Happy Friday! Sort of...
Nimueh screamed in frustration but quickly cut herself off, instead unleashing her fury on the remains of the village and pulling out of the Sight. She reigned in her anger and breathed deeply until she got herself under control. Morgause swept out of the room before her sister could say anything.
She was furious. She had let herself be distracted from her original plans with this gamble and not only had it not paid off, it gave her no new information. She'd hoped that the griffin would be able to track down Emrys as well as wreak havoc in Camelot to give them a glimpse into the city itself but the stupid creature managed to get killed before it even got to Camelot! Now they were once again blind and the city would go on celebrating none the wiser.
Worse still, she couldn't even figure out who had killed the griffin.
Staring at the moon, she breathed deeply to take in the clean night air and cleanse her mind. She felt Nimueh come up behind her, a warm presence that annoyed as much as it reassured. At least she managed to avoid startling, an unfortunate tendency that was the result of Cenred's persistent advances.
Nimueh spoke quietly but clearly, "It's not your fault, sister."
Morgause contained her snort. "I know that." She took another long, slow breath. "I have wasted our time with this plan and we've learned nothing for it." She watched the mist drift past the trees, thinking of how Emrys seemed to have the same skill for slipping through their fingers. If it had been him that destroyed the griffin – but, no, it couldn't be. She had witnessed some of his training sessions with it; the boy always refused to go for the kill, often at the cost of getting himself clawed open. It was one of the few refusals Cenred had been unable to beat out of the boy, though really, if the boy was willing to be nearly killed by the griffin, Cenred had little hope of changing his mind with mere beatings.
Besides, she had equipped the griffin with the enchanted ring just in case it did find Emrys, something that would have thwarted all of the ways Emrys knew to hold it off. Granted it was also supposed to have trapped her quarry and had failed; there had been no traces of Emrys' magic at the site.
"You don't think it could have been Emrys that killed the griffin?" Nimueh waved a hand and the mist solidified into a comfortable bench where she perched, awaiting an explanation.
Morgause turned to face her. "It's possible but improbable. I would have recognized the traces of his magic. I just don't understand who else would have such power and choose to remain in Uther's kingdom. They destroyed not only the griffin, but also the anchor, and left without a trace!"
Nimueh rolled her eyes. "I still think it must have been Emrys."
Morgause rolled her own eyes. "You were there with me when we searched the clearing. Did you feel his essence?"
Nimueh shrugged. "No, but there was no trace at all. Nothing in the general area to exclude the possibility. Everyone in the local village perished in the storm, your storm, so obviously, the mystery sorcerer wasn't there. There has been no movement at all. There are few sorcerers with the kind of power required for that and two of them are on this Isle. We suspect Emrys might have made it to Camelot's lands, if not the city, so why can't it be him? How many more coincidences do you need?"
"He's not the one blocking us from Camelot. Someone was interfering with your plans before Emrys even escaped. I thought he was still in hibernation but the magic keeping us out - it has to be the Great Dragon! Why he refuses to answer us is beyond me – he should want our help!" She huffed, and continued, "What other coincidences are you referring to?"
Nimueh stood, her posture challenging. "Do you really believe that the boy prince and the old physician defeated Edwin alone? Emrys must have helped them! We should assume that the prince and warlock have found each other and find a way to remove Emrys from Camelot now."
Morgause stood her ground. "That would be foolish. We have no proof! Edwin was a fool for challenging the prince and physician alone. He was killed by mundane means! Was it not confirmed by Cenred's man? The prince scored a lucky hit. That's it."
Morgause studied Nimueh in the moonlight, seeing the frustration like a banked fire in her eyes. Between Cenred and Nimueh, she knew she would not be allowed the focus she needed for her ultimate plan. It would guarantee their success in capturing Emrys and could even provide additional firepower to make their conquest devastating! For that to happen, however, she needed to not only find her pawns but also bend them to her will. Already she had lost track of her prey and if she found them again, she would need help – help Nimueh could provide – but only if she was in the mood to help.
And –
And maybe she had doubts of her own. As yet, there was no proof that Emrys had reached the Camelot, but there was also no trace of him whatsoever. If only she could get eyes in the city, she could confirm one way or the other. If only she could get eyes in the city. If only…
She dared not enter. They could disguise themselves easily, but the nosy old traitor might sense their magic and betray them. More worryingly, the dragon appeared to have woken and for some bewildering reason, was acting against them. Together, two High Priestesses could take on almost anything, but not a dragon, even if it was contained somehow. Whatever bindings Uther had forced on it, they did not contain it completely – as evidenced by his meddling. If only she knew what the dragon was trying to hide.
No, going in themselves was not a risk she was willing to take – yet. There had to be another way. Some other way to get an agent in. Preferably more controllable than an animal. The simple fact of the matter was that they needed eyes in the city, however improbable it was that Emrys would be there.
It hit her then. She was surprised by her own ruthlessness. "There is something else we can try." Nimueh stood nonchalantly but Morgause could see the interest in her eyes. "I think you'll find this option particularly appealing. It's bound to cause Uther all kinds of grief. Come with me." She held out her hand. Nimueh took it unhesitatingly. She let her magic sweep them away.
When the winds cleared, she lit a torch and waited for their eyes to adjust. They were in a dank and windowless room. The walls were slimy with the water that seeped in through the ground and which allowed mold to flourish. Spider webs and dust coated most other surfaces. She pulled her sister to stand next to one of the abandoned tombs. Nimueh rubbed her hand through the nameplate and glanced up at Morgause, surprised. She smiled. "You can be nasty, Morgause."
