"Something isn't right here," Percival frowned. He stared hard at his arrow lying harmlessly on the ground. Arrows weren't intended to be harmless, you see, and therein lies the problem.
When the knights had salvaged their camp as best they could and Leon had managed to talk Arthur into some sort of functional calm, Percival had pointed out that the sun was going to set shortly and they'd hurriedly split off into the woods to hunt.
Percival was an excellent huntsman, by virtue of having to maintain his bulk and size during his travels. This troublesome arrow had flown steady and true from his bow, sure to hit its target, a doe standing stock still not far from them, watching them curiously. But then, defying all Percival's skill and years of experience, the arrow took a nosedive right into the ground in front of the doe, who did not even flinch. And some such thing had happened with every attempt to hunt in Emrys.
"You've lost your touch, my friend," Gwaine teased, plucking the arrow from the ground to examine it. Percival groaned in frustration, and his stomach growled loudly in agreement, making Gwaine laugh.
"Cheer up, Percy. You can eat Elyan if you get desperate - I won't tell Gwen."
Hearing a rustling in the bush behind them, Percival swiftly nocked an arrow and let it loose in that general direction,wanting to see what would happen. Belatedly, he noticed that the creature that was digging through the leaves was a huge boar. His stomach churned in longing.
Just as Percival suspected though, the arrow didn't get anywhere near the boar.
A swift shape swooped out of the shadows and snatched the arrow out of the air. Gwaine and Percival gaped. The shape slowed and settled on a branch at their eye level, and the men saw that it was a falcon, clutching the arrow in its claws.
"What does this mean? Emrys doesn'twant us to eat?" Percival complained. The falcon squawked, ruffling its feathers and looking quite miffed. It calmly took the arrow in one claw and banged it against the tree repeatedly, eventually breaking the tip off. The two men stared at it, bewildered.
"Er...maybe it really hates arrows?" Gwaine suggested. The bird squawked again, somehow sounding like it was disagreeing with him. After another confused moment, it made a low, exasperated noise and swooped out of the tree, diving straight for Percival. The knight's eyes widened in alarm, and he raised his arms to shield his face, but the falcon didn't touch him. Instead, it yanked his bow out of his hands with unnatural strength and took off through the wood.
"My bow!" Percival cried, and raced after it. Gwaine, laughing, followed closely behind him. Flying just out of reach but slow enough to be in their view, the falcon made several disjointed noises, almost as if it was laughing. Percival shuddered at the uncanniness.
"Percy, look!" Gwaine exclaimed, pointing enthusiastically, "River!"
Sure enough, they had chased the bird right out of the tree line. They both felt some relief at the sight of the crystal clear waters rushing down the stream, feeling their dry mouths most acutely. But Percival was still focused on the bird, who was slowing to a stop nearby. Hovering in the air, it made that strange jittering chirp again, seeming amused by Percival's groan of frustration. Then, to his relief, it dropped his bow directly in a bush and flew away into the distance, cackling all the way.
"Fuck you, you bloody chicken!" Percival called after it. With a sigh, he bent to retrieve his bow from the bush. When his hand closed around it, he felt something wet in his palm. He frowned. Pulling his bow out of the leaves, he saw a deep purple liquid running down the wood.
Berries.
Most likely to be poisonous of course, but something about the colour was familiar to Percival. He bent down to examine them. They were black, with a star shaped pattern on the face. Is it…? He examined a leaf and felt a hesitant string of hope unspool.
"Gods be damned," he blurted out, "They're edible. Gwaine!"
Back at their camp, Leon and Elyan, incredibly, were gorging themselves on a different kind of edible berry.
"You too, eh?" Gwaine exclaimed by way of greeting. Percival unloaded his cloths of berries alongside their friends' and was pleased to see that they were a different kind - if they were to survive on berries, they'd better have variety at least.
"Couldn't find anything to hunt," Leon sighed.
"The sooner we get out of here, the better," Elyan was practically pouting.
"Magic, eh?" Gwaine said with mock sympathy. Were berries really such a hardship? Elyan rolled his eyes.
"You're loving every second of this, you bastard," he grumbled. Gwaine cracked a smile.
"You're telling me you aren't the least bit curious? We're in druid heaven! Once in a lifetime, lads. Where's your sense of adventure?"
