They rode out at dawn, with the help of some heroic efforts of the servants of Camelot. Merlin had stood like a beached fish gasping for precious air as a herd of anxious asked him what was needed, what he wanted, and what he wanted to have done. The servants consulted Arthur as well, but they spent more time with Merlin. One of the kitchen maids gave everyone rolls to eat along the way, but Merlin suspected that she gave him more than the others. She winked at him and motioned to her sides as if she were wearing a jacket, miming stuffing rolls into his pockets. He thanked her, but couldn't help but think that he would have hidden some anyway since Arthur sometimes thought that stealing food was funny. When everything was packed, rolled, prepared. Baskets of food for the men. Baskets of food just for Merlin, though, was a new one.
Merlin could not help but see George's deft hand in everything to the extent that he was starting to regret holding back with his magic in his own chores all this time. If George could pull all of this off, he should have been able to cheat a bit more. He knew he should have argued the point with Gaius, but no – Merlin had to do every job but his official one – well. It would have been nice not to be treated like a complete idiot. However, George didn't have magic. He was really exceptional.
If anyone had bothered to ask the warlock he would tell them that they were traveling with an odd assortment of people, especially for a quest. The word quest normally doesn't bring up the visual of a watered down hunting party, but there they were. Not only did they have the brotherhood knights: Percival, Gwaine, Elyan, and Leon. They had four other knights: Liam, Daere, and Deroch – as well as two other servants: Naf and Neb. Naf and Neb were two servants that Merlin liked and he wasn't pleased that they were coming along. They were brothers and he didn't see the sense in having them along.
Before they left, Merlin had tried to explain a little to Gaius about what had happened. However he was in a rush to get ready. He had not expected to be whisked out of bed before dawn and sent off with Arthur.
A foul temper rose in Merlin's belly and spread throughout his being. How was he supposed to know the Sidhe's customs? Who stops an attacker to ask them, "Excuse me but I might have to let you murder me as I might prefer that to winning."
He had no intention of replacing their king. There had to be a way out. They probably wanted more than they had said knowing how creatures of magic could be very single minded and very greedy about what they wanted. He only knew he had been attacked. He defended himself. Their king had died. Alright fine, he died in battle. Well, he died fighting Merlin. It wasn't fair that he was called "young" and "naive" - he was getting tired of those two words in the list of descriptions of his personae.
"Bunch of nonsense. So unfair. Always saddled with more and never with less. So inconsiderate," muttered Merlin unconcerned in Arthur heard him. As far as he was concerned, let the prat think that it was about him. It would serve him right.
Arthur's horse trotted obediently next to his own and the prat seemed to be very pleased. This increased Merlin's foul mood which in turn increased Arthur's pleasure. I would love to bind him to a chair for a day and then go fishing somewhere calm and peaceful. I could just, leave him behind without a care. But, he wasn't good at staying inside. If only it was legal to chain Arthur to a chair... Merlin daydreamed about stealing enough freedom to spend some time with his mother. He wanted to go fishing. He wanted to lay on the grass in the sun and do nothing. He would love to know what it was like to actually not have to worry – just once.
The world weighed heavily on the warlock's shoulders when he heard the rustling of underbrush to the side, but it was just a stag. Arthur made a soft but mournful sound at the loss of an opportunity to kill a defenseless creature. Merlin had no pity for his love of blood sport and told him. He then teased him about how it rated on the manly scale to go against unarmed defenseless non-interfering cute forest creatures who run instead of attack. He pondered loudly about the skill it takes to murder a bear who won't leave her cubs and how honorable it is to leave the young behind to die without their mother.
"It's nice to be out and get some air, isn't it?" Arthur growled sarcastically at his manservant. He was glaring at Merlin now. It wasn't Merlin's fault that Arthur was a blood thirsty hunter without any self control. Merlin's body hurt. His experience with the Sidhe had left him drained. He was furious with them. He did not trust them. They had agreed to handle his little issue with the weather without killing off the Old Religion – but the price was a heavy one.
