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!

94. Chapter 94

Execution: Times up:

Arthur wanted to say he hadn't gone into the cave in a mad panic, but then, he'd by lying. He had tried to repeat the rules of knightly conduct in his mind as he entered the darkness, nothing but his torch meant to light up the way. Knights do not panic. They walk into a situation with the grace nobility afforded them, and behave accordingly against the situation. Knights are meant to see danger and walk into the fold, possibly embracing death itself to protect the people. Knights have dedicated their lives to the cause, and shouldn't degrade themselves by behaving in the same fearful manner a not-trained man, would be. This was just a few basic rules of knighthood, the conduct and what to expect, one would need to live by should they get through the basic training portion that Arthur was the trainer of, nowadays.

It was a code he enforced onto his trainee's with the same forcefulness and dedication he tried to bring in every aspect of his life. The men underneath him had to be prepared to lay down their very lives if it came to that, for the good of the people. Making sure that his kingdom thrived, and doing what it took to be one of the great king's once he took over his father's own throne, was the only thing Arthur would allow himself to be worried over. But somethings shifted and some things changed over time. Or within seconds. It took Arthur between the time he entered the cave, and by the time he got a few feet inside, for the knights code to jumble in his mind, forming his old mantra on rapid repeat.

His to Hate. His to Control. His to Protect.

He hadn't thought those words since he had slain the knight Valiant on the battle field, but they had always been there. Hovering just out of view from his normal arrange of thoughts, and always centered around the consort. No other would force Arthur into making up his own mantra for them. No other would have taken it upon themselves to run into danger-when they had absolutely no training, and couldn't possibly hope to defend themselves against even a single bandit that stopped them on the road, let along a ten-ton beast made and crafted out of magic-which would be the force making Arthur forget all his rules. There would be no point in going for backup if Merlin was only to become a husk of his former self, nothing but blood splatters left behind to prove he'd ever been there in the first place. And the burning memory Merlin would have left him with, the clear defiance taking over the boy's eyes when he had stabbed him with that stupid quill. Or when he'd kneed him in the crotch when the two of them stood behind that pillar. Or when Merlin had thought he'd won, way back in the beginning, as he spun a mace awkwardly around his hand as Arthur had been forced to look up at him from where he had been sprawled across the ground.

His mantra repeated in mind louder than it had ever before, the longer it took to find Merlin.

His to Hate-the fire and heat that burned underneath his skin every time he caught sight of Merlin, or when he thought of him even, could only be a deep rooted hatred for the boy. But a hatred nonetheless, keeping Arthur on his toes as he raced through the tunnels so fast his, feet were pounding against the stone in time with his steps, causing a thundering to go off deep in his eardrums. It was deep enough to push, and it was strong enough to carry, and powerful enough to urge the prince to keep running into the danger himself.

His to Control-how many times had Arthur pictured finally getting to punish Merlin? How many times had he done it in the last few hours alone, despite being fully aware of how weird those thoughts were. It had not stopped them from flooding his mind-thin, pale wrists flashed in his mind again, rope artfully tangled around them to hold them together as Arthur hoisted them above Merlin's head, forcing his back to arch at Arthur's discretion as Merlin tried to ease himself into the new position-despite how wrong he had told himself it was. Arthur could tell himself to stop over a thousand times, but they always returned. Even if it was the worse possible time for them. But…He would be the one to decide what Merlin did. And no magical beast was going to get in the way of that.

His to Protect-Arthur could spend his entire life with hatred for Merlin running through his veins. But that didn't change the truth. He could want to chain that consort of his to his bed, and leave him there during weeks on end, probably the easiest way for Arthur to make sure Merlin wasn't causing trouble, and taking his own pleasures out on finally reddening his hide. It also didn't negate what Arthur's duty was. Even if he had not wanted too, the second Arthur had said 'I do' and pledged his life to Merlin's, he was placed under Arthur's protection. Which meant it was Arthur's duty to save Merlin from whatever stupid endeavor he was doing this week.

Like offering himself up as live bait for a beast who'd be able to tear him apart faster than Arthur could get to them.

…There! Arthur froze before he was able to go further than he had, Morgana crashing into his back with him suddenly stopping in front of her. Arthur wouldn't say a word to her, he didn't even dare breath for fear he'd drag attention to himself. Arthur could see the beast in front of him now, the torchlight causing these eerie shadows to dance over it's hunched over form. It did not seem to see them yet, creeping across the floor as it did, lumbering much slower than it'd been when it was attacking them. Arthur darted his eyes straight pass the beast, and felt the cold freezing his heart all over again when he saw Merlin. Standing against the wall, and looking all dewy eyed as the beast casually strode to him one slow step at a time.

Arthur bit down on his lip, stopping the expletive as it tried to burst free from him. Out of all the scenarios it could have gone with, this was probably the worse of the lot. Merlin trapped against a dead end, having no possible way out. And the beast focused sorely onto him. If Merlin's eye do much as twitched, it would've been caught by monster looking down onto him. The prince tightened his hand around his blade, and put a hand out, slowly moving Morgana back. To find some safety against the wall and out of the main battle, the blond knew this was going to get very ugly very fast.

Merlin must have seen the brief movement out of the corner of his eye, or maybe he finally noticed the way the room was lighter then it had been before, as their torches had entered. The consort's eyes darted past the beast, landing onto Arthur. And for a second, the prince could have sworn he'd seen annoyance within the consort's eyes before it was gone. But that would have been too strange, even for Merlin. Here Arthur was, risking his neck for his safety…Merlin should be on his knees. Begging and being thankful for Arthur's quick intervention. But Arthur was sure he must have only imagined it, the flames of the torchlight causing him to see things that weren't there.

Before Merlin-idiot that he was-could make any kind of noise that would bring the beast's attention to the two of them, Arthur raised a finger to his lips, nearly kissing the wood of the torch in his hand. Merlin had to be quiet-as difficult as that was for him-if Arthur was going to kill the beast for him. Arthur had already seen far too many of his people dying during the last week. Fifty three men, twenty three woman, and yes, twenty four children, had all perished during the days of this plague. And Merlin was not going to turn into another number on a piece of parchment handed off to him as he read that day's report on the going-ons in the city.

Arthur stepped on a stick, or maybe it was a bone, as something crunched loudly underneath his foot. The sound seemed to echo throughout the chambers like a firework going off in the night. Everyone seemed to freeze, and then the beast swished his head around so fast, Arthur's breath caught in his throat when the greedy yellow-eyed stare caught onto his own. He'd been so worried about Merlin making any indication to show the beast they were there, Arthur had forgot the key rule in sneak attacks. Always be aware of the surroundings.

X

He had been close, so close to finally destroying that dreadful light. Like a beacon shining in his chambers where only darkness should dwell. Mother would've been so proud when He brought her the skin coming from the light. Mother would be pleased to see Him taking such good care of the water she found herself so interested in. Stopping the Light from polluting its home, stopping the Light from ruining what Mother wanted him to do…

But the Light wasn't alone.

The Burning Flame had sworn up, some odd fighter who wanted to take Him from his Home. And the girl with a crease of Darkness in her veins, not yet ready to be formed but hidden beneath the surface. She'd be a good ally for mother, the darkness would almost be a match, if it had been nurturing for longer than it was. She would see the Darkness one of these days, He was sure of that. But she would not be any help to him, not as long as she aligned herself with the Light and the Burning Flame.

Yes…that was it. The Light should see his comrades fall in battle. Should see him ripping out throats and leaving them to gurgle in their own human messes. It was His Right, to show The Light what would happen to him next. Punishment, for thinking it could come to his hom and take over what He had already made…

X

Arthur threw himself back against the wall when the creature attacked, heaving its mighty arm where the prince's jugular had been only seconds before. Their fight was on, a battle between man and beast, and it was only the strongest that would survive. Arthur did not feel the strongest, his eyes darting over to Merlin who looked as if he could have been cowering along his own wall. Arthur figured Merlin should've known already that this would be scary, what did he expect was going to happen…?