Morgause pulled her to another tomb and used her magic to clear the nameplate, not wanting to dirty her hand. "You have no idea."
He rode his horse straight into the marketplace of the small village. Like hell was he going to get his boots muddy by dismounting in this weather. He pulled his hood lower on his head and held his horse on a straight course, uncaring of the people being forced to dodge around him. His eyes scanned ahead, searching out the stall he wanted. He ignored the vendors squawking all around and roughly pushed away the beggars tugging on his cloak, keeping an eye for wandering hands.
A short and squat man waved to him from between two buildings. The alley was not wide enough for his horse and he was finally forced to dismount. With an angry grunt, he splashed down into the mud and followed the man to his hidden stall.
The man was already simpering. "Knight Valiant! I'm pleased you could make it. I have your order ready," he said, holding out his dirty hand.
Valiant gave him a disgusted look and threw the money pouch at him. "Only half is there. You'll get the other half when you prove you are not a charlatan."
The man weighed the pouch and studied Valiant. Feeling impatient, Valiant pulled his cloak to one side to show his sword and grunted, "Well? What are you waiting for?"
The man stepped back and rummaged through a pile until he extracted a wrapped bundle. Removing the stinking cloth, he revealed a shield matching the coat of arms on his new patents. He was startled by the almost lifelike glow in the eyes of the three intertwined snakes but he shook himself. A shield may be pretty but pretty was useless. "Show me."
The man spoke gibberish but when he finished, the snakes stood upright away from the shield and wove in the air threateningly. They may have been interesting to look at as carvings in the shield, but now there was no doubt that these were lethal, vicious snakes.
The vendor was speaking. "You need only speak a word when you pin your opponent and these snakes will obey. One bite and the victim will be paralyzed while you finish them off with your sword. No one will suspect foul play."
Valiant kept his eyes on the hissing snakes. "How do I control them?"
The vendor held out his grimy hand once more. Annoyed, Valiant threw him another pouch of coins, noting carefully where the man pocketed it. He spoke more gibberish and handed the shield to Valiant. "Now they will obey you, Sir Knight, and only you."
Valiant held the shield gingerly, turning it slightly to slip the strap over his arm. "Will they do anything I command?"
The vendor nodded eagerly. "Anything!" He gave Valiant a conspiring smirk, groveling for further coin, and added, "Try it, good Sir!"
Valiant returned the expression as he held up the shield, testing its weight and movement. "Kill him."
So fast that he didn't see the actual strike, the snakes obeyed. That annoying smirk was frozen on the vendor's face even as his face paled. Valiant caught him before he fell, unashamedly searching the man for the coin pouches. Letting the man go, he turned to rummage through the stall until he found the man's satchel of money as well. Weighing it, he smiled at the dying man. "Thank you for your services. I'll tip my tankard to you tonight."
He broke the oil lamp and poured the oil over the man and his wares. Stepping out carefully, he used his flint to light a rag and tossed it into the puddle.
As he rode away, he thought about the brothel in the next village and rehearsed his haggling in greedy anticipation. He paid no mind to the screams and yells behind him as the fire spread mercilessly despite the steady rain.
Cenred wandered aimlessly through the corridors. Since sending off Valiant, he'd found himself at loose ends. Mordred had been unusually well-behaved since his last stay in the little room. He followed his training schedule with almost frantic discipline and absolute focus. At their shared mealtimes, he followed Cenred's lead with unwavering attention, acting the perfect role of the behaved slave. A role that Cenred was slowly allowing him to break from.
In training his army to fight alongside Mordred, Cenred had been forced to allow Mordred to present a different façade. His men would never follow a lowly slave boy but they were quick to obey the young man Cenred presented as his right hand. Mordred, ever the self-contained character, gave no hint of his other training except by his complete silence and subservience. It made the men uneasy, but Cenred was pleased by Mordred's obedience and cared little for the discomfort of his soldiers. Eventually, the captains came to realize the advantages of being able to receive instructions silently, even incorporating it into their strategies. It also kept his men more obedient – they did not dare even think loudly lest Mordred turn them in for treasonous thoughts. They could not question his absolute loyalty to Cenred. They had seen the evidence of Cenred's punishment for Mordred's failing during the first live training round, and knew that despite it, Mordred's fealty had not wavered.
Yes, to his men, Mordred was his right hand, his powerful magical disciple. But as soon as they were back within the walls of the keep and away from prying eyes, Mordred dropped to his knees and crawled to Cenred's side, seeking forgiveness for his behavior like the pet he was. He jumped to obey even the most trivial of orders and showed more initiative in gaining Cenred's favor.
It pleased him.
However, without the excuses of punishment, he couldn't engage in his favorite pastimes – at least, not as often as he would like. Instead, he began to turn his attention more on his soldiers and trainees, but he found it disappointing to watch after having witnessed Mordred's more graceful movements. Unlike with his boy, he could not discipline them as often nor as mercilessly – not if he wanted them whole.
He could while away some time watching Mordred, enjoying the spectacle of grace and athleticism but he found it boring to supervise the control and meditation exercises, which was why he now found himself wandering about without purpose. He supposed he could do additional training himself – he did seem to be getting a little paunchy and he disliked feeling so next to Mordred's lean form. Maybe he would do so – tomorrow.
For now, he was content to wander his halls, inspecting his castle. Too long had he neglected his grounds – ever since he demoted that wench, Emrys' mother, to servanthood. It had been inconvenient – she had proven to be a shrewd and capable household manager – but consequences were consequences. After that, his gardens and grounds had never been the same, though the interior upkeep had seemed to stay the same. Or so he thought; he realized he was seeing a lot of dust and he prepared to scold the steward. His rehearsed berating was interrupted by a commotion outside and he wasted no time in striding to the window.
