A/N: I really like this chapter and the next (the next one gave me so much trouble, but I persevered!) I hope you like the twist on what happened in the marketplace. :D

Disclaimer: Nope, still not mine!

Ch. 8-Marketplace Debacle

After dealing with a demanding dragon all night (and just how had he fallen asleep the first time around, he certainly couldn't this time!), Merlin found himself suffering through target practice at the stocks. He bore it with the amusement the punishment deserved, laughing along with the others. They didn't know him yet, but he had spotted several he knew from his former life.

And then there was Gwen.

It was very, very odd to see Gwen as a servant again after all this time. While she lacked the refined air of the noble class she had learned, she retained the joy, good-nature and kindness that made her…Gwen. Merlin could barely contain the grin as she stumbled over her words, thoroughly enjoying the banter. It had become increasingly rare for her to speak before she thought as the years passed and the warlock had come to miss those occasions. It reminded him of how happy Gwen had been before the whole debacle with Morgana. That's not to say that she hadn't been happy after, she'd married Arthur after all and had become queen, but her joy had been heavier, tempered by all that she had suffered.

Merlin was determined to lighten that burden as much as possible.

Eventually he was released from his punishment and he went about doing his best to clean up. Over the years he had learned to clean just about anything whether it be armour or clothes and he was pleased to see that his wardrobe would greatly benefit from that experience this time around. Perhaps he would actually be able to save his wages for something besides new clothes.

After enduring Gaius's good natured ribbing, he settled down to study the castle with his magic, setting subtle alarms that would alert him if anyone either than Gaius were to come around. Actually, he wasn't entirely sure that Arthur would set them off either for his magic was acting awfully strange when it came to his friend-king. When he had seen him for the first time in the outer yard, it had taken every ounce of control he'd possessed to keep his magic contained. It had fought more fiercely than a dragon, straining against the bonds he'd placed it under to reach Arthur.

It had never done that before.

And yes, he knew that to other magic users that referring to ones magic as though it were a living thing was downright odd, he also knew that they had only a fraction of the magic that flowed through him. It was always there; rolling gently or violently depending on the situation. His magic had always…perked up, whenever his prat-prince-king had been around and more than once had acted of its own accord to protect them both in dire situations. He'd once jokingly likened it a mother cat protecting her kittens to Gaius. Soon that cat became a bear and that bear a dragon.

Now he wasn't even sure if a dragon was a large and fierce enough comparison.

It was when they'd reached the armoury that Merlin had allowed his control to slip. While he knew Arthur had locked the room, his magic had ensured that it was sealed, no one allowed in and no sound allowed out. Then it focused on Arthur and the warlock could only liken it to a starving man allowed food after too long without. It washed over him. It covered him. It sank into him and settled.

Like it never intended to be separated from Arthur again. It felt like coming home.

The warlock…wasn't sure exactly what to do with that. He wasn't even certain he wanted to do anything about it. Even after Arthur and he had been separated, his presence teased the corners of Merlin's perception. Since that presence apparently had mood swings (and just what could Arthur be so smug about?) he had finally concluded that what he was sensing really was his king-prince which set off a momentary bout of panic. Had his magic bonded them?

It certainly gave a whole new meaning to "two sides of the same coin." Somewhere the warlock just knew that the Fates and Destiny were cackling gleefully over his dilemma. Not that he objected to being bonded to Arthur; there was some serious reassurance in knowing how the man was doing, but he wasn't entirely sure how Arthur would take being bonded to Merlin. Or was he bonded? Whatever information he was being fed by the link might only flow one way. Merlin might sense Arthur, but Arthur might not be able to sense Merlin.

Just the implications of it were giving him a headache.

Determined not to let him worry him for now, he dispelled the magic and set off to complete some errands for Gaius. Last time he did this, he ran into Arthur in the marketplace and he had nearly exposed himself using magic to escape the prince-knight. It made him wonder that, if he were to face that now, knowing Arthur's style and moves as he did, would he have a better chance?

"Well look who it is, boys, the mouthy peasant." The sneering voice cut over the din of the marketplace catching the attention of many and sending a jolt of surprise through the unsuspecting warlock. He froze, his face sliding into a grimace. Of course. He just had to tempt fate by thinking about it. Seriously, just who had he made angered to deserve this?

