A Marriage that Started a Legend

by IJustShowedUp

Follows canon but with my own arranged marriage spin on it. What happens when Hunith makes a mistake and is forced on the run with her infant son? What happens when Camelot knights find her twenty years later? What happens when Arthur learns he's betrothed to a peasant boy? Will Merlin be able to stand among royalty? Will these two different boys survive each other? Review!

18. Valiant

Several hundred miles away from Camelot castle, there was a little village in the middle of Camelot country. It was pretty similar to Ealdor actually. If Ealdor had about two hundred more citizens living in it. There were dozens of huts and small business's, all ran by the common peasant's that lived there.

On the very edge of the village was a little tavern. It could barely occupy twenty people on a good day and even then, the tables had to be pushed against the walls to make room.

The early hour had just started and the little tavern had just opened up. There was a large man wearing a stained apron, the owner, standing behind the wooden bar counter. He was rubbing clean the glasses that he'd ignored doing the night before when it was closing time. Although cleaning was a relative term in this case. He was using a dirty rag for the job and it looked more like he was just moving around the dirt or smudges the people who'd used it had left behind.

There was only a couple of people hanging around right now but more would arrive in the next hour or so as it got closer to the midnight hour. The man had owned this tavern for almost twenty years now, it was like clockwork when the people would arrive. The tavern was one of the few places the village had where people could go after a hard and long day of work.

The bartender knew practically everything that went on, nobody cared if the man refilling their drinks overheard their conversation. Not as long as their drinks kept coming.

Like how the two old men in their sixties sitting at a far off corner table were lovers. They have been since their twenties but kept it on the download, refusing to even acknowledge each other outside of this tavern. They met there once a week and would pay the bartender to allow them to use the room upstairs. Their wives and children thought that they were working late to bring home a little extra money.

Or how at the bar, there were two young girls who were barely fifteen. The bartender usually didn't allow girl's in that young being that they reminded him of his own daughter who was barely six at the moment. Young girl's like that could get in trouble around these parts, especially at this time of night. But he allowed it only because he knew the girl's deserved a night of just being with their friend. After all, both girl's came from large households and they were the eldest daughters. It was their job to wangle their younger brothers and sisters all day everyday while their parents worked to bring them home their dinner.

Besides, it was better that they were here where could keep an eye on them instead of getting in trouble elsewhere.

And then there was also the man in the far corner. He was sitting by himself, sipping at a glass of ale but he had a large cloak on that covered his face. He had come in right when the bartender had opened. He'd been sitting there sipping his one drink ever since. The bartender didn't know what he wanted, all he did was sit there staring at his table. But he'd paid for his drink so the bartender left him alone. If the guy wanted to sit there and be all broody, who was he to stop him? As long as he got his money for the ale, he was happy.

The man in the corner was actually the only person that the bartender didn't know. He was a stranger that nobody had seemed to notice arriving until he'd shown up at the tavern. The village did get strangers occasionally although it was only ever people passing through. They were close enough to the larger villages that people may stop by to rest at the inn down the street. But not so close that it was an everyday occurrence.

Nobody ever actually moved to their village, nobody wanted to live here unless they had been born here. And even then, the younger generation that still had hopes and dreams wanted to leave until they got hit with the reality that they didn't have the means to just pick up and go somewhere else.

At that moment, the tavern door was suddenly thrown open, startling everybody inside. At least until they saw that it was nothing more than a thin teenage girl, her dark hair falling pin straight down her back. The girl had an excited look on her face, head snapping around wildly until she saw her friends sitting at the bar.

The other patrons went back to what they were doing before the interruption. The bartender went back to 'cleaning' his glasses. He'd wondered where that girl had been when the other two had shown up without her. The three of them were usually as thick as thieves. It was rare to see one of them arriving without the other two by her side. Safety in numbers and all that, as they'd explained to him when they first started coming.

The dark haired girl raced to her friend's side, almost throwing herself onto the stool beside them. The uneven chair wobbled dangerously beneath her before settling.

"About time you got here, Molly." The blonde teenager teased, smirk bright on her face. "I thought I was going to have to drink yours for you if you didn't show up soon." It was no secret in the tavern that Molly liked her drinks.

"Oh, never mind that, Jeanne, did you hear the news?" Molly said urgently, ignoring the third drink that the girl's had been saving for her. That immediately grabbed Jeanne and her red haired friend's attention. Molly never turned down her drinks. Literally, she had not once turned a drink down in her life.

"What is it this time, Molly?" Jeanne asked. If anybody in town wanted a piece of gossip, go to Molly. If anybody was a rival against the bartender for knowing what's going on, it was Molly. Although the bartender usually just kept to the people that lived in their area. Molly wanted something bigger, she was always on the lookout for news about anything happening outside of their fair village.

"It's Merlin!" Molly squealed excited. But Jeanne and her other friend just looked at her blankly, clearly not recognizing the name. Molly kept looking at them expectedly when she didn't immediately get the response that she was looking for.

"...Who?" Her red headed friend asked. It sounded familiar but she couldn't remember where she had heard it from.

Molly let out an exasperated huff, rolling her eyes. "Heather! It's Merlin!" Still no reaction from Jeanne and Heather. She gave a huff of irritation. If Jeanna and Heather hadn't been her friends since the days they were born, she would have already found somebody else that shared her love for gossip. But no matter, she saw it fit for her to inform them. "As in the Prince's husband." She said slowly, enunciating her words.

"Oh yeah, that guy!" Jeanne snapped her fingers.

It wasn't surprising that they had forgotten the consort's name. They lived to far away from the inner city to be directly affected by whatever the royal family did. As long as it wasn't a new tax law or something, they rarely had to worry about what the king or his son were doing. They've only had a representative from their village go to the inner city twice in the fifteen years the three girl's have been alive. And both times were years apart and it had only been done because bandits were raiding their village at the times and they needed help. The king had sent only a handful of knights to get rid of the problem. It had seen like a slight at the time, as if the king didn't care enough to send more, but the knights he'd sent had actually gotten rid of the problem.

"I remember him now." Heather agreed, sitting in the middle seat between the two girls and looking between them. Her curly red hair fanned out behind her as she did so. "What was so special about him again?" Molly had raved about it when the news had reached their village a few days ago. But Heather and Jeanne had learned to tune her out at certain points over the years because once she got stuck on something, she wouldn't stop going on about it.

Molly rolled her eyes so hard that they could have popped out of her head if they weren't attached. "He's important because he's a peasant." Molly exclaimed. "As in he was one of us before he married Prince Arthur."

"That's right," Jeanne said amused, bringing her glass up to daintily sip at her drink. "Explain to me how Prince Arthur married a peasant again?"

Molly waved her hand as if that was the least important part, "Nobody really knows. But I've heard rumors that he was a servant in the castle and the prince was so in awe of his beauty that he had to marry him."

Heather scoffed, "There is no way that's true. I heard that the prince was cruel to those around him. There's no way that he fell for that love at first sight bull."

"Hey, if he did, maybe there's hope for him to change." Jeanne suggested, nudging Heather next to her.

Heather shook her head, "No way! The prince is a noble. They don't care about us. There has to be something more to that marriage and I doubt a peasant could ever be 'beautiful' enough for Arthur to see the 'error in his ways'. Especially a male peasant at that. Doesn't he prefer women anyway?"

"I'm pretty sure he does," Jeanne sighed. "Besides, how do we know this Merlin guy is even real? It could just be a stupid rumor being passed around by a bunch of bored kids somewhere."

Molly huffed, clearly this conversation wasn't going the way she wanted. "Well I think Arthur did fall in love at first sight!" She said defensively. "It's so romantic!"

"Romantic doesn't make it true." Jeanne pointed out. "Especially if this Merlin guy doesn't even exist."

"He does to." Molly insisted. "That girl that lives down the street, Maria? She has a cousin that lives closer to the inner city. Apparently her cousin has a stepsister who has this friend that lives in the city. And her friend has a brother that works as a servant in the castle. He was there working the party when the marriage happened."

Jeanne and Heather shared a doubtful look. Molly was usually spot on with her stories but she did also like to spread them before she got all the facts. It was entirely possible that this whole story wasn't right.

Molly waved her hand, getting a little more urgent now that the conversation had run away. "Rather you believe me or not isn't the point." She rushed out. "You won't believe what happened at the reception after the wedding."