His men were gathered about a young girl, collared and chained down to the rings set in the ground. They appeared to have been scared back and were hurrying to recover their weapons. They resumed their places and renewed their taunting, jabbing the unfortunate captive with their spears. She responded viciously, her defense revealed hints of her beastly nature. Rather than yell with words, she hissed and growled at the guards – even her hands were clawed.
Cenred watched, unamused by their failure to provoke the waifish girl. Without Morgause to help him, the only way he could think to gain control of her power was to provoke her into using it while collared but after a week, he still did not have control of her. He'd received reports, and seen firsthand, that she transformed every night, but while the collar contained her, it did not take control of her transformations. The struggle in the courtyard below proved that she still retained control. That would not do. Her beast form was of much more use, and beautiful… she would make an excellent guard dog. But he could not train her – not until he had control of her power!
It occurred to him that the true problem was that he still did not have control over Morgause and with her away, there was no one to teach Mordred the advanced magic he needed for situations like these. He needed to keep a tight leash on her, needed a way to keep her bound to him. He had nothing on Morgause, and the wily vixen had yet to slip up and give him the leverage he needed to gain control of her. Part of him admired her self-control and discipline; a greater part of him cursed it. If only she would give in to his advances. They could have some fun times together…
He turned away from the window and proceeded to the throne room. Perhaps sensing his anger, Mordred soon appeared and kneeled obediently in front of him. Cenred tapped his heel impatiently and Mordred hurried to remove his boots. Mostly ignoring the boy rubbing his feet, Cenred stewed in his thoughts and plans. At length, he gave Mordred an order, "Show me where he is."
Never stopping the foot rub, Mordred used his magic to highlight Valiant's location on the nearby map. He was making good time but his route had deviated from the most direct path to Camelot. Cenred grit his teeth and only just stopped himself from growling in frustration.
Someday, he would have absolute power and control over everyone and he would make them pay for deviating from his plans. For now, he would have to content himself with adding up Valiant's misdemeanors and planning appropriate punishment. He could not afford to antagonize him now – if Emrys was indeed in Camelot, Valiant would be Cenred's only agent to remove him. He had made sure to adequately equip him, just in case. And he had been more than generous with the funds he provided.
If Emrys was in Camelot, Valiant had everything he needed to get him out. The only other person he could have trusted would be Mordred but he was not yet prepared to let Mordred out of his sight. He watched Mordred gulp, sensing Cenred's attention on him, and gestured. The boy gently set down Cenred's foot before coming to sit gingerly on Cenred's lap. Cenred ran his hand down Mordred's arm to grasp his hand. "I was just thinking about how well-behaved you've been recently. So obedient. So eager to please me." He tightened his grip. "I wish I could have sent you to retrieve Emrys. You would bring him to me, wouldn't you?"
Mordred nodded surely, no hesitation evident in the motion. Cenred caressed his boy's face with one long finger. "Yes, you wouldn't fail me. But would you use the opportunity to escape?" He tightened his grip further, tracing Mordred's wince with his finger. "Would you leave me? Betray me like Emrys has done?"
Mordred shook his head desperately, bowing it further. Cenred gripped his chin and turned the boy's face to him. "I can't trust you with that kind of freedom. Not yet. You've never been faced with that kind of temptation. You might give in. No, better I keep you here, with me." He released his grip and returned to caressing Mordred's soft skin. "Don't worry, pet, I'll protect you from that choice. I isolate you for your own protection, you know that, right?"
Again, Mordred nodded. Cenred hummed approvingly and let go of him completely. He gestured for his boots. "It's time for lunch, my pet. You may dine with me."
Lancelot snapped awake when Bohrs approached, ready to wake him for his watch. He still wasn't used to being around so many people after spending so much time alone and it kept him on edge, even during sleep. The Camelot knights seemed to understand and gave him space, letting him grow accustomed to their presence with easy patience. But it only made him more uneasy. With few exceptions, it had been a long time since he had been treated with kindness and respect – without ulterior motives.
But it was no fault of these men. They seemed genuinely honorable.
With a nod, he sat up and did a round of the stable to peek outside. Nothing looked disturbed in the faint morning light, at least not beyond what they left yesterday. When Merlin cleared their tracks, the snow in the clearing had remained unchanged. He guessed that while Merlin's ward did not include the entire clearing, he had somehow hidden the evidence of their presence. Returning inside, he took wood from the stack to keep a handy pile beside the fire. He settled in and looked around.
As always, his gaze lingered on Merlin.
The difference in the little boy blew him away. It was no wonder he had not recognized him when he first saw him that night. He looked healthier than ever before – he practically glowed with it! He was not yet fully recovered, and recent circumstances had left their mark, but he was well on his way. Leon had told him that the Camelot cook favored Merlin, and it was visible in the return of flesh to his body. He had watched carefully when Arthur changed Merlin. Under the bruises, Merlin was still thin but no longer emaciated as he had been. Lancelot clearly remembered how fragile Merlin had seemed, his papery-grey skin pulled tight over (often broken) bones and eyes looking all the bigger in his sunken face. That was all gone now, the scars only visible to him because he knew where to look. Best of all, Merlin's face no longer looked haunted; now his dimples showed when he smiled.
And he smiled easily.
