Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin
Merlin blinked, ridding his eyes of the golden light. "Whoa," he said, feeling slightly woozy. He staggered forward slightly, causing Reynard's grip on his sword to tighten.
"Who are you?" Reynard asked in a dangerous voice.
"One second, please," Merlin asked, leaning against the table. He took in several deep, labored breaths, feeling as though he'd been under water for several minutes. Then, carefully, he straightened himself. "Sorry," he wheezed. "Breaking in a new teleportation spell – not pretty."
The sword inched forwards until Reynard had it pressed against Merlin's neck.
Merlin eyed the metal stick.
"That's not going to do you much good, you know," he warned, flicking the metal with his fingers, making a soft pinging noise.
Reynard's nose twitched.
"What? It's a sword!" Merlin pointed out, exasperated. "I can't help but feel slightly insulted when people think they can actually use them against me... unless it's been forged in a dragon's breath but that's another matter entirely!"
Reynard gave him a bemused look, but lowered the sword slightly. "Let's say it's for my own comfort," the baron said bluntly.
"Right," Merlin said, raising his eyebrows. "Even though you're perfectly aware that it won't help you at all?"
"You don't know that," Reynard said, looking uptight.
"Then you don't know me," Merlin said. "So believe me when I say, even if I were knocked out, dying of poison, and raving mad, it wouldn't help you at all."
Reynard sighed, obviously not in the mood for arguing.
"Very well, then," he said stiffly, and slowly laid the sword on the table. With no need to guard himself anymore, Reynard let himself sit back into his chair. He gestured for Merlin to do the same. "Pull up a chair."
"Thanks," Merlin said with relief. Reynard hardly blinked when the supposed servant used magic to slide a chair from the corner of the room. Merlin plopped into it backwards, still feeling a bit dizzy.
"So who are you?" Reynard asked. "Why have you disguised yourself?"
"Disguised myself...?" Merlin questioned slowly, looking down at himself.
"As Arthur's manservant?" Reynard prompted.
Merlin chuckled. "Because that's who I am?" he suggested with a raised eyebrow.
Reynard narrowed his eyes. "You're jesting."
"Sometimes I wish I was," Merlin said pleasantly. "The name's Merlin by the way."
Reynard nodded his head in greeting. Then he shook his head, ridding his head of the side-tracked conversation. "You have magic," he said bluntly.
"If that wasn't obvious already, then yes," Merlin agreed.
"I assume you have druid connections, then?" Reynard inquired.
"Why's that?" Merlin asked.
Reynard tilted his head in surprise. "How else did you know it was safe to do magic around me?"
"I didn't. I was actually trying to get to the kitchens and went a bit off-course," Merlin said with a straight face.
As Reynard's expression crossed between incredulity and horror, Merlin laughed. "That time I was kidding," he reassured the stricken nobleman.
Reynard's left eye twitched.
"Kidding," the man repeated with narrowed eyes.
"Of course!" Merlin exclaimed. "I'm not an idiot, no matter what Arthur tells you."
"So you do have connections with druids then," Reynard stated.
"Erm... kind of," Merlin said hesitantly. He didn't really know the names of any of the druid leaders during this era – by the time he actually bothered to properly meet up with the different clans, most of them had been replaced by new leaders because of either death or retirement. "Know Iseldir?" he put out the only name he knew might have some weight.
"Iseldir?" the man considered for a moment. Then he shook his head. "I may have heard his name mentioned every now and again, but I've never met the man personally.
Merlin sighed. "Not surprising, really. His clan lives in Essetir, generally."
"Cenred's kingdom?" Reynard asked, confused.
"That's where I'm from originally," Merlin informed.
"Ah," the baron exclaimed, not really understanding at all. "Then how on earth did you become manservant to the prince?"
"Within my first week in Camelot I saved Arthur's life from a vengeful sorceress," Merlin explained calmly.
"Arthur knows you have magic?" Reynard asked with wide eyes, making automatic assumptions.
"What?" Merlin exclaimed. "No! Where'd you get that idea? I used my magic secretly, as usual."
"To save the son of a man who's killed hundreds of your kind," Reynard said bluntly, sounding skeptical.
"Magic users aren't a 'kind', they are people who have a talent, nothing more, nothing less," Merlin corrected. "That's the first mistake Uther made – he separated anyone who could use magic into one category when in reality we're no more similar or different from each other from the rest of the human race. It be like executing people for knowing how to juggle."