"They did it in the middle of the party?" Jeanne guessed bored. She was the only one of her friends who wasn't still a virgin and had no problem reminding them as such.

Heather screwed her face up in disgust. Although she was also thankful that her friend hadn't gone in more graphic detail, which she was prone to do.

"No!" Molly snapped. "Apparently the prince was attacked at the party by a sorceress. She tried to assassinate him!"

Heather and Jeanne shared another unimpressed look before giving their bored faces to Molly.

"Doesn't that guy have an assassination attempt on him like every few months?" Jeanne asked. "I would hardly call that news."

"The assassination isn't the news." Molly said excited, drawing this out to make it more suspenseful. But when her friend's still didn't seem interested, she finally gave in. "I heard that his consort, this Merlin guy, saved his life! Pulled him out of the way just in time or something."

"Really?" Heather gasped, straightening up in her seat. "Doesn't the prince have knights? Why did his consort save him and not them?"

Molly brushed that off, "It doesn't matter! I just want to know if this Merlin will be able to change Arthur now that he's in his life."

Jeanne snorted, "Change Arthur into what?"

"...A decent human being." Molly said as if that should have been obvious. "I mean, Arthur's cruel but surely having a peasant for a consort means that he's changing if he agreed to the union."

Jeanne scoffed, "I think it's much more likely that this Merlin has blackmail or something on the prince and that's why he agree to the union."

"Now that doesn't even make sense." Heather protested. "All the king has to do is have him arrested and nobody would hear whatever it was. Why risk marrying the guy when he could let whatever slip at any moment?"

"Because it's not blackmail! It's true love!" Molly insisted, always the optimist. "Merlin can show Arthur how wrong it is to treat his subjects like he does! They'll be spending a lot of time together so Merlin could do it in a way that no other peasant could!"

"Like how?" Jeanne asked mockingly. "By agreeing to fuck him if he'll be nice?"

"Jeanne!" Heather squealed, giving her a little shove to the arm. "You can't be suggesting that someone as prominent as a consort would do that for us little people."

"He's probably doing in anyway." Jeanne grumbled into her drink. "He should at least get something for us out of it."

"Merlin was a peasant before his marriage! He probably grew up just like we did, struggling." Molly said, looking surprisingly serious. "He knows what we go through better than any of those stuffy nobles ever could."

"Well," Jeanne announced, leaning back in her seat. "I personally believe that it doesn't matter. Even if Arthur agreed to marry this Merlin, the prince is as stubborn as they come. He's not going to 'change his ways' and not even this Merlin will be able to change that. You're just getting all excited for nothing."

"Well I think it's worth getting excited about." Heather interrupted. The two girl's turned back to look at their friend between them. Heather sat down her drink on the bar, having been sipping it quietly while the two girl's argued. Her eyes were trained on the condensation leaking down her glass, she spoke quietly. "I mean, nothing happens around here. We might as well listen for news about what's happening in the city. And this Merlin might just be the answer that we've been looking for. Someone who can show Arthur that his people are equal, both noble and peasant. Someone that could turn Arthur from a spoiled brat and into a great king."

There was a moment of silence for a second. And then Jeanne snorted. "I think your putting to much faith into a stranger. This Merlin is probably just living it up, enjoying the royal lifestyle that none of us will ever experience. He's probably to busy stuffing his face to worry about any of us."

They were silent for another moment.

And then Molly jolted out of her seat, startling her friends. "Well I prefer to look on the bright side of things." She decided. "I'm sure the consort will look out for us."

"You really think he will?" Heather asked, looking down at her hands. She wasn't like Molly who had hope to make the world a better place or Jeanne who was the most pessimistic girl in town. She liked facts. She liked believing in things she could see. And without knowing this Merlin, she just felt doubtful that he would care about the little people. Because honestly? How many peasant's would move up to the royal lifestyle and stop to think about those that didn't have that opportunity.

"Of course!" Molly insisted, putting her hands flat on the counter they were sitting at.

Jeannie raised her glass, a mocking smirk on her lips. "Well then, let's make a toast. May the Prince's Consort give a shit and save us all."

Molly snatched up her drink and held it to clink against her friend's. "May the Prince's Consort give a shit and save us all."

Then the two looked expectedly at Heather. Heather looked between her two friends, playing with her fingertips. Then she sighed, her friends could always talk her into things. Heather reached for her drink and clinked it against her friend's, a small smile playing on her lips. "May the Prince's Consort give a shit and save us all."

The three girl's took back their drinks and each one drowned it with practiced ease in a heartbeat. It was like fire going down their throats, today's drinks a bit more on the stronger side than they were used to.

The bartender watched all of this from behind his bar. He was leaned against the counter behind him, still casually 'cleaning' more glasses. He shook his head at the teenager's antics. Oh to be young and naive again.

That was when the bartender heard the solid sound of swishing. He looked over, jolting up surprised when he saw that the man in the cloak who had been sitting in the corner was now gone. And the door near that seat was swinging back and forth. The only evidence that the strange man was ever there was the empty glass still sitting on the table, a few bits of coin that was just enough to cover his drink sitting beside it.

Frowning, the bartender shook his head and went to collect his money before the crowd started coming and someone stole it. That stranger had definitely been more on the strange side than the usual passer-buyer.

Just outside the tavern, the shady stranger was walking away at an unusually fast pace. He had places to be and things to do. Not to mention he was on a deadline. He would have to ride his horse throughout the night if he was going to make it to Camelot's inner city come morning. And he still had to make a pit stop before he left this wretched little village. It was the only reason he'd been in the tavern at the first place. He was just killing time until it was dark enough that nobody would be able to see his face clearly, especially with the way he had his hood so far down. And nobody would see him leaving either.

If everything worked out how he planned then he would need the cover to darkness to make his escape. With what he was planning tonight, he would need it. This wasn't the first deal he'd made with someone shady.

When he was a child, his mother would always tell him that two could keep a secret only if one was dead. That was pretty much the only lesson she'd taught him that he'd taken to heart.

Now, he stood outside the small shop on the very far edge of the village. So far that while it was still a part of the village, all of the neighborhood kids had been warned against going there. Lest the shop owner find you, takes you away forever just so he could eat your eyeballs and wear your skin around as clothes.

They were just stories to keep the local kids away from the shop owner with his questionable objects. And it didn't hurt that the man was strange himself, which only fueled the rumors against him.

But he wasn't worried. He'd watched the man this morning. The man was just a freak but not a dangerous one. Especially when he was more dangerous, like a snake waiting in the bushes before striking. He was the snake that the rat didn't see coming before he was gone from this world.

The objects that the man sold however, was very dangerous. And that was the only reason that he was here. He had tracked down a very prominent item that he wanted to get his hands on before he entered the tournament that Camelot hosted every year.

Valiant cast a glance around to make sure that he was alone. When it was obvious that nobody was watching him, waiting to see what criminal activity he was prepared to do, Valiant entered the shop.

The shop was deserted, Valiant had made sure it would be while he made this exchange. The less people around, the better. There was less of a chance of it reaching Camelot's inner city where he was heading if there were less witnesses.

The only light came from two torches perched on the wall although it looked as if they could fall at any moment and set the place ablaze within seconds.

The shop itself had dozens of shelf's spread around. Each one was crammed full of items for sell, while also being coated in a layer of dust. It was obvious that somebody didn't bother to clean every once in a while. These items were the less dangerous ones, the things the shop keeper had no problem keeping out in the open.

But Valiant had no doubt that the items kept out from were all scams.

Like the one shelf that was dedicated sorely for cheap medications for those who couldn't afford to see the only physician in town. He'd diagnose your symptoms but you'd have to pay an outrageous amount for the medication you needed.

Valiant had no doubt that the medications were fake. The shop keeper didn't seem like the kind of man who would go out of his way to have expensive medications sent to him just to sell them for a quarter of the price. Not unless the medications were nothing more than honey or colored water to make it seem legit.

But it wasn't what was up front that he was interested in. It was what the shopkeeper kept in the back room that held his interest.

The item in question was very expensive, and extremely rare. A one of a kind type of object that couldn't be found anywhere else. Selling just it would give the shopkeeper more gold than what he'd get from an ordinary night of customers.

And speaking of the shopkeeper, there he was now. He was sitting behind his little desk where he would take payments from the few people that dared to venture in to buy his products. He had an oily smile on his face, all set up and waiting for Valiant specifically.

