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!

207. Chapter 209

Lancelot NoLastName, First Knight to Consort Merlin Pendragon of Camelot, would never say that he's had an easy life. Perhaps, for those first few years as a child, he had it pretty easy considering the way he's seen how other children had been raised. He at least had a roof above his head, even if it would always leak during the rainy season. He had food in his belly, even though he'd been too young to realize it was only because his father and mother had sometimes gone without to make sure he was fed. He had a few playmates among the few children his age who had lived in the village at the time. And even when he had to help his parents working in the fields most days, Lancelot had been a pretty happy and content child. He had everything he had thought his little eight year old self needed to be happy in the messed up world they lived in. All he really needed, in his little childlike mind, was his family, and as far as he was worried, nothing could take something like that away from him. The bond that could be shared between child and parent was a bond that little Lancelot had felt could never be broken.

Until one day, it was.

And then Lancelot was lost.

Lancelot had been left all alone in the world after the horrid raid that had taken his parents away from him, and he had to start an entire new life at the orphan home that was ran by spinsters and few villages over. He didn't have his family anymore, and he had burdens he didn't know how to carry suddenly weighing on him in a way that was unfamiliar. But the one thing he did have, during this tragedy, was a stupid sword that he managed to pick up and spent those first few years nicking himself because he didn't know how to hold it correctly. The sword was his though, and it had given him a new sense of purpose. A goal for him to work through, no matter how much he bled and how much he sweated or how much he cried when it felt like he would never be good enough. It was all he had, and he kept going until it felt like his muscles were going to drop off his bones from the strain it took just to lift the blade. He kept going even when it felt impossible, as if he was running in place and would never be able to get the chance to so much as touch knighthood. He kept going because he didn't know who he would be if he stopped.

Lancelot had no way of knowing, when he was a clumsy thirteen year old boy trying to swing his sword around in a fancy loop like he had seen the knights that would pass by and hope he didn't end up stabbing himself in a gut when trying a maneuver he wasn't ready for, that the way of the place was going to lead him to a new family.

To Merlin Pendragon.

When Lancelot had first heard of the prince's marriage and that this mystery person being welcomed into the court was of common blood, he'd been sitting in a little tavern in the middle of nowhere and hearing the drunken rambling of a madman sitting next to him. But the story was just so fantastical, something one heard about in stories but not something that actually happened. A normal PEASANT bearing the name of royalty and carrying with it all the prestige that such a name would afford them. That story had only been the very beginning of everything Lancelot would come to know in only a few short months after it had hit his ears for the first time. Without hearing that story, Lancelot was sure he never would have had the guts to approach Camelot as early as he had… he would have continued putting it off, insisting he wasn't good enough to join an elite team like the knights of Camelot.

But the decisions Lancelot had made had given him a role that was even more selective and more elite than the platoon of knights that guarded the kingdom from threats both inside and out.

"I just really don't think this is a good idea, Lancelot. We all know that Arthur is not somebody who just has a friendly spar with somebody. I'm telling you he is planning something with all of this. Probably trying to humiliate you in front of all these new guys, we all know that he's confident enough to think there's not a chance he might lose." Merlin Pendragon, First Peasant to ever enter a royal household and live long enough to speak the stories, ranted at Lancelot with a fervor that would have surprised somebody who didn't know the facts that the First Knight of Merlin's Royal Guard knew. Anybody would have been surprised by the heat in Merlin's eyes as he glared across the fields to where Arthur was waiting for him, if they didn't know about the abuse and the suffering and the contract that had been buried so deeply after it was activated, that it may not be found ever again. "He's probably wants to get back at you or something for what happened with the griffin. I mean, as far as Arthur knows, he was the one that was passed out in a gutter while you were the one playing hero. This may be the only chance he gets to shove your face in the mud and have something he can gloat about later. I know better than anybody how huffy he gets if there is somebody else that's actually better than him at something."