Arthur swung his sword wildly as the beast made one more move towards him, the edge of his sword made only the barest contact against the arm that tried to smash him flat against the wall. The blow would have surely crushed his bones into nothing, leaving only a hint of dust to prove he'd ever had bones in the first place. The tip of his sword had barely made a scratch against the muck, flaking away what it was made out of, before it was yanking back. Not because he'd hurt him, Arthur didn't even know if his sword would even be able to pierce through the muck. And even if it did get through, where would he stab at? Did that thing have any weak points he could hit? Did it have some kind of organ, like it's version of a heart, that Arthur could stab to kill it? Or was the thing made only out of muck, layers and layers of thick oozing muck that helped it to walk around like a man would.

The beast lurched again, and Arthur threw himself to the side before his head could be slammed against the stones, giving him permanent brain damage, no doubt. Arthur threw himself down into a crouch, and raised his sword even higher in preparations for the next attack. The beast didn't attack him at first, and Arthur started making a slow circle around, until he'd gotten his back to Merlin, planting himself between the two of them. Another rule of Knighthood: always keep moving during a fight. One wouldn't want to be killed because he stood there and allowed the enemy to study your moves so easily. Arthur probably died a little inside, but that was exactly what he did. He kept moving, going away from Merlin as he continued with his circle. Maybe it was because Merlin had been on his own, but the beast seemed to have an investment in Merlin specifically. But Arthur had hunted his entire life, and knew an animal's mind-a predator's mind- it had no problems going after the one that wondered away from the main group.

Only now, this predator seemed to have eyes only for Arthur. Because it could sense another predator had entered it's midst. Sometimes, an animal wouldn't go after the weakest of the lot. It would go after only the strongest: Arthur, because once the strongest would be finished, if left the weakest alone and defenseless to the snapping of it's jaws. The strongest of fighters left to determine what happened to the rest that was left behind.

Suddenly, the beast let out some kind of guttural roar as it raised up to it's full height. Arthur's eyes almost fell from his head as they widened, staring at it with horror when he realized this thing had to be at least ten feet tall. Seven feet or ten feet…it didn't matter…it was far larger than any man would ever grow. And it attacked, throwing another meaty swipe of its claws at Arthur. Arthur reacted only by pure instinct, body moving faster than his brain could keep up with. He screamed, a battle cry erupting from his throat as he threw himself under the beast's claw, and rammed up his sword as hard as he could. The blade pushing it's way through the thick muck, carving out a place all of it's own, deep into the underbelly of the beast. All the way to the hilt.

For a second nobody moved. Not even the beast had acknowledged it had just been stabbed. And Arthur couldn't do anything more than staring down at his hand wrapped around the pommel of his blade. His heart was thumping furiously in the side of his neck, his pulse higher than ever with fear and dread. There was no blood leaking from the wound, or nothing that might have qualified as their creature's own version of blood. Arthur might as well have stuck his sword in a stone, for all the good he had just done. The beast reared back, roaring not in pain but in anger-because all Arthur had managed to do was piss it off, he had not injured it in the least-and the sword got wretched right out of his hand as the beast pulled away.

Arthur's hand was stinging, nearly jerking his socket out of place as he tried to keep a hold of the blade. It hadn't budged, lodged into the beast, before leaving Arthur as defenseless as a newborn babe. Morgana let out a startled cry, throwing herself into the wall as the beast nearly backed into her. Arthur's head went up, snatching his attention to the woman as the thing whipped around and made a wild swipe near her own head. Arthur's heart went straight up into his throat as she saw her cowering, throwing her torch-the only weapon she had-up at the beast. But her grip on the wood wasn't strong enough, and the beast swung its large arm out and smacked it right out of her hand. It rolled across the dirt, snuffing out the flames and left Arthur as the only light source they had. Arthur knew they didn't have a change against this thing, and this was even less after he'd stupidly lost his own blade in the fight-another knighthood rule, never lose the one and only defense you had, because it could've been the last mistake you would ever make. But if Arthur's light went out…their chances of survival would have gone down to nothing. Left to scramble about inside the dark, listening to the screams of the others when they got picked off one by one.

Arthur clenched his jaw as the beast whipped around to face him again, once again heading himself toward the toughest fighter in the group. Arthur was thankful for it, it meant that it's attention was no longer on the lady in his care. But his thankfulness didn't last long, as his eyes locked onto the glitter of metal that was barely sticking out of the creature's abdomen, most of it lodged inside. It hadn't budged a single inch as the creature swung its large, boulder like arms like a maniac. Arthur swung the only weapon he had at the beast, his torch, trying to use the fire to ward off any of its advances towards him. Maybe if he distracted it for long enough, Merlin and Morgana would get the chance they needed to escape. Arthur would perish, most likely, but as least he had done the duty given to him as a prince and as a husband.

There had to be some kind of honor in that, thought the prince as he eyed the yellowing stones the beast used for teeth to snap and roar at him. His torch was not going to give him much cover, it would only take a good swing for the beast to knock it clear out of his hand. No human could have withstood against such a beast of epic proportions. The creature swung at him again, and Arthur threw himself back, the air leaving his lungs as he crashed against the stone wall behind him. He'd gone and trapped himself in-such a stupid, rookie mistake that would probably be his last-but he still gave it his all. Swinging the torch as hard as he'd been able too, holding the beast off for as long as he could. Arthur didn't know if the beast trying to play at what he was doing, because surely it would've easily chomped Arthur amongst its fangs by now. Or maybe it was scared of fire, and the flames was the only one thing holding Arthur from becoming this living chew toy.

"Arthur!" Merlin's voice suddenly seemed to roar out of the darkness, breaking through the pounding that was Arthur's heart. It shattered everything that was the prince's mind, and Arthur watched as the beast whipped around in the direction of the voice. No, the prince thought, his hand going taut around the only weapon he had. Not fucking Merlin. Not the one he needed to protect. Arthur watched as the beast roar again, and took one step towards the other boy, and Arthur was almost helpless to stop it. "Just use your torch!" The screaming voice instructed, and Arthur's eyes shot down to the torch in hand.

Because Arthur fucking Pendragon was not once, nor would he ever be, defenseless. Even when the prince had nothing more than a torch, something meant for lighting his way and not to fight with, was the fighting spirit strong within him. The beast could understand them, that much was clear, when the beast whipped its head back around to Arthur, yellow eyes locking to the torch in his hand. And he roared, a roar so loud it reverberated up Arthur's entire body, making himself shake through the vibrations alone. Something that could have been mistaken as spittle clung onto those stone like teeth, and Arthur almost winced as he felt the splatter of it hitting him in the face.

But when the creature threw himself at Arthur, having an opened jaw snapping at him, intent on seeing him destroyed, Arthur reacted. In any other situation, the prince probably would have ignored Merlin. He would have told the boy to go back to doing whatever it was he did best: which was nothing. And to leave fighting to the people who had actually been trained from for it from birth. But there was no time for a stupid thing like that, no time to argue or fight to spit out anything like he would have specifically taken the time to do. It was also the only idea he had to work with, and it had came straight from Merlin's lips.

Arthur threw his arm up as hard as he could, the fire of the torch almost matching the fire in his eyes, and he slammed that torch as deep into the beast's gullet as he could. Hoping the mythical creature was going to choke on it. Choke on the plank of wood that was being forced down it's throat, like one would start to choke when their throat had been cut. And the blond was almost able to feel the fire and brimstone like the strike of lightning coursing across his skin, as he got his revenge on the hundred of people it had killed. To get revenge for Morgana, who was crowded and was helpless and was terrified of the beast before her. To get revenge for Merlin, who was just plain stupid and moronic and every other synonym for the word idiot. But needed Arthur's protection as much as the blond had needed his stupid ideas. Ideas that wouldn't act as stupid as they sounded…

X

"Lyfte ic þe in balwen ac forhienan."

The ancient words of Latin spilled off of Merlin's very tongue, as if he had been born to speak the words of the old religion. A simple spell it was, one that Merlin had seen when skimming through his spell book, but had not paid any attention too. Thinking there wasn't any reason for him to study more intensely on spells focusing on wind currents, back when he'd still been learning how to unlock a door. Merlin was surprised himself, to hear the spell echoing in his ears when his lips formed the final words, that he had been able to remember the enchantment. He'd only read through the page once before moving onto something he had thought would be more useful at the time, some kind of spell meant to mend clothing. But some things did not need to be brushed aside for later, and the young consort already knew how to mend clothing with only a simple needle and thread. Even if it wouldn't always be straight and neat, it was durable. But what he was not able to do with his own two hands, was create an air socket.