Valiant waited until he had walked up to the desk before taking the hood of his cloak off to reveal his face. He was a man in his thirties at least, with brown hair and a five o'lock shadow of facial hair that just made his more attractive features stand out. His green eyes though, were dark, something sinister just lurking beneath the surface.

Valiant cleared his throat and leaned forward against the desk, as if somebody would hear them despite the shop having been cleared out for their arrangement.

"I understand you have a shield for me." Valiant said bluntly, not in the mood for games. He had plenty of shields, could get his hands on a lot more. But he'd left them all behind when he'd heard of this one. It would be the perfect shield for him, exactly the thing he needed to win Camelot's yearly tournament.

The shopkeeper would know exactly which one he was talking about. They had been in correspondence via letters for several weeks, ironing out the terms of their bargain.

The small man gave an oily grin, "Of course I do." He said as he reached under his desk. He already had it all ready for him. He'd even shined and polished it just for this moment. It would probably be the biggest sell he'd ever done, with a prize this good.

The shopkeeper held up the shield, waiting for Valiant's approval. Valiant didn't let a hint of emotion show on his face, he never allowed anybody to see what he didn't want to be seen. The shopkeeper might try and hike up the price if he saw how the shield had truly captivated Valiant.

The shield itself was pure yellow and there were three snakes on it. The three snakes were intertwined together by their tails, stretching out across the shield that they had made their home. Each one was as green as a deadly acid, their mouths were wide to show off their fangs dripping in a deadly venom. And their red eyes shone as if they had been painted with rubies in mind.

It was obviously a different shield but it reminded Valiant vividly of the shield he'd had as a teenager. His shield back then hadn't looked nearly as realistic but the design was similar enough. Not that it mattered, the power that was hidden behind the masterpiece that was painted on it was what he needed.

Although he'd be lying if he said that the design wasn't what had attracted him to it in the first place. And then when he found out what this particular shield could do, he knew that he'd do whatever he had to just to get his hands on it. And he hadn't rested until he'd tracked it down here, at this rundown old shop ran by the seedy shopkeeper.

Valiant practically craved the power that this shield would give him. He was always looking for ways to be the best, to be seen as better than all the rest, and he wasn't above doing the worst acts just for the rest of the world to see him that way.

His mad craving for power? To be the best? As cliche as it was, all came from his childhood and this shield, the design it held, was a reminder of those times. Back then, he'd been so weak and unable to hold his own. And after everything that had happened, he vowed that he would never go back. He was going to be the strongest out of anybody.

XXX

Valiant had been born into a family of knights. His father had been one and all five of his older brothers, each one was stronger than the last. Valiant was the youngest, his mother's baby, as everyone liked to call him.

When he was born, he almost hadn't made it and his mother had become overprotective to an almost horrifying degree. She'd never let him out of her sight his entire childhood. She was always yelling at his brothers when he'd tried to join in on their rough housing. It had taken years for her to allow him to even touch a practice sword, to the point where his brothers had started making fun of him when he was fifteen and he was still holding a wooden sword.

All of his brothers had been gifted with real swords on their tenth birthday's. But not him, he'd gotten his wooden one. The one he had still carried when he was thirteen because his mother refused to allow him anything more than that. It was way to short for him at that point and no matter how much his father had tried to tell her it was more dangerous for Valiant to use a sword unsuited for him, his mother had refused to budge on the matter.

It got to the point where Valiant had to sneak out of the house to train on his own. He'd go to the woods where a group of boy's hung out practicing most nights. Practicing things that were to dangerous for any of their parents to allow, each move more reckless and deadly than the last. Valiant had even taken to stealing his brother's old swords just so he could join in.

They never noticed. They'd always gotten a brand new one on their birthday's to celebrate, as was their family tradition. A tradition Valiant wasn't a part of just because he'd had trouble coming out when he was born. It didn't matter that he was perfectly healthy by that point, that he was no different than any other teenager. He was made to feel like an outsider among his own family and he'd never forgiven his mother for it.

But he'd survived through it all because that was who he was, even when he was a baby. He was a survivor.

It had all come to a head on Valiant's eighteenth birthday. At this point, he'd been sneaking out of the house for three years, unknown to his family, perfecting his skills.

His family had purchased him a present that arrived early that morning. Valiant had still been young enough that he still had the littlest bit of hope that his mother would see him as the man that he now was.

He'd been such a child to think his mother would ever change.

He'd been so excited to, before he had become the hard and emotionless man that he was now. The present had been shaped like a sword so he'd thought for the briefest of moment that his mother had finally realized that he was a man and didn't need her motherly protection anymore.

It had been a sword all right. But it wasn't a real sword, it wasn't even a wooden one. It had been made of cloth, some kind of rubbery texture. It was even more child safety than his wooden one was. And then his mother had the gall to suggest he put his new sword on the mantle place as a reminder of all the hard work he'd done. And then move on to something new. Maybe consider becoming a scholar, something easy so that he'd always be safe.

Him?! In a family of knights becoming a scholar? It was humiliating, it felt as if he was being ridiculed by his own mother. That was when he'd realized that he would never be a man in her eyes. That he would always be lesser than any of his brothers.

And something in him snapped when one of his brother's, the one that was the second youngest, had made a snide joke about it. That brother in particular had always taken a certain cruel amusement out on Valiant. Always putting him down and practicing right where Valiant could see him, just so he could give him that patronizing and smug look that he always seem to wear.

With everything that was happening, Valiant was done.

He'd thrown the rubber sword onto the floor at his brother's feet and challenged him to a duel. Just so he could prove himself once and for all. Just to prove that he belonged as a member of this family and wouldn't put up with this babying nonsense any longer.

At first his brother had laughed in his face, believing it was nothing but a joke. But then he'd seen Valiant's stern face and had turned mocking, agreeing only on the terms that Valiant put away his 'baby swords' and be a 'good little boy' and do what their mother wanted by becoming a scholar.

Valiant agreed to his terms but only because he already had a plan in mind. Something that not one member of their family would tolerate but Valiant had no problem with.

He was going to cheat. He was willing to do anything to get ahead and he had absolutely no reservations by doing it. It wouldn't be the first time he'd cheated after all.

His mother had panicked, begged and pleaded and cried for Valiant to take a forfeit. To just do what he was told and all of this could be over with. But Valiant had refused, even when his other three brothers told him he'd get hurt. As far as anyone knew, Valiant had never held a real sword before.

All his father had done was pat him on the shoulder and told him that it wasn't to late to stop this.

Valiant had wretched away as if he'd been burned before storming outside to where their battle would take place. His brother was already waiting for him, that smug look permanently etched onto his face. He'd made some half-witted comment about how he was surprised Valiant had actually bothered to show up. That they both knew how this match would turn out.

Valiant hadn't bothered answering because yes, he knew exactly how this match would go. And it wouldn't be in his brother's favor.

Valiant had reached the sword rack first and that was all he needed to put his plan into motion. All he'd done was stick something to the base of the sword he knew his brother would pick, the flashiest one of all. It wasn't very big, just a little thing that was no bigger than his pinky nail but weighed a lot more than it looked. It made the sword unbalanced, throwing off the person using it. Especially if that person was familiar with the sword and wasn't expecting the shift in balance. You'd be surprised by what the smallest shift in weight could do to unsettle someone.

And true enough, his brother had picked that exact sword. Maybe if he wasn't always trying to show off, Valiant might have picked the wrong sword to stick his weight on. But as luck would have it, Valiant knew his brother's and all of their weaknesses better than he knew the back of his own hand.

Their mother had covered her eyes crying, already dreading the condition her baby would be in by the time the fight was over. Their father had tried to comfort her, always having been a little more over indulgent for his wife. Their brother's had watched on, cheering for Valiant's other brother.

Not one member of his family thought he could succeed. He knew they wouldn't.

That was why he had cheated as he had. He knew he was skilled from his secret practices in the woods, but why take the chance that his brother might actually prove to be better? And Valiant was smarter than he was given credit for. He wasn't going to go into battle without knowing that he could still win even if his own skill wasn't enough.

And so the battle commenced. It was obvious from the beginning that his brother was off, the shift in weight his sword had making his swings off just the slightest bit. It was enough of a difference that Valiant was able to block far to easily.

But Valiant had let their fight go on for longer than he had to. He wanted to be in the spotlight, he wanted to finally show his family what he could do.

But his excitement got the best of him. Within minutes, Valiant had thrown himself fully into the fight, throwing his brother to the ground and wielding his sword to his neck.