Lancelot shook his head, almost able to imagine what the golden sheen would look like in Merlin's eyes—a sign of magic he had only heard in stories until the consort had accidentally revealed himself during the griffin attack—if he dared to use it now. Most people probably would have been tempted if they bore the kind of power that Lancelot was privy to knowing Merlin had, and Lancelot was only able to assume that Merlin was VERY tempted from the danger brimming in his eyes, but he knew he wouldn't. People could say what they wanted to on magic, they could have their own opinion on whether or not it was bad or good to have, but none of those people knew Merlin as Lancelot did. And as Merlin's first guard, this was just one of the many secrets belonging to the consort that he would never speak about. Not even under duress or threatening situations… not if he was being held with a knife poised at his jugular with demands to give away all of the consort's secrets being hissed in his ear. Lancelot was going to be a good knight, but he was going to be an even better friend by making sure —just in case he was wrong—Merlin didn't do anything stupid now that there's a challenge being launched at him.

"Be that as it may, whatever motivations Arthur might have for wanting us to do this soar, then you need to know that Arthur isn't the only one that has his reasons for wanting to fight. There are some things that I feel I'm going to be fighting for when I'm facing him as well." Lancelot said boldly, watching as his friend and commander finally shifted his gaze away from the prince and to him standing there in front of him. As Merlin did so, Lancelot rose his hand up just so he could press his fingertips gently against the sigil resting right against his collarbone, drawing Merlin's attention down to it. "Nobody, Merlin, is going to respect me if they don't know what I can do. The men here have yet to try and make me feel welcomed in the days I've been here awaiting your arrival. None of them see me as a proper warrior BECAUSE of my background. It is just like the people in the city, they didn't see you as their consort until you didn't have no other choice but to MAKE THEM see you."

Lancelot's words had a hidden strength behind them, a truth that was ringing out in their small group of three. It was no secret how much Merlin struggled in his role as consort, and it was no secret that things weren't better even during all these months since the wedding. But things had shifted, times were trying to change, and from what Lancelot had heard, the people were starting to take notice of their consort. All the names they called him in whispers that were not meant for somebody so close to the consort to hear… Merlin the Merciful, and Merlin the Savior being the two more common titles… were better than when it was Merlin the Unwanted. But while Merlin's been steadily getting a following of people back in Camelot, servants in the castle mainly and a good portion of the lower town starting to point out his accomplishments rather than what his faults had been, Lancelot hadn't been so lucky. His story was known as well as Merlin's seemed to be, the way Lancelot had lied and used fraudulent means to get into the knights. Parts of his own story had been embellished or they'd started stating things that were just flat out not true, giving Lancelot a taste of what Merlin must've been going through all these months. But despite all the times Lancelot corrected said facts, there were just some things that seemed to be sticking around. Like how Lancelot had manipulated his way into getting as close to the Camelot knights as he had, which left his actual abilities as the first knight of Camelot's consort to be called into question

"Now… let me make THEM see me."

Lancelot finished what he was saying with a serious and solemn expression in his deep brown eyes, staring Merlin down as he tried to say a thousand things that words alone would not be able to explain. He wanted—no, he needed—to prove himself as capable. He needed to show everybody, whether that be here today or miles away from here years down the line, that the knights chosen by Merlin Pendragon were not to be trifled with. He might be the first, but he was sure he was not going to be the last, and he wanted to set a standard for how a knight allowed to wear the Whytt Family Crest should be. This might just be a single fight, but Lancelot had a lot riding on it. Merlin's knights weren't going to be just his protectors—protectors that couldn't even get to him considering he wasn't allowed within the cities limits—but they were going to be elites. He was going to be the best of the best, and the other knights that may join with him further down the line would be just as steady with a blade as Lancelot was himself.

An elite team of warriors dedicated to the protection of one man…

Something others would strive to become…

Something people could look up to and decide they wanted to walk the same path he had to get here now…

"Merlin, perhaps you should just allow Lancelot to go out there and get all this out of their systems. You and I both know that neither of them are going to just turn away from a fight like this. Just like you and I both know that it's best that they get this whole thing out of the way now instead of carrying this tension to the rest of the weekend." Gaius drawled, nodding his head across the field and bringing their attention to where Arthur had started doing a few odd drills with his sword while he waited for them. Twirling the blade around his side and over his head before jabbing forward as if he was trying to stab somebody deeply in the stomach. Lancelot's stomach, perhaps he was imagining, but Lancelot felt the calmness overtaking him as well. He wasn't intimidated by the experience in which Arthur had over him, he had already battled him a few times before so he knew what he was getting himself into. He was ready for this, and ready for himself to make a mark on his otherwise spotless record as a new knight who hadn't been around long enough to have anything on his record. "Besides, I'm going to be here as well to take care of any injuries the two might sustain if the both of them get too out of hand with this spar of theirs. But we do only have a limited time here, and you're going to have quite a busy day tomorrow when all of the real work begins. Do you really want to fend Arthur and Lancelot off and leaving you scrambling to get whatever you wish done in order before we have to return to Camelot?"