With a deep breath he spun on his heel, facing his trio of adversaries. Sir Orvin, Estern and Val grinned at him from just a few meters away. Merlin really did not like the looks of those grins. Arthur had hurt him that day- not seriously (though he had thought differently at the time, he had much worse to compare it to now), but had known when to stop. These three… they would not stop until they felt that their point was made. More than likely they felt it was their duty to teach "the mouthy peasant" what his true place in the world was (if they only knew) and would no doubt leave Merlin a broken mess if given the opportunity.

He wasn't going to give it to them.

Knowing that retreat was his best option, but not one that was open to him, the warlock handed off his basket to a nearby vendor for safekeeping before falling into the familiar defensive stance. It came so naturally. All that work with the king-prat had paid off.

"This is not a good idea," he tried to warn them, though he wondered why he bothered. The three noble (not in the good way) idiots obviously wanted their crack at punishing him (wasn't spending the night in the dungeons with a nattering dragon and being pelted by almost rotten vegetables enough?) and they didn't care who stood in their way. Merlin remembered that last time, when it had been Arthur he had squared off with, they had done a great deal of damage to the various stalls in the marketplace. He wanted to avoid that (plus avoid them) if at all possible.

But they weren't going to make it easy.

"You still don't get it, do you?" the one in the middle, Sir Orvin if he remembered correctly, grinned, clearly enjoying taunting his prey.

"I do know that you're not just asses, you're noble asses," the warlock shot back, unable to stop himself. These were examples of the worst kind of behavior from nobles, one that Arthur, as king, had not tolerated. And part of him…part of him, deep down, could not help but poke at the lumbering bears before him. If he could possibly teach them a lesson, well…it probably wouldn't do anything, but it couldn't hurt to try, right? "You could have hurt Prince Arthur's manservant, do really think he would have appreciated that?"

Taunting. Taunting is bad, Merlin reminded himself.

A truly cruel expression descended over Sir Orvin's face while the other two were twisted by scowls. "You're the only one who is going to hurt now." And with that promise, they charged.

Merlin forced himself to wait, bouncing on the balls of his feet. If he didn't time this just right…Just as the men were upon him, he ducked under their sweeping arms, setting off at a dead run once clear. Curses and bellows of fury followed as the men tried to compensate for Merlin's move, but they were so much larger which made them that much slower. The warlock could feel a fierce grin breaking out; the longer it took them to catch up, the farther from the marketplace they would be, but the more attention they would gather. With any luck, the guards would take an interest. Though, on second thought, that might just work against him.

Figures he would have to deal with them on his own. Well, best to do it on his terms.

~Arthur~

Perhaps it was nostalgia or the onset of a mental affliction, but Arthur could not resist the urge to stroll through the marketplace.

The want to seek out Merlin had steadily increased from the moment he had left him (like a common thief—which he wasn't!) in the dungeons and it was frankly starting to irritate him. Merlin was his…his friend, his advisor, his warlock, just his. Shouldn't he be allowed to see the man any time he wanted? When they had made the decision in the armoury to stay the course for the time being, he hadn't given much thought to how hard that would be. Merlin was always there until suddenly he wasn't and Arthur did not like it.

No, he loathed it.

He was walking with Leon, fake-listening to the man's report (it was all information he already knew, so what was the harm?), subtly steering them in the direction of the marketplace. Perhaps he could hire Merlin as his manservant instead of waiting for his father to award him the position? No, that would cause too many questions. While it was true that the blond royal had a notoriously long list of former manservants, Thomas had done nothing wrong and indeed seemed to be settling. It was something that both made Arthur happy and saddened him at the same time. He was glad to see that the other man was finally beginning to relax around him; well, as much as he was ever likely to. He doubted that his new attitude had not gone unnoticed, but likely viewed as a blessing. On the other hand, there was little doubt that when Thomas was replaced by Merlin, he would feel that he had somehow let the prince-king down by not stepping into save him, but that wasn't part of his job.

Merlin hadn't ever learned that for which Arthur was grateful.

"…and I do think that…What in the world?" The abrupt change in conversation drew Arthur from his inner contemplations. During his mental wanderings, Leon and he had arrived at the marketplace, almost in the exact spot where his fight with Merlin had begun before. Different items lay scattered in the cobblestones, their owners hurriedly retrieving what could be salvaged. A cart was being lifted back onto two wheels and various people were tending to one another.