He didn't say anything, but Percival was starting to agree with Gwaine. He thought of the strange bird, uncommonly clever and impossibly strong, leading them to running water and food. Saving a common boar. Laughing. Percival couldn't hope to understand any of it, and it certainly made him uneasy, but he would surely never forget it.
"It's certainly unique," Leon allowed, "But I'm with Elyan. This place sets me on edge."
"So how did you find these, then?" Percival asked around a mouthful of berries, changing the subject before Elyan and Gwaine could get into it.
"It was the strangest thing," Leon exclaimed, "There was this-"
A loud cry not far away interrupted him. All four heads snapped in the direction of the noise - Leon shooting to his feet. It sounded like a bird, but none of the men had ever heard its cry. They listened for a moment longer, dread slowly growing as they faintly made out the metallic clang of swords. A loud shout had them all running towards the action, a shout they recognised. Arthur's voice. They were in trouble.
The knights were frantic, shooting through the undergrowth like it wasn't there. As they drew nearer to the commotion, they began to see more and more of what faced them.
A great beast stood over Arthur and Lancelot, its terrible figure towering over them all. It had a sharp, bird-like face, but four legs, and it was reared up on its hindlegs threateningly. A shrill screech left its beak. Surveying the scene quickly, Gwaine spotted Lancelot sprawled on the ground unconscious. Arthur stood between his body and the creature, mouth set in a grim line.
Rearing as it was, Arthur took the opportunity to swipe his sword across its exposed belly. Elyan let out a victorious noise. The blow was sure to be fatal.
But the knights watched in horror as the metal glanced across the creature's feathers as if it was a blade of grass. Gwaine realised that Lancelot's sword lay broken in two on the ground with not a speck of blood on it - his steel, broken on the breast of a beast.
The monster was more irritated with Arthur's attempts than anything, and with a powerful swipe of its claws, the prince's weapon went flying into the trees. The dull sound of it hitting the ground filled the knights with fear. It was too powerful. They couldn't beat it. Its furious screech was their death knell.
The creature brought its claws down, sharp points headed right for the prince's head.
"Arthur!" Leon yelled. The knights moved to their prince as quickly as they could, but it wasn't fast enough. Arthur gritted his teeth and raised his head to die with dignity.
Later, the knights would replay the moment over and over in their minds. Time seemed to move in slow motion, or perhaps it did move in slow motion. One never knew with magic. They made their last ditch efforts to save Arthur, Leon throwing his sword desperately at the feathered chest. It bounced harmlessly off of the creature's body.
They heard a deep, growled word. None of them had spoken, but they didn't register that until the clearing burst into light and a strong gust forced all of them to brace themselves. The monster reared back, shrieking. Arthur whipped around, wide eyed, searching for the source of his saving grace.
It was a man, and his eyes were glowing gold.
Arthur scrambled away from the beast, shielding his eyes from the golden light beaming out of the stranger's hand. He was tall and pale, unassuming if not for his magic. Arm outstretched, he was concentrating, and the creature was clearly no match. His dark hair rustled in the wind, but otherwise he was still and calm, not even straining as he forced the massive thing away from them. He was obviously powerful, and just as obviously dangerous.
After a few more moments, the bird let out a defeated screech and took off. Even watching it fly away, the knights did not sigh in relief, too stunned by what they had witnessed. The man released his hold on the spell, letting his arm relax as his eyes faded into a steel blue. Shaking off his shock, Percival shot over to Lancelot's prone body, checking for a pulse. He nodded, relieved, when Gwaine looked to him in question.
"You saved us," Elyan blurted out disbelievingly. The man turned to him, and the knights flinched with the image of his commanding power fresh in their minds. Beside him, Leon straightened, ready to defend his friend.
Then, the sorcerer rolled his eyes.
"Astute observation."
"Sorcerer," Arthur muttered. The stranger looked at him expectantly.
"You're a sorcerer," the prince repeated.
"Well," the sorcerer said sarcastically, "You are a clever lot. Sharp as a rock."
"Excuse me," Arthur said indignantly, startled out of his shock by offense, "Don't you know who we are?"
"Yes, I know exactly who you are, Arthur," the man said mockingly, making a face at the crown prince of Camelot.
"Great Goddess," Gwaine breathed, "I'm in love."