Lancelot could almost see the conflicting expressions in Merlin's eyes, the way he darted them between himself and Arthur as if he was trying to decide if the two of them beating the other one up would allow them to move forward with the rest of their weekend. It looked as if Merlin really didn't want him to go out there, probably because he figured Arthur had some nefarious thing planned out for Lancelot. But Lancelot wasn't worry about Arthur trying to pull one on him while they were fighting. Arthur was a lot of things, from what Lancelot's seen of him, and not all of them were good. Lancelot could still remember the time he had been sitting in his jail cell waiting for the king to decide he would be executed after pretending to be a noble to get into their ranks, and the little jealousy meltdown Arthur had when he had visited him, demanding to know all the little details about how Lancelot had gotten close to Merlin. It was clearly an unhealthy dynamic considering the way Arthur had treated Merlin before he'd walked into the city. But Lancelot was fairly confident that Arthur would at least behave honorably during a simple sparring match between fellow knights and soldiers. To behave any differently when it wasn't a life or death situation would have dishonored Arthur as a knight, and a prince, and as a man.

"…Will you at least promise me that you'll keep a good eye on him, and not just when you are fighting. If you see any deception, or anything that will make you think he's going to do something that might ruin you… don't give him a chance to pull it off. I don't want him to ruin you when you've barely been a knight for a month." Merlin finally asked him, as he took a steady breath to settle himself while he still could. He was looking worried, as if this might be the last time he would see Lancelot without some grievous injury that would either kill him, or greatly impact his ability to be a knight in any capacity. Lancelot almost would have been offended in Merlin's apparent lack of believing he could actually win this fight, but Arthur HAD tried to kill him with a broomstick once. So, despite them working out a majority of their issues when Arthur admitted he had been so deadset on hating Lancelot was because he thought Lancelot was sleeping with the consort, it wasn't exactly something that was entirely out of the realm of possibility. Especially not for a boy who had spent many months being hurt and all but tortured by this prince just for following along with a contract that's been enforced upon him. "Hell, I don't think I even want you around him, so an actual fight feels like it's getting to me. I mean, we all saw how Arthur reacted initially when I told him about Arthur. Knowing him, he's probably going to try and kill you just to get to me because I didn't bother telling him when you were first made my knight. I just… fuck. I know I shouldn't have allowed him to sleep with me, it probably only encouraged his obsession with me on some level that us normal people cannot understand. Just—"

Lancelot boggled his eyes at the consort for a moment, blinking with this rapt attention that Arthur had lacked during the beginning of his relationship with Merlin, not entirely sure what he was supposed to say to those words. Was it just him or did Merlin just say… shouldn't have allowed the prince to sleep with him? Surely Merlin didn't mean… sleep/sleep with him. Surely he didn't mean he had allowed Arthur to do… things a married man might do when placed in a certain situation with the one they were married to. But… when could anything like that have even happened! It was surely not something that had happened when Lancelot had been in the castle, so… within the last few weeks? But from what Lancelot had seen in the few hours that Arthur and Merlin had stood with the grounds of the estate beneath their feet, their relationship was still filled to the brim with more tension than one would think possible. But that tension did not feel like it was… sexual in nature. Or at least, Lancelot hadn't thought that it was sexual. Maybe Lancelot was just misunderstood him or they had gotten their wires crossed somewhere, but one look at Gaius revealed that the older man didn't seem to be the least bit confused. Which indicated he might know something about this…

"Kick him in the arse."