That was what had given him the greatest pause. He hadn't seen Merlin smile, genuinely smile, in months. In the years Lancelot had watched over Merlin, he had not seen him smile nor laugh as freely and often as he did in these few days. Every laugh felt like a benediction, a redemption relieving him of some of his heavy guilt.
But the greatest pleasure and relief had been to hear Merlin speak. Gods! How long had it been since he last heard Merlin speak? He remembered a time when he would have begged for a moment's peace – Merlin's piping high voice weaving imaginative tales from thin air – and how ardently he'd regretted that wish.
According to Leon, Merlin still didn't speak much but it was a limitation that Lance could live with. Merlin appeared to mostly speak with Arthur; speaking to anyone else resulted in quieter tones and a nervous stutter. With Arthur, Merlin was still reserved when he spoke aloud but Lance had noticed that Merlin also didn't need to speak to him aloud. He knew it was possible – that was how Mordred communicated, when required, but Merlin had chosen to retreat into complete silence. He had never shown any inclination to project to anyone except Cenred, and even then, only to plead or beg. It was surprising to see Merlin do it with Arthur – even more surprising to realize that Arthur was used to it. Whenever Mordred projected, it gave Lance the unsettling feeling that his mind was not as safe as he once believed. He wondered if Arthur got that same feeling…
He still had his doubts about Arthur. After all, he was more boy than man and it made him uneasy to know that Arthur knew about the prophecy. His concerns had been lessened by his conversations with Leon and Caradoc yesterday. Leon had started off by describing Merlin's rescue and long recovery. Lance was unsurprised to find it had taken so long for Merlin to heal despite his magic speeding things along – Cenred had always kept him weak and drained, a precaution against Merlin overpowering the collar. The consequence was that Merlin's body was always on the edge of survival and healing was delayed to avoid shocking his bodily systems. Combined with the effort involved in the escape, Merlin's magic must have been reduced to just the barest of survival strength.
After describing Merlin's recovery, Leon had confided all of Arthur's fears, not pushing for information but laying down all available information at Lancelot's ears. Again, Lance was not surprised to hear about the lingering effects of Merlin's trauma. He knew many of the things that concerned Arthur had concerned Hunith as well – though Hunith had less opportunity to help Merlin. What did surprise Lance, was the maturity with which Arthur identified and dealt with Merlin's issues thus far. Lancelot offered what information he could – mainly what may have caused certain behaviors and possible triggers. He felt uncomfortable relaying such stories; it brought to the forefront his own culpability in letting Merlin suffer for so long. Nevertheless, he told them what he could. He was glad to hear of Merlin's progress and, having seen hints of it himself, would do anything to help it continue. He also warned them of other things that may appear as Merlin was integrated into a more normal life.
After reaching the village, all talk had stopped. The ride back had been a solemn affair and though Lance still had questions of his own, he hadn't been able to focus beyond the worry that Morgause would find them before Merlin could erase their tracks.
But no talk could have reassured him as much as seeing Merlin together with Arthur. Merlin had complete trust in Arthur, that was clear, but he also cared for him. He had been so eager to greet Arthur when he returned that he had nearly fallen out of the window in his hurry to get to him! Even in the moments when Merlin reacted fearfully, he looked to Arthur above all. He let Arthur dress and undress him – he let Arthur touch him – something that Merlin had not allowed (willingly) of anyone but Hunith since that first awful time. As he watched now, Merlin snuggled closer to Arthur even in sleep. He knew (from Leon) that Merlin had taken a while to feel safe in Camelot, and had come to depend on Arthur's presence to feel safe. He was satisfied that Arthur allowed Merlin his dependence without forcing it on him – it was similar to what Cenred had hoped to achieve but where Cenred did it for his own interests, Arthur did it for Merlin's sake. Besides, having never known his father, Merlin was in dire need of a male role model and Arthur seemed worthy of it. Best of all, it was doing wonders for Merlin's emotional health. And now he had all of these knights to count on as well, if they kept their word.
It was breathtaking to see such a change, overall, in Merlin. Perhaps it was also good for Arthur.
He had heard (and may therefore have been rubbish gossip) that the prince was spoilt and arrogant, but in dealing with Merlin, Arthur had shown great maturity. It was clear he wished to perform his knightly duties, would prefer it even, but not at a cost to Merlin. He was serious in his intent to give Merlin a real childhood, even leaving Merlin behind to face a creature that may require magic to kill. There was also his reaction after Lance asked Merlin to clear away their tracks – Arthur's demeanor had been protective, not jealous or possessive. When he brought Merlin inside, there had been no admonishment; instead, his first words had been an honest apology.
Though Arthur could be brusque, he was gentle with the little boy, always giving him his full attention and encouraging Merlin to communicate. The way he dealt with Merlin's fears while treating his aches had been marked with tenderness and patience. He spoke to him as an equal, not man-to-child but person-to-person, teaching him and asking him, never demanding. If not for his conversation with Leon, he would never guess that Arthur doubted his ability to look after Merlin. He exuded confidence around Merlin, perhaps to bolster Merlin's own confidence. But more importantly, he, too, cared for Merlin, and it was that detail that had stayed his hand when he discovered that Arthur knew about the prophecy and claimed to be the once and future king.
His thoughts were interrupted as Merlin began coughing and stirring. It felt early, but then again, Merlin had been conditioned to rise early. Small as it was, that continuing habit saddened him. As he watched, Merlin stretched and blinked his eyes open. He offered a smile when Merlin caught him looking, and received one in return. He spoke quietly, "Good morning, Merlin."
Merlin wiggled under the blankets until a small foot appeared and gingerly touched the wooden floor. He drew it back quickly and Lancelot chuckled. "Too cold?" Merlin nodded so Lancelot added wood to the fire and stoked it higher.