The sorcerer took a look around, evaluating all of them with a keen eye. Seemingly finding what he was looking for, he nodded to himself and turned on his heel, starting off into the woods. Gwaine snapped out of his stupor.
"Wait!" he called, "Who are you? Where are you from? What was that creature, and what did you do to it?"
He paused, then decided that if he was going to risk his neck by annoying a powerful sorcerer, he might as well go all the way.
"Do you know where we can find something to eat?"
Leon hid his face in his hands.
The sorcerer faced the unruly knight, considering. His face was hard to read, but Gwaine didn't think his expression was a smiting one. He nodded once more, then started walking off again. Gwaine sighed in disappointment, though he should have expected that response. It was foolish to think that a sorcerer would help them any more than he felt he had to - it was a miracle they'd happened upon one who deigned to save their lives.
When the mysterious man reached the edge of the clearing, he turned back, tapping his foot at Gwaine impatiently.
"Well? Aren't you coming?"
Taken aback, the knights glanced at each other. Gwaine's heart sped up. He tried his best to school his expression, but he was just buzzing with curiosity. He'd never seen such powerful magic before, and what a strange lad the sorcerer was! Well, he was the most exciting man Gwaine had met in ages - he dearly missed the colourful characters that filled his travelling days. Besides, if Mordred really was under some enchantment, how were they to break it? They knew nothing about magic. This sorcerer seemed to be positively brimming with it. What other option did they have? Arthur would have said 'anything other than following a strange sorcerer into the woods', but Gwaine wasn't about to wait for his approval. Following a weird magic being off into the woods had worked out pretty well last time. He snatched up his pack and ran off to catch up with the stranger, who was already disappearing into the trees.
The rest of the knights stood in silence for a moment.
"Gwaine," Elyan groaned in deep-seated, years old annoyance. The others felt that summed it up pretty nicely.
"We can't let him get murdered alone," Leon half-joked.
"Can't we?" Arthur muttered darkly.
Gwaine, while nervous, was not in fact being murdered, though there was time yet for it. The sorcerer ambled through the undergrowth like there was nothing there at all. Curious, Gwaine followed his footsteps with his eyes. Strangely, he could not tell whether obstacles were moving themselves out of the man's way, or if he was simply the most graceful person he'd ever seen.
"I'm Gwaine. Thanks for saving us and all."
"I said I would," the sorcerer shrugged. That was cryptic, but Gwaine supposed powerful sorcerers were supposed to say things like that, so he didn't think about it too much. Part of the mystique. He said nothing more, and Gwaine tried to be quiet so as not to irritate the strange man, but he was Gwaine. There were so many questions he wanted to ask. The sorcerer took a sudden turn and strode more purposefully in his new direction.
"Where are we going?" Gwaine asked, quickening his pace to match. He figured that was a fair question. Right?
"A cottage," the sorcerer said vaguely.
"Oh, your home?"
To Gwaine's bemusement, the man frowned as if it was a difficult question.
"Yes...yes, I suppose it is."
"Er, alright. Promise you'll protect me if the bloke you stole the place from comes back?"
The stranger laughed, and Gwaine took that as a victory, even if he was a tiny bit nervous that he hadn't agreed.
"So, you're taking me home and I don't even know your name."
Not reacting to Gwaine's suggestive teasing, the sorcerer tilted his head to the side, considering.
"Right. Hm. You can call me…"
He paused in his quick stride, causing Gwaine to stumble to a sudden and awkward stop. The knight met the sorcerer's eyes, which crinkled with amusement at some secret joke.
"Merlin."
The sorcerer watched his face for a moment longer, the slightest smile curling on his lips. It almost felt like Merlin was waiting for Gwaine to get an inside joke, but he reached for understanding and found none.
"Like the bird?" he asked lamely, unable to come up with a suitable response. Merlin's secret smile grew into a wide grin.
"Exactly like the bird."
Well, Gwaine thought, that explains absolutely nothing.
Just as abruptly as he'd stopped, Merlin began to walk again, and Gwaine scrambled to keep up.
"So, you want something to eat?" Merlin asked cheerfully, "What do you like? Not berries, I take it."
Gwaine started with surprise at that, wondering how Merlin knew about the berries. Had he been magically watching them all this time? Strangely, he didn't find that as unsettling as perhaps he should. Maybe it was because he'd just saved their lives, but Gwaine had a good feeling about Merlin.