Lancelot snapped back into focus, his eyes once again returning to where the consort was standing before him not as a friend, but as his commander giving him a direct order that needed to be followed. Lancelot felt his body moving in seconds, as if he had done this everyday of his life, before falling into the right stance befitting of a knight. His back so stiff and straight that it felt as it it was being held there by a board, his shoulders pushed back to a show confidence, his feet shoulder width apart, and his eyes locked steadily on the one that he'd sworn his fealty to only a few short weeks ago. But the weight that came with being a soldier to such a prominent figure could be felt with every breath that he took. The encompassing weight that came with bearing the secrets only a few were privileged to know about his liege could make a man feel as if their lungs were starting to cave in from all the pressure. But the look that was in Merlin's eyes, the absolute trust and faith he had in Lancelot to do what was said against even a far more experienced opponent, made every exhale of his lungs feel as if it was the easiest thing in the world. Lancelot nodded just once in tandem with Merlin's orders, and just like that, the bubble of seriousness he and Merlin had been enraptured in seemed to pop.

And then Merlin hugged him.

One minute, Merlin had been standing in front of him and looking as if he was about to order Lancelot to march out to his death. And then the bubble around them had popped, and Merlin was throwing himself forward and holding tightly onto Lancelot's neck, his arms wrapped around him with the same strength he might find in an octopus' grip. It was probably highly frowned upon, and most definitely had to be something seen as unseemly, to be so close to your guard that you cared not one wit about the people watching an emotional display like this. But when had Merlin ever done things that were expected of him? There's a reason Lancelot had admired Merlin long before he had even met him, and a reason he had pledged his loyalty and fealty to him even after the way he had kept his identity hidden from his during those first few days. And Lancelot had no qualms about wrapping his arms around Merlin's waist, holding on him just as fiercely as the consort was, promising himself that he would not disappoint his consort by losing this fight.

Not now.

Not ever.

If only Lancelot knew at that moment that Merlin was currently looking over his shoulder to where Arthur was standing. If only he knew that Merlin was looking at Arthur with BURNING eyes, the kind of eyes that could pierce a man by their soul and happily willing to walk into the mouth of hell just for the chance to be able to claim those eyes for his own. If only Lancelot knew Merlin was clinging far tighter than he would've been—not for Lancelot's benefit, but for Arthur's—and practically daring him, without a word, to do something about them doing this hug. If only Lancelot knew that Arthur was watching, because when wasn't he keeping a keen eye on what Merlin was doing and who he was doing it with, with incense brewing. Perhaps their fight would have ended on a different note than it did…

X

They were hugging…

He was hugging Merlin…

And Merlin was hugging him…

Merlin had been the one that initiated it…

Merlin was the one staring at him…

Merlin was encouraging the lick of fire brushing against the insides of his veins …

Arthur exhaled a deep breath, though he felt the familiar feeling of ash burning up his esophagus as if he could breathe fire just like his namesake. He felt the familiar stirrings of anger and bitterness and disgust and absolute… loneliness that tried to overwhelm him when he saw something that he didn't like. But as he looked at Merlin, as he met eyes with the man that had woken something in Arthur's soul, he recognized a new emotion that hadn't been there before, but it was recognizable all the same. The emption was grief. A grief so strong that it filled in all the gouges and rough edges on his soul that had been left in the wake of meeting Merlin. A grief that could shatter a man, as he continued with watching Merlin clinging onto Lancelot as if they were about to fight till one of them were dead instead of the simple spar it was supposed to be. All that the young prince could really think about was… that could've been him.

In another lifetime.

Perhaps, in another lifetime, Arthur wouldn't have met Merlin in the middle of a crowd watching, and perhaps their meeting wouldn't have involved insults and punch attempts (no matter how endearing Arthur now considered it). But… just maybe, in this imagined lifetime, their meeting could've happened far different than it did. Softer. Gentler. Merlin could have smiled at him, and maybe Arthur could've felt the spark he felt now every time Merlin so much as brushed along the edges of his mind—which was at least twenty times every millisecond. And maybe these last five months could've been filled with more talks then fighting each other, maybe it could've been filled with more shy smiles from Merlin and eager listening from Arthur as his ravenous appetite to know more grew to the way it was now, maybe casual touches of hands brushing could've grown into touches that were more personal, until it didn't even feel awkward to wake up holding onto each other like they had. And maybe, right now, five months after they had met… it would have been Arthur that Merlin hugged so fiercely. As if it was them that were going to be separated by the worst divided the world's ever seen…

Death.