When he turned back, he saw that Merlin was wiggling out from under Arthur's arm and pulled a blanket off. Arthur rolled over and Merlin giggled quietly, pulling the remaining blankets higher over Arthur. He then walked up to Lancelot and stood before him hesitantly, clutching his blanket like a shield. Hoping against hope, Lancelot held out his arms invitingly. Beaming, Merlin eagerly jumped into his lap and curled up in his blanket. Lancelot helpfully tucked it around him, leaving it loose like Merlin preferred, happy to be holding Merlin once again. Merlin looked up at him expectantly.
"Are you feeling better this morning? I could warm up your tea."
Merlin nodded and looked to the tea kettle. It swung over the flames on its own and Merlin turned back to him, grinning and eyes fading back to clear blue. Lancelot smiled, ecstatic to see Merlin using his magic freely. "Very good, Merlin."
Merlin smiled but his face soon fell, causing Lancelot to panic. What had he done wrong?
"What h-h-happened?"
For a moment, Lancelot savored Merlin's voice, and then the words sank in. Was he so very different to Merlin now? Or was he asking about yesterday? Merlin added, still whispering, "After…" he trailed off with a choked sound.
Oh, he wanted to know about after his escape. Lancelot decided to skip over the details to spare Merlin. "Gwaine and I laid false trails, so they wouldn't know where to look for you. Then I came back and made sure no one followed you into Camelot. I was hoping to find you but I didn't have any luck. Then you found me!"
Merlin waved his small hand over Lancelot's front and he understood the familiar gesture. "No, I wasn't hurt, Merlin. They didn't catch me."
Merlin nodded, relieved. "G-gwaine?"
Lancelot wished to spare him any and all worry, but he had promised, long ago, to never lie to Merlin. "I don't know, Merlin." Merlin's expression saddened and Lancelot was quick to reassure him. "He's probably safe, and in hiding, but I will find him and make sure."
Merlin nodded reluctantly, then startled. He looked up with pleading eyes. "M-m-mum…" Merlin's mouth worked, but his emotion was obviously overwhelming his voice, tears flooding his eyes.
Leon had told him what Arthur thought – that Hunith was dead. It seemed likely. She would never have left Merlin otherwise – but he didn't have the heart to destroy Merlin's last hope. He brushed away Merlin's tears. "I will look for her too, Merlin." He said it with all the weight he could muster.
Merlin buried his head in Lancelot's shirt – another first – but he seemed in control of his emotions now. Lancelot let him have a moment to gather himself.
When Merlin peeked out, Lancelot took his small hand in his. "Merlin, I need to know. Are you happy? With Arthur?"
Merlin's face brightened. He nodded eagerly and tapped his fist over his heart. It was yet another familiar gesture between them – that particular variation only given in reference to Hunith – it meant that he loved Arthur. Lancelot was shocked. He knew children's affections could be easily won, but Merlin had never before given that gesture to anyone but his own mother. When making that signal for Gwaine and Lance, it was open-handed. The gesture, and its meaning, was indisputable.
Lancelot persisted. "He doesn't hurt you? Or force you to use your magic?"
Merlin shook his head sharply. He looked up in thought, biting his lip. After a moment, he whispered, "Doesn't want t-to use me." He gulped audibly before adding, "He says… not a weapon. Not a m-m-monster." He looked up at Lancelot then, looking for confirmation or affirmation with wide pleading eyes.
Lancelot straightened his expression. "I heard him say that yesterday. He's right. You are neither of those, Merlin." Merlin nodded quickly, coughing. Lancelot moved the kettle off the heat to let it cool.
He wanted to ask more questions, to learn about his new life, but he could see that Merlin was as yet uncomfortable speaking, and maybe a little sleepy. He was content to know that Merlin was happy and safe and rocked him gently.
The silence in the room was broken by an unexpected voice. "Tell him about Camelot, Merlin. About Morgana and Gwen and all of your friends."
Merlin jumped out of Lancelot's embrace and ran to Arthur, eagerly jumping right on top of him. Lance winced sympathetically as Arthur huffed under Merlin's impact. Despite having his breath knocked out, Arthur immediately reached to embrace Merlin. "Good morning, Merlin." Merlin snuggled happily for a minute, giggling as he ran a hand over Arthur's scruff, then reluctantly pulled away. He settled comfortably in Lance's lap, muffling his coughs in his blanket. Lancelot reached to check the temperature of the tea: it was still too hot.
Arthur was watching them both, smiling. "Go on, Merlin. Practice with your voice, it will make him happy."
Merlin looked up at Lance, a question in his eyes. Lancelot smiled encouragingly. "I'd love to hear you speak more, Merlin." It was the absolute truth.
Merlin nodded to himself then took a deep breath.
"Um, Morgana is nice. She's p-pretty." He bit his lip and gave a nervous-yet-mischievous glance at Arthur. "She likes to – um – make fun of Arthur."
Arthur came to join them by the fire, rolling his shoulders and stretching his back. "What you mean is that she is more trouble than she's worth." He poured out the tea into a bowl to cool faster and rummaged through the bundle of herbs Leon had brought him.
Merlin giggled but ended up coughing. Lance patted his back gently. Looking at Lance again, Merlin continued. "Gwen, um, she's nice t-too. Um, she sews a lot. She made me this shirt!" He plucked excitedly at his shirt. He looked expectantly at Arthur for back-up.