His family watching from the sidelines had hushed, waiting to see what was about to happen.

His brother had frozen, looking up from the dirt with eyes wide and shocked filled, scared. He was scared because he was the only one in the perfect position to see Valiant's eyes. The only one that had seen how dark they were, how emotionless they were.

His brother knew in that exact moment that his life was forfeit. He had told Valiant what would happen if he won. He hadn't asked Valiant what he'd get if he won, it hadn't even occurred to him that his little brother would have beat him.

His price was for Valiant to give up this silly dream of being a real knight.

Valiant's price had been his brother's life.

Eighteen years of being coddled was enough. Eighteen years of being treated as less than because his mother couldn't accept that he wasn't the child that had nearly died just by being born.

His mother had pretty much hung up her sword and shield, preferring to spend her entire time into making a safety bubble around her youngest, making sure nothing could harm him. She didn't care if he couldn't breathe because of her suffocating behavior, as long as he was firmly against her chest.

If he wasn't allowed to have this fight with his mother and finally get rid of her, as he'd been daydreaming about doing since he was twelve, than his brother would be the next best thing.

Valiant had held no hesitance as he brought his sword down onto his brother's neck.

And just like that, it was done. His brother was on the ground with his throat slit and Valiant was still standing, only now splattered with his brother's blood.

When Valiant turned to face his family, he'd almost expected some kind of celebration. His family always got thrilled with inner-family matches. They went all out to make sure that the one who won was the center of attention.

But nobody had killed a member of the family before.

Valiant was expecting something, to be acknowledged over his success. Eighteen years of ridicule and he had finally beaten his brother. His family couldn't deny that he was one of them now, that he was just a good a knight as any of them.

What he wasn't expecting was the looks he was getting. Not one member of the family didn't have a mixed look of horror, shock, confusion, and despair. And each one was looking at him as if he were the monster instead of the one that had forced his hand.

Even his mother who panicked if he was out of her sight for more than five minutes was looking as if she didn't recognize him. Apparently not even his mother could love him anymore after seeing her baby kill another one of her children.

She was even the one that requested he leave before she had his father drag him to the king of their kingdom and have him arrested. He wasn't even allowed to stay the night as the late hour drew to a close.

His father stayed behind to comfort his mother and mourn their son. His brother's had watched him with hands on their own swords as he packed a bag before they escorted him to the front door.

His mother hadn't even told him goodbye before he was forced out of his childhood home. They hadn't even given him a pouch of gold coins so that he had a way to start somewhere new.

But he didn't need anything from them. He'd left and never looked back. Because he was a survivor and he would do anything to make sure that he came out on top.

XXX

Which was why he was here ten years later, in this dingy shop practically in the middle of nowhere, once again doing what he had to just to prove that he was the best.

He studied the shield held out before him by the shopkeeper but he didn't touch it. Valiant was a lot of things and stupid wasn't one of them. He knew better than to touch things he didn't understand. Especially when he knew what this shield could do. He was not going to touch it just to find out the hard way that a certain touch activated it.

"With your sword craft and this shield, I guarantee that you'll win your tournament."the shopkeeper, Devlin, encouraged. He didn't know how good Valiant was with a sword, he wasn't interested in knowing, but he did know that flattery went a long way in getting a sell. Even if he was the worst swordsman around, Devlin doubted that the man would lose. He'd have to be worse than bad if he lost with a shield like this at his side.

Devlin's wares were usually just things he tossed together last minute. He let the people decide for themselves that it worked. But for his actual items that he'd tracked down and found over the years, he put a little more effort in maintaining them for his more special customers.

Like Valiant.

Valiant wasn't looking at Devlin, he kept his eyes trained on the snakes on the shield. He was searching for any minute detail, something that may show the snakes moving as they were supposed to do so. Valiant was no fool, he wouldn't be purchasing anything without seeing proof that it worked.

Although Devlin was asking for a larger fee than he thought was necessary. Especially since Valiant was already planning on taking the thing if it turned out to be the one thing he was looking for.

"Show me how it works." Valiant said gruffly, keeping his eyes trained on the shield. On the snakes with their ruby eyes that resembled blood more than anything else. On their scales that looked like a deadly poison. On their fangs that were literally dripping with a highly dangerous venom. It was said that one nick of those fangs could kill a man.

And killing the shopkeeper was exactly what he was going to do if he had lied to him. If the shopkeeper had made Valiant waste his time coming all this way just for Devlin's claims to be proven false, all hell would break loose in the tiny unkept shop.

"Of course." Devlin simpered, looking far to cocky at the same time for his own good. The shopkeeper turned to the shield and said "Tharanai im bis entra ofra honra stolle."

There was silence for a moment before there was the sound of hissing. The snakes on the shield, their bodies started to move, slithering as if they were alive. And then one by one, the snakes pulled themselves off of the shield, hovering above it. The base of their tails still entangled together were still on the shield, keeping them in place and not allowing them to leave their captivity. Their top half's though were completely out, hissing as they wiggles around in the air, waiting for a command.

Valiant couldn't stop himself from flinching back startled. His hand automatically fell to his side where his sword was strapped to his waist. But he didn't need to use it. The snakes weren't attacking him as he first thought. They were just hovering there, hissing at him as if they were daring him to come closer.

Valiant hadn't seen much magic in his lifetime. He'd seen a few things of course but nothing like what this shield was able to do. He had almost doubted it had been real. But whatever doubt he'd had when he'd arrived had completely evaporated by this point. It was hard to doubt something when the proof was literally hissing at him.

Devlin smirked, watching Valiant's face, looking for any sign of awe. This shield was something else entirely, he'd nearly lost his hand just to acquire it. It would have been a worthy trade.

Devlin usually kept the shield sleeping nowadays because of how dangerous it was. But all the shopkeeper needed to activate it were the words the sorcerer he'd taken it from had taught him. But now that it was awake, all it needed was for the one that wielded it to give it a command. There was another phrase that Devlin knew that was supposed to put it back to sleep.

The best part about it?

One didn't need to be a sorcerer to control it. If you had the shield and the words, you were golden. All the snakes needed was a command to follow.

Devlin's eyes hadn't even flashed gold because he himself had no actual affinity for magic. But he wasn't above finding these little work around's, these little tricks, that allowed him to use certain enchanted objects.

"When you're competing in the tournament, all you have to do is pin your opponent under the shield." Devlin explained, looking far to pleased with himself. "They will follow your command and strike."

As he said that, Valiant cautiously reached out as if he was going to touch one of the snakes. Just so he could see for himself that they were real and he wasn't hallucinating the whole thing. He hadn't even gotten close before the snake he was going for shot forward, hissing threateningly at him. Valiant jerked his hand away before the fang could pierce his fingers and inject the venom into his bloodstream.

The shopkeeper grinned as he continued, "Your opponent will be paralyzed as the life slowly drains from them." Careful as to not upset the snakes, he turned the shield around. Valiant cautiously grabbed onto the arm strap on the back, watching over the top of the shield at the still hissing snakes.

Valiant was surprised by just how powerful he felt in that moment. He was surprised by the surge of confidence that raced through him. Nothing could beat him, not when he had such a shield in his possession.

Valiant didn't know who would be in the tournament but it was said to be the best in the land. Valiant had no doubt that he qualified, that he was probably better than all who dared to enter. Maybe he wouldn't need the shield at all and could beat his competitors with nothing more than his own skill.

But why take that risk when he didn't have to? Why risk the possibility that there might actually be someone out there who was better than him? He wasn't willing to risk the chance that there might-keyword: might-be someone who can beat him.

He hadn't taken the chance on his brother all of those years ago and he wouldn't take that chance now.

Valiant looked down at the snakes on the shield he held, feeling a slow curl of a smirk growing on his face.

Devlin seemed to take this as an encouragement to continue talking. "The snakes are under your command. They'll do anything that you tell them to." He said pleased. He'd had some fun with it himself when he'd first gotten it. But it was worth more selling it than what little entertainment he'd gotten out of it. Now all he had to do was get his gold. Then the snake shield would be out of his hands. Just one less thing for him to hide from the guards that occasionally passed through.

"Anything?" Valiant asked, not taking his eyes off of the withering snakes in front of him. They were absolutely fascinating, the way they were just coming off of the shield like they were. He'd made the right decision tracking it down.