Arthur could hardly bare to look at the scene playing out in front of him, as if it was Merlin's eyes that were holding him prisoner. And all he could think, stuck in those swirling blue eyes of glowing embers, was what could he do, after the pain he had caused Merlin, to get something like that. There has only been two times in which Merlin had hugged him, and neither of them were close to being comparable to how Merlin touched Lancelot now. The first time had been only because his consort had been drunk, having gorged himself on liquors he had never tasted before and didn't know his limit on, during Lancelot's celebration after he originally became a knight for Camelot. Arthur had been the one that carried Merlin up to his room and placed him in his bed, only for Merlin to hug him goodnight, squeezing with all the strength he held in his body, whispering into Arthur's chest about how he wished Arthur was more like Lancelot. It was something that haunted Arthur in his dreams, even when he tried to not think of it. But then the second time had happened, and now Arthur knew how it felt to wake up entangled with Merlin, the consort's body shifting and using Arthur as a source of heat as he held him close, entangling their legs together just as lovers would do. Arthur wasn't entirely sure that second one could be counted as a hug considering they had both been sleeping at the time, but it was also the closest Merlin had been by him since, well… ever. So Arthur was going to cling onto that moment for everything that it was worth.

Just like he was going to cling onto the heartbreaking realization that… Merlin would never care any about what might happen to him in a fight. Merlin would never care if Arthur got himself injured or wounded against an opponent that managed to somehow beat him. He would never stand on the sidelines with his hands clenched together in worry, scared to death that Arthur wouldn't return to him. He would never hold Arthur as if it was the last time they would ever be able to stand that close to one another again. But… nothing could be nearly as heartbreaking as realizing that this was everything that Arthur had brought on himself. If he hadn't been the way he had been, if he hadn't done the things he had done, if he was… a better man… he wouldn't be standing on the outside of this bubble and forced to watch the camaraderie that was happening within. It was only as Lancelot and Merlin finally drew apart, did Arthur find the strength to look away himself.

Arthur barely took notice when Lancelot stepped out onto the field that they'd claimed as their temporary sparring zone. It was only when Arthur heard a man clearing his voice did he dare to look back up off the ground. He could see the man was Hadrian, who seemed to be standing between him and Lancelot, and had apparently anointed himself as the referee. While Draconis, Ronald, Gaius, Jacqui, and Merlin had stepped closer to the house so they wouldn't be in the way if the match went a little wild. Him and Lancelot weren't exactly known for not allowing their emotions to control how fierce the match between them was going to be. Even when Lancelot had his first test under Arthur's banner to see if he had the skills to become a knight, Arthur had gotten carried away after he almost broke the other man's nose just because Merlin had been smiling in his direction instead of Arthur's. Arthur couldn't allow his emotions to control him this time, he needed to compartmentalize and let every ache in his soul fall to the back of his mind so he could focus on the here and the now and not focus on how Lancelot had earned such friendship from Merlin.

Arthur would be bloody grateful for a damn nod of acceptance.

He couldn't even dream of a bloody friendship.

"Alright everybody, listen up and listen good. Today, we have gathered here for one purpose today, and that it to see which is the better fighter. Shall it be the Prince of Camelot, Arthur Pendragon, who from the way I hear it, has not ever before lost a match. Or shall it be Lancelot, a newcomer and First Knight to the Consort of Camelot, but who has no background and no track record to tell us what skills he might be bringing into play." Hadrian sounded as if he was trying to be some kind of announcer, which Arthur thought was a bit over the top for a match being done in the backyard of an estate instead of a tourney stadium. But Arthur was in no fit state to say anything about the elaborate way Hadrian was doing things. What would the point be? "Now, for this match I think that it will be kept fairly simple as to not waste the limited daylight hours that we still have available to us. I believe that the person who draws first blood should be announced as the winner. Do you accept this stipulation?"