"What happened here?" Arthur muttered under his breath, scanning the crowd for a familiar face. Could it have been Merlin? And if so, who could he be fighting? Hopefully the idiot didn't use magic to escape—knowing his luck he would be caught!

"My lord!" A voice, one he had become reluctantly accustomed to in the mornings, rang out and Arthur dragged his eyes over the scene before he spotted Thomas beside an herb vendor, holding a basket.

A well-known basket. Merlin's.

Arthur found himself navigating the mess even before he had the conscious thought to move, too intent on getting to Thomas. The manservant made no effort to move, waiting for his master.

"Thomas, did you see what happened here?" Arthur asked, not acknowledging Leon as he caught up with him.

The man shook his head. "No, sire, but Len did," he remarked, bending his head toward the vendor.

The vendor blinked at what could only be fire that blazed behind the prince's eyes. Lying to this man would not be wise.

"Speak," Arthur commanded, in no way caring that he wasn't being polite. Something had happened to Merlin here. He knew it like he knew his sword. He was going to get to the bottom of this.

"My lord, that boy tried to keep them from makin' such a mess, but they were so angry, I'm surprised it's not worse," Len began. "He wasn't hurtin' nobody. He was out doing chores for a healer, I 'spect, seein' what he bought," he gestured toward the basket. "They came out of nowhere, tauntin' him, but the boy stood his ground and got them to chase him away from the square. Don't know any more than that. Sorry, my lord." He bowed his head, wishing he could have done more.

"Describe him and his attackers," Arthur urged, feeling his heart begin to pound in his chest. This…this was bad. Really, really bad.

"The boy was tall and nothing more than a stick. Dark hair. He wore a blue neckerchief."

Oh great kings—Merlin!

"And the others?" he pressed.

Here, Len seemed to hesitate and the king-prince had an uneasy idea why, but needed to hear it confirmed.

"Please. No harm shall come to you," the blond royal promised and he meant every word.

Len gazed at him fearfully for a moment before finally nodding to himself. "The other three that chased after him were dressed much like you, my lord."

Damnit!

"Which way did they go?" Leon asked. Bless the man for giving that thought.

"Down the main road. The boy looked as though he were searching for something even when he was trying to get away!" Len answered in awe, having retrieved all of his usable merchandise and rearranged his stall.

"Thank you," Arthur said, much to the astonishment of the older knight. "Your help will not be forgotten." The words had barely left his mouth when he set off at a dead run, Leon close at his heels.

Of course, of course! Those simpletons had come to seek revenge on Merlin, why hadn't Arthur predicted that? He himself had done it the first time around. But unlike him, he knew those imbeciles would not stop at just besting Merlin to save their supposedly slighted honor, no; they would likely beat the warlock within an inch of his life.

He had to find them. Now.

Even as he ran, his eyes continually roved, seeking the (sometimes obvious) signs of a fight. But it wasn't those subtle signs that guided his path, no; his body seemed to know where it was going and he was merely along for the ride. He found he was okay with that, as long as it led him to Merlin.

It took far longer than he would have liked (Merlin had led them on a merry chase) before he finally spotted a crowd gathered around the entrance to a dead end alley and Arthur was not pleased (incensed would be a better choice) to see that there were guardsmen mingling among the onlookers.

Just what was going on?

The sounds that assaulted his ears as he got closer only spurred him on. He barreled through the crowd, Leon dogging his heels, and when he finally broke through, he, and his world, came to a screeching halt.

They were hurting Merlin. They were hurting Merlin. They were hurting Merlin. They were hurting Merlin!

"STOP!"

All movement around the king-prince ceased the moment of his thunderous bellow. Even the three wastes of space (miscreant was too nice of term for them now) who hardly ever followed commands froze, bloodied fists still in the air. The blond royal had heard the phrase "seeing red" but until this very moment had never experienced it. Blood pounding in his ears, his breath coming harshly and Arthur could not think, could not think, past the realization that they were hurting Merlin. Merlin's blood was staining their hands and clothes and the cobblestones beneath them.

They. Were going. To die.

No one hurt Merlin. Not while Arthur was around. Or even when he wasn't if they knew what was good for them. Merlin was his (he didn't share) and you respected that. Or you paid for it.

But even as he descended upon the attackers like an avenging god, he found a smidgen of restrain t. Don't make this about me, he could almost hear Merlin warn. As much as Arthur wanted to rend these men to pieces for what they had done his (almost) manservant (friend!) he couldn't. It would draw too much attention that neither could afford as Arthur had no current claim on Merlin (but he would). But they were not going to get away with this.