"How did you know about the berries?"
"Everyone eats berries here, at first," Merlin smiled, "If you don't know these woods, they're the most obvious source of food."
"Oh," Gwaine said, feeling a bit daft for overthinking it, "Well, I'd love a good steak, if you've got one."
"Bit dense, you knights," Merlin muttered, rolling his eyes, "We don't eat meat here."
"What? Why not?"
"What part of 'sanctuary' is unclear to you?"
"Aren't you a spitfire!" Gwaine exclaimed with delight at Merlin's biting attitude.
Actually, now that Merlin had said that, it did seem rather obvious. The animals were protected here just as they were, and it would be no good for Emrys' guests to go around killing each other. He frowned.
"But…"
"Why did the griffin attack you?" Merlin guessed, voice harder than before. Gwaine's brows rose in surprise, but he nodded. The sorcerer cut a considering glance his way, and Gwaine tried his best to show that he was simply curious and open, not accusing or suspicious. Merlin inclined his head slightly.
"Magical creatures are not mindless monsters, you know. They remember, and they feel. She and her three young were living in a forest not far from Camelot. The people were chopping it down. Every day, there was less in the wild for her to feed her chicks, but there were animals in the farms where the forest used to be."
"She stole livestock," Gwaine understood immediately what had happened, "and they tried to kill her."
"She hurt people, too. Maybe she even killed some. They destroyed her home and drove her to desperation. There was no right or wrong, only survival. I'm only grateful that your people couldn't kill her."
"My people," Gwaine mused quietly. Merlin looked at him curiously.
"Are they not?"
The knight hummed thoughtfully, "Well, I suppose they are now. I am sworn to Camelot, after all."
"You are sworn to it? Not part of it?"
"Truthfully, I don't know," Gwaine shrugged, "I've never been much a part of anything."
"What about your little band of knights?" Merlin asked, in a tone that suggested they were nothing more than a charming litter of puppies. Gwaine tried not to let it sting his manly pride.
"They're good men, all of them," he answered, "but no, I don't think I truly belong there, either."
"Sir Gwaine," Merlin said earnestly, "I hope you find the place you feel you belong."
"Thanks," Gwaine nodded, surprised by the sorcerer's sincerity, and surprised that he believed it.
"So where are you from, then?" he asked Merlin after a beat.
"Here," Merlin said simply, and Gwaine frowned in confusion. He looked up to ask another question and felt the words die away as he noticed that they were standing in front of a charming little cabin. As Gwaine had realised was his habit, Merlin strode away into his cottage without waiting, leaving the knight to scramble after him.
The door was wide open, inviting, which told Gwaine everything he needed to know about the locals of these woods. The knight was, all of a sudden, aware of the clang of his armour and the brute weight of his sword.
Merlin's home was...strange in a way Gwaine could not quite put his finger on. It seemed cosy, but not exactly lived in. There were lots of things scattered about, but all of the books on the table were pristine - none had the look of a dog eared, well-loved volume. The jars along the kitchen counter were all perfectly full, like the contents had never been used, and strangest of all, the floor was covered in a thin sheet of dust, like nobody had set foot inside for a long while.
The mysterious sorcerer breezed in, lighting the hearth with a lazy wave of his hand. With another gesture, Merlin called a bucket of water to him from outside, the wooden pail whizzing through the air without spilling a drop. He poured it into a pot above the fire, and it was boiling in seconds with a single word. Gwaine watched in awe of Merlin's easy power, watching intently as his eyes flashed from blue to gold, potatoes and chopping boards and onions flying about his head. The sorcerer whistled a happy tune as he worked. The whole thing was utterly captivating. Gwaine imagined the people of Camelot before the Purge, dangling toys in the air for babies to giggle and grab at, children inventing new ball games with their growing powers, tired mothers preparing supper with a few waves after long days of labour. He was starting to feel guilty for the part he'd played in helping Uther's cause, and he couldn't have that. Gwaine resolutely did not think about anything he did, as a rule, and he wasn't about to start now. He put it out of his mind, deliberately trying to distract himself. Merlin was rather pretty, wasn't he?
"Gwaine!" someone called from outside. Merlin didn't react, but Gwaine startled out of his thoughts, peering out the window. Leon was hovering outside the cottage, hand on his sword.