Merlin gave the blond a disapproving look and retorted, "You're the outdoors person. I'm just the girlish one, right? A bit of air and I'm supposed to be happy. If only I were as simple as you. Sure if you were equally pleased with shiny objects then maybe I could make you and indoors person."
Arthur visibly recoiled, "You got up on the wrong side of the bed. Are you feeling unwell? Perhaps you should turn around and go back?"
"I'm fine. Underpaid and even though I was denied time off to go move my mother to Camelot – I got time off for sick leave. Needless to say I'm thrilled," snapped Merlin, still cross and now feeling guilty for taking it out on Arthur. "Where are we going? What is this... quest... we're on? Surely it can't be for the storm, as you can see – it's all cleared up. I mean, well not perfectly, but no lightning – no snow. We don't have to pay it any heed."
"Nonsense Merlin. Our battle with the magical storm has just begun, or rather Emrys's battle has! You should cheer up. We are not out to kill anyone or anything today!" Merlin felt his head involuntarily shake side to side from the sheer wrongness of Arthur's crushing stupidity. There was a childishness seeping out that needed to be stoppered. There was an element of gross ego behind it that had thickened probably due to the lack of daily warlocky insult. Merlin was going to have to work overtime, "We are on a grand adventure to do something that Camelot has not done in decades!" Arthur said in the most annoying tones. The mention of his mother had made him the center of attention, but he didn't care. Arthur deserved to be seen as a mother hating monster. Merlin thought about enchanting him so that he'd break out in warts, but he refrained.
"Clear as mud," complained the secret warlock dressed in manservant's clothing, however now Merlin was at least focusing on the problem at hand. Arthur. Everything eventually came to revolve around Arthur – although Merlin would not want to have that revelation verbally in the blond's presence. There would never be anyone else ever considered by the Pendragon ever and Merlin's existence would become less than that of a hunting dog. Merlin, inwardly groaned as the rest of the men showed some interest, if only one other person other than himself or Gwaine would be less than impressed, it would be easier to collar the beast before him.
Arthur allowed himself some theatrics to draw in his audience so that the full impact of their endeavor would impact them appropriately. He rode resolutely. His chin jutted up proudly. If Merlin was the physical contact type, he would have hit him in the back of the head.
"We are off to find the 'Staff of The Stormbringer.' Apparently Geoffrey found a book. A druid book. When Merlin interrupted and asked if they had consulted Gaius, Arthur admitted he hadn't and told Merlin to shut up, as usual. There was some sort of prime fertilizer about the staff being a weapon that was intended to be used by Emrys. And that the prophecy said that the Once and Future King of Camelot brings this staff to Emrys to increase his magical ability. With this staff and only this staff, would Emrys be able to defeat the on coming storm and a revolution of acceptance would be felt by all as magic would finally kneel in submission. Tame. No longer a threat. And peace could be had by all.
Merlin wanted to read this book for himself and he wanted to read it as soon as possible.
Aithusa had forgotten and tried to fly to his big friend, Kilgharrah and this had made his leg hurt. He cried out pitifully as he only wanted to return to Kilgharrah's side, but the magical band constricted reminding him to stay put. He wailed in dragon tongue for his dragon lord to come and fix, but Emrys was not there.
He could see Kilgharrah, but he couldn't go to him. It wasn't fair. It wasn't nice. Kilgharrah was just sleeping there. He needed to get up and talk to Aithusa so that it wasn't so lonely here. There was no one to talk to in this weird place.
"Emrys! Please come back soon."
It was dark here and the air was humid. Nothing looked right. It was a magical place, like the floating island and Aithusa didn't like it. Darkness all around except for the magical lights of those creatures. He was pretty sure they could be eaten.
"Kilgharrah? Emrys?"
Aithusa sighed and curled into a tight ball of disapproving dragon. He rest his chin upon his claws and sighed. He focused obsessively on the fact that all he wanted was just to be free.