Arthur nodded fondly. "Yes, and she made you many more clothes." Looking at Lance he added, "I left him with the girls for a time and he wrote me a letter," he was smiling fondly, "and he asked me how many more clothes he needed because they kept making more. I think they were using him for a doll."
Lance laughed, happy at hearing that Merlin was getting spoiled. Merlin tugged Lance's shirt to get his attention. "Um… um, Uther, um, h-he gave m-me more clothes. And! And he gave me Tidbit!" Merlin was bouncing excitedly but Lance was sure he was missing something – a tidbit of what?
Seeing his confusion, Arthur explained. "Tidbit is his pony." Merlin nodded enthusiastically and pointed towards the stable. "Who taught you to ride him, Merlin?"
Merlin twisted (with a little wince) and pointed at Caradoc. Then he turned back and seemed stumped about what else to say. Lancelot gestured to his arm. "And who took care of you when you were healing?" Merlin pointed unhesitatingly at Arthur but Arthur shook his head. "I'm not the physician, Merlin. Who is?"
Merlin's eyes widened and he jumped excitingly in Lancelot's lap. He was so excited that when he first opened his mouth to speak, he ended up coughing. Lance accepted the cup of tea from Arthur and blew on it before helping Merlin sip on it. Merlin barely managed a sip before he was trying to speak again. "Uncle Gaius! My uncle! I have an uncle!" He dissolved into coughs again and Lance took the opportunity to distract Merlin with his tea while he looked to Arthur for an explanation. Hunith never mentioned a brother.
"Not by blood, but Gaius grew up with Hunith and…" Lance frowned as he realized that Arthur had stopped himself from saying something. "But he lost contact with them." Lance was sure there was more to the story that he wasn't being told, but decided that Arthur wasn't withholding the story out of malice.
Lance gave the empty cup to Arthur for refilling. "So, do you live with Gaius, then?" No one had explicitly stated where Merlin lived but Merlin's behavior implied that he lived with Arthur. The knights had said Uther took in Merlin as his ward but, surely, if he had an uncle, he would have been left to live with him?
Merlin shook his head and pointed to Arthur, his little face serious. Lance wondered at the reaction – Arthur had a small frown too. "You didn't want to live with your uncle?"
Merlin fidgeted, looking down at his hands. "Uh-uh. I like Arthur." His face colored and he said, "Takes c-care of me. F-feel safe with him." His voice dropped down into a faint whisper.
Lance rubbed his back and tilted his chin up. "That's a good thing, Merlin." He was still wondering at Merlin's blush when Arthur stood up and walked over. He held out his arms and Lance handed up Merlin to him.
He watched curiously as Arthur wrapped Merlin in a tight hug. "Feeling safe is nothing to be ashamed of, Merlin. I'm glad you feel safe with me." He heaved an exaggerated sigh as he sat beside Lancelot. "Even if you steal all of the blankets."
Merlin wiggled until Arthur let him sit up. "Do not!"
Arthur laughed and winked at Lance. "And he takes over the whole bed. Kicks me to one side to shiver in the cold."
Merlin's eyes were comically wide as he turned to shake his head at Lance. "No!" When Arthur kept laughing, Merlin stuck his tongue out at him and said, indignantly, "You squish me!" This time, it was Arthur who blushed although Merlin was very much still red and was now hiding his face in Arthur's neck.
At his outburst, laughter echoed around the room. Even Lancelot burst into laughter, caught by surprise at the exclamation. He realized it had been a while since he last heard snoring – no doubt, the knights had wanted to listen to his conversation with Merlin.
Now that it was clear that they were awake, everyone began to move around and get ready for the day. Lance watched Arthur help Merlin and sank into thought once more. Merlin's outburst had been funny, but there was a greater significance to it beyond comedy. It finally eased Lancelot's lingering concerns about Arthur's motivations to keep Merlin. That Merlin felt so safe with Arthur as to talk back to him even as he depended on him for comfort – Lance finally decided that he could trust Arthur.
Feeling unburdened for the moment, Lance helpfully began to heat the stew kettle. He noticed that Arthur had poured out the last of the willow bark tea into a waterskin and had placed a new herb in the empty kettle. Guessing that he meant to make a new tea, he filled the kettle with fresh snow and set it to boil.
As he did so, Merlin came tearing inside from the stable kicking off his boots willy-nilly and giggling uncontrollably. He dove into the pile of bundled armor and hid himself, still laughing quietly. Lance saw his confusion mirrored in the others' faces.
Arthur followed him a minute later, brushing snow off his shirt before stepping inside. That's when Lance saw the small snowball (barely the size of a plum) in one hand. Arthur took in the room's occupants and winked. "I wonder where Merlin went! Have any of you seen the little rascal?"
No one admitted it and Lance sat back to enjoy the spectacle. When no one pointed out Merlin's hiding spot, Arthur circled around the room, holding the snow behind his back and calling out for Merlin. Merlin's muffled giggles gave him away but still Arthur made a complete circle of the room before pausing next to the armor. "Hmmm. I heard a giggle! Come out, Merlin!"
Merlin burst out of the pile and tried to run away but Arthur caught him easily. Merlin squealed as Arthur caught him and pressed the melting snow to his back. Arthur took pity on Merlin and threw out the rest of the snowball before carrying Merlin to the fire. Lance watched as Merlin tugged at his bound arm and shot a pleading look at Arthur. Arthur sighed and said, "I don't know, Merlin." Merlin bounced as he stared at Arthur – and Lance decided he must be projecting to Arthur. Arthur was studying Merlin carefully. "Yes, well Gaius would know but I don't. Didn't you hurt it during the whole thing with the griffin?"