Reynard raised his eyebrows.
Merlin swiped at his hair, looking exasperated. "Okay, maybe it's not like outlawing juggling," he admitted.
"But still, you've thought about this quite a lot," Reynard noted.
"Haven't you?" Merlin asked.
"Only where it concerns me," Reynard answered simply.
Merlin stared at him. Then he gave a lopsided smile. "Ever the pragmatist," he chortled, shaking his head.
Reynard lifted his head and looked at Merlin with his dark eyes. "You seem to know a lot about me," he observed. "How?"
Merlin found that he was going to have to lie again. "I may not be acquainted with many druids on a first-name basis, but I've heard enough rumors to figure out what was going on," he answered. "You've got quite the operation going. It's rather brilliant, I think."
Reynard looked wary. Just because Merlin had magic didn't mean his intentions were honorable. "And what do you want with me?"
"To make a deal," Merlin said.
Reynard narrowed his eyes. "And if I don't agree to it? Will you tell the king?"
Merlin frowned. "You haven't even heard what the deal is yet," he said and reminded, "Besides, if I tell either Uther or Arthur anything about your operation, you can just tell them that I'm a sorcerer, can't you?"
"Would they even believe me if I tried?" Reynard scoffed.
Merlin said grimly, "The Pendragons take accusations to magic very seriously. You wouldn't have any trouble at all convincing them."
Lord Reynard looked bitter. "And thus Uther ends up killing even those who are innocent."
Merlin leaned forward and rested his elbows against the desk. "There's one thing I'd like to know, before I tell you about my offer," he said.
Reynard raised his eyebrows. "And that is...?"
"Why have you never tried to remove Uther from the throne?" Merlin asked.
Reynard shrugged. "Not enough men," he replied. "Too much bloodshed. Besides, then I'd have to promote myself as king if I wanted to make sure no one worse replaced Uther – not a particularly desirable outcome if you ask me."
He leaned forward and asked, "So why haven't you killed Uther, with all the perfect opportunities your position grants you?"
Merlin smiled wryly. "Because I'd rather have magic brought back peacefully. I don't want people to brought into further hatred against it."
Reynard nodded stiffly.
"Plus, Arthur's still cooking," Merlin added nonchalantly.
Reynard raised his eyebrows.
Merlin offered an explanation. "Oh, he's the Once and Future King, you know, destined to bring magic back and unite Albion."
The facial expression on Reynard's face was memorable.
"You can't be serious."
Merlin smiled slightly. "Familiar with the druid prophecies then?" he asked jovially.
"My wife more than me, but I've heard them often enough," Reynard admitted.
"What have you heard?" Merlin asked, propping his chin on his fists, curious to see how his old friend saw the legends.
Reynard thought a moment. "What you said basically. The time of darkness and storms will be broken by the sun to create a rainbow."
Merlin blinked. He'd never heard that one before. "Say what?" he asked, hoping the man would elaborate.
Reynard cleared his throat, looking a little embarrassed. "It's a metaphor," he said stiffly. He didn't want to admit that he'd come up with the analogy himself. His wife had laughed amiably when he'd repeated it.
"Yes, I can see that," Merlin said. "But what's what?"
"Well, I figure that the storms would be Uther's reign," Reynard answered.
Merlin snorted. "No kidding."
"The sun would be Lord Emrys, the most powerful warlock to ever live, and the rainbow would be the Once and Future King," Reynard finished.
"A rainbow..." Merlin stared for a second then jolted his elbows off the table unintentionally by letting out a burst of laughter. "Arthur... a rainbow! A rainbow!" he wheezed between laughs. "Ha ha! A rainbow... hee hee!"
"Are you finished?" Baron Reynard asked dully, none too pleased that his metaphor was being mocked.
Merlin straightened and let out a final giggle before answering, "Oh, quite. A rainbow... yes. That's very good."
Reynard wrinkled his nose, frowning. "And you think that Prince Arthur – Arthur of all people – is the Once and Future King?" he asked after a moment, vowing to never let anyone in on his imagery ever again.
"Not yet, but he will be," Merlin clarified.
"I hadn't heard of it yet," Reynard said. "Are you sure?"
"Positive," Merlin replied cheerfully. "It's a bit of a new development, is all."
Reynard frowned.
"Then... do you know Emrys as well?" the baron asked tentatively. He looked a bit like an owl staring with wide eyes like that.