"Apparently the staff was forged when fire fell from the heavens and struck a sacred yew tree. The yew burned but some of it resisted the heat and the flame. Instead it twisted itself around the heat and encircled the flame. It's struggle saved the forest we know as the Darkling Woods. The yew was in pain and the fairy folk known as the Sidhe took it and allowed it to escape the twisted coil of wood of it's mortal form. The spirit of the yew became the gateway itself to Avalon. The wood became the staff of Emrys. The book was cryptic, but it sounds as if the staff..."
"So we're going on a mission to help a sorcerer?" asked Leon incredulously.
"Warlock. We're going on a quest to help Camelot's secret warlock, Emrys," stated Arthur whilst puffing out his chest, a bad habit of his. Merlin gaped at Arthur. When ever he felt manly or needed to feel manly, he puffed up like a bloated toad. Arthur grinned at the confused faces around him. Merlin made a mental note to do something about that ego. He would also have to do something about Arthur's emotion recognition ability – because the man couldn't read his audience. He could give a moving speech when it was needed, but he couldn't read a face. He couldn't read a heart. He didn't know how to deal with emotions. The man was devoid of emotional development. Arthur had courage by wagon loads, but Merlin sometimes wondered if he had taken one to many blows to the head.
"Arthur, your father is still alive and his anti-magic laws are still in effect. Doesn't this count as consorting with sorcerers?" Leon asked nervously. "You are the regent but you haven't … well changed anything."
"We've been helped by this warlock," Arthur explained, "even though my father has done great harm. We owe a debt to him. In order to stop that storm, he'll need that staff."
"Staff of the Stormbringer?" Elyan was frowning and trying not to look to judgmental. "So Emrys is going to stop the storm by bringing a storm? That doesn't sound good. Camelot could be a pile of rubble by the time this is over with!"
"Geoffrey says that the druids are odd. They'll name someone special after an ability. They more special the ability, the more special the name. Stormbringer is apparently one of Emrys's many names. He's supposed to be a savior to all people, not just magical beings – so I think we're safe, Elyan."
Merlin fidgeted in his saddle and decided to study the health of the growth of the shrubbery that decorated the sides of the path. There was a bit of blight this year and that was concerning. Perhaps it was like the unicorn's curse brought on by how miserly the kingdom was? Mused Merlin as he pondered the possibility of druid writings not being as cryptic as dragon sayings. Suddenly Arthur was an expert in magical weaponry? He knew the history of a particular bad ass weapon? Merlin really did not like the sound of all of this.
"What's the matter? Are you sore already? To used to laying around in bed wrapped in bandages being waited on hand and foot?" Arthur's smile was positively wicked. He enjoyed laying it on thick and thick was what he was being. Merlin had a simple education – or so he thought. His mother had taught him until Gaius had taken him in and then Gaius took up his education. However Arthur was supposed to have had the best tutors in the world.
"Merlin? I asked if you were sore," Arthur was started to sound sincerely concerned.
Merlin growled, "You go through it next time and see how you fair, okay? Mind your business, dollophead. If I'm uncomfortable, I'll tell you and make a request of you that we should rest. However you're far to fat headed and inconsiderate to consider requests for servants, but I'm plucky enough to attempt it anyway."
Arthur enjoyed that and went on to mock the word plucky. He enjoyed anything that he could use to associate Merlin to chickens.
They always make claims, these royals, that this or that is the best in the world – however it was times like this that made Merlin wonder about the the measuring stick. Arthur may have had the best tutors in the world but if his world was the size of Camelot – then that explains a lot. The world, Merlin decided is not an accurate description at all as he did not have a map of the whole thing. He had not met most of it. He had not tasted most of the food nor listened to its music. Arthur might be able to say, "best in the world" and mean it – but Merlin knew better. It wasn't Merlin's goal to be the best in the world anyway, that was far to small of a goal. He wanted Arthur to be the best of all them all, of all times. Anywhere. Everywhere. In the world, of the here and now of this royal – was not good enough. It would never be good enough – not for the hell he'd been living to pay for it all.