Hadrian looked over at Lancelot first, clearly giving the less experienced man a chance to back out while he still could so he wouldn't be humiliated or suffer a much worse fate if Arthur didn't stop at 'first blood.' But Arthur hardly needed to look at Lancelot to know what the other man was going to do, he knew for a fact that Lancelot was never going to back down from this fight. Hadrian didn't know that Lancelot was the same man who had once looked at Arthur and then DEMANDED that Arthur be the one to take care of Merlin. As if Arthur had not already realized for himself what he could lose if he continued treating Merlin like he had during those first four months. The people here could try and say Lancelot had no business entangling himself with royalty, but Arthur knew only a man as stubborn as Lancelot was would be able to keep up with his consort.

"I do."

Lancelot's voice was strong and unwavering, just as Arthur knew that it would be. And Hadrian nodded his head, once time firmly, before turning back to the prince and asking Arthur the same question he had asked Lancelot… will these stimulations be acceptable? But honestly, at that point, it sounded as if it was going to be nothing more than a formality. Of course Arthur wasn't going to be the one to withdraw, he was a prince who needed the support of his people to rally behind him. He wasn't going to walk away from a fight and be branded as a coward that was too scared to check his skills against somebody who was as untrained as Lancelot was. But what Hadrian and the other knights seemed to be unaware of was HOW trained Lancelot was. Yes, he hadn't been trained by the most orthodox methods. He had been mostly self-taught and learned by a method most known as… trial and error… against other opponents he'd met on his travels. But he HAD also been trained by Arthur. It might've only been for a few days before everything had been revealed, but Arthur had been able to get Lancelot's form tightened up so that he'd be less vulnerable to attack.

"I do."

Arthur's voice came out as equally as strong as Lancelot's had, no wavering in his voice that might suggest he regretted getting this fight started. And maybe he didn't regret the fight itself. He only regretted that Merlin was watching the fight as it happened. There had been many times over the months where there had been moments that Arthur wanted the consort to have a front row seat so he could see how great of a fighter Arthur was. He had wanted to give Merlin a chance to marvel at his strength and be in awe of his fluid movements, and he had even wanted Merlin to swoon at the flexing of his muscles. Anything that'd catch the consort's attention had seemed like it was a win in Arthur's books. It was a marvel in itself how different things were now that Arthur was staring at the warrior who probably had Merlin's scent lingering against his skin. He did not want Merlin watching. He did not want to go into this fight at all. He didn't want to beat Lancelot's arse into the ground, even when torn by how thankful he was that somebody took care of Merlin and how much he hated that it was not him that Merlin turned to.

He didn't want Merlin to see him as the brute he thought he was.

But there was no turning back now, and Arthur fell into a stance that was more familiar to him than breathing, crouching down low so he would be quick on his feet with his sword poised high above his head so he'd be free to swing with a moment's notice. And Lancelot did something similar, stepping forward so his sword was held out in front of his body to block any oncoming blows the blond might throw his way. But for just a moment, neither of them moved, and Arthur almost felt as if a tumbleweed could have blown past them due to the tension in the air. A tension so deep that either one of them could have dropped to the ground as the pressure got to them… Arthur breathed.

One breath.

Two breaths.

Three breaths.

ATTACK!

Lancelot was the first one to make a move, his sword jabbing forward since he went immediately on the offensive, behaving as if he was prepared to take the prince out at the first hit. But surely Lancelot knew it would take more than his hit to do any damage to Arthur… the prince reacted almost without thought on the matter. One second, he was standing in his stance, and the next second he was swinging his sword down, slamming it against Lancelot's hard enough that it veered off course—which would have been Arthur's jugular if he'd been able to get through. The sounds of their swords clanging together seemed to act as an echo, the sounds bouncing across the field before they clanged against the other once more as Lancelot tried to circle back around Arthur's blade in order to get at him. Arthur backed up a few steps, allowing Lancelot to preform just a few maneuvers, enough to give the crowd of onlookers a little taste of what the man could do on a battlefield.

There was another swing of Lancelot's sword coming at him from the side, and Arthur swung his sword until it was vertical, using his other arm so he was able to brace for the attack. Metal on metal clashed against the other for what had to be the tenth time, Lancelot placing enough force behind the blow that there was no other choice for Arthur to react other than digging his heels deep into the dirt to prevent himself from being toppled over. Arthur gritted his teeth at the force behind it, but it was hardly the hardest time Arthur had been hit by a blade before. This match itself could be considered quite tricky considering it was being done without a helmet and a shield. Stupid, was another word that his father might use if he could see him now. But what did it matter… not only could he show these jesters that Lancelot wasn't as weak as they thought he was but… if he got injured today, it might only be a small penance he could pay to Merlin.