But for a second, Merlin's low voice died down and he did not know rather the spell worked or not. The beast was coughing-or was doing something Merlin figured could pass for coughing-and Morgana hadn't moved from where she was pressed against the wall of the cave, and Arthur had his arm inside the mouth of the beast. And for a second, Merlin was sure that the beast was going to chomp down, using his stone teeth to bite Arthur's arm off at the bicep. He would have the greatest sympathy for the beast if he went and did it, Merlin would bite down to if Arthur put like a finger in his mouth or something…

That was when Merlin felt it, his heartbeat moving in time with the pulsing of his magic at his veins. There was something tugging inside of his soul, trying to do its best to lash out. Merlin could hear a roar in the air, a whistling of the wind in the tunnels that was strong enough to make his ears ring. It was the only warning Merlin got before the tunnel was pulsing with gushes of wind, like a storm whipping through strong enough to destroy everything in sight. Merlin couldn't control it or decide where it went, it just pulsed. Almost like a living breathing entity of it's own. Merlin was only the conductor for the magic, not the controller. He could not control it, for magic had no owner. Magic was this force all of it's own, and the only reason Merlin stood still on his feet, not knocked over by the gushing and powerful forces of the wind, was because his magic was lashing out to meet the magic in the wind. Force crashing together, creating this air socket around the consort. His clothes and and hair might whip around in response to the wind, but his body never budged as it felt like nothing more than a summer breeze to the young warlock.

Merlin had never used elemental magic in his life, not unless one counted the times he would start fires in a hearth to keep warm late at night with his mother by his side. And the wind was out of control, powerful to knock a grown man off his feet. Or a petite woman as this case would be. Morgana shrieked in response to the sudden wind, fearful at this weird occurrence as she fell against the wall, protecting herself with a bit of the wall sticking out. Her hair whipped all around her head, and she gripped her nails into the walls to prevent herself from being picked up off her feet and dragged further down the tunnel. Into dark parts that would be unknown to them. Merlin would have to find a way to apologize to her, he hoped she managed to not hurt herself as she hit the wall. If she did, it would have only been a few scratch marks here and there on the palms of her hands, but even those marks was too much for Merlin. Knowing she wouldn't have got them at all, if Merlin could control the pulsing inside of his head, the magic growing in force.

Stronger and stronger, until it had nowhere to go but across the flamed stick in the beast's mouth.

There was this loud explosion of light, as if there had been alcohol dousing the flames of the torch. Flames seemed to grow sky high, twisting and turning as the fires grew twice it's normal height within seconds of the wind making contact. It swallowed the beast with this hungry crackle, the roar coming from it became far louder and more anguished than it had ever been in all of it's existence. Because even the beast knew it was the end, knew that it had failed his Mother and would die without being able to destroy the Light as it promised it would.

Arthur had to throw his free hand up, burying his own head into the crook of his elbow in order to be able to protect himself from the onslaught of the flames. But it hardly mattered, his arm doing nothing to stop him from feeling the heat. Like blistered forming onto his skin, popping open and stitching themselves back to how they were before, or at least that was what all of it had felt like to Arthur. The only reason he also was not thrown off his feet from the gushing, pouring air entering the tunnel, was because the form of the big beast was able to block most of it away from him. It was only a miracle the fires hadn't blown back onto Arthur due to his close proximity, and caught his own clothes on fire. Leaving him to be burned irrevocably, alongside the great beast.

But just as fast as it had happened, was it gone. The wind died down until there wasn't even any breeze to match the stale air inside of the tunnel. And the room fell quiet, so quiet not even the held intakes of breath could have been heard. Arthur slowly, and cautiously, as he didn't know what he was going to see, lowered his arm until he could peek up. And his breath caught in his throat, the prince jolting back a foot in surprise as he looked up at the beast looking over him. It was nothing more than a hunk of hardened clay, it looked as realistic as it had only moments before. But it also felt hard to imagine this thing-nothing but a statue at this point-had just been up and moving around only a moment before.

The statue beast seemed to wobble of it's awkward legs for a moment, before it fell back. Landing with a harsh abandonment on the ground, kicking up dust in the air before it settled. Morgana, Merlin, and Arthur could only stare down at it, nobody sure if it would be safe to move now. Nobody sure what they should do as they watched, almost waiting for the beast to start surging back to life. But it looked as if it was nothing less than completely incinerated. Which could mean only one thing…

They had saved the city.

X

Deep in the woods, back in the cave she had made and marked as her home, Nimueh could feel all her anger shimmering to the surface. She had her hands clamped tightly around the ornate water bowl on top of the ornate metal stand she had crafted all on her own some time again, but her hands were shaking it with so much rage. The water was splashing over the sides in response, ruining the image forming inside of the bowl. The three young people standing all around the baby she had taken years to think of, to formulate the proper plan, and then taken the time to craft into a foul proof plan.

But Nimitz had not accounted for one thing. For that young sorcerer to join the ranks of the elite, and get himself involved with her schemes. It felt as if she'd wasted almost twenty years of her life, only for it to be foiled before she was able to see the finish. Long before she was able to see the anguish on the king's face as he realized his kingdom was falling straight to ruin. Because nothing would ruin the king more, than seeing his precious land falling before his eyes.

"Merlin!" Nimueh snarled, the name roaring from her painted lips like vile, spitting poison out into the air to continue her evil plans. Unable to contain herself, the beautiful woman lifted her hand and smashed the flat of her palm against the water. Completely ruining the image in its depths, and with so much force that she nearly toppled the entire bowl over. It had also taken her great lengths to craft this bowl, the crystal it was made out of allowing her to see far greater distances than a normal bowl would have. Even if the water and the spell itself was so easy, even a simpleton himself would have been able to do it. "You will pay for this!"

Nimueh was nearly spitting fire as she stepped away from her ornate bowl before she had the chance to destroy her only view of the outside world. The way the crystal was made took time and work that even a great sorceress like herself, didn't have the energy to expand on making a second one. And the material it was crafted from…far too hard to get her hands onto nowadays. And Nimueh had waited long enough for her plans to come into fruition, she'd waited far too long for the king to let down his guard before she'd enacted her great plan.

It might have failed, but no matter. Nimueh was one of the smartest magic user's still alive today, and she could already feel another plan forming inside of the wicked depths of her mind. It might have taken her a good twenty years to enact the first plan, but it's only because she's a patient woman. Who had wanted to give the king time to heal from what had happened to them all those years ago, before she had returned, to watch Uther Pendragon being crushed and hopeless underneath the heal of her boots. But just because it had taken twenty years to enact the first, didn't mean it would take her another twenty years to enact what she would do next.

This was only the plan Nimueh had chosen to go with to cause mass destruction. But she had formulated at least a dozen others she could go with next, in the wake of her failure. She'd had twenty years to stew in her rage and her grief, and twenty years to allow her imagination to grow bigger and bigger with each one of the passing days. And she already had the perfect idea for what she could do next…Nimueh would only need to work out a few kinks in the plan. It had been, originally, meant for Uther. But with Merlin now in the game…Nimueh wasn't taking any risk. If he had been able to stop this plan, then it was entirely possible for him to ruin the next.

Uther would have to wait.

She needed to rid the world of Merlin Pendragon, far before she could concentrate her energies on Uther Pendragon…

X

Arthur's torch clattered loudly when it hit the ground at the prince's feet, and it was truly a miracle that the torch stayed lit at all. The fire barely clung to life, but it was there all the same, giving them a bit of light to see the hardened clay beast with. Nobody had said a word for the longest time, too busy staring at the one thing that had caused them so much grief for as long as it had. It was almost hard to believe that the whole thing was over now. And all it had taken was just a bit of fire, and some lucky timing with the wind…

Morgana was the first one to make a move, standing up slowly as she pushed herself off the wall to get a better look for herself, "Is it…dead?" She asked, not sure if she should creep closer or not. By this point, it would not have surprised her if this was just another of it's games. Instead of attacking them before going back, it was now playing dead. Waiting for the group to lower their guard, so they would never see it when it came. The beast surfing to it's feet, snapping a jaw at her soft flesh.