"Come in!" he called, trying to imbue his voice with as much assurance and cheer as possible. Deliberately but warily, Leon stepped through the doorway, keeping his eyes on Merlin.
"Gwaine, let's go," he said quietly, like he was trying to sneak past a sleeping bear. Gwaine wondered if Leon thought Merlin wasn't listening.
"But Merlin's cooking," Gwaine replied innocently. Leon glared at him. He breathed deeply in through the nose like he always did when he was about to scold one of them, but stopped dead in surprise. He breathed out and in again, this time sniffing the air.
"...that smells…"
"Good, right?" Gwaine finished excitedly. Leon nodded, mouth watering, stomach grumbling already.
"Good," he answered absently.
"You're welcome to stay and have some," Merlin said over his shoulder, stirring the pot slowly. Leon snapped out of his hunger a bit at the sound of the sorcerer's voice, guard sliding back up.
"Thank you," he said stiffly.
"How's Lance?" Gwaine asked, suddenly remembering his friend lying limp on the ground. Leon grimaced.
"Still unconscious. He'll be alright, though." He sounded like he was trying to convince himself as much as he was Gwaine.
"Bring him here," Merlin interjected, "I can heal him."
"What do you ask in exchange?" Leon asked suspiciously. Merlin sighed.
"I don't know, your company? This is Emrys; I don't need anything from you."
"Then...why would you help us?" Leon sounded dubious.
"Look, I don't want anything, like I said. I'm not the one who needs help," Merlin reminded him, "If you'd rather let your friend run around with a cracked skull, be my guest. What's it to me?"
"A cracked skull?" Gwaine asked in concern, sitting up straight. Merlin waved a hand dismissively.
"An exaggeration. He does need help, though."
Gwaine didn't bother to ask how he knew. He suspected he wouldn't understand the answer even if Merlin put it plainly.
"Leon, bring him here," he urged, "Why would Merlin save us all just to hurt Lance now?"
The older knight turned it over in his mind, weighing up their options. Eventually, he nodded.
"I'll have to convince Arthur."
Gwaine made a face. "Good luck, mate."
"Best get going, then," Merlin dismissed Leon, who looked a bit spooked to be getting an implicit order from some strange sorcerer.
"You're alright, Gwaine?" Leon asked, frowning, with one foot out the door. Whatever he saw in Gwaine's expression must have been enough, and with one last wary glance at Merlin's back, he ducked back out into the woods.
By the time Leon returned with the others, Gwaine was thoroughly relaxed. He had his feet up on the chair next to him, happily chatting away to Merlin, who proved to be a fascinating and unpredictable conversationalist.
Their lively debate on whether or not toads were cute was interrupted when Leon and Arthur appeared in the doorway. They moved aside to usher Percival in, who had Lancelot slung over his shoulder. The tall knight nodded to them in greeting. With a gesture from Merlin, Percival crossed the room to lay Lancelot gently down on the little wooden bed in the corner. He did not stir.
"The human body. So fragile," Merlin tutted. He sat down next to Lancelot's unmoving form, passing a hand over his forehead, muttering some low word they could not understand. Their friend's head glowed gently for a moment, then faded.
"All better!" Merlin declared happily, "Now, who's hungry?"
In just a few moments, Gwaine had a warm bowl of stew in his hands. He hurriedly began to shovel it into his mouth.
"Is it to your liking?" Merlin asked half-mockingly, watching Gwaine scoff his food down.
"Mmm!" the man hummed in approval.
Percival's stomach growled longingly. He glanced over at Lancelot's form and shrugged. If he could trust the sorcerer to heal his friend, he could eat his food. If his hospitality was just a ruse, why would he continue it now that he had them in his lair? As if sensing his decision, Merlin handed him a full bowl and spoon. Percival, who had not even introduced himself before having his prince saved by the sorcerer, chucking his friend on his bed and having his first meal of the day handed to him, smiled awkwardly in thanks. Merlin wordlessly handed another bowl of food to Leon, who took it mostly out of surprise.
"Why isn't Lancelot waking up?" Elyan asked, wondering what it meant that Merlin had offered everyone food but Arthur and himself. He noticed that Merlin ate only a little of his stew before setting it aside.
"He should rest. I'll wake him in a bit," Merlin said. From inside a cabinet, he hauled out a black cauldron. He set the pot with the stew on the table and replaced it over the fire with the cauldron. Gwaine looked to the door in anticipation, pleased to see the little bucket of water whizzing in again.