For betraying Merlin's trust by sleeping by him and KNOWING something was bound to happen.

For breaking Merlin's trust everyday for four bloody months and for still doing it whenever he was trying to be good.

For being bloody GRIEF-STRICKEN when Merlin had made his opinions on the prince VERY clear and still being bloody JEALOUS that Merlin was getting the attention he wanted from Lancelot.

For not being good enough.

For not seeing what was in front of him until he lost it.

For not…

For not seeing Merlin until it was too late.

X

Merlin Pendragon hissed beneath his breath, worry thrumming throughout his every vein and muscle and drop of blood everytime there was a clash of metal against metal. It seemed to be echoing louder in his ears, as if they were trying to beat the sound straight into his skull. It had started out so mild, this swords fight having begun with nothing more than a touch of the blades. But now the swords were hitting harder, and Merlin knew with all his heart that he probably should have stuck with his initial instinct and pulled Lancelot out of this fight before it developed into something vicious. It wasn't as if Arthur and Lancelot were two random knights that had been randomly selected to compete against each other in a tournament match. This was going to be something far grittier than that, considering the history between the two of them. Even now, he was able to see Lancelot swinging with more force than he had initially started the match off with, Arthur easily maneuvering his body until he was just out of its range. And Merlin held his breath as Lancelot was forced to duck the sword as Arthur swung it above his head, the blade only a hair away from hitting him.

His belly twisted with nerves that felt as if it was a thousand snakes swirling in his belly and trying to swallow up all the others. And not even his uncle beside him was enough to make him any less worried about what might occur before this fight ended. He was sure that Arthur had been aiming for Lancelot's head on purpose, trying to draw that 'first blood' in the most gruesome fashion that he could get away with it. And Merlin knew why… the hug. That stupid hug that he had given Lancelot before the match, it had been nothing more than Merlin lighting a match and setting the torch that was Arthur on fire. He had been so stupid, how many times had his mother warned him as a child to not play with fire unless he wanted to get burned? How many times had Merlin's fingers got too close to the fire before he actually admitted she was right and fire actually DOES fucking hurt if touched. Well… it looked as if this time, Merlin was out of its range and Lancelot had been placed in front of Arthur, forced to whither his firestorm that was about to come after Merlin had stroked those flames to life.

Merlin winced in pain as if he was the one that had just taken an elbow straight to the gut, which is exactly what happened as Arthur spun around to evade the blow Lancelot had swung at his shoulder. He was sure that Arthur didn't need to hit Lancelot that hard, he was sure that Arthur was simply using this fight as a means to beat the shit out of Lancelot in a way that would mean others could not say anything about it to him. But how could Merlin not say anything about it, considering it felt as if this fight was already getting out of hand, since his chosen warrior got his foot stomped on as Arthur threw himself forward just so he could trap him in place before slamming an elbow into his face. This caused Lancelot to scramble backwards, managing to dislodge himself from Arthur as his cheek was left with a blossoming bruise but no blood yet. Arthur was being ruthless, as far as Merlin was concerned, and his body coiled up tightly, having to physically stop himself from trying to run out onto the field and stop all this before they got past the point of no return.

Merlin was only surprised that Arthur hasn't tried sliding his sword through the gap in Lancelot's chainmail so he could gut him like a pig. After all, Arthur and his possessive streak was practically legendary. Maybe Merlin shouldn't have reacted so viciously when he had woken up that morning to find the man with his arms wrapped around him. Maybe Merlin shouldn't have acted so high and mighty when Arthur first learned about Lancelot's new role as his first knight. Maybe he shouldn't have brushed him aside during pretty much the entirety of this tour. He had thought he had been acting correctly considering how Arthur deserved to be treated, but that was before Lancelot had to stand for himself in front of Arthur during some kind of grudge match. Lancelot could be pretty well matched when it counted, but could he fight against an Arthur that was all riled up? Arthur had nearly killed him the last time they had fought with having this much fire in their hearts!