Merlin shook his head. Arthur unwrapped the shirt and opened it so he could check the bruising on Merlin's shoulder. He had Merlin roll his shoulder and move his arm about – but Lance knew Arthur would give in to Merlin's request when Merlin looked at him pleadingly with wide eyes and a small pout. "Only for a little while, Merlin and if it starts hurting, say so right away."
Arthur helped Merlin change into his now dried clothes and Lance watched as Merlin took his sleep clothes from Arthur's hands to fold them himself. Arthur rolled his eyes and Lance could guess what Merlin had said – 'I can do it!'
Lance busied himself with stirring the stew and clanged the ladle against the pot to signal when it was ready. Merlin tugged Arthur's bowl out of his hands to bring it to Lance. Lance was a little afraid of filling the bowl with the piping hot stew but Merlin gave him the same pleading pout he'd given Arthur and he had little choice but to give in.
The other knights were watching him carefully so Lance focused on distributing breakfast. To his surprise, Leon held out Lance's bowl with his own, and sat near him to eat. He watched Lance expectantly and Lance finally nodded, admitting that he now believed Arthur really did mean well. Leon smiled and nodded in return which seemed to reassure the other knights as well.
"What is the return plan?" Galahad, who had missed most of the talk last night, asked. "Are we going to be able to leave soon?
Arthur relinquished the spoon to Merlin to answer Galahad. "We could leave today but just in case someone is still watching the area, we'll stay one more day. Tomorrow, we set off for home. We'll have to ride hard; I want to minimize the amount of time we spend on the road. That means early mornings, long days, and a cold night ahead." He paused as Merlin held up the loaded spoon to his mouth, accepting it with a small smile.
"What's the hurry? The tournament doesn't even start for a few more days! If we stay here, Leon can't run us ragged with training." Lancelot wondered if Bohrs would even be allowed to compete, what with his ankle being injured.
It was Leon that answered. "The king gave us ten days to return or send a message before he assumed we failed. And what makes you think I can't run you ragged here?"
"We know you probably have a training plan forming at this moment, Leon, but I have an idea. It seems to me that what we need to practice is the attack and defense of strongholds." Arthur's expression was playful but Lancelot didn't understand what any of that had to do with tournaments.
Merlin seemed to understand – he was bouncing excitedly, forcing Arthur to take the bowl of stew from him. Merlin turned to look around the room hopefully.
"Uh, Arthur, what are you talking about?"
Lamorak smacked Bohrs on the head. "We're going to build forts and lob snowballs at each other."
"Why?"
"It's not a requirement, of course. Perhaps you would rather train with Leon? I just thought you all might like to play with Merlin and I." Lancelot saw Merlin pale at the word play. He wondered if he should mention that Merlin had never been given a chance to play before.
But the word seemed to carry some significance to the knights as well. Suddenly, their expressions became less puzzled and more playful.
"I'm on Merlin's team!"
"I want Merlin on my side!"
"Merlin, take me on your team!"
"No, take me!"
"Don't be stupid, why would he want you when he could have me!"
Lance listened to the knights fight over Merlin and decided that Arthur was trying to make Merlin more comfortable with them. Except, as he watched Merlin look around, confused, he wondered if something else had happened in Camelot. Merlin seemed confused about the men's enthusiasm.
Arthur fed the last spoonful to Merlin before setting the bowl aside and pulling out some clothing from his pack. "Everyone shut up. Merlin's on my team, right, Merlin?"
Merlin nodded hesitantly. Arthur continued to relay instructions as he pulled one of his own shirts over Merlin's head and rolled up the sleeves, giving him an additional layer of warmth. He then clasped Merlin's cloak over that. As the men filed out, Lance lingered in the doorway to listen to Arthur reassure Merlin. "You played in the snow with me, Merlin. You liked that, didn't you? Well, this will be much more fun. I promise you."
Leon saw him watching them and gestured with his head for Lance to come close. "The king invited some boys to be playmates with Merlin. It didn't work out and now Merlin seems to think play is the equivalent of punishment. Arthur wants to show him that's not true. We actually thought about doing this back home but then this mission came up…"
Lance understood and approved. Better yet, because they needed even numbers, Lance would get to participate. He wasn't sure where he stood with the knights but he liked the idea of playing with Merlin. Bohrs, prohibited from putting weight on his ankle, agreed to stay down and act as a supplier for his team.
Arthur and Leon made teams, with Arthur claiming Merlin and Lance. Both teams set about building their 'forts' and devising strategies. Arthur's strategy was simple: make the outer wall thick and make as many snowballs as possible. Whatever compunctions he had about using Merlin's magic, they didn't seem to apply to this game. He gave Merlin free rein to use his magic on the other team. In the spirit of the game, the only rule he made for Merlin was that he couldn't use shields. Everyone tied a rag to their belts – these were the tokens to be captured for the win.
"Alright, time is up. First team to get all of the other team's tokens wins the game! Ready!"
Everyone hunkered behind their forts.
"Go!"
The first game was over in a matter of minutes. Arthur would lob snowballs and Merlin used his magic to ensure they hit their targets, even making the balls curve around the walls of the other team's fort. While Arthur and Merlin took care of 'freezing' the other team, Lance and Lamorak ran about fetching the colored rags serving as tokens, dodging the limited return fire.
There had been a rather hilarious interlude where Geraint ran circles around the clearing and into the trees – a snowball following right behind him the whole time. As he ran, he breathlessly called out jokes and gentle taunts. Every so often, Arthur would throw another ball and it would join the chase. Pretty soon, everyone was throwing balls for the sake of seeing Geraint try to evade the mass of balls behind him.