"Just say the word." Devlin said brightly. He started to laugh, pleased with how their transaction was going, another satisfied customer.

Valiant finally dragged his eyes away from the snakes to meet eyes with the shopkeeper. The knight started to laugh as well. He had just been planning on using his sword but now that he knew what this shield could do, he had another idea.

The shopkeeper laughed some more, encouraged by Valiant's behavior.

But as their laughter died out, Valiant's grin slipped into something more sadistic. There was something dark in his eyes that made the shopkeeper's smile dim just the slightest bit.

"Kill him." Valiant commanded, never looking away from the shopkeeper's eyes.

Devlin's eyes widened and his smile dropped in an instant. He had no chance to scream before the three snakes shot forward and struck him straight in the jugular. His life had been forfeited the moment he'd told Valiant his shop's location.

Valiant looked at the dead body on the floor, now hidden behind the desk the man had worked at. It would be over a day later when his body would be found by some kids who had dared each other to come in and steal something.

The briefest of smirk's alit Valiant's features. Devlin dealt with dangerous objects all of the time, you think he would have been more cautious or had some magical way as to protect himself. He really had been a fool, thinking that he could just do this kind of business and that it wouldn't get him in the end.

Valiant turned to the still hissing snakes and said, "Sleep."

The snakes gave another hiss before they slipped back into the shield, resuming their positions as nothing more than painted figures.

Valiant carefully slid the shield onto his back before leaving the shop. With an almost sick amusement, he flipped the open sign on the door over to close. Devlin wouldn't be able to sell to anyone anymore.

Valiant always got some twisted sort of amusement afterwards, when he did what he must so that he could get on top. After all, he'd spent his entire childhood on the bottom and he was not going to end up like that again.

His brother may have been his first kill but he had far been from the last.

Valiant left the shop and journeyed into the woods where he had left his horse tied up. If he left now, then he would make it to Camelot sometime by mid-morning. Just in time to make sure his name was on the tournament's signup list.

Perfect.

Miles and hours later, the sun was just rising in Camelot as morning approached. The people of Camelot were going about their day. The peasant's were heading off to their jobs, leaving their homes during the morning rush as to not be late. The morning shift of kitchen servants in the castle had awoken hours before, preparing breakfast for those in the castle. Most of the knights were just now rising from their beds although the knights that guarded the city as the kingdom slept were just now returning to their beds for some well deserved rest.

The sun rose further into the sky as early morning broke.

The sun happened to be in the perfect position to be streaming straight into the window of one of the many bedrooms the castle held. The curtains were wide open, as the occupant of this room always kept them. He liked to be greeting by the sun.

And speaking of occupant, the sun was hitting directly onto the large bed that seemed to overtake the room. There was a shift of movement under the teal blankets. And then there was two fists poking out of the top, a loud groan following as the boy in the bed stretched.

Merlin arched his back, feeling it pop as he kicked off the cover, revealing his thick hair and drowsy eyes. He kicked again, the end of his blanket having gotten wrapped around his ankle again as he'd slept. He wasn't a gentle sleeper. Just as he was always up and doing something in the day, his body couldn't help but keep moving even in his sleep.

He stretched some more before rolling over to look out the window, at the sunlight that streamed through the glass.

His hand was resting on the pillow beside him. And as he stared towards the sun coming in through his window, his eyes caught onto something that the sunlight was glittering off of. His wedding ring, shining off of the silver metal like it were a diamond.

Merlin flipped onto his back and held his hand up above his head to get a good look at it. He'd found himself doing that often. Just stopping with what he was doing so that he could stare at it. Or he was lost in his thoughts or reading his new magic book and will find himself twisting the ring around his finger absentmindedly.

Merlin huffed at it, seeing the red pendragon crest carved into the metal. Was it him or did pendragon red look suspiciously like blood? Either way, it was his ring and Arthur wore the matching one as proof of their marriage.

Speaking of Arthur, he wondered what the prince was up to this fine morning. Not that he knew, he didn't know anything that had been going on with the prince. This day marked that it had been just over a week since he'd been married and nobody seemed to know what to do with him, lest of all Arthur.

Merlin had this theory that the blonde had been avoiding him. And it was a sound theory as well, not just him overthinking things as Uncle Gaius had suggested when he'd brought it up a few days ago. But every time Merlin had come across Arthur, he always seemed to realize that there was something that needed his attention and then left.

At first he hadn't thought nothing of it but after a week of it, it was obvious what he was doing. But Merlin wasn't exactly seeking him out either. It was just kind of hard to avoid each other when the two of them lived next door to the other.

But hey, if Arthur wanted to spend his time staying as far away from Merlin as possible, he said let him. There was only so much Arthur that he could take and he was enjoying his well deserved break from the blonde.

Most people seemed to leave him alone actually, not sure how to act around the newest member of the royal family. It had been dreadfully boring that first day before Merlin had gotten himself into a routine of sorts.

He'd occupied his days by spending it mostly with his uncle, hold up for hours at a time in his chambers. It was mainly just Gaius getting his reading up to speed. Merlin was behind compared to those that had been taught growing up like the nobles but he was also way ahead of the average peasant who'd probably never read a day in their life.

When he wasn't there, he was often found helping Gwen. Usually by helping her carry her laundry basket. He'd tried to help her with the washing one time but had practically been shoved out by her and three other girl's. Something about it not being proper for a man of his status to be in the washing rooms. That still didn't stop him from coming back hours later to walk Gwen back to Morgana's room.

Sometimes he'd walk with her in the city as she did some shopping and carry her basket. Just anything to occupy his time, finding things to do to help out. He did try helping her out with cleaning Morgana's chambers once and just like with the laundry, he'd been pushed out of the room. This time with Gwen saying he might as well start taking her pay if he was going to do the work for her.

And when he wasn't doing that, he usually had lunch with Morgana. Due to propriety and that Morgana was a young unwed woman and Merlin was a man, they were supposed to have lunch in one of the many rooms downstairs. Yeah, they never did that. They usually hid away in Morgana's room sitting across from each other at her desk while they ate.

Not only was Merlin firmly in the 'I like guys' category, as he'd explained to Morgana when one of the nosier councilman tried to stop their lunches, Morgana just liked riling people up. That didn't stop the council member from going to Uther about how it may be deemed inappropriate.

Uther had a stern talk with Morgana that afternoon where she had laughed herself silly over thinking of Merlin trying to take advantage of her 'innocence'. He'd left her alone only after she pointed out that it was a good thing Merlin had married Arthur instead of her since he was attracted to men. Uther had looked strangely uncomfortable after that and quickly excused himself.

Flashback to a lunch Merlin had with Morgana yesterday:

"So...he married his son to a man and doesn't approve of men being with men..." Merlin had said slowly, looking very confused by that when Morgana had told him later.

"Oh, he'll get over it." Morgana said amused, waving her hand. "He can't think to bad about it since he agreed to the union in the first place."

Merlin had stared at her blankly, "He didn't know I was going to be a boy. Our parents had assumed we'd be different genders. It didn't occur to them that we'd be the same."

"...That's dumb." Morgana had said bluntly.

"Thank you!" Merlin exclaimed. It was about time somebody had said it.

And thus their daily lunches had continued. Although everyday, Morgana would ask if Arthur had approached him yet.

Merlin would scoff as as he took a bite of food, "To approach me, he would actually have to be around me. I haven't seen him at all."

Morgana would pout some and then they would move their conversation onto something more pleasant than Arthur.

Just yesterday, Morgana had admitted that there was an alternative motive for having lunch everyday. "It's a great way to make Arthur jealous," she explained gleefully. "To know that he's not a part of something, to know that you're finding joy in something that doesn't include him."

Merlin had almost snorted his tea straight out his nose at that. "Please Morgana, to make Arthur jealous, he would actually have to want to be involved in my life. Now I admit, I don't know much about relationships but I'm pretty sure they don't involve going out of his way to avoid me."

"Maybe Arthur actually likes you so much that he can't bare to be in your presence without making a fool of himself." Morgana had teased, lips curling into a wicked smile.

Merlin had laughed, shaking his head. "I believe it's the other way around." He had corrected. "Now, I may not like him as one should when you're married but I do always seem to make a fool out of myself."

He remembered how Arthur had crudely thrown him out of his room almost a week ago. All he'd had to do was ask, it wasn't like Merlin wanted to be in there more than necessary. But of course not. He'd grabbed Merlin like a disobedient pet before throwing him out and even locked his door so that Merlin couldn't follow him back in and demanded answers.