Arthur glanced over to her, drawn by that unnatural softness in her voice. For all the years Arthur had the woman in his life, he had never known her to be 'soft' or 'dainty' like the other women he'd the displeasure of knowing. She was probably freaked, but he would not bring attention to it. Arthur was pretty freaked for himself, not even the death of the beast able to calm him. But Morgana had asked something they needed to know, and Arthur couldn't chicken out now. One of them had to check if it was truly dead, and by that-it was obviously going to be him.

Arthur creeped closer, keeping a steady eye on the beast for any movement that might betray its act. His gaze landed on his sword, still sticking out of its belly but he didn't dare make a move to pull it out. It would only anger the beast, instead of buying them time to escape. Arthur stopped only when he got to the head of it, and before he could talk his way out of it, Arthur gave the beast a hand nudge on it's arm with the toe of his boot. But nothing happened. There wasn't any breath of air, or rumbled growl, that could've shown the beast still lived.

"It's dead." Arthur said, sounding breathless by this revelation. There was something in his shoulders that was tense, but Arthur could feel himself loosening up in response to his words. His head whipped around in order to look at Morgana, this small grin forming onto his face as he saw her exhaling her own relief out into the air. Bringing a hand up to rest against her bosom as an added measure to show her relief.

Morgana lifted her hand from her heaving bosom and brushed her sweating bangs out of her face, "And the wind…was that natural?" The words spilled out of her mouth, looking past Merlin and down the tunnel, she was sure the wind had started from that direction. It had been unlike anything she'd ever seen, almost like a hurricane forming right before her eyes. And it was one thing she didn't know what to make of. "For it to just form like that…?" She turned her imploring gaze back onto Arthur for answers. She'd heard of the odd occurrence of an air tunnel forming, but she'd never seen it before in her life. And she couldn't stop from wondering rather or not it had something to do with the beast being down here…

Arthur frowned deeply, and followed Morgana's gaze down the chamber. He didn't answer her, but…there was a point to what she had said. For a wind tunnel to just form like that out of the blue…these caves had to meet all kind of conditions and temperature levels for something like that to happen, and Arthur wasn't sure if these caves checked off all the boxes. It was a bit strange for it to happen the moment they needed it the most, for it to be strong enough to catch onto his torch. And then for it to react and cause the beast to catch flames like that…Arthur would never exactly be the type of man who believed in lucky chances. It wasn't something that usually happened to him. The prince should have been a chew toy by now! If there hadn't been any wind at the exact moment, then the beast would have overpowered him easily. And it was a hell of a coincidence, just enough for Arthur to feel a tingling of suspicion creeping into him. Maybe…this wasn't as over as he had been led to believe.

"It actually happens more often than you would think it does." Merlin jumped in here, speaking out with this rush in his tone. He couldn't allow either of the two to get ideas in their heads, or question it more than they already were. Asking how it happened would've only been the beginning, but how much longer would it be before one or both of them made a leap and jumped to the right conclusion. He was an awful liar, but the jittery words spilling from his throat could easily have been explained away by how freaked out he was from the fight itself. Or at least, Merlin hoped it would look like that, and nobody could see the truth buried right behind the lies in his words. "Yeah, we've got caves a bit similar to this back home. It's a rare phenomenon, but it happens in old tunnels like this. The wind starts to build up inside-" Merlin puffed out his cheeks and moved his hands in a circle in front of him, as if he'd been trying to draw a visual aid for the two in the air. "Especially if it's all closed off like it's been. At some point, something has to give and the pressure starts to snap. Once it grows and becomes too much, then it just kinda…pops…you know. The wind shoot out as it creates that wind tunnel, kinda just looking for any place it can go to release the pressure. And I guess it hit Arthur's torch at the right angle and connected to the beast at the same time…maybe the sudden burst of fire swallowed up the air and gave it the release of preside it needed…but…yeah…it was just lucky we're in one of those air pockets at the right time…"

Merlin cleared his throat, feeling the stain of red as it creeped up his neck. He tucked his hands behind his back, looking away when he saw the other two were looking at him with incredulous expressions on their face, as if they weren't sure rather or not he should be believed. Or if what he had said was true. Merlin, honestly, didn't know one damn thing about caves or air tunnels or pockets able to form…but it had at least sounded good. Or at least good enough to him, but it might not share the same ring to it among the more…educated, people. But Merlin had slipped just a grain of truth into his words. There really were caves back home, on the outskirts, though people rarely went to them. Mostly only dumb kids like him and Will who'd wanted to sneak away and explore before they'd get caught by their parents and dragged back to the hot under the sun, back aching work they were forced to endure for the harvest. Sometimes, the older teens in the village-when Merlin was a kid, though it became less and less popular since the caves were practically falling apart nowadays and were risking being caved in-would have used the spot to kiss. But Arthur and Morgana didn't need to know that much. And he did not know if any air tunnels had actually ever formed in those caves to begin with…

"…Merlin…" the dark voice creeped out of the dark as if it was an avenging Angel. Or maybe a devil, hidden in disguise. It sent an immediate shiver directly up his spine, Merlin going so stiff that it was a miracle it had not offset his stance. Maybe Merlin had made a huge mistake by talking, it had only dragged attention right to himself. Reminding Arthur of something that would end up being very important…Merlin's eyes shot right to Arthur, connecting to the twin pools of blue. And it was then, that Merlin realized just how pissed off the prince was. This was probably the most pissed off he had ever seen the other man, emphasized by how he was speaking quiet. Arthur was rarely quiet when one of them started a fight, preferring to yell at Merlin. As if the column of his voice changed things, and meant to say Merlin how much danger he was in. But Merlin thought it was quite the opposite. A quiet Arthur only made another, deeper, shiver rock down his spine. It almost made his whole body tremble…

"…Arthur…" Merlin said, clearly his voice and putting on an illusion that he wasn't nearly as freaked as he was. Merlin had never been scared of Arthur before, and he wasn't going to start now. Though, maybe he was far worse of a liar than he thought he was. Since Arthur only cocked a silent eyebrow up at him, daring Merlin to challenge him. To speak up with his defense in mind. And Merlin could feel the heat on his cheeks threatening to overtake him, not understanding what he had done this time to make Arthur look at him like that. They should be celebrating right now, should've been running as fast as their legs could carry them to the king and report this. Arthur should, definitely, not be looking at him as if he was going to eat him. Or he might try strangling him, but…eating him would have described Arthur's expression better.

"Do you have any idea what you did?" Arthur said, in his soft and slightly domineering voice. He was able to see, out the corner of his eye, Morgana watching the two of them. Her head going back and forth, as even she picked up on how dangerously close Arthur was to absolutely losing it. But Arthur didn't pay her any attention, she was safe and alive with minimum injuries, the king would be pleased when Arthur was able to bring her back safety. For now though, Arthur had his eyes sorely, and irrevocably, locked onto the form of his consort. Arthur took one step towards his boy, and felt a smirk-dark and twisted almost, and far unlike him before Merlin had entered his life-forming on his face when Merlin took a subtle step back. The step was small, but it showed Arthur was starting to get to Merlin. Perfect. Just what he would be wanting to see after how absolutely, stupidly, reckless he had been minutes before.

"No. But I'm sure you're gonna tell me." Merlin spoke up, an awkward grin on his lips, after cursing himself for showing a weakness by stepping back. With him in the mood he was, you would think Merlin would've known better than show any kind of weakness. Since Arthur was very much the type that would catch onto it, and the exploit it for as long as he was able too. He had been going for cheeky, trying to show Arthur that there wasn't anything he could do that would be able to scare him off. Merlin had lived against the monster of a beast! Could tell the story if he wanted too! But it wasn't something he would ever talk about, since he knew very well there could be others who might put the pieces of their success together. Merlin had gone round to round with this guy before! He'd both kneed him in the groin, and then stabbed him with that quill. And! He'd nearly broken his nose! Besides, there was nothing Arthur would be able to do to him, that he'd not done already. So there, Merlin was just feeling a bit ridiculous, even as the nervous dread flooded his body.

Famous Last Words.

Merlin hadn't noticed Arthur creeping up to him with slow measured steps, acting more like a hunter than a man. A hunter who was sneaking up to a newborn foul, and not wanting to startle it into running away from him. But only when Merlin had gotten within his arms reach, did Arthur change from caution to a born predator. Merlin yelled out, when Arthur snatched up a fistful of his cloak on either side of his head, and all but body slammed Merlin against the cave wall. And ignoring the hardened husk of a beast situation down at their feet.