"What are the Knights of Camelot doing in Emrys?" Merlin asked them suddenly. They looked at each other, none of them particularly wanting to answer.
"I don't see how that's any of your business," Arthur said eventually. Merlin narrowed his eyes at him. Figuring that this would be a long conversation, Gwaine got up and refilled his bowl.
"This is my home. You'll forgive me if I don't want to see my neighbours burn at the stake."
"We're not here to hurt anyone," Leon assured him hurriedly, "We were granted sanctuary."
"You actually asked a magic spirit for protection?" Merlin asked disbelievingly, gathering a heap of strange ingredients and plants the knights had never seen before.
"Not exactly. We didn't know about this place, before, except one of us was raised by druids," Percival explained.
"Is that so? Which of you?"
"He's not here at the moment," Leon said diplomatically.
"Wandered off, did he?" asked Merlin casually, his keen eyes far too knowing for Arthur's liking.
"No. He was cursed. Or enchanted," Arthur asserted. Turning towards his workbench, Merlin pulled a number of jars off of the shelf and sprinkled some of their contents into the cauldron. The cabin began to fill with a subtle, sour scent.
"How do you know that?"
"He became erratic, angry. Reckless. Nearly got us killed, then stormed off."
The sorcerer did not visibly react from where he was standing with his back to them, apparently unmoved by the information.
"It wasn't like him. He started showing sympathies for magic," the prince continued.
"And showing sympathies for magic is a key sign of a curse at work, is it?" the sorcerer asked dryly. Arthur bristled.
"You could lift the curse, couldn't you?" Percival interrupted excitedly.
"Yes," Merlin shrugged.
"Unless he was the one that cast it," Elyan mumbled to himself.
"Then you must help us," Arthur declared. Merlin met his gaze easily, and Leon was absolutely horrified to find a very familiar spark of stubbornness in his eyes. He knew that look - he'd grown up seeing it on Arthur every time he did something stupid.
This can't end well, he thought mournfully, staring into his lovely warm stew. Leon began to eat quickly, determined that if he was to be turned into a frog, at least he wouldn't be a hungry frog.
"I don't have to do anything."
"But you said you could-"
"Yes, I can."
"Fine. What do you want as payment, then?" Arthur snapped.
"Oh, nothing."
"Then why won't you do it?"
"I didn't say I wouldn't, just that I don't have to."
Arthur growled in frustration. "Look, can you lift it or not?"
"Of course I can."
"Do you even know what the curse is?" Elyan asked skeptically.
"No," Merlin looked at him like he was crazy, or stupid, or both, "I can lift any curse."
"Cocky, isn't he?" Arthur sniffed. Merlin rolled his eyes.
"I defer to your expertise on that front."
Arthur glared at Gwaine and Elyan for their quiet sniggers.
"So lift it, then, and return him to us," the prince ordered expectantly. Merlin graced him with an impossibly incredulous look.
"No."
"What? Why not?"
"He isn't a thing to be returned. Besides, he's having a lovely time," the sorcerer replied flippantly. His cauldron flashed with a loud pop of bright blue light, startling Elyan and Leon nearly out of their chairs. Merlin grinned at their expense.
"You mean you know where he is?" Percival asked urgently. Merlin nodded absently, stirring something into the cauldron.
"And you didn't think to mention that before?" Arthur demanded. His famous Pendragon temper was beginning to brew. The knights braced themselves.
"How was I to know you were looking for him?" Merlin answered nonchalantly. He brought a strange orange plant onto his chopping board and began to dice it, each incision releasing a strange but sweet odour. Elyan subtly shifted away.
"How were you to-" Arthur spluttered indignantly, "He's a knight of Camelot! Of course we were looking for him!"
"No, you were looking for animals to hunt," Merlin frowned. Arthur, baffled, looked to his knights for support, but Leon shrugged. He had to hand that one to him.
"Hungry," Gwaine said cheerfully with his mouth full. Percival nodded in agreement.
"Hungry," Merlin chuckled. Leon found himself smiling, too, though he turned his expression away from Arthur's sight.
"Alright, well, now you know," Arthur said impatiently, "Show us where he is."
"Not just yet. He's learning so much."