Arthur seemed to really enjoy the plucky word a bit to much even if Merlin was as cheerful as a barren woman drown and then bury other women's infants in her resolute tears, but it really wasn't in Merlin's nature to want to kill the happiness of others. It was just that Arthur was being thick and he was enjoying being thick. His emotions were hard enough to coax about, they might as well have been the product of a painful labor after nine months of a nurturing development. However in Arthur's case, his emotions were sometimes born with collapsed skulls or just dead. It was rare that Merlin could get something alive and healthy to come out of him.
"Arthur, I hate to bring this up since you're so happy with your new word to play with," Merlin said spitefully knowing full well he had a defective and dying infant by the ankle by the riverside, but in all honesty plucky was going to have to go. Merlin's horse snuffled and the warlock patted the chestnut's shoulder affectionately before continuing, "but don't you think you're focusing on something you have no business messing with? You know nothing about magic and suddenly you're taking advice from Geoffrey, who is also no expert on magic, and running off to do something for a warlock? Shouldn't you be focusing on something that matters like your expanding midriff? How I'm going to get to move my mother here in winter? Cause that's something you should worry about. If I'm plagued with unhappiness I might take ill again and then you'll have George to tend to you every day. Oh or what about the biggest issue? Love!"
That had done it. The infant was gone. Released into the water before it had a chance to live. Merlin probably should have let plucky live a little, but Arthur could be annoying to the point of risking retribution. It was better to send plucky off this way. Kinder. It was better to have plucky die off young before Arthur loved it to much.
"Merlin, I do care for you, but I'm not in love with you," teased the prat.
"No dummy, not me. Of course you don't love me," snapped the warlock impatiently. "Gwen."
"Don't ever mention her again. I've told you this. I swear I'll banish you," threatened the now puffed up prat.
Killing off Arthur's underdeveloped malformed ideas, unhealthy emotions, bad habits, personality traits, and obsessions was easier than reviving the noble feeling of love that had been stained by Morganna's magic. Arthur's stupid pride, that was going to be the next babe to toss into the river.
"Banishment. Not that for a moment will I pretend that you can't banish me or wouldn't banish me, but would you really want to banish me – just for talking?" pouted Merlin.
"I'd be banishing you for disobeying me!"
"I am disobeying you all the time, Sire. Loyally, of course. I have your best interests at heart. You do know that, don't you? How many times have I told you not to do something because it is a bad idea and I'm proven right? How many times have I warned you about someone and I'm right? How many times have I told you what you should do and I'm right? How many times have I had to explain to you what it is you need to do because to do anything else would be my definition of mad? You yell at me. You throw things at me. You've fired me. I've gone to the stocks for you and because of you. I've been punched. Poisoned. Pelted with fruit. I've been yelled at. Called an idiot. I've been mocked. Humiliated. I've lost sleep. I'm underpaid. Overworked. Under appreciated. And let me remind you of something, Arthur Pendragon, I am not even technically your subject. I'm from another kingdom. I'm just an employee if I'm not your friend. So all of this considered, Arthur, the very least of what I have is the ability to think. The only way I can share that is to speak my mind. If you're going to throw me out of the kingdom I don't even belong to in the first place – well then so be it. "
"..."
"One more thing. I'm not your lucky charm. I'm not like a special pair of boots you can't ride into battle without. I'm a person. Yes, I look after you. Yes, I watch out for you. It is because of you I'm learning medicine. It is because of you that I'm here on my sore bottom. It is because of you that I do the things that I do. It is because of you and it is for you. Your feeling slighted because Lancelot came back from the dead. He was dead. I saw him go through the veil. He came back. That suggests magic. Morganna tore the veil. I think Morganna brought Lancelot back as a shade. I think Lancelot's shade was used against you to make you unhappy. That said, if you allow this to remain – Morganna wins this little battle. There. I said it and I didn't even say her name."
"..."
"Am I banished?"
"..."
"I didn't think so, Sire."