Merlin grinned.
"My dear Reynard, you're looking at him."
O o O
Merlin patted the side of Reginald's head, humming one of Gwaine's tavern tunes. The horse flicked his ears happily, liking the tingling feeling Merlin's hands gave off.
"Would you stop that blasted humming!" a sullen prince demanded from beside him.
Merlin glanced over in amusement. Arthur looked absolutely miserable, slouching in his saddle, the rain flattening his golden locks against his forehead. It was as though the prince was in a perpetual cloud of gloominess.
"Certainly, sire," Merlin agreed cheerfully. He was rather enjoying the rain.
Arthur growled. "And what got you in such a good mood?"
"The kitchen packed our food for me; I hardly had to do any work at all," Merlin replied, and for once was being perfectly honest.
Arthur snorted and mumbled something that sounded like, "Ruddy peasant."
Merlin continued to grin, going over exactly what he was going to have to do within the next week. The talk with Reynard had gone exceedingly well. It hadn't taken many demonstrations to prove that he was Emrys; after turning the entire room a bright yellow, Reynard had hurriedly agreed that he was the legendary warlock and then demanded that Merlin change everything back to normal.
Now that everything was sorted with the baron, all he needed was the cooperation of several druid clans. If the whole thing turned out, Merlin would probably start looking forward to an execution, just to see if the plan would work properly.
Even unfocused as he was, Merlin blamed himself for what happened next.
He and Arthur whirled around when Sir Edgar let out a grunt of pain, only to see him double over in his saddle, an arrow protruding from his thigh.
"Bandits!" Arthur shouted, glancing in the trees. His sword was already in his hand.
Merlin hissed and brought Reginald to a halt, cursing himself for not paying more attention. This must be the group that multiple citizens had been complaining to Uther about. After visiting Lord Reynard, eliminating them was supposed to be Arthur's next assignment... with about twenty more knights than they had currently.
Another shout came from Sir Dalibor along with a resounding, pain-filled neigh. His horse had been shot out from underneath him.
As about five arrows whizzed past Merlin's ear, one of them bouncing off the pots that hung from Haven's back, he realized with a sense of annoyance that he was going to have to interfere – magically – unless he wanted them to all get picked off one by one. In one fluid movement, Merlin swung off Reginald and raised his hand in the air.
Hoping that the knights would be too distracted by the thirty-plus bandits surrounding them to notice Merlin's changing eye color, Merlin dismantled every crossbow he could lay his eyes on. The owners all cried out in disbelief then angrily tossed aside their useless weapons, unaware that other members of their party were having similar problems.
Satisfied that he had eliminated the immediate threat, Merlin placed a quick protective enchantment over Haven, who was looking spooked, and sprinted over to the group of knights, urging Reginald to follow after him.
Reginald in his wake, Merlin skidded up to Sir Edgar, who, despite his leg, had managed to get his horse in the outward-facing circle position Arthur had demanded.
"Are you all right?" Merlin shouted above the roar of enemies. It sounded like they were about to charge.
Edgar looked down at Merlin in surprise, looking a little green, but not useless. "I'll be fine!" he yelled, and shifted his horse so that he wouldn't be facing the servant anymore.
Rolling his eyes, Merlin decided that the man was still well enough to fight and made his way to Sir Dalibor, who was on the outskirts of the group, sword in hand, but looking painfully small without his horse... and rather muddy.
"Use Reginald!" Merlin ordered the knight, rain dripping off his nose as he gestured.
Again, a look of surprise. Reginald snorted indignantly and Merlin gave him a scolding flick on his ear.
"GO!" he shouted to Dalibor as the bandits began charging in from all sides. The knight barely had time to mount the charger before he was forced to defend himself from all sides.
"Merlin what are you doing?" Arthur yelled over the fighting, swinging his horse to stand beside his servant. He'd already killed two of the bandits; his eyes were glittering with adrenaline.
"Being useful!" Merlin shouted back. "Now do you have a sword I can borrow or will I have to steal one?"
Arthur opened his mouth to answer, but his eyes widened in fear as he caught sight of something behind Merlin.
Merlin reacted accordingly.
Time literally slowed for the warlock as he twisted around, simultaneously grabbing the knife Arthur kept by his saddle, and ducked as the sword lunging at his heart nearly succeeded in killing him, instead managing to slice his cheek. Unfazed by the small wound, Merlin continued forward, catching the bandits's collar with his knife, he used it (along with a well-placed front kick) to push the man backwards, pinning him to the muddy ground. He ended the spell, knowing that staying in slow-time would make Arthur suspicious.