"Arthur!" Morgana shrieked from somewhere behind them, rushing forward so that she was standing right beside them, her head whipped around wildly. "What do you think you are doing to him!" Even the lady had been surprised by Arthur's extreme reaction over this whole thing. She knew Merlin and Arthur had obvious issues that needed to be worked out, but seeing the prince go so far as to put hands on Merlin made her realize…some thing's could never be wired out. And domestic abuse was one of those things. If only Lady Morgana realized this was far from the first time the prince had thrown Merlin into something. She'd bore witness to bits and pieces of their fighting, but she'd never seen Arthur reacting so violently before.

"You complete, and absolute, idiot!" Arthur shouted at Merlin in response, ignoring every single word that Morgana had said. Arthur had tunnel vision for Merlin only, shaking the man roughly by the cloak the prince had given to him, and enjoying the sound of the solid smack Merlin's head made when it got banged onto the wall behind him. "You bloody moron! You nearly got yourself ducking killed! You nearly got Morgana and me killed! And for what! Because you couldn't wait one damn minute for me to get a proper plan in place!"

The rage was strong within Arthur, and Morgana was yanking on his arm now, trying to get him away from Merlin. But it might as well have only been a fly that landed on Arthur's bicep, for all of the good Morgana tugging on him was doing. Arthur was coming close to fraying at the edges, his heartbeat raising to what could only be described as dangerous levels. It took everything Arthur had to not backhand Merlin across the face, his shoulders shaking with the effort it had took to not give into his baser urges.

Merlin bit back a snarl, his own anger rising the very second Arthur had put his hands on him, because he had already decided…Arthur would never be allowed to get away with putting his hands on him. To abuse or mistreat him…Merlin would fight back, and try he did. To jerk himself free from Arthur's grasp, but the prince was much stronger than him, and easily threw him back against the wall, making Merlin grit harshly with his teeth, "What did you expect me to do?" The consort snarled back, reaching up and wrapping his hands around Arthur's wrist. Trying to get purchase so he could remain on his feet, rather than relying on the strength Arthur had against him to hold him up and steady. "You kept talking about how we should leave, we didn't have the time! We couldn't move or get 'back up' or whatever else you thought! Or Gwen would probably be dead by now! Because your father wouldn't have believed any of us!"

Merlin spat this last part out in Arthur's face, and the words sounded as if Merlin was blaming Arthur for it. As if it was Arthur's fault he was the son of one of the most stubborn men to walk the planet. A man who'd require hard proof and evidence before daring to try and move any of his men into battle position. Gwen's name though, that sent a spark of rage-a little hidden flame inside of Arthur's chest-because it had always came down to her. Merlin seemed to care more about the safety of one simple serving girl, then he did any of the people who had actually died in the crossfires of this plague. Arthur's fists tightened up, bunching the fabric of his own cloak around Merlin's shoulders.

"What the hell is your obsession with Gwen!" Arthur allowed himself to rage, shaking Merlin all over again. There was absolutely nothing 'sensual' or 'weird' or even off, about the way Arthur was handling Merlin. It wasn't a game, this wasn't Arthur just trying to mess around with Merlin's head, or force answers out from him, or make Merlin side with him on things. It wasn't any of the million of excuses and reasons the prince would tell himself, to make the weird things he would do to Merlin alright. To explain away why Arthur kept putting hands on Merlin, even when he'd decided he would never do it again. This was a normal everyday fight between men, nothing but pure heat and energy and anger crackling between the two. And it was only a matter of time before something combusted. "She is just a girl! There is absolutely no reason for you to get in her life! You're a consort!"

Gwen was a girl who had given his consort a stupid flower, forcing Arthur to feel more about the girl then he had before. Before, she'd been nothing more then Morgana's maid, somebody who nodded her head to him as she passed by with a basket of fresh linens in her arm. Somebody Arthur had rarely acknowledged unless he happened to see her and needed her to go and deliver a message to Morgana. But now that she had involved herself more firmly-somehow achieving the loyalty of a Royal consort, of Merlin's-made this irritating itch form under Arthur's skin. He didn't even care how many arguments by this point he'd had with Merlin's fascination with the serving staff. Hell, Merlin could be friends with anybody else who worked with the serving staff. Arthur would allow some give, with the matter. But not with Gwen. Not with the girl who would give flowers, not with the girl Arthur had once claimed Merlin had used to make him jealous in front of the council, not with the girl who had made Merlin risk all of their lives over. It was unnatural, and Gwen has been stepping out of line if she considered it to be appropriate behavior for a serving girl to act.

Maybe it wasn't Merlin who was the problem. Well…it was always Merlin who was the problem. But maybe it was Gwen, Arthur should be talking too. Reminding her of the proper decorum a serving girl needed with the Royal family. Merlin might be stubborn and deny him his Right, as Merlin's husband, to decide who it was he associated with. But Gwen wouldn't have any choice but to listen to her prince. Yes…if she'd be set free, then he should just go around Merlin and make his position about all of this, quite plainly, straight to Gwen herself.

"Maybe, you utter arsehole, it's because I actually have a heart!" Merlin completely ripped into Arthur as he tried for the umpteenth time to wiggle himself free of the grip. It was almost embarrassing, because it looked as if Arthur's wasn't even trying to hold him down. It wasn't fair that Arthur was this strong, even giving him a sharp kick to the shin wasn't enough to make Arthur let him go, though he at least saw Arthur gritting his teeth and wincing, which was a win, in his book. "Maybe you haven't noticed, but some people in the world are actually innocent. And those people being burned to death, is actually a bad thing. Who knows though, maybe you don't give a shit about any of your people, like you claimed you did!"

Merlin vividly remembered Arthur finally breaking in his chambers, and snapping at Merlin that 'yes,he did care about his people'. But it was beginning to feel as if Arthur had only been talking out of his arse. It was more likely, Arthur had only said what Merlin wanted to hear to get him out of his face. Somebody who did care about their people, wouldn't be throwing one fit after the other at him for actually doing something to stop it all. Rather than just sitting back and watching as things happened from the windows. Maybe they'd had a close call when fighting against the beast, but to Merlin, it had all been worth it. Even if Arthur was throwing one of his epic fits, but Merlin could have caused Arthur's mood just by standing there, so this made no difference to him. The prince really was this sensitive fella, unable to contain himself like a spoiled brat. Content to throw his tantrums around, and have the full expectations that Merlin would give in just to make it stop. Well, Merlin wasn't going to give in…

"What…that…that is entirely beside the point!" Arthur brushed aside Merlin's words with force. Why…why is it that every time Merlin spoke, as stupid as he would give the delivery, it was always right? Arthur felt as if he was losing his bloody mind, realizing Merlin once again, was right. Gwen was innocent, things should go back to normal now…she was his people too. Just as the handful of knights Arthur would choose on his personal platoon. Just like all of those people who'd been left to fend for themselves down inside of the lower town. But…it was Gwen…Arthur was torn right in two on his feelings with Gwen. Should he hate the girl for her inappropriate conduct with his consort, or should he be grateful he hadn't just made one huge mistake and allowed an innocent girl who was a year younger than himself, perish by the flames. "Do you even know what would have happened if you hadn't called out when you did? Is your head so think, you cannot understand that this thing could have killed you long before I got to you!"

Arthur didn't like his conflicting feelings about Gwen-he was firmly on the: she's an irritating little girl and I wonder if Morgana would be willing to get rid of her so she didn't have the ample opportunity to get near his consort, side of things. But that was just the man in him, trying to spit fire whenever anyone distracted Merlin away from his new role. The prince inside him told him to take the win while he could, and accept it was all over now. Gwen would be returned home safe and sound, which was what half of this entire thing had been about in the first place.

"Oh, I suppose I would have died." Merlin said, with a matter of fact tone that grated on Arthur's nerves. It would be seriously surprising to Arthur if he wouldn't develop some kind of constant muscle ache or tooth pains from how hard Merlin made him grind down. It was as if Merlin didn't see the bigger issue about that problem. If Arthur didn't know any better, he would have thought Merlin wanted to die, with how placate he was about what could have happened. Which was just plain ridiculous. People didn't want to die for no reason, and considering Merlin could now live within the lap of luxury…the only problem was Merlin's own attitude. Starting problems he had no reason to have his hands in. "I suppose I should just be grateful for a strong knight coming to save me."