"Learning what?" the prince asked, alarmed, "Things to do with magic? Take us to him at once!"
"No," Merlin said again, easily.
"I command you!" Arthur demanded in his signature princely voice.
Merlin paused in his chopping.
The knights shrank as a dark look clouded the blue in his eyes. The knife in his hand suddenly seemed to Leon very, very sharp. The sorcerer turned his glare singularly toward their prince.
Arthur, used to getting his way when he said things like that, was a bit shocked at the almost-snarl on the sorcerer's face. For a split second, he was a little scared, but he forced that feeling away. Merlin narrowed his eyes as if he could see through Arthur's bravado. A cold gust swept through the cabin.
"You are no prince here, Arthur Pendragon."
It seemed he was speaking with fifty voices, not just one - each voice unique and filled with menace. The very sky seemed to darken for just a moment, so quick the knights thought they might have imagined it. Then, quick as the storm clouds gathered, they dispersed. Merlin's expression smoothed out as he returned to his chopping like he'd never stopped. The rhythmic sound filled the silence that had settled across them. Leon kept one wary eye on the knife, though he knew it was irrational. If Merlin was going to kill them, it wouldn't be with something so mundane as a blade.
Gwaine let the silence simmer a bit, but eventually he couldn't take it anymore, and went back to noisily eating his food. Privately, he thought it was a bit sexy when Merlin stood up to Arthur like that. If anything, the danger just added to his whole appeal.
Said prince was lost in thought, frowning down at his hands like the answers would simply appear in his grasp. He wasn't used to people speaking back to him, especially not strangers with no rank. All of a sudden, here was this lanky, silly little sorcerer, speaking to him like he was nobody, like he was powerless. And perhaps, Arthur realised with a start, he was.
The knights watched as he seemed to come to some decision, and held their breath for the royal tantrum sure to follow.
"You're right," he said quietly. Gwaine choked on his stew.
Merlin didn't even look at him, but Arthur could tell that he was listening, interest sparking in the corners of his eyes. He swallowed the pride fighting to roar from his lips, though it clogged his throat. This was something he had to do. For Mordred. The other knights watched in shocked silence as Arthur gritted out the words like they hurt him.
"You are not subject to my commands."
"Even if I was, your pratness, your subjects are not slaves," Merlin shot back, "You'd think one of your royal tutors would've taught you the meaning of the word 'no'."
"I-" Arthur started to protest, puffing up defensively, before he remembered himself and bit back his retort.
"Yes, well. You understand we're simply concerned for our friend."
"That is the first time you've called him 'friend' this whole time," Merlin said at once, but with no particular inflection. It left Arthur wrong footed, unsure of what Merlin was insinuating. The sorcerer's piercing gaze held the prince's for a moment longer, then flicked back down to his mystery potion. Arthur opened his mouth, then closed it again.
"We'd appreciate it if you'd help us, please," Leon requested politely, used to saving Arthur from awkward interactions, "We'd like to see him safe and sound of mind."
"And what if I told you he was?" Merlin asked, not giving them time to answer before he began to bustle around the room, muttering to himself. He grabbed a bag and a pair of scissors, though notably not putting on any shoes. Sniffing thoughtfully over his cauldron, Merlin nodded to himself and dropped a handful of the orange plant into it. With a flash of gold, the fire vanished like it had never been there. The sorcerer took a ladle and poured the inky black concoction he'd brewed into a little bottle, which he promptly waved under Lancelot's nose. The knight woke instantly, shooting up in Merlin's little bed, eyes wide as he took in the scene around him.
"Alright!" Merlin exclaimed, "We've got a curse to lift. Off we go."
Striding out of the cabin without waiting, as he was wont to do, Merlin left a cabin of gobsmacked knights sitting behind him. Lancelot stared uncomprehendingly at their empty bowls.
"What in the bloody hell just happened?" Elyan asked nobody in particular.
"I feel like I should be asking you that," Lancelot said, bemused. Gwaine, finally finished with his third bowl of stew, ambled over to help the man to his feet. Lance tilted his head quizzically at Gwaine's giddy grin.
"Seems we've got ourselves a sorcerer."
As they followed Merlin through the woods, each knight found himself taking note of something different. Leon, ever diligent and true, made sure to remember their pathing so they wouldn't be lost if Merlin abandoned them. He saw the oddly shaped rocks none of the others did, the unfamiliar and remarkable plants brushing at their knees, the gnarled trunks of age-old trees. When they left Emrys, Leon would never forget the unique lay of the land.