Before the bandit could register what had happened, Merlin quickly used a pressure point on the man's arm to weaken the grip he had on his crudely-made sword.
"Never mind!" Merlin called to Arthur brightly as he twirled his newly-acquired weapon around in his hand, testing its grip.
Arthur was staring at him with a look of frank disbelief.
"Arthur!" Merlin warned, seeing a one-eyed bandit with a mace hotfooting his way towards the prince.
Arthur turned and managed to block the swing in time before it knocked him off his horse.
As Merlin took his foot off the chest of the bandit he'd pinned, the man made a move to get up, but Merlin instinctively froze him and grabbed the knife he'd left speared in the man's collar (the man, named Denny, would have nightmares for the rest of his short life of being unable to move while the hooves of horses smashed dangerously close to his face).
Merlin examined their situation. There were still over thirty bandits surrounding them, a seemingly endless stream replacing those who had fallen. The nine defenders of Camelot were attacking their opponents fiercely but they were tiring quickly. Their only losses so far included the death of a horse, a few injuries, and a raid on their supplies, but Merlin knew their luck wasn't going to last much longer.
Then of course there was the relentless drizzling...
Merlin ran a hand through his hair, causing it to stick up at funny angles. What to do, what to do? Falling tree branches weren't going to solve things this time.
"Ahhhh!" another bandit charged Merlin.
Arthur, watching his usually pitiful manservant out of the corner of his eye, saw Merlin casually relieve the man of his weapon, then knock him out with the pummel of his knife. The bandit fell into the mud with a splat. Arthur took out his frustrations on the two men in front of them. Merlin had been holding back on him! During warm-ups, Merlin could barely keep a grip on his sword, let alone fight off three athletic males.
Yet that was exactly what the servant was doing... and he didn't even look like he was paying proper attention. His eyes had that million-miles-away look.
Arthur kicked a man away from his horse, determined to confront Merlin as soon as he got the chance. If he got the chance... Arthur shook away his grim thoughts and urged his horse towards the group of bandits converging on Sir Wybert, who was looking ready to fall out of his saddle.
Then it started to rain.
It didn't just rain, it poured. Arthur slowed his horse, finding that he was unable to keep the water from running into his eyes.
"Knights of Camelot! Arthur!"
Arthur shifted his heads towards the call. Merlin. His voice sounded amplified – maybe the wind was blowing the right direction.
"Haven knows the way out of this!" Merlin's voice shouted above everything.
Arthur felt like punching the idiot. Did he want the bandits to attack him? The prince snarled and led his horse in the direction of the sound. Actually, if he wanted to be honest with himself, he barely had to do anything – the horse seemed to go by itself.
"Merlin! Stay where you are!" he shouted into the maelstrom of wind and rain. He couldn't even hear himself.
"Hurry up!" Merlin shouted again, sounding a little desperate. Actually, he was worried that the cloud would run out of rain before he managed to get everyone out.
Gradually, Arthur noticed that as he made his way towards Merlin's voice, the rain and wind began to lighten. The horse no longer had to lower its head in order to trudge forward.
"Arthur? Where are you? ARTH- oh," Merlin stopped shouting when he caught sight of the prince clinging to his horse, looking around at the sudden clarity of the air.
All of his other knights were already outside the range of the pouring rain, either looking anxiously at their leader or too out of focus to care. Where are the bandits? Arthur took a confused look back at the wall of water, where he could still hear the muffled shouts of confusion. Hadn't they heard Merlin, too?
As his horse shook its head, spraying water on everything within three feet of him, Arthur decided that it must have been the horses who had known. After all, hadn't Haven been the one to lead Merlin out of the storm?
Merlin stood there, dripping wet, grinning at Arthur, his arms wrapped around Haven's neck. Yeah, that was probably it, Arthur nodded to himself, satisfied.
"Isn't that the strangest weather you've ever seen?" Leon asked in wonder, staring at the wall of thick rain.
"It came on so suddenly!" one of the other knights exclaimed.
"Is it sorcery?" another asked fearfully.
Merlin frowned slightly.
"No," Arthur spoke up, waving away the suggestion, "I've heard of this before – rare, but hardly sorcery."