Merlin was risking everything being so mouthy in front of other servants and in front of knights, but he didn't care. Arthur was being careless. He needed a bit of a mental slap down. Arthur had no idea how much others did for for his well being. He didn't even bother to ask. It might be his noble birth right to be given the royal treatment, but he should have some humility. He should have some obligation to honor his position that chance afforded to him. To be a leader meant work and dedication. Arthur did not have the luxury of being able to swagger like Gwaine at the pub, he would never be able to be that relaxed or sure of himself. He had to fight for his happiness. He had to assume there were plots. He had to second guess his cup at dinner.
Arthur simply could not have it his way – just by saying how things should be – without a fight. He wasn't the one with magic. He was the one with the sword. The one with the magic was the one who got to say things into being.
Merlin glared at Arthur even though the challenge was over realizing yet another one of Arthur's infantile and childish ways had been tossed into the river.
While Arthur and the knights ate stew, Merlin munched his way through a bowl of roasted grain and dried fruit compliments of George, of course. He could feel Arthur's eyes on him. All day long, Arthur had stared at him quite rudely. It bothered him. He felt like some sort of exotic bird. He wanted to transform and wander, but instead he used his vision to check the area. There were some vagrants living in the woods, but they didn't seem to be bandits. They were more like smugglers moving through the area – unlikely to attempt an ambush.
Arthur had declared Merlin exempt from guard duty. Arthur then commanded that his servant should sleep so even though Merlin was not tired, wanted to stay up and listen to everyone's stories – he found himself being rolling out his bedroll. He paused after he unrolled it. It was a new bedroll. It was gray wool, but it was soft and thick. George had even rolled a slim rolled padded pad made of soft hide stuffed sparsely with beaten hay as insulation against the cold earth. Merlin felt a twinge of gratitude mixed liberally with a good portion of guilt. Usually he cheated with an enchantment here and there to make up for the equipment that he lacked, but George... that George.
He was as good as being a servant as Merlin was at magic.
Lately there was never any time for screaming detailed work, such as talking to George. However talking to George was a something that was going to have to happen as soon as Merlin found the time and the privacy. The man was going to be the death of him. These sort of things were expensive and if Merlin was going to carry around extras, they were supposed to be for Arthur – not for himself.
"What's that?"
Merlin turned to see the prat in question curiously looking at his discovery. "I wasn't the one who packed any of the gear. This isn't my bedroll and this ground pad.. isn't mind either. You should use it, Sire. Since you're comfort is more important. I grew up sleeping on the ground. I'm used to it."
"No, you use it Merlin. You're just skin and bones after all. Not enough padding on you. You'll probably still bruise if there was a stone under a thousand of those. You should try eating some meat!"
"Please, Sire? I wouldn't feel right about it. I'm not going to use it even if you don't."
Arthur glanced around and then put an arm around Merlin's shoulders in an imitation of Gwaine, "Merlin, don't embarrass me. If my men see me sleeping on that thing. That's the sort of thing that girls use for camping. I don't care if you use it, but I cannot. Gwaine calls me 'princess' as it is – can you imagine if I slept on a girl's camp pad?"
It wasn't a matter of luxury, it was coddling – again. Compared to a girl or be rugged and get a bad night's sleep? Merlin rather be compared to a girl. He wasn't constantly having to prove his ruggedness. He learned long ago that strength was really about making sure that no one knew that he was the most powerful man in the room.
He had only intended to watch the stars, but sleep came to claim him without permission. He was far more exhausted than he had realized. The other two servants had rolled out their bedrolls and slept close to Merlin. While Merlin slept, the knights passed a flask provided by Sir Gwaine, of course, and told stories. They laughed, but more softly then usual. No one missed the unified glances at the sleeping manservant. Those who had seen him struck by lightning would never forget what he had looked like – and those who had heard the story would never forget the description. Yet, somehow, the boy was there sleeping – peacefully and very much whole – very much alive.
Fireflies preferred grasses and places by water, but the knights watched in amazement as a handful of fireflies danced over the camp. They centered their flight around Merlin as he slept unaware of the spectacle.
"There are some who say that when something like this happens," Percival said quietly as he pointed at the darting lights mixing with airborne embers of the campfire. It was a little creepy seeing the sparks erupt from the fire whiz by the darting glowing bodies. Percival quietly spoke on, "that this is a sign of .. well... you know. I think they might be called Fay or Sidhe, you know The Mound People?"