Morgana had huffed, placing her chin to rest on her interlaced fingers. "There has to be a way for you to get his attention."

Merlin had raised an eyebrow at her, "I don't exactly want his attention. If he wants to hide, I say let him."

"It is pretty funny to see him ducking around you." She has admitted. "But don't you want to see if there's actually something there? If you and Arthur can be more than just married to each other and actually be partners?"

Merlin had taken a long sip of his tea, contemplating his response, before answering, "While I do wish that I can have a real husband and not just someone that avoids me, I doubt that will be possible with Arthur. Besides, from what I've heard, Arthur doesn't even like men. So whatever future we could have had together, it's not even a possibility." He stopped to give a heavy sigh, "This isn't a fairy tail and we're not going to ride off into the sunset together."

Morgana didn't seem to think that Arthur not liking men was a pretty big obstacle and had just waved her hand dismissively, "I still think that you should try to get his attention. I know he's never been with a man before but there's no reason to not check if he'll be open to it." She had gotten excited, her teasing grin returning. "Maybe you should flirt with him!"

"F-flirt with him!" Merlin spluttered, nearly chocking on the tea he'd just drunk. "You're kidding!" He didn't even know how to flirt! And to flirt with Arthur? He imagined that scenario, of him finally tracking Arthur down.

The prince would try to make his excuses to avoid him again, only Merlin would stop him this time. He'd put a hand on his chest with just enough pressure to make Arthur stop. He'd step up real close to the blonde, trapping him near a wall, leaving barely any space between them. He would say something flirtatious-it would probably be more awkward than what he was going for-and reach up to touch Arthur's bicep, feeling the thick muscle under his hand.

Merlin felt his face flush, almost feeling the phantom sensation on his fingertips of what it would feel like to touch Arthur on his bicep, before turning his head to avoid Morgana's stare. "Yeah, I'm not doing that." He had said bluntly.

Because he'd also thought of Arthur's reaction to Merlin's poor attempt at flirting. Like how he'd yank away, face contorted in disgust as he said something scathing to Merlin. Then he would storm out, shoving Merlin out of his way as he did so.

Morgana literally deflated in front of his eyes. "But Merlin," she said heavily. "I just want to see you and Arthur happy and you are married. Shouldn't you be happy together?"

"I think your barking up the wrong tree there." Merlin said heavily, his hands tightening around the porcelain tea cup he was holding. "Arthur isn't exactly the Prince Charming I thought I'd married when I was a kid." It was probably time to put those silly dreams away. It wasn't like they were going to come true, not now that he was married to someone who was the exact opposite of what he'd wanted.

"But he is a prince." Morgana pointed out.

Merlin snorted, "He's more Prince Showoff than he is Prince Charming." Merlin took a large sip of his tea and that had pretty much been the end of their conversation about Arthur.

End of Flashback:

And now here Merlin lay, the next morning in his bed. His hands were resting on his belly as he stared up at his ceiling and he was twisting his ring around his finger now, thinking back on that conversation. Morgana had to have been high on something if she even considered that Arthur and him could somehow work out at all. Or maybe she was just delusional. Either way, whatever she had been thinking had better be gone by now.

Arthur wasn't going to be looking at him as a husband should anytime soon.

He hadn't thought much of it before but ever since Morgana suggested he flirt with Arthur, it had stayed in the back of his mind. But Arthur was such an arse that Merlin had to draw a line somewhere, he refused to be attracted to someone who acted as pig headed as Arthur. So no chance in hell was Merlin actually going to put himself out there and attempt flirting with him just for Arthur to throw it in his face.

No matter how broad his shoulders looked or how that tuft of blonde hair fell over his forehead or how blue his eyes looked when he was particularly mad which seemed to always be fixated on Merlin. Or even that time he'd genuinely laughed when Merlin had bowed mockingly and asked him how long he had been training to be a prat.

Merlin gave a heavy groan, dragging one of his thicker pillows over his head, remembering the echo of that laugh in his head.

Fuck, was Merlin ever in trouble. It was a good thing the only thing Arthur had going for him was his good looks. If Arthur had an actual personality to go with it, Merlin could see how easy it would have been to fall for him.

It didn't help that Arthur was just his type as well. He'd always been more partial towards blondes and broad shoulders, not that he'd encountered many of them in Ealdor but he had thought about it once or twice.

Maybe it was a good thing that Arthur was such a jerk after all. It kept Merlin from actually liking him. Imagine if Arthur had a real personality. And it would be just his luck to fall for a great guy only to realize he was straight later on.

Maybe he should be happy that Arthur's personality was so horrid. At least Merlin wouldn't invest his heart into anything just to have it broken later. He didn't have to worry about that with the Arthur he had gotten.

Still, Merlin twisted his ring around his finger a little harder. It was a strange habit that he'd fallen into doing. The first time Gwen had pointed it out, Merlin had nearly jerked his hand away from it as if he'd been scalded.

But he just couldn't help himself. It was just always there. Sometimes he forgot he was even wearing it at all, like he'd already gotten used to the feeling of something constantly being on his hand. While during other times, particularly when he'd see Arthur duck around a corner, it would suddenly feel a lot heavily. As if it had a ball and chain attached to it and he had just been sentenced as a life long prisoner.

Fucking prat, it took a special kind of person to ruin Merlin's day when they weren't even around.

Merlin heard a sudden knock on his door, startling him out of his thoughts.

Merlin jolted up in bed while at the same time, shoving his magic book, the hard cover had been sticking him in the ribs this whole time, to hide underneath his multitude of pillows. Nobody had disturbed him in his room before. He usually went to them. So it hadn't been his top concern to hide it. He'd probably gotten a little to comfortable with it out in the open.

He'd taken to falling asleep while reading it since it kept his mind off of what he was going to do about Arthur. Should he approach him and demand to know why he was avoiding him? Should he just let the blonde continue and see how long he could keep it up?

He'd had to do something to keep from going mad as his mind went back and forth. Therefore, he'd started practicing spells in the book. He was working on the unlocking spell. It was one of the first spells in the book and seemed pretty simple, until he'd actually tried it.

Uncle Gaius had said that the problem was that he had so much magic in him that it was overwhelming the usually easy spell. That he just had to focus more and the rest would follow.

Yeah, it still wasn't working the way he wanted to.

Apparently the person at his door had only knocked as a warning, not waiting for Merlin to answer. His door suddenly swung open and a man entered his room, closing the door with his foot while juggling the silver tray that he held in his hand. He was being as quiet as he could, trying not to jostle the tray as to make any more noise than necessary.

"Who are you?" Merlin demanded, shifting himself just slightly as to sit in front of where his magic book was hiding. Just in case an edge was sticking out.

The man jumped, turning to face Merlin and looked just as startled to see him up. The man was young, probably about Arthur's age, making him at least a year or two older than Merlin. He had brown hair that lay flat against his head and blue eyes that were several shades darker than Merlin's. And...was he wearing Merlin's clothes?

No, upon closer inspection it was clear that it wasn't. These clothes, while obviously the clothes of someone under a tight budget, were still better kept than Merlin's own were. But the colors were similar. The man had on a brown jacket that resembled his and a blue shirt underneath, with brown pants and carefully polished boots. And he was wearing a red neckerchief around his neck...please tell Merlin he wore his better than the man's did. Merlin always wore his neckerchief kind of similar to a scarf but the man wore his similar to an ascot.

It was...strangely concerning how similar this man was to him. It was the clothes that was throwing him off, as if it were some kind of weird mirror image.

Although while their looks were similar, that was where it ended. Their personalities were as far as could possibly be from the other.

"Sir Merlin, you're awake." The man said, bowing with practiced ease as he held the tray in his hands. "I do apologize if I woken you, I was unsure of how long I should let you sleep. I apologize that I do not yet know your schedule but don't worry, I will learn it in no time."

"My schedule?" Merlin said blankly. "...I don't have a schedule." None that anybody had told him about. He hadn't even seen Uther since the wedding. Morgana seemed to be the only royal that acknowledged him.

The man looked startled by that, as if he couldn't contemplate not having a schedule to follow along with. He cleared his throat, "No matter, we'll figure it out together." Then stepping forward, he set the tray onto Merlin's bedside table.