The other members of his company sighed in relief, including Merlin.
"Well, I guess we have been having quite a bit of strange weather lately," Leon said thoughtfully, still staring at the rain.
"Lots more thunderstorms than usual," another knight agreed. They all nodded.
Merlin grinned, his eyes twinkling.
"Right then!" the prince yelled. "Let's move out before the rain does!"
O o O
"You ran into the bandits?" Uther asked, giving the ragtag, mud-caked group a concerned look. They (meaning Merlin) had done their best to rid their clothing and chainmail of mud in a passing stream, but it hadn't done much good.
"Yes, Father," Arthur answered.
"They have moved to Lord Reynard's area?" Uther asked rhetorically. Arthur nodded anyways.
"Injuries?" Uther inquired.
"The worst were Sir Edgar and Sir Wybert – they're seeing the physician as we speak."
Uther nodded in approval.
"How many are left?" the king asked.
"Too many," Arthur said uncomfortably. "There were about fifty of them – if we had not used the rain as a cover, I don't think we would have escaped."
"Fifty?" Uther said with a frown.
"I'm afraid so, Father," Arthur said.
"You must go back with more knights and get rid of them," Uther said firmly. "Tomorrow, before they move again."
"Yes, Father," Arthur bowed.
From the edge of the hall, Merlin sighed.
O o O
Gaius looked up quickly as Merlin came through the door. "My boy, are you all right?"
Merlin looked over wearily. "Maybe after twenty hours of sleep," he replied. He'd just finished putting away Arthur's things, doing both his and Arthur's laundry, drawing up Arthur's bath, and then re-making Arthur's bed because the prince had soiled his clean sheets by lying on them in his muddy uniform.
"Sir Edgar told me what happened – I just sent him back to his quarters," Gauis explained. "Sudden rain? Really, Merlin, you're going to get yourself caught."
Merlin sighed. "How's Wybert?" he changed the subject quietly, glancing over at the knight's prone figure.
Gaius blinked.
"He'll be fine," the physician dismissed. He looked at Merlin appreciatively. "The stitching was well done, I was hardly needed at all."
"Thanks," Merlin replied absently, making his way towards his bedroom.
"Merlin, what's wrong with you?" Gaius asked, concerned.
"Just tired, and I'd like to get some sleep before I start packing," Merlin said.
"Packing?" his guardian asked incredulously.
"Uther's sending Arthur out tomorrow to finish the bandits off," Merlin explained, looking dead.
"But you just got back!" Gaius complained.
"If you can convince Uther to wait a couple days, I'll happily clean out your leech tank for the next year," Merlin answered dully.
"I think I will talk to him; not even Arthur should..." Gaius was cut off by Merlin's closed door. The physician closed his mouth, worried.
O o O
Arthur entered the physician's chamber with a bang and a loud, "MERLIN!"
Gaius frowned at the prince and angrily gestured at both Wybert and Merlin's closed door. "Sire, please lower your voice."
Arthur grimaced. "I need to speak to Merlin, Gaius. Where has the lazy idiot gotten to now?" He glanced around the room, expecting to see his servant sulking in a corner.
"He's sleeping, Arthur, and I think you should let him," Gaius said firmly, but Arthur was already stalking towards Merlin's door.
"We leave in the morning, Gaius, he doesn't have time to sleep," Arthur said mercilessly, then he pounded on the door. "MERLIN!"
"Arthur! My patient is sleeping!" Gaius scolded.
Arthur looked apologetically in Sir Wybert's direction, who had moaned in his sleep.
"Fine then," he said stiffly, and shoved his way into Merlin's room before the physician could protest.
Merlin woke up with a sudden jolt as he landed on the floor, light from the window streaming into his eyes (hadn't he shut those curtains?).
"Merlin," came Arthur's drawl.
The prat shoved me out of bed! Merlin thought incredulously.
The warlock snarled as he pushed himself to his feet, about to release the upside-down spell he usually used on Arthur whenever the king disturbed him, then he froze. Arthur was looking at him with startled eyes, previously unaware that his manservant had the ability to look even remotely fearsome. And there he was, looking like an angry demon who he'd just poked in the eye.
Then Merlin seemed to droop. He sighed. "What is it, Arthur?" He sat back on his bed with an exhausted thump.
Arthur regained his composure and cleared his throat. "Why aren't you packing?" he asked.
