his head and opening his eyes as if it took too much effort to do so.
"Alright, Merlin?" the knight murmured as their captors went back to yelling and laughing over the fire.
"Been better," the warlock admitted.
"So I take it dear Mildred wasn't apologising for my stiff back."
"Her son," Merlin muttered. "She traded us for him. Slave-traders, I'm guessing."
Lancelot leaned his head back against the cart as he took that in. He could understand the motivation. Didn't mean he had to like the outcome.
"At least someone gets something out of this." Merlin huffed a laugh and quickly winced. Lancelot brought the matter back to their current predicament. "Think you'll be able to give us a bit of magical advantage?"
"Not until whatever she put in that damned stew wears off. I can barely see straight."
Lancelot, having the same problem, wasn't surprised. "Just give me the signal when you're ready." Merlin nodded minutely.
"Hey! You two ain't plotting over there, are ya?" One of the men stumbled onto his feet and made his way over to them, swinging a large stick around as he went. Lancelot could feel Merlin shrink back slightly at the sight and stamped down on his anger.
The man crouched down in front of them and they could both smell strong alcohol on his breath - something that did not help their still-queasy stomachs one bit. "Can't have you two plotting." Shoving Merlin roughly to the side, he reached around and untied the rope holding Lancelot's wrists to the cart, pulling the knight to his feet. "Best split yas up."
They began walking closer to the fire, and after taking one, steadying breath, Lancelot slammed bodily into the man. Using the advantage of surprise, he reached down and grabbed one of the man's already unsteady legs with his tied hands, wrenching upwards so he fell back into the ground with a mighty yell. The other three snarled and growled like feral dogs, getting to their feet and advancing. Lancelot kicked out at one, managed to trip another, but his hands were still bound behind his back and the herbs were still wreaking havoc on his senses. The first man got back to his drunken feet and they brought him down together, ending with Lancelot's face being pushed into the ground right next to the fire, so close he could feel his face heating up dangerously. He was dully aware of Merlin calling out his name.
Finally the knight was dragged back away from the fire and thrown bodily into a sturdy tree. Before he had the time to react, two of the men were on him, tying his legs together and his hands to one of the tree's roots, jutting out of the ground. "Try that again and we'll see how you do with one arm," the one standing by the fire growled.
Frustrated and ashamed he'd wasted their best chance of escaping, Lancelot looked to Merlin. The younger man was looking scared, but mostly angry. The two locked eyes and Lancelot nodded once, saying he was okay. The same slave-trader was still griping as the others joined him back at the fire. "A troublemaker. I hate troublemakers. Always causing too much…"
"Trouble?" Merlin called. The trader threw a bone at him from a pile by the fire - rabbit or pig, most likely. Lancelot glared at his friend, warning him not to bring attention. He doubted Merlin would pay heed though.
"We'll sell him in no time, no problem," said the man with the stick. "That scrawny thing, though…" he gestured back to the servant. "Don't see us getting much for him."
"Aye," agreed another. "Not sure he's worth the hassle, meself."
The first trader sat and thought - no doubt a difficult task for him, Lancelot thought bitterly. "You might be right there, lads," he finally concluded. Did this mean they'd let him go? "Kill the bugger."
Immediately Lancelot was struggling against the rope as the man with the stick grinned and made his way back over to Merlin, who was eyeing him warily. "No!" shouted Lancelot, fighting desperately to get free. "No, stop!"
A bone was chucked in his direction. "Shut up, troublemaker!"
The man reached Merlin and bent down to untie his hands, lifting him to his feet by one arm. Merlin's face was pale and his eyes were still slightly out of focus. He wasn't ready to fight. Still, though. "Do it, Merlin! Whatever you can, just do it!"
He was punched in the jaw for his troubles, and when he looked back, he could see Merlin being dragged off further into the trees. "Dammit, let me go! Merlin! Stop! Bring him back! Merlin!"
The fire had all but died, the ale all but drank by the wicked slave-traders, and Lancelot was slumped against his tree. He hadn't moved in a while. He kept his eyes peeled, looking for the one that was still to come back, desperate to somehow see a wayward manservant come back with him, but so far, no such luck.
"Where the hell is Jol?" One of the traders asked, picking his teeth, his eyes slightly crossed. "We gotta get moving."
"Probably got caught up in the fun of it," laughed another. Lancelot's stomach turned.
"Let's hope that - " A chorus of yells interrupted them and suddenly billowing red capes were flying in from all sides. There was no battle. The three traders, untrained and drunk off their wits, were cut down by the knights of Camelot before they had a chance to curse at their luck. Lancelot was struggling against his bonds with renewed vigour as Percival walked up to him with an expression of relief.
"You okay, Lancelot?"
"Where's Merlin?" Arthur asked, as they all looked about the camp. Percival untied Lancelot's legs and arms and without even a word of thanks he was dashing further into the woods, begging all that was holy that somehow, he wasn't too late.
Arthur and the knights quickly ran after him, having to go all out just to catch up. The king reached Lancelot first. "Lancelot," he gasped between short breaths. Neither slowed down. "What… happened?"
Lancelot shook his head and ran faster. He wouldn't say it. Not until he knew for sure it was true.
They were running so fast Lancelot almost didn't see the figure running back towards them. When he did, he forced himself to a grinding halt, almost falling forwards with momentum. Merlin, of course, didn't manage the co-ordination and crashed right into him. The two went tumbling.
There was a brief moment of shock before Lancelot grabbed his friend's shoulders in joy. "Merlin!"
"Lancelot?" Merlin appeared confused. "How did you get away?"
"He had some help." The two looked up to see Arthur standing above them, the other knights catching up behind. Merlin grinned.
"Guess I don't have to rescue you, then."
"I was coming to rescue you," admitted Lancelot with a laugh. Merlin's face dimmed slightly, and Lancelot noted the sudden seriousness. "You… got away."
"Yes," Merlin nodded somberly. Lancelot grimaced. Merlin had used his powers, and it had cost another man his life. A very horrible, very gruesome man in self-defence, but the knight knew how it would affect his friend all the same.
"Merlin!" Gwaine finally reached them and landed to his knees beside the two, clapping a hand on the servant's shoulder. "Didn't think you were getting out of apple picking that easily, did you?"
Merlin's smile in reply was small, but it was genuine nonetheless.