Gwaine, of course, was wholly occupied with cataloguing everything about Merlin, and to his surprise, Lancelot seemed to be doing the same. The man seemed perfectly well after whatever Merlin had done, though Percival was keeping a close eye on him just in case.
"The animals," Lancelot whispered to Gwaine, who nodded. He'd noticed it too. Merlin seemed to be collecting something of a parade. In the canopy above them, squirrels and birds hopped along the branches after him, clearly focused on the sorcerer, pausing when he paused and turning when he turned.
Arthur, like Gwaine and Lancelot, was watching Merlin intently. But not with curiosity. With clear distrust. He watched the sorcerer with the ready tension of an opponent in battle, eyes tracking his every move. Arthur did not see the animals.
"Why did he change his mind? About helping us with Mordred?" Elyan whispered to Leon. Leon wasn't convinced that Merlin couldn't hear them, but he answered anyway.
"I'm not sure. But I hope he doesn't change it again."
"And what do you think he meant about Mordred learning? You don't think…"
"I don't know," Leon replied gravely.
They came to an open field full of bright wildflowers. Merlin stopped at the edge and turned to them, his entourage of woodland creatures halting above his head.
"Find me the chrysalis of the dealan-dhe," Merlin ordered the knights.
"Why don't you find it yourself?" grumbled Arthur. The sorcerer shot him a pointed look.
"Do you want the curse broken or not?"
"What's a dealan-dhe?" Lancelot asked, interrupting any further complaints from Arthur. Merlin smiled serenely.
"The spirit of a dead child."
"Er...we don't have to kill a child for that, do we?" Elyan asked skeptically. Merlin laughed, but didn't answer. Leon and Elyan shared a nervous look, but they were pretty sure he was joking...wasn't he?
"Charming," Arthur muttered.
"Merlin," Gwaine started hesitantly, "What exactly is your plan? Are you making another potion…?"
Merlin thought about it for a moment. "Yes, I think I am."
His eyes flashed, and a rabbit hopped out of the undergrowth and out into the field. As it disturbed the tall grass, Lancelot saw something rising up into the air. Or somethings, rather. They were white, glowing and glittering unnaturally in the waning sunlight. The rabbit disturbed more and more of them until the field was practically shining.
"Butterflies," Percival realised with a little smile, "It's the chrysalis of a butterfly."
The butterflies seemed to fly in patterns, creating elaborate swirls and loops in the air. The more of the little creatures emerged, the clearer it became that they really were glowing, bright and pure white. The men all caught their breath. It was unlike anything they had ever seen before. Percival thought that perhaps they were fallen stars.
Magic butterflies, Arthur thought darkly, disliking the situation immediately.
"Are they really the souls of dead children?" Gwaine asked, eyes alight with curiosity, following as Merlin stepped out into the tread carefully, looking for a chrysalis on the stalks of plants. Percival watched the animation on Gwaine's face, and felt the last dregs of his unease with Merlin fade away. He'd saved them, healed Lancelot, welcomed them into his home, fed them, yes, but all that aside, how could he be evil if he made Gwaine smile like that?
Lancelot elbowed him, raising an eyebrow knowingly. Percival elbowed him back, scowling. They exchanged a look and followed Gwaine into the field, both wanting to get a closer look at the magical creatures.
"Alright. Spread out, and look for a chrysalis. But be careful," Arthur said lowly to the men who remained by his side.
"How dangerous could a butterfly be?" Elyan asked bluntly. Leon shrugged, and they ventured out together.
Left standing alone at the edge of the field, Arthur glared at Merlin suspiciously. The butterflies fluttered around the sorcerer delicately, one clumsily landing on his ear. Merlin smiled at the ticklish sensation, eyes crinkling at the corners. Gwaine laughed at him as more and more butterflies began to settle on his clothes and hair like he was a great flower. Even Leon and Elyan seemed taken with the creatures, watching them with wonder in their eyes. The butterflies drifted gently, wings sparkling like sunlight on the water; Arthur had to admit that they were rather beautiful. But he wouldn't be fooled by Merlin's ruse - whatever he was up to, Arthur would see through it. Nothing was as it seemed. Not with magic.