Merlin was baffled, watching the strange man as he picked up a cloth napkin elegantly rolled up on the tray. The man shook it open and Merlin scooted away, nearly falling straight off the back of the bed when the man laid it out on his chest. The man didn't seem to notice, going back to the tray and picking up a silver goblet.

Merlin stared at the empty goblet the man just handed to him, briefly noticing the pitcher of juice on the silver tray. It was resting next to a plate of something that was covered by a large, rounded, silver lid.

"I'm sorry...who are you again?" Merlin asked, wondering if he was being robbed. Was he being robbed? Although he didn't know why a robber would bring food with him. Was he planning on eating breakfast while he robbed Merlin?

"I'm George." The man said, picking up the pitcher. "It's wonderful to meet you Sir Merlin. Now, I've cleaned up some although it didn't need much, you've kept a clean room. I've straightened out your desk and I've also taken the liberty of having your clothes washed and ironed for you. I've also polished your boots as you rested."

Merlin cast a look towards his desk although it was bare as it had always been. George seemed pleased with himself but Merlin couldn't see anything different from one empty desk to the next. Maybe the inkwell had been turned so that it was at a perfect ninety degree angle...but he did see his shirt and pants folded to perfection sitting on top. And his boots were sitting up right beside them looking perfectly even with each other set up the way they were. And Merlin had to admit, the scuffed up boots he owned did seem to shine. Most of the scuffs had been buffed out and while they certainly didn't look new, there was only so much you could do to a pair of worn out boots, they definitely looked better than they had when Merlin had first gotten them.

Had George really done all that? Had he wandered in and out of Merlin's room as he slept? It was kind of creepy. And oh god, had he seen Merlin's book? But if he'd had, surely the guards would have been in here by now.

"I do apologize sir," Gregory continued. "I did try to do your other clothing but I seem to be having trouble finding them. Your wardrobe is empty."

Merlin watched as Gregory poured the juice into his goblet. "Uh, I left them at my Uncle Gaius' house, the court physician...I spend a lot of time down there, he has a room down there for me...I'm sorry, but why..."

"The court physician is your uncle?" George asked. He had one hand folded behind his back as he set the pitcher back onto the table, looking as prim and as proper-professional-as one could possibly be. "I was unaware of that. I will, of course, add that to my chores. Your room at your uncle's will be treated with as much attention as I have given your royal suite. I will have your clothes laundered and return to you. Would you like for me to keep them at your uncle's or bring them to your royal suite?"

"Uh, my uncle's." Merlin said. He spent most of his time down there anyway. "I'm sorry, but why are you doing all of this?" He didn't know this George or anything about Camelot, but he doubted it was a custom for strangers to just come in and start doing your chores for you.

George rested his hand on top of the silver lid hiding the food, "I have been assigned as your manservant, Sir Merlin." And then he pulled off the lid with a flourish, revealing a very hearty breakfast indeed. There was fluffy eggs taking up most of the plate with a side of thick ham folded up beside it. And resting on another corner was two slices of bread that already looked buttered to perfection.

But as delicious as the breakfast looked, Merlin had other matters to deal with. At George's declaration, Merlin jolted up so that he was sitting straight. "No, no, no." He started, this was not happening. He had not seriously been given a...a...a manservant!

But Merlin had forgotten that he'd been holding his goblet and when he'd sat up, his hand jerked. It sent a small wave of the juice straight over the lip of the goblet, splattering against his fingers and onto the bedspread still covering him up.

"Shit, crap." Merlin quickly put his drink on the edge of his nightstand, snatching up the napkin from his chest, kicking the blankets down his legs. He ignored the fact that he was only wearing his underwear.

He knew he was going to ruin something in here one way or the other. Taking his napkin, he went to rub at one of the spots before the stain set in. He would never be able to pay to get a new one if it was ruined.

But George was already there, his own napkin in hand and dabbing at the stains. "No matter, Sir Merlin, I will be able to wash this out in a jiffy." He said, sounding pretty confident in his ability to get out deep purple juice stains.

"Uh, thanks," Merlin said uncomfortably. He really didn't need a manservant to help him fix the mess ups his own clumsiness caused. Although thinking about it now, trying to rub the stain out probably would have made it worse. Dabbing the excess juice off until it could be washed was probably the better option.

"No problem at all, Sir Merlin." George said, tucking the ruined cloth napkin into his own coat pocket to have it washed later. "Now please, if you would do me the honor, I would be most grateful as to serve you breakfast."

"Breakfast?" Merlin echoed, sitting back on his knees as he shifted his gaze over to the tray in front of him. He'd almost forgotten the tray of food was sitting there. "That's for me?" He asked blankly. He hadn't been expecting breakfast. He usually just ate whatever Gaius had or Mary passed him a plate as he was walking passed the kitchens.

George looked at him as if he thought he was joking, "Of course, Sir Merlin. Who else would it be for?" His voice never changed from professional but Merlin was sure George was wondering about his brains in that moment.

"Right," Merlin said slowly, stretching the word out. Because that was what a manservant did, they brought breakfast. Wasn't that what Morris had told him? God, had it only been a week ago that he'd had his encountered meeting with Morris on the stairs? When the boy had told him all about what a manservant did? And this was one of the job's manservants had to do, bringing meals to his master? Oh god, was he someone's master?

Yeah, this was not happening. He'd sooner jump out his window before he became someone's actual master.

"I believe that there has been some kind of mistake." Merlin said quickly. "I don't need a manservant." Nor did he want one. He could do things for himself! Like the breakfast he'd brought! He could have gotten breakfast all by himself as he'd been doing this entire week. Although the one George had brought did look bette-no! He did not need a manservant and that was that.

"There is no mistake, Sir Merlin, the head steward himself handpicked me to be yours." George said, sounding as if he had an endless abundance of patience to explain this. But the professional demeanor little coming off of him in waves was starting to set Merlin's teeth on edge. "If you have any concern over my ability, I do promise that I am one of the best in the royal household. I take my duties very seriously and can take care of anything you need."

"What?" Merlin said blankly. He'd just told George he didn't need a manservant and the man thought that was because Merlin doubted him abilities? How many other people could wash his clothes and clean up around the bare room without waking him? And bringing him breakfast on top of that! "That's not exactly what I meant..."

"Is there something else that you would like me to attend to as you eat your breakfast, Sir Merlin?" George asked.

"Of course not!" Merlin exclaimed. What was he supposed to do? Just order somebody around as if they were his slave? Merlin didn't care if he was technically a Pendragon now and that was how they did things. That wasn't how Merlin was going to do things.

"As you wish, Sir Merlin." George said in his overly professional tone.

"And you don't have to call me Sir Merlin!" Merlin said quickly. He wasn't a Sir! He was just plain old Merlin.

George looked perplexed by this, "Would you prefer Consort Merlin? It is more proper I suppose. I apologize for not thinking you would rather your more proper title-"

"No, no, no." Merlin interrupted that. He felt as if he was some kind of rich snob. As if he were Arthur! A title! Him-the farm boy-with an actual title. It was almost to ridiculous to contemplate. He took a heavy breath because George was starting to look as if he'd done something wrong and should have known that it was wrong. "I just meant-" he started again more slowly. "That you can just call me Merlin. I don't need a title, my name is just Merlin."

George looked horrified at this, as if it went against everything he knew. "I apologize Sir Merlin but I really don't believe I should. As my new master, it would be improper." he spoke in his calm voice, just the sound of it grated on Merlin's nerves. It was just so-so...professional! Who talked that professional when speaking about having a master! Wasn't George pissed that he had a master?

"I am definitely not your master." Merlin argued. "I'm a peasant! Peasant's aren't masters!"

"No, but consorts are." George said helpfully.

Merlin moved off of his knees and fell onto his arse on the bed, bringing one hand up to cover his face. He let out a quiet groan, feeling as if he'd just gone around in circles. George was dead set on Merlin being his master and firmly expected Merlin to act as a master would. And how did masters act? As if they were better than the people that worked for them.

"Now, Sir Merlin, I do believe that breakfast will be getting cold if it's not eaten promptly." George said, picking up the silver tray and setting it on top of Merlin's lap. Merlin nearly jumped as the cold metal of the tray touched his bare thighs, bringing his attention to the fact that he was only wearing his very small underwear.

He suddenly felt very uncomfortable being in this state with a stranger in his room. Although George hadn't seemed to blink an eye about it.

Still, Merlin cleared his throat. "Uh, I really should get dressed first." Breakfast in bed was not something he wanted to get used to anytime soon. Especially when he was almost naked.