They would pay.

Snatching Sir Orvin by the collar he flung the man away, not caring one wit when the other stumbled and landed on his behind. The other two scrambled to evade the enraged prince-king, eyes wide. They honestly looked petrified and it was little wonder because furious did not even begin to cover how he felt and it no doubt showed in his expression. Snarling, Arthur dropped to his knees beside the unconscious man, blindly feeling for a pulse. It was only when he found it did he feel as though he could breathe again.

Kings of old, Merlin was a mess! One eye was already swelling shut and a vast array of other bruises was already blooming over the exposed skin. Blood welled from the warlock's split lip, mixing with blood from the cut above his eyebrow and cheek, before trailing into the dark hair. His clothes were ripped and bloody and the king-prince did not want to imagine what lay beneath. Worryingly the warlock did not respond to his touch, remaining stubbornly unconscious. What little restraint he had managed to summon was fast being lost when faced with reality of what had been done to his friend.

Dead. They were dead men.

"You!" Arthur pointed to a guard who had been loitering among the gathered crowd. The man snapped to attention. "Retrieve Gaius at once! Tell him that it's Merlin," he ordered before he finally forced himself to rise to his feet and face Merlin's attackers.

"Just what in hell do you think you are doing?" he roared, still too angry to control his volume. He barely waited a beat before charging on. "I hear reports of a great disturbance in the marketplace: stalls being destroyed, people being hurt and I assume," he voice dropped to a hiss at the word, "that my knights-in-training had arrived before me to solve the problem, NOT BE THE CAUSE OF THE PROBLEM THEMSELVES!" Many jumped at his sudden change in volume but Arthur could not bring himself to care.

"Sire," Sir Orvin ventured, cringing when he became the sole focus of the infuriated royal, "that man," and damn if he didn't have the gall to glare at Merlin's prone form, "was causing trouble. We were putting an end to it."

Arthur blinked, momentarily off-put. Did they just…were the seriously trying to…They were! They were trying to blame Merlin for what happened. This went beyond idiocy! Did they not think that Arthur would thoroughly question everyone to get to the bottom of this? That he would take their word on the situation and say, "Oh, well, carry on then," because if they did then…idiocy did not even begin to cover it. Lunacy might come close, insanity even closer. Even if he hadn't bothered to investigate, he certainly wouldn't condone the merciless beating that Merlin had suffered.

Before he could dignify the sheer stupidity of the noble's accusation with a response, Gaius burst through the crowd, his robes positively billowing behind him. If he was surprised to see the prince standing like a protective dragon over his ward, he did not show it, eyes focused solely on Merlin. Forcing his temper (oh how he wished to end those men, but he would make the suffer first) into its (temporary) cage, Arthur knelt beside his prone friend once more, careful to keep out of Gaius's way.

"What do you need?" the blond royal under his breath, certain only the physician could hear him. Gaius glanced sharply in his direction and the brief glimpse of absolute cold fury contained in those aged eyes made Arthur flinch, but he would not stand down. This was his fault. He should have never let Merlin trail around on his own.

"We need to get him to my chambers, I can help him better there," the older man answered. As if by magic, Thomas appeared with another servant, carrying a stretcher between them. Arthur, after batting away the others hands, gently lifted Merlin (who was still unconscious) onto the stretcher and forced himself to remain as they hurried off, even if he wanted nothing more than to follow them.

Merlin would be alright, Arthur reminded himself, hoping it would calm his need for blood. Merlin was with Gaius and Gaius would do anything for the one he would name son, he would.

Merlin would be fine.

And if he wasn't, well…Arthur had somehow cheated Death once, he would figure out how to do it again.

But right now, Merlin needed him to be bloody calm because anger here would only blow matters out of all proportion and he was going to see justice done if it was the last thing he did. Arthur was no help in the physician's realm, knew only basic field aid, but here…Here he would see Merlin's attackers brought to justice. He had learned many lessons (usually the hard way) as king when it came to dealing with nobles of this caliber, but their earlier accusations conjured up the perfect solution.

He was going to make them confess.

End Ch. 8

A/N: I sooooo don't won't to be those fellas right now. Arthur is going to kill them! Please let me know what you think. I live for your reviews!