Merlin glared at him. "You woke me up for that?" he asked incredulously.
Arthur shifted uncomfortably.
Merlin flopped back on his pillow, turned away from Arthur, and muttered, "I'll pack later. Now go away."
He felt Arthur's weight shift the mattress as he sat down next to Merlin.
"Actually..." the prince trailed off.
"Yes?" Merlin asked icily.
"I was wondering..." again, Arthur seemed to struggle with words.
"What?" Merlin snapped.
"You can use a sword," Arthur finally managed.
"Yes, Arthur," Merlin said tiredly, eyes closing. Was this what Arthur had woken him up for? To discuss his weapons skills? "You've been using me to practice on since the day I got here, remember?"
Arthur frowned. "But you can fight well. I mean, really well."
"Not that well," Merlin said stiffly, not opening his eyes. In truth, he wouldn't last long in any sword fight without magic.
Arthur looked at Merlin incredulously. "You're kidding, right?"
Merlin turned to stare up at Arthur.
Arthur screwed up his expression. "Merlin, you fought as well as some of my knights, and you weren't even on a horse," he said emphatically.
"Are you saying I'm a prodigy?" Merlin teased darkly, turning back to face the wall. That was what most people called Arthur.
"No!" Arthur quickly denied. The thought of Merlin being a weapons' prodigy... Arthur scowled. The problem was, with all the other skills his servant seemed to possess, good swordsmanship didn't seem all that strange.
"Are you sure you've had no other training?" Arthur asked. He wasn't sure what he was going to do if his servant answered no.
Merlin smiled slightly at the prince's nervous tone. "Some," Merlin finally admitted.
Arthur sighed in relief.
"We had to learn how defend our village from raiders," Merlin said, which was partially true.
Arthur frowned. "Isn't that your king's job?" he asked.
Merlin had to laugh. "Cenred really isn't the type to go riding out to the defense of one tiny, little village, sire," he told Arthur. "Besides, he probably wouldn't arrive there in time, anyways."
Arthur was silent as he considered this. Apparently his father's opinion of Cenred had some truth behind it – not that he ever doubted the fact, of course.
"So Arthur, what's your point?" Merlin asked, yawning.
Arthur looked down at his manservant.
"What?"
"You came in here to tell me that I'm not hopeless with a sword. What's your point?" Merlin repeated.
Merlin felt Arthur shift on the mattress.
"I don't have one, really," Arthur admitted.
Merlin groaned.
"Why didn't you ever tell me?" Arthur complained, not happy about his servant's less-than-enthusiastic reaction. "During practice you've been acting like you're completely incompetent!" If it had been Arthur, he would have shown off his skills from day one.
"I'm not that good," Merlin said honestly. "Whatever I did while fighting the bandits was a combination of luck and adrenaline."
Arthur snorted. "Don't give me that. I know an experienced fighter when I see one."
Merlin winced. He was experienced. And he hated the fact. He'd much rather be someone who didn't need to know how to fight. All the deaths he'd caused... He breathed in and out slowly, trying to calm himself.
"Arthur, sometimes it's a good thing if your opponents underestimate you," Merlin finally said.
Arthur frowned. "Merlin, I'm not your opponent," he said uneasily.
"No?"
Arthur stiffened.
"You woke me up to talk about swords, Arthur," Merlin drawled. "I certainly don't feel like your ally at the moment."
Arthur relaxed.
"Seriously, though," Merlin continued, sounding tired. "I'd prefer to no be thought of as weapon."
Arthur rolled his eyes. He was worried about that? Typical. The man hated killing fluffy bunnies; it was probably a matter of nightmares to know that he could actually be good at it. "No one's calling you a weapon," he reassured. "I just wished you had told me before now."
"Right. Now you know. So leave," Merlin ordered, pointing at the door.
"Just as long as you're up in time to serve me at supper," Arthur said haughtily. Uther wanted a chance to dine with his son before he went off again.
"Fine."
"Good."
Merlin waited. "Arthur, you're not leaving," he noted irritably. He felt Arthur get off the bed.
"You don't have a headache do you?" Arthur asked hesitantly.
Merlin opened his eyes and twisted his head to look at the prince, who was staring back at him unflinchingly.
"... No," Merlin answered honestly. "I'm just tired."
Arthur left without another word.
Merlin used magic to pull the curtains closed, then rolled over and fell asleep almost immediately.