That put Arthur on alert. Sidhe sounded like magical creatures. Magical creatures by nature cannot be trusted or counted on due to capricious natures. Geoffrey told him to be wary of signs.
Dead center of the Darkling Woods, a place that they had all passed before time and time again. It was a path in the wood where another path intersected it. The ancient trees were gnarled and twisted. The air hung a feeling of betrayal and promises of blood. There was magic here. There was old magic threaded in the very soil at their feet, but it wasn't holy. It wasn't sacred. It was just wild. The forest was lush and green. It thrived with life and hid many deaths. It hid secrets. It was in these woods where Merlin secreted himself to speak to the dragon on many occasions – far from the prying eyes of Camelot's guards – not that they see much. However on the off chance that Arthur might hire one that wasn't blind, Merlin had to be wary. These woods were a place where many died, magical or not, and their passing attracted the attention of the Old Religion. Each death breathed a bit more focus into that until the plants themselves were laced with traces of magic. It was enough to put Merlin on edge. He was never fond of these woods.
Arthur stood in the center and instructed the men to dig a big letter E. Merlin watched in amusement as the knights went to work as the servants stood handing them water and patting them down with cloths. It was a thinly veiled attempt to keep him from doing anything physical and while he appreciated it – he still hated being coddled. As the letter took shaped – the sight of it made Merlin flinch. It looked a lot like a big letter M to him – part of him thought this was the most ridiculous quest they had ever gone on and part of him was hoping he wasn't summoned in the middle of a crossroad to reveal to Arthur his most precious secret.
"Arthur what are we..."
"Doing?" Arthur took great pleasure in explaining what ever it was he thought he was doing to Leon. He draped an arm over the knight's shoulders and started explaining himself. Leon looked into his eyes with respect and admiration – nodding when ever Arthur paused. It was all well intended but Geoffrey's instructions were likely to fail. Sure, there was some knowledge in that library, but when it came to magic – these people had no idea what they were doing. Merlin watched as Arthur's opinion of himself grew as Leon fed his ego.
Smugness wasn't a royal right, in Merlin's opinion. No one should have that right – smugness should be earned by greatness and carving an initial into the earth like a lover wasn't great. One more flaw to correct. This action shouldn't do anything at all. The only thing that standing in the middle of the Darkling Woods at a crossroads would be to attract any and every magical being and creature in the vicinity. They were asking for trouble.
Merlin sulked – withdrawing into himself. It was likely that somehow they were going to do something stupid and he was going to have to fix everything once again with magic and the sword would get all the credit. Once again, Merlin was going to have to chase away the monsters so that Arthur could sleep at night. Once again, Merlin was going to have to figure out how to make things acceptable for the Pendragon so that Camelot could live just one more day before the next threat to Arthur named itself.
"Merlin. Are you alright?" asked the handsome knight, Sir Gwaine, with the customary grin on his neglected chin. Merlin wondered if he would still be so handsome clean shaven. The rugged would disappear and would the noble that Gwaine tries to hard to hide – appear? Merlin often wondered about that and as the thoughts flickered through, a blush crept over his face. Merlin was supposed to be dicing root vegetables for stew, but he had been watching Arthur holding a knife in one hand and a carrot held limply in the other.
"Merlin?"
"Gwaine!" Merlin rolled his eyes dramatically as he attacked the root vegetables for another pot of stew to feed the endlessly empty stomachs around him. Merlin looked up into the honest eyes of his friend and before he could counter it, his tight control of his tongue failed as he verbally unleashed his troubles, "I'm alright. I'm just anxious. I have no idea what he's doing. What ever he's doing is a waste of time, if you ask me. He's annoying me with all of this. We should be at the castle. We don't have to be here. He doesn't know a thing about.. y'know."
Gwaine nodded sympathetically.