Once everyone caught their breath (more from laughter than from exertion), a second match was proposed. Once again, there was a fight over which team got Merlin on their side. Arthur was determined to keep Merlin, but he agreed to swap the other players, that way everyone got a turn being "pummeled" by Merlin. They took their time to reset and rebuild their forts.
This time, Leon's strategy was to overwhelm the other team. As soon as time was called, they charged forward, managing to crash through the fort and even freezing two of their opponents before they took shelter. Arthur had taken off with Merlin into the trees in a desperate retreat. Even so, Merlin's team prevailed, but it was trickier this time. Lance buried himself in the snow while he was out of sight and managed to ambush Arthur only to get hit by Merlin's snowball. In the end, it was Merlin that retrieved the tokens and cheerfully waved them.
The third time, Arthur kept Merlin but raised the stakes by challenging them all. "Merlin and I can take you all, can't we, Merlin?" Merlin shook his head but it only made Arthur laugh. "You're supposed to say yes, Merlin." Merlin kept shaking his head until Leon, hoping to taste victory at least once, joined them.
They took more time to rebuild and prepare, allowing the smaller team time to catch up. The match was not so easily won this time, and for a few exhilarating moments, it even looked like Merlin's team would lose after all. Lance had proposed that they not limit themselves to a frontal attack and (to his surprise) the others had agreed and adopted the strategy. While Bohrs, Galahad, and Owain kept the other team pinned down with continuous volleys, he, Lamorak, Caradoc, and Geraint snuck around the lodge and attacked the other team from behind. They split up, anticipating that Leon and Arthur would try to escape into the woods. To their surprise, they only found Arthur in the crumbling fort.
As they stood over a 'frozen' yet grinning Arthur, all four of them were hit from behind as Leon popped out of the snow just like Lance had done in the previous match. Leon managed to hit Bohrs and Owain before he was taken out by Galahad. The game came to a standstill, everyone on the ground counting to one hundred as quickly as they could and confusing each other. Galahad stealthily began checking the other team's fort, looking for tracks to show where Merlin might be. He saw only Leon and Arthur's tracks and he backed up against the lodge to edge his way back to cover before Arthur finished his count. He heard a noise above him and glanced up to check – just in time to get a snowball in the face.
Giggling triumphantly, Merlin used his magic to pull everyone's tokens (even Arthur and Leon) and waved them from his spot on the roof. Several of the knights, including Lance, laughed at Merlin's joy. The game over, Galahad held him arms out to Merlin, who hesitated for only a moment before turning to slide himself off the roof feet first. Galahad caught him squarely and, after a friendly pat, set Merlin down. He promptly ran to Arthur and wrapped himself around his leg. Feigning annoyance, Arthur awkwardly waddled back towards the lodge, declaring the game over and time for Merlin's nap. Merlin let go, suddenly, and turned to run away – obviously not ready to stop playing – but was caught nearly instantly.
Arthur had to wrestle with him to get him changed out of his newly dampened clothes. When Merlin began to whimper pitifully, Lancelot joined them and helped hold him still. "There's no need for that, Merlin. At least warm up by the fire. See, everyone else is coming inside." Merlin turned his pout on Lance and looked around with watery eyes to see that he was being truthful. Finally calm, Merlin let himself be changed and brought close to the fire. He laid down obediently but despite the knights keeping quiet, Merlin kept stubbornly awake, twisting and turning on the bedroll. Lance couldn't help but smirk at Merlin's determination to keep awake.
After he had to be untangled from the blankets once again, Arthur simply lifted Merlin into his arms and draped the blanket over them both. Merlin tried to pull away and Lance guessed, based the previous nights, that he knew he wouldn't be able to keep awake in Arthur's embrace.
It was Geraint that came to their rescue. Plopping down beside Arthur, he loudly declared, "Oh, come along, Arthur! Didn't any of your nannies tell you bedtime stories?"
Arthur colored slightly. "I don't remember them." Merlin stopped struggling and watched Geraint curiously.
Geraint winked at Merlin. "I do!" Without further ado, he regaled Merlin with a story – the worst story ever to be told. It made absolutely no sense whatsoever, non-sequiturs and unrelated characters making up most of the story. The others joined in, adding 'corrections' or trying to make connections. After several long minutes, they all seemed as confused as Lancelot. And yet –
And yet, it worked. Though Geraint began the adventure with a loud voice and animated gesturing, he lowered his voice and slowly subdued the atmosphere of his story. Lance noticed that the men also stilled and began yawning, even closing their eyes. Leon made funny gestures at Lance until he understood – and joined the effort to trick Merlin into falling asleep. Arthur kept Merlin in his arms even after Geraint trailed off, only setting him down once Merlin was deeply asleep.
As he watched, Lancelot was certain of his decision to trust Arthur – and everyone else around Merlin. There could be no doubt that Merlin was in good hands now, hands that would protect him from Cenred. Merlin would need that protection for as long as Cenred kept his ambition; Lancelot was sure that Cenred would not give up easily… or soon.
Hi everyone! Sorry for the delay! I hope you liked the chapter - or at least, the second half! The next chapter will bring us back to Camelot but I wanted Merlin to have a little fun before going back and I thought you might like a peek into Lance's mind.
I'm sorry I don't have the energy to write replies this time. My face is still swollen up from dental work and I haven't been able to eat much since the appt. But I thank you for your lovely comments and look forward to hearing your reactions to this chapter! As always, thanks for reading along!
P.S. eat all the crunchy things for me (T.T)