O o O
Four miserable days later, Merlin found himself being relentlessly prodded by Arthur to join the rest of the knights on their ride to victory.
"Come on, Merlin," the prince urged. "You can ride Reginald and I'll lend you a sword."
"Don't you have enough men?" Merlin asked coldly. There was no way he was going with them to the bandit's camp. He knew that some of the outlaws there were merely desperate idiots with no hope left in life. In his Camelot, the punishments dealt out to such people were much less cruel and much less permanent, with inclusions of a fair trial. Some of them deserved death, certainly, but others simply needed a smack and a sharp prod in another direction.
One bandit group they'd captured had been made up of slaves, whose families were held captive in case they ever lost their desire to meet the quota given to them by the camp's ruthless leader. Merlin had dealt with the man personally, freeing the families in the process. Seeing the state some of the children, neither he nor Arthur felt particularly regretful about sentencing his execution.
Arthur gave Merlin a look, pulling on his riding gloves. All of his other men were assembled, all disciplined enough to question the actions of their leader.
"You could still come," Arthur pointed out. "Besides, if you don't, you'll be here by yourself."
"A relief," Merlin answered.
Arthur frowned. "C'mon, Merlin... I could order you," he threatened.
Merlin narrowed his eyes. "I do not take the idea of killing people lightly, Arthur, even if they are criminals," he said.
Arthur sobered, his expression hardening. "Don't you dare accuse me of enjoying this," he said angrily, lowering his voice.
Merlin relented slightly. "I know you don't," he said quietly. "Just... don't ask me to go, alright?"
Prince Arthur stared at Merlin, then nodded once. He could respect that. Even if Merlin could fight well, Arthur realized that it wasn't exactly in his nature or in his job description. The prince wondered briefly, before mounting his horse, how many times Merlin had been forced to kill people in order defend himself. The bandit attack certainly hadn't been the first time, Arthur decided. Even the hardest of men were usually badly shaken after their first kill. Merlin had moved on with the proficiency of a soldier.
"If someone comes by, hide," Arthur ordered from atop his horse. Merlin smiled sloppily as he looked up at him.
"With my luck I'll trip straight into them," Merlin said.
"I suppose you are still a clumsy idiot, even if you can fight," Arthur decided. It was strange how Merlin seemed to become a different person while fighting. The man usually found a way to stumble on air. (Arthur wasn't to know that a great deal of Merlin's balance could be attributed to magic.)
"At least I'm not a prat," Merlin retorted.
"You're so mucking out the stables," Arthur said.
"Good-bye, Arthur," Merlin drawled, waving the prince away.
As Merlin watched them ride away, he realized with some enthusiasm that he had nearly an entire day to himself, depending on how long it took them to round everyone up. He strained his neck as the last of the knights vanished out of his eyesight.
They were gone. Finally.
"Excellent," he said with a toothy grin.
Cleaning up the camp took less than ten minutes with magic. As long as none of the knights decided to randomly double back, Merlin was free of pressure. And as for their supper... meh, he could deal with that later.
Reveling in his new-found freedom, Merlin quickly ran to his pack and dumped out a pile of random-looking objects: small chains, chunks of different types of wood and metals, and various herbs he'd nicked from Gaius's stores. With his salary a mere sliver of what he'd received as court sorcerer, some of these items had been ridiculously hard to obtain.
He took in a deep breath. This part of his plan to undermine Uther's fight against magic was going to be the most tedious and arguably the most difficult (depending on how annoying negotiations with the druids ended up being).
The goal was to create non-individualized amulets that could be activated by even the lowest level of sorcerer. Not only would they have to maintain the illusion of whatever type of execution Uther would dictate, they would also have to enchant the executioners into believing that whatever they were physically dealing with was real (such as a severed head). Then, to top it off, Merlin was also going to have to include a doppelganger ability. There were going be cases where Uther ended up condemning non-magical individuals: people who couldn't use the amulets. As far as Merlin could tell, the best way to deal with that would be to disguise a sorcerer to look like the person – then they could go though the execution process while the real convicts were smuggled out of Camelot.
Merlin rubbed his hands together in anticipation. He hadn't had a project this complicated since the time-travel spell (and he intended not to count that one). Even with his skills in magic, finishing the amulets in one day wasn't a likely prospect, nor did Merlin plan on it being. At least he could get the moulding done.
Satisfied that he had everything, including enough firewood, Merlin readied his magic and got to work.