Merlin's tone was sarcastic as ever, a bitter downturn to his lips indicating how upset he was. The nerves in his stomach were twisting into sickening knots as he watched the prince with dead eyes. For one second …when Merlin had been facing the beast before the prince and Morgana had shown up, he had just stood there. He hadn't been frozen in fear. But yet, he had stood there. A cold creeping feeling etched it's way into Merlin's chest as he remembered how he'd been waiting for the beast to strike. He could've made the usual excuses to himself: he was too slow to fight or summon his magic against it. He didn't know exactly what spell he should use until it was too late. He did not want to risk being seen by the others using any magic, so he'd allowed the creature to attack him. He would know all of those excuses were lies though. If Arthur hadn't have shown up and distracted it away from him, Merlin knew he most likely would have just stood there and allowed the beast to attack him. At this very moment, Merlin could have been sprawled out across the floor. He could have his head caved in like a melon after that thing smashed him straight in the face. He could have his brain splattered all across the wall. He could finally be…free…of Arthur…

"Arthur!" Morgana's voice rang out sharply, like some kind of irritating bell. The lady had abandoned trying to drag Arthur away from Merlin by his arm, realizing she didn't have the muscle mass to achieve that. But that hadn't stopped her from finding another way to get Arthur to stop. And she had somehow managed to get herself wedged right between the two of them, ducking herself under Arthur's arm. This action left Arthur with no choice but to drop Merlin where he'd stood, the consort landing his full weight back on his feet and nearly knocking himself over. Morgana put a hand on Arthur's chest, long before he had a proper chance to respond to Merlin's comment, and tried to push him back some. "That is enough!"

Morgana almost couldn't believe what she had seen just now. It was no wonder that Merlin never wanted to be around Arthur. Had this only been the first time Arthur had put his hands on Merlin like that? Or was it only the first time she'd been aware of it. The dread pooled in Morgana's own stomach, as she cast Merlin a worried look over her shoulder. Merlin's may not be what Arthur wanted to be married too, but that gave the prince no right to put his hands on him. She had thought a Royal prince, would have had a bit more of decorum or respect when talking to their partner. But that would have been the normal for royals, when he knew there were people around to see how they were treating their partners behind closed doors. She had never thought Arthur would be the man to go around playing his part in front of the people-as Uther would dictate, she knew-and then go around to abusing the boy as soon as they were alone. Words would be one thing, words were things Merlin could come to her for and she could be the listening ear that he needed. To put hands on him…Morgana had never thought she'd see the day where Arthur transformed from a useless prat-as Merlin may call him-to an abuser.

"Morgana! You are not a part of this." Arthur said with gritted teeth, at least keeping his hands to himself. It was telling, that he hadn't been so far gone, that he'd try to do the same thing to Morgana. Uther wouldn't hesitate to kill him himself-heir or not-if Arthur ever put his hands on a woman. He had to speak with a bit of respect and princely grace when he addressed the ladies of the court. And Morgana was no different, in that regard. Hell, Merlin might not be a woman but he would be seen in a similar light, since Arthur had this position of power over him specifically. But the other boy was completely different, in Arthur's eyes, and it would be Merlin deserving it, whenever Arthur put his hands on him. "Why don't you just go, and inform the king of what had happened. Merlin and I need to talk about a few things before we are in company."

And by talk, Arthur thought…he could feel his hand as it twitched at his side. His belt was like this heavy weight around his waist. This was going to be it, this was the moment he had been waiting for. For Merlin to step so far out of line, Arthur wouldn't even have a choice. It wouldn't be weird, it would be Arthur giving him the punishment he'd been denying him since the day they met. It would be Arthur reinforcing the idea-with every swing of his belt against Merlin's clothed backside (keeping his clothing in place being Arthur showing mercy he didn't deserve)-that Merlin should never leave his side again. Should not run away from him for any reason. Should not run headfirst into the danger, and force Arthur to watch his body being up and torn into pieces right before his eyes. He should not even breathe, if Arthur deemed he didn't want to see it. And Merlin would know it by the time he would get done with his. Arthur's eyes were almost red with the power-drunk off of it-at the thought of Merlin and his startled reaction. He would finally get to hear him squeal, and probably beg for him to stop. And Merlin would never step out of line again, knowing his blond was watching him, waiting for the next moment he'd need to drag Merlin away for another session.

One more session, Arthur would tell himself. Just one more Merlin mishap to have him punished for. Only, it would never reach that last session, would it. Even if Merlin started behaving, and being good, and taking care of himself proper-maybe Arthur should just take over that bit, since Merlin was incapable of not falling into dangerous situation-it might be prudent for him to have a session once a day. Just to reinforce it, and keep Merlin from forgetting…Arthur only needed his father's ward to leave them in peace. Once Morgana was gone, Arthur could put things into motion. And get Merlin accustomed to the new life Arthur would give him. Merlin would crave those days where he'd ignored him. Because if Merlin was going to act out, and do stunts like this to get his attention, then fuck it all. Merlin was going to have his damn attention on him from now on.

"Are you out of your mind!" Morgana exclaimed, not seeing Merlin glance between the two before slowly sliding out of place behind her, intent on leaving the two to their arguing. There was something Merlin had to do, and them arguing gave him the perfect chance to do it without Arthur trying to stop him. But Arthur must have seen him moving-which would have to be a first time, considering he'd missed it earlier when Merlin had ducked into the caves in the first place-because the prince's eyes snapped up and locked on Merlin's immediate form. Merlin hated himself when he froze up, seeing that dangerous and sharp look in Arthur's eyes reappearing. Arthur looked more like a predator than even the beast had, vowing to kill him with the look in his eyes alone if he took only a single step away from them again. It made sense, since the prince seemed pretty pissed at him for not agreeing to whatever plan he'd been coming up with before he came into these caves on his own. Arthur had serious control issues he needed to work out, and Merlin had no interest in being on the other side of things. It was lucky that Merlin didn't have to worry about anything like that for the moment-being struck, Arthur swore a day would come that he would strike Merlin where he stood, and Merlin was almost convinced that this was the moment of no return, where Arthur would finally go through with it-because Morgana was there. The lady put a firm hand on Arthur's chin, rearranging his face so that he was looking down at her. Rather then over her shoulder, "Don't look at him, look at me."

Morgana was a spitfire in the making, but the prince could have easily pushed her aside so he could get his hands on the shifty looking Merlin. But Arthur had himself restrained, hands curled into fists at his side so he wouldn't behave irrationally. Arthur could have put hands on Merlin all he wanted, he was His, to do with as he pleased after all. And while it would never be Morgana's place to get in between a man and his 'husband', it wasn't Arthur's place to discipline her in the same manner he would Merlin. That honor would lie surely with Uther, though she was also far too old for anything more than a disappointed lecture. But it did make Arthur feel more disgusted with himself, the idea of doing any of the things he wanted to do with his consort…an unpleasant shiver rolled right down his spine.

Morgana wouldn't deserve it anyway. Even if she did involve herself far too many times with everything he and his consort did, she was at least a proper lady. A lady who knew what to do when they were in proper company. Merlin though…Merlin would deserve all he did and far more.

"You need to learn how to get a grip-" Morgana was really starting in on her lecture, doing her part to be able to protect Merlin from the monster Arthur was turning into.

Merlin watched this for a moment, seeing that Arthur was being distracted by Morgana. And maybe it was a bit childish of him, but he didn't stop himself from sticking his tongue out at Arthur. It was stupid, but it made him feel a bit better. The only thing that would have been better was if Arthur had caught him, then it would be like showing Arthur his aggression hadn't worked and Merlin still had some fight in him. And to think, Merlin had saved Arthur's worthless hide. If he hadn't told Arthur to use the torch, then the man may not have used it as a weapon. Then, Merlin wouldn't have had the chance to use his 'disgusting' magic, or his spell work, to force the wind tunnel. Merlin really, quite bitterly, wanted to see what color purple Arthur would turn his face if he knew magic was exactly the thing that saved him. Not just magic specifically, but Merlin's magic. The very same magic Arthur, as they had watched Gwen being carted away, had the nerve to call 'disgusting.' His very essence, and everything that made him who he was…was disgusting towards his own fucking husband.