"And, I've got enough of my plate right now," Merlin grumpily stated as he dumped the diced carrots into the cooking pot and added celery stalks onto his chopping plate. The thin polished brass plate was scratched but clean. Merlin hated it. He had no reason to hate it, he just did. He rather cut on wood table or a wooden board. Using a knife to slice vegetables on a metal plate just ruined the blade that much faster. It just felt wrong. Everything about camping felt wrong. "Apparently I have made a few – err mistakes. Well at the time they weren't mistakes. I mean I met my objective, which was to keep the prat alive."
Gwaine leaned closer, "What do you mean?"
Merlin's eyes darted around as he took in his surroundings carefully. His stormy blue eyes taking in every form of every figure around them and then some. Every leaf, rock, and twig – seemed to hold some significance to him now. Gwaine saw Merlin glance at the inorganic as much as the unnecessary and organic non human matter around them as if ears were everywhere and on everything. Merlin shook his head unhappily and angrily. He had noticed something. The knife in his hand once again was ignored and a plate of half diced celery lay forgotten as he stood and turned in a circle – nervously.
"There are things I need to do at Camelot. Now. For my kin. To help them. And now, suddenly, Arthur is dragging us off camping? Oh look at him! What is he doing?" Merlin asked Gwaine softly though he wasn't expecting an answer. "We're at a crossroad. Nothing good can come at lingering at a crossroad. I should have looked it up. I needed to look it up. No one told me about this stupid quest. Think. I have to think."
A sheen of sweat glistened, despite the sunless afternoon, over Merlin's skin. He could feel the world graying out as Arthur and the knights dug the E or was it an M? He couldn't tell anymore. Oh gods, what was happening? Merlin stepped away from the stew pot. One of the servants, Naf? Or was it Neb? Moved to his spot and started working on the stew for him. Gwaine. Where was Gwaine? Why was everyone moving so weirdly? Merlin couldn't hear anyone properly anymore. He moved closer to Arthur, but he moved slowly so that he wouldn't draw attention to himself. Was anything watching? Was he noticed?
He felt bile rise to the back of his throat, but he swallowed it.
There was a glimmer flitting off to the side. A Sidhe.
"Go away," he mentally growled. "I have not summoned you."
"We protect what is ours. You dare use us without compensation? Why are you here? You are not honoring the terms of our agreement," accused a voice he had no name other than Sidhe.
"I will keep my end of the bargain. I made a promise. You have my word, and you gave your word that you would not interfere with my affairs concerning Arthur. You need to take care of the storm. I need to take care of some things to ensure Arthur is safe and then – and only then I will come to you," assured Merlin silently and impatiently, "but if you reveal me – I will be very cross and I will take it out on you. You will then regret ever knowing my name."
For the first time in his life Merlin was grateful for the pettiness of Arthur, he would have a great deal of prattishness to reference if the Sidhe got out of line. The greediness of the Sidhe was extraordinary. They would go through great lengths to advance their own legend.
"You must fulfill your promise!" exclaimed the Sidhe – it's voice buzzing in Merlin's head.
"LEAVE! You are breaking our promise. If you want me, you will have to honor our agreement. If you will not leave you will release my dragons at once and never return to me again," spat Merlin viciously in his mind. He could sense the Sidhe vacating the area quickly. They knew they were pushing their luck.
And then in slow motion, Elyan's shovel struck for the last time and lifted the last amount of dirt out of the initial. The knights had carved a six inch deep letter into the ground that was four feet long and 3 feet wide. It was not the best looking letter, but Arthur looked pleased. Merlin's heart raced as he took his place to stand next to his friend.
The world felt as tilted as it did as right before he got struck by lightning. Merlin's body felt charged with power and he inwardly struggled to calm himself. He did not need any accidental discharges of magic. He was already upset.
Someone said his name, but he couldn't turn his head. He was stuck – he couldn't move very well. Arthur was puffing up stupidly and the knights were drawing their swords. There were figures advancing from each direction and there they were at the center standing stupidly at the carved letter. Merlin promised Geoffrey a day of diarrhea for his troubles.
Then Arthur put everything into perspective and Merlin felt himself relax just a little as finally there was a name to put behind this mess, "Morganna."