"Of course, Sir Merlin," George said. Merlin was half certain that George was just doing it on purpose to irritate him.

Merlin moved the tray to the side so that he could climb off the bed and get to his clothes.

But George just had to keep talking. "I shall be most honored in helping you dress."

That brought Merlin up short, help him dress? As if he were a toddler that still didn't know which hole his head went in. Merlin looked at George as if he were crazy, scrambling to climb off of his bed, "I do not need help getting dress!" He exclaimed, trying to figure out what kind of universe he was in where grown adults actually needed help in dressing.

George was already picking up his shirt, carefully shaking it open. He treated it as if it were a precious object instead of something that could easily be ripped apart and used as rags.

"It is certainly no problem. I am more than happy to assist you, Sir Merlin." George promptly replied, already raising the shirt as if he was prepared to pull it over Merlin's head.

Merlin snatched the garment out of George's hand. "And I said that it's not necessary." Merlin bit out, having to force the words through his clenched jaw. "I've been doing it myself for years. It's not that hard."

Merlin tugged it on over his head himself, more forceful than he usually would, just to prove it.

George was already there and ready for him with his pants. "Sir Merlin, if you would lift your leg, I'll be more than happy to-"

"I can do those as well!" Merlin exclaimed, snatching the pants out of George's hand. The manservant had actually been starting to kneel on the ground as to assist him with something as simple as putting his pants on.

But George still didn't get the message because as soon as Merlin had yanked his pants roughly up his legs, the manservant was ready for him. This time, he was setting Merlin's boots by his feet.

"May I put your shoes on you at least, Sir Merlin. It would be a great honor-"

"No, you may not." Merlin hissed, sitting on the edge of his bed before he yanked his boots on by himself. At least George had asked this time instead of trying anyway. Merlin glanced around after that was done, "Now where's my-" he started, mumbling to himself.

"Your neckerchief, Sir Merlin." George said. And then he was there, bowing slightly as he held out Merlin's favorite neckerchief. It had been folded carefully and sitting in the palms of George's hands.

"Er, thanks." Merlin said, quickly taking his neckerchief away. As he unfolded it, he was met with a surprise. The red neckerchief was obviously his, he'd recognize it anywhere. But it had been washed clean, seriously washed clean. There was even a stain or two that he'd never been able to get out that was faded to nothing. And there had been a rip on it that was now carefully sewed back together. And was it him or did it actually feel softer. What kind of soap did they use in Camelot and where could he get some.

"Is there anything wrong, Sir Merlin?" George asked, having taken note of Merlin staring far to long at his neckerchief.

Merlin glanced up, quickly averting his eyes away from his neckerchief. "No, everything's fine. Thank you, George." He said.

Merlin had been toying with it between his fingers, feeling the soft cotton. Had it always been this soft? It usually felt rougher but that might have just been the dirt Merlin could never seem to get out of it.

But now, he brought it up to tie around his neck. It didn't rub so uncomfortably around his neck. Maybe this whole manservant thing wasn't so bad-no, definitely not going there. He was not going to have George start doing his laundry. He would definitely be finding out exactly what George had done to his clothes but from then on, he'd be doing them himself.

"Sir Merlin, I really hate to disturb you but breakfast has been cooling. Would you like me to bring it back to the kitchens to have another plate freshly made for you?" George asked promptly.

Merlin glanced over to the tray sitting on his bed. The food still looked as good as it had when George had first arrived. "No, it's fine." He said, taking a seat on the edge of his bed. He picked up a piece of toast and took a large bite, just now realizing how hungry he was.

Swallowing, Merlin glanced up to George who was just standing at the end of his bed, waiting to get anything his master needed. Merlin's face screwed up at the word 'master'. It sounded as if he had a harem of slaves waiting on his every beck and call.

"Is there anything you need, Sir Merlin?" George asked immediately, having noticed his expression.

Merlin's eye twitched as he'd forced himself to relax his features. George had been waiting just to ask him that. As if he lived and breathed for the sole purpose of pleasing his master.

"No, nothing at all." Merlin said forcefully. And if he did, it was surely something that he could get himself. But as he took another large bite, he grew more awkward. He'd never ate a meal before just to have someone stand in front of him as he ate. There was no conversation, no idle comment. Just him taking a third bite of toast as George stared him down. The manservant didn't even avert his eyes or busy himself with something else.

And now Merlin just felt guilty, keeping this meal all to himself. Merlin cleared his throat, watching as George seemed to come to life. Before he could ask again if Merlin needed something, he shoved his tray across the bed to the manservant.

"Would you like some? There's plenty, I'll be happy to share." The plate full was definitely more than Merlin was used to for any one meal.

Merlin suddenly realized that he may have said something wrong. He'd finally said something that broke through the professional mask that the manservant had mastered long before Merlin was in the picture. George looked absolutely horrified and scandalized. As if Merlin had just demanded that he strip naked and do a rain dance to force the crops into growing.

"I-I couldn't possibly!" George said quickly. He seemed to realize how squeaky his voice was and Merlin was almost impressed as he saw George's mask go back into place. "I mean, Sir Merlin, it would be entirely improper for a servant to take a place at your meal. You are very kind and generous to ask though, but I've also already ate this morning so it is unneeded."

Merlin felt as if George was just trying to placate him. He had a feeling the manservant would have said the exact same thing if he hadn't eaten in three days.

"I really don't need this much. I usually just grab an apple or a slice of bread. I bet the servants don't get the same that the nobles do, right?" Merlin knew more than he wanted to about how the lower class would always get less than those of a higher birth. He glanced down at his plate, the smell absolutely divine and his mouth watered. Everybody should have the chance to eat this good.

"I apologize, Sir Merlin. I have not yet learned your appetite but I will address it accordingly." George said, as if it were somehow his fault that he did not know what Merlin usually ate.

"You don't have to!" Merlin exclaimed, the frustration in his voice clear. "That's what I'm trying to get at. I can get my breakfast together just as I always have."

Merlin wasn't sure but he was pretty sure that George was looking scandalized again. But only this time, he remembered to keep his mask of professionalism on. It was just the barest hint of George's eyes widening that Merlin barely caught before it was gone.

"You've been getting your own breakfast!" George quickly bowed. "I apologize profusely, Sir Merlin! I had no idea that nobody had been assigned to yet before me."

Merlin didn't even try to hide his groan of frustration. He even brought a hand up to slap it on his forehead. There was a throbbing in his temples as he felt the beginnings of a headache coming on. Talking to George was like talking to a stone wall, absolutely nothing was getting through to him.

"So, what?" Merlin asked, dragging his hand down his face. "Are you really going to just stand there and watch me eat?"

"Of course, Sir Merlin." George said as if that was a silly question. "I am also here to refill your drink whenever it empties. Unless of course, you have some other duty that needs attending to while you eat?"

Merlin took a large bite out of his second piece of toast in response. Yeah, he was not about to go order the man to do something, even if it meant getting him out of his room.

Merlin swallowed roughly, nearly choking in the process as he hadn't chewed nearly enough as he should have. "So George," Merlin said after he cleared his throat and took a large gulp of his juice. "...You hear anything new in the castle?" A conversation, any conversation, had to be better than the sounds of Merlin eating.

"No, Sir Merlin." George said blandly.

Merlin's eye twitched again. Merlin usually didn't have a problem talking to most people but George made even a simple conversation difficult.

"Nothing? ...Nothing at all?" Merlin asked. How was that even possible? Surely with a castle this big, something had to have happened.

George seemed hesitant at first, before his eyes glimmered with an excitement that Merlin hadn't yet seen in him. "Well, Sir Merlin, if you must know, a friend of mine did tell me something just this morning-" Merlin straightened up hopeful. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to have George around sometimes, Merlin was always on the look out for new friends. "It was this absolutely fantastic joke about brass!"

Merlin felt like he was a balloon that had just been deflated. His fingers twitched unnoticeably around his toast. Brass? This man was going to tell him a joke about brass...?

George seemed to take Merlin's reaction as excitement instead of disbelief. "Oh, I know! Now let me make sure I have the punch line just right! I wouldn't want to ruin the joke!"

Merlin felt his head drop. "No, you wouldn't want that." He said weakly.

Merlin's only saving grace during all of this was that George always seemed to talk professionally. Absolutely nothing like Morris who talked as if the world owed him something.