Happy fucking marriage life to him.

He'd just saved the biggest tormentor and abuser in his life from certain death. It would have been Arthur who ended up crushed beneath the fists of the beast instead of him. If he hadn't fucking saved his life. And what does he get in return, thrown against a wall and screamed at for it. The back of his head still felt like it was throbbing from where he had gotten it slammed against it. Fucking dick…Merlin had to remind himself he had done all of this for Gwen. Uther wouldn't have been opened to listening to them if they had returned with his son dead. And Merlin wasn't even sure he'd want to know what Uther would plan to do with him, if Arthur wasn't around anymore. But hey, there was nothing in the world that could be worse than being married to Arthur fucking Pendragon. And the noose wanted to tie itself around Merlin's neck every single time he was forced to remember it. Because it would always be there, that fact lingering in the very depths of his mind. Like a disease, slowly killing him until he was nothing left of the person he'd came here as.

Morgana was still lecturing Arthur, poking him in the chest as she fussed at him, telling him something like 'go and get his aggression out on the other knights in the training grounds, and not on somebody small and not able to fight back' which kinda stung to Merlin. It wasn't like he hadn't been handling himself just fine in the last couple of months they'd been married. So what if Merlin was slimmer than Arthur, that actually happened when somebody was prone to a lifetime of not having the proper amount of meals. Not that his mother didn't try to keep him fed, but there wouldn't always be food that went around. Not her fault, but it happened-more often than not. But Merlin left them to it, and strode back over to the monster to get the thing he'd been eyeing for the past few minutes.

The sword.

Arthur's sword.

Still embedded into the great belly of the beast, only the pommel sticking out through the underside. From what little Merlin was able to see of the sword, it did not look as if it was broken. The blade still attached to the handle as it should be, and not broke in half like it might be when someone was dumb enough to try and stick their sword in solid stone. Which Arthur might as well have done…Merlin could only hope the fire hadn't melded the sword into the hardened clay of the beast. Merlin would still be able to get it out if he used his magic, but he didn't want to on the very off chance that Arthur recognized it. The prince had felt his magic once, leaking off of the poultice found in Gwen's room, and Merlin didn't want Arthur to feel the same thing now. With him connected to it. And it was only if Arthur didn't see the gold fading from his eyes. But then again, it didn't seem as if Arthur had felt the same from Merlin's magic in the wind, trying to control and manipulate and failing at doing more than just summoning it. But maybe Arthur had been only distracted by the beast at the time, it would be hard to notice things like that when you had this ten foot monster coming down on you.

…Fuck it. Merlin decided. He'd already done what he had set out to do, and proved Gwen's innocence. The crisis was over with. And Merlin would just have to try and pull this thing out by his hands first. Long before he tried any alternative methods to get it out. Since, damn it, he needed that bloody blade for what he'd want to do next.

Merlin reached out and wrapped his hand around the cold pommel of the sword, and scrunched his face in disgust. This sword was usually strapped around the prince's waist. Merlin had put hands on something he knew touched Arthur on a daily basis. Was it weird to feel so sick from an inanimate object? Probably, but it made sense since Merlin wanted not one thing to do with Arthur bloody Pendragon. But he still needed to use this stupid sword…Merlin hissed underneath his breath as he pulled the blade with all of his might. It didn't move, and Merlin's eye twitched, readjusting his sweaty grip around the pommel. He yanked on it again, feeling the straining in his shoulders as sweat slid somewhere down his spine and pulled in the dip that connected to his hips. He felt it moving this time, and that was probably the best news Merlin had got all day long. If the sword was moving, than that only meant it wasn't melded. Which meant Merlin didn't need to risk his magic, not if he could just. Get. The. Sword. To come out.

Merlin propped one of his feet up against the leg of the beast, using the mountain of a monster for him to get a better grip. "Come on…" Merlin hissed under his breath, readjusting his grip one more time with both hands wrapped firmly around the handle. Merlin was able to feel more sweat building along his hairline, he ignored it in favor for tugging back on the sword with all his strength once again. He could feel it starting to slide now, and maybe if he angled the steel right, the thing wouldn't break directly in two after the intense heat of the earlier flames mixing with the clay made out of the beast…it had probably made the blade a bit weaker than it usually would have been. But what did he know about blades, or their weak points, or the like. A blade was a blade, it had a sharp end one used to stab into somebody else, but freaking deal.

…Maybe Merlin was just hating on the sword because the jerk loved it so freaking much.

Merlin gave another loud grunt, jerking even harder and feeling more of the blade sliding out. He had only about half of it out, but that was more than what he'd started with, so he was counting it as a win. Or a loss since his grunting was exactly what drew attention to him…

"Hey! What do you think you're doing with my sword, now!" Arthur's voice sounded hot and heated, and it was exactly why Merlin refused to look back at him. He could take his attitude somewhere else and shove it, if he thought Merlin was going to acknowledge him anymore. He had a sword to get out, because though he wanted to be done with it, things weren't actually done until he finished off this one little detail. But this became hard to concentrate on, when Arthur showed up, brushing past Morgana and getting in his area. It made Merlin grit his teeth, when he gave another big yank on the sword, only to run straight into the worse jerk on the planet. Though jerk seemed to be far too little of a word. Abuser, tosspot, jackarse, a no-good husband beater who deserved to be bloody torn up and castrated for the hell he'd been forcing Merlin in. "Hey, I'm talking to you!"

Arthur snarled this out, finding his anger returning to him full force when he saw Merlin's rough handling of his blade. He ignored the way Merlin's slim body was suddenly, intimately, pressed up against him when he pulled back on the sword. Every curse, every muscle, every inch of Merlin's body suddenly nestled against his own, easily fitting into the crook of his chest as if he was meant to be there, went unnoticed. And all he could focus on was Merlin's thin fingers, wrapped on his pommel sensually. Long and thin fingers, daring to touch a knight's equipment as if it belonged sorely to him. Not even the spouse's of other knights would so easily and casually-or roughly, with Merlin's case-touch a man's weapon. Arthur shivered when a huge wave of discontent fell over him, his belly twisting in knots at the sight of Merlin's touch. Merlin might as well have been touching him naked, for what he was doing to his pommel. And that thought sent Arthur a cold, freezing dose of reality. The prince reached out and grabbed onto Merlin's forearm, intent of getting him to stop touching his stuff.

It was as if an electrical current show through both of them the second Arthur's fingers brushed against his sleeve, and Merlin jerked away from it violently. With his eyes like fire, Merlin snarled at the prince as if he was the wild beast instead of the one at his feet was, "And. I. Am. Ignoring." Merlin enunciated each one of his words with a solid pull of the sword, feeling it as it slid further and further out with each yank. Until all of the pressure holding it down started to crack and the hold on it started to loosen, making the slide far more easier. "You!" Merlin shouted the final word, while he gave the mightiest pull of the sword left, his rage and frustration coming out of him as if he had just gotten punched in the face. And the hardened clay that held the sword in place finally started to crumble, with the young sorcerer nearly tumbling back with surprise as the entire sword slid out of it.

Arthur reacted only by instinct-and only because he wanted his sword out of Merlin's grimy paws-caught the consort under his arms from behind, housing the boy back to his feet before he could hit the ground. It would be hard to explain to people how the other boy had gotten hands on his sword, and then gone to get himself impaled with it not moments later. It was bad enough being known as the prince who had married a man, but being known as the man who killed off his husband wasn't exactly anymore flattering than that first option was. "Are you gonna give it back to me, or do I have to pry your fingers off of it?" The prince did not hesitate to growl this in Merlin's ear, while having him in place like this. Tugged close into his chest, so he couldn't get away from him so easily, and while he wasn't on his feet all the way, leaving Arthur with the chance to move him into any position he wanted.

Only being vaguely aware of Morgana standing right behind him, pinching the bridge of her nose and she was huffing about 'idiot boys, I'm gonna have to call the guards just to separate him from Merlin, aren't I?' Stopped him from going for his belt as he was being forced to wrestle Merlin into position over the top of his knee. Punishments were meant for privacy. It was to humiliate Merlin, yes. But not in front of others, or in a place where other's could see. And granted, the cave wasn't exactly bustling with people. But Arthur did not want to risk Morgana actually running off to find some knights with some bullshit story that would have them running faster. And then walking into what should be seen, and sanctioned, and facilitated, and watched sorely by Arthur himself. But for now, unless Arthur could either convince Morgana to leave and to not come back for the next three hours at least-he'd only be guessing the length of time, considering he'd not punished somebody like this before and wouldn't know how much time was needed for a first session (Merlin would most likely need many, many sessions before he got his head on straight)-or drag Merlin off to his own room where they could have some needed privacy, he needed to focus on his sword.

Arthur slid his hands down under Merlin's arms, and trailed his fingers along the jacket he would normally wear, towards his sword. But, he wanted to push up the sleeves and see how hard he would have to push his thumbs into Merlin's skin before he would start to bruise. To see fingerprints of himself lodging into the other boy's skin, and knowing Merlin wouldn't have a choice but to walk around with them, baring his mark as he waited days for them to heal and change colors back to his normal skin tone. But Arthur's very touch was vile to Merlin, and the other boy went to wiggling with such violence that it startled Arthur into letting go of him.

Merlin would have fallen straight on his arse if it had not been what he wanted. To be free of Arthur's very touch, and feeling as if he needed a scalding bath in one of those fancy tubs they had made him wash up in on his wedding day, where he could be buried up to his eyeballs in the scalding heat where Arthur and his touch wouldn't be able to penetrate. "If you want your bloody sword," Merlin snarled, swishing around on his feet and wildly swinging the sword to point the tip of it roughly in Arthur's direction. He didn't mean to, but Merlin was pretty sure he almost took off the prince's head with his wild gestures, if the way Arthur had ducked was any indication. "Than you'll have to pry it out of my cold dead fingers. Or," Merlin waved the sword again, looking like an amateur fool. He was no better with a sword then he had been during that first training session of their's near the beginning of their marriage. "You can sit back, and I'll hand it over to you when I'm good and ready."

Lightning was crackling between the two of them it seemed, matching narrowed eyes meeting the other, and they both ignored Morgana bemoaning how the two were likely to kill each other. But the lady could not leave, for fear that she would find one of them to be dead by the time she returned. Merlin didn't care about any of that though, tightening his hand around the blade. He hadn't been lying. He really would have Arthur prying it from his cold dead fingers before he would pass it back to him willingly. And maybe…he'd refuse to pass it over even after he finally decided he was done with it. Merlin allowed his eyes to drop, as he scanned them along the sword. It was nothing but a sword to him, Merlin was sure there was something fancy about it-belonging to the prince and all-but the sword was just a sword. No different from any of the other swords being carried around out here. But now that it was in his hand, now that he was pointing the thing right at Arthur, able to see the metal gleaming and somehow looking untouched despite the grime of the muck monster in places along the blade…he'd almost felt powerful.

Not powerful, powerful. And not like some meathead of a knight who got his kicks out waving his sword at those smaller, weaker, and less fortunate them any of them were. His magic was what actually made him all that much stronger than most people, but it was also something that made him more vulnerable. Prone to danger and being caught. There was nothing all that dangerous about holding a sword, he wasn't going to get thrown in jail with the key locked away for having his hands on one. He would always prefer magic, far more than he ever would a sword. But Merlin actually liked holding it on Arthur. Almost like a visible sign he was trying to force Arthur to read. Something like: go ahead and fucking look at me now! You can just keep on doing all your shit, but you haven't broken me yet! It was far more effective tool than if Arthur had gone and caught him sticking his tongue out at him.

Arthur who didn't seem nearly as intimidated as the consort would have wanted him to be-maybe it was a nice thought, imagining Arthur as the one constantly being burned without the actual fire. To see man left trembling in his wake, and allow Merlin to be the one that was vindictive for once. This wasn't anything like the Merlin from Ealdor, who didn't waste his time on petty things like grudges and getting back at people who scorned him (other than a short magical prank or two before letting it go), but Merlin didn't want to let it go. He wanted Arthur to know how much he was ruining him. But he also knew Arthur didn't give a shit and telling him anything would only leave Merlin in a far more vulnerable position than he was in before he had opened his big mouth. And leaving Arthur with a good decent bottle of more ammunition and reason to claim him the crazy one.

"Will you bloody well put that thing down. Arthur told his consort, voice stern and menacing, bracketing his hands on his hips. This was getting plain stupid, and Arthur scrunched his nose up at the clumsy way the consort was holding his blade. Arthur could have got his sword back within seconds if he wanted too, but he couldn't deny he was fucking curious about what the consort meant by 'when he was good and ready' to give it to him. It was awkward as hell to see Merlin touching all over the weapon, and all it would take for Arthur to get it back was one sharp punch straight to his nose-some payback for Merlin smashing his face into Arthur's nose earlier-since he was confident he'd get the blade back long Merlin even had any chance to swing it. With the way he was holding it, the most Arthur would get was a nick and that was only if the consort managed to hit him at all. Arthur could have sworn he felt an almost delicious shiver going down his spine, at the mere thought of Merlin giving him a fight with his own weapon and actually managing to draw blood. Not many people could do that. But the prince brushed it aside, chalking it up to nothing but disgust at his consort's dirty hands touching along a weapon of his. "You look ridiculous holding it."

And Arthur waited, instead of giving Merlin the sharp punch to the nose. Punching people in the face was something that should only be done to bandits who'd thought it was a good idea to attack a knight. Or was something to be done during hand-to-hand combat with another opponent who knew full well what they had gotten into when they challenged Arthur. A hard hit to the face wasn't meant for the mouthy consorts who thought it was okay to threaten him with his own sword. Whipping though…that would have been a far more acceptable punishment. There was something different between punching Merlin in the face just for pissing him off for the millionth time, and giving him the proper discipline for stepping out of line. Though, it was curious that made him watch for what his next move would be.

And Merlin didn't disappoint.

Though he did nearly kill Arthur, with how shocked and dumbstruck he left him.

Merlin gave the prince an almost saucy grin, and the prince bristled, thinking this was probably a mistake. And he shouldn't entertain Merlin's tantrum for even a second longer. He should just yank his sword out of his grasp, grab the boy by the scruff of his neck, and drag him to his room, any consequences be damned, "I think I've found a far better use for your sword, far better than anything you've ever done with it." Spoke the consort, readjusting his grip on the blade for the millionth time.

Merlin supposed he could have taken this moment to stab Arthur, real hard and quick and right through the gut. The blade hadn't dulled at all, after the thing had been plunged right into the muck. It would probably sink straight into the soft skin of Arthur's belly-if the prince had anything soft, and it wasn't just muscles-if he was quick enough. But he didn't. Merlin turned himself away, raising the blade far over the top of his head, and before anybody could stop him, Merlin had slammed the sharp edge of the blade harshly against the beast. In the space between the monster's head and it's shoulders. Where it's throat would have been if it was human. The sword barely made a dent, muck far too thick for it to slide through smoothly. Made all that much harder because Merlin didn't exactly have any of the upper body mass it would take to slide into it.

"What the hell are you doing!" Arthur shouted, going almost mad with fury as he rushed forward to stop a travesty from taking place. A sword was meant to be held and respected, not thrown about hacking away like a butcher would his meats. He grabbed onto the consort's wrist, jerking him away from the beast and whipping him around, the sword dangling in-between the two of them usually while Arthur shook Merlin all over again, hands moving to grip harshly at his cloak. Fingers digging into his shoulder blades through the thick material. "You fucking moron, do you not know how damaging this is to the blade. You'll completely ruin it, and I'll have to get a new one…"

Arthur could easily get a replacement sword any time he wanted too. Perks of being a prince, but this was the sword that he'd used primarily for a good three or so years, give or take. Just before he had reached his eighteenth summer and was put in charge of training the new recruits. His father had given it to him as one of the very few things he'd done over the many years to show he was proud of him for moving up on in the world. Arthur didn't get praise from his father often, so when it came in the form of something physical-like a new sword as a gift-then yeah, Arthur made a special note of it.

The sword was far more important than the way the consort looked at him. With thin lips, dead eyes, and a scowl of discontent.