Merlin would have gladly bitten down on his tongue and pretended to be what Arthur wanted if it meant Lancelot didn't have to bear the burden of pain that came from being the one that had caught Arthur's eye. Or adjacent-which was the warrior's case-to the one that had caught the prince's eye. Merlin tried not to think about it nowadays, not since the day Merlin had sworn he would never allow himself to be powerless beneath Arthur Pendragon again, but the weird obsession Arthur had for him was terrifying. But then Merlin was forced to see things like this, and Merlin was forced to confront the truth about what Arthur felt for him. Merlin didn't know exactly how it started, considering Arthur had spent so much of his time trying to avoid him in the beginning, but it was also impossible to ignore when the truth was being thrown in his face. Every single clash of their blades together only reminded Merlin how far Arthur was willing to go to get rid of anybody that showed him a mediocre of attention. Each and every swing of the blade at Lancelot's body only made him shiver down to his boots, knowing that Arthur was fighting for him. Every time a hit connected on Lancelot, only made Merlin more and more aware of how Arthur would not ever allow him the freedom to choose what he wanted to do with his life.

Not even staying in this estate was going to be a feasible option.

Arthur would never allow it.

Merlin could hear whispering going on beside him, the three knights who were the ones to start all of this were hissing together beneath their breath as they watched the same match that he was. They were being too quiet for Merlin to hear past all the grunts and metal clashing together and hits as a body hit the ground before rolling back to their feet before the sword coming down would catch their skin. Merlin squeezed his arms as tightly to his sides as they were able to go, sucking in a breath before he started accusing them of trying to do all of this on purpose. They didn't know, after all, what they had been inviting into their orbit when Draconis started demanding answers. They didn't know a half of what they thought they knew. They didn't know that the two men out on that field had already been in vicious fights before, and they didn't know that it was Lancelot who only fought with Merlin's best interest in mind, and they did not know that it was Arthur that was a fuse just waiting for the wrong push to make him explode. To them, this was just another fight so that they could see for themselves what Lancelot could do. But to him and Lancelot and Arthur… it had never been that easy.

Arthur hated seeing him near another man…

Lancelot hated seeing how Arthur treated him…

And Merlin was stuck in the middle struggling with what he wanted…

Merlin brought his eyes back to the match, perking up when he saw Lancelot managing to get a good and strong kick to Arthur's side that nearly knocked the prince off his feet. He could feel his voice welling up from somewhere that was deep in his throat, and all he wanted to do was pump his fists in the air so he could show his support for his chosen knight. But all Merlin managed to do was allowing a half aborted sound escape him before he clamped down on the sound for everything that he was worth. The last time Merlin had seen Arthur trying to gut somebody, it had been Valiant, that day so many months ago on the tourney field. Back then, Arthur had been obsessed—perhaps that'd been the first sign of Arthur's craziness that Merlin had been naive enough to brush aside—with Merlin showing him support by cheering for him in the stands. The prince had been furiously each and every time Merlin had taunted him, playing with fire though he hadn't yet known it, by cheering for his opponent. The way Arthur had behaved back then to Merlin's defiance had been weird, but these days, after how much Arthur had exacerbated as the months past them by, he didn't know what else Arthur could possibly do.

But if there was something he hadn't done yet, then he would find it.

Merlin hissed beneath his teeth as Arthur swung his sword out at an angle that could only be described as dangerous, and left Lancelot nearly bending as far back as he could without falling over to avoid getting his head chopped off for the second time. He had to keep reminding himself that Lancelot had wanted to handle this match, he had wanted to go into this fight while knowing exactly how volatile the prince was. He had WANTED and AGREED to fight until one of them managed to draw the fight sight of blood. Merlin might be the one that's responsible for Arthur's mood and viciousness, but he wasn't the only one that had a hand in getting Arthur riled up. He wasn't the only one who would draw Arthur's ire like a moth to the flame of a torch. But Merlin still felt like he was the one that held that responsibility.

The one that had to maintain Arthur's grip on reality.

The one that had to regulate Arthur's mood so others didn't suffer.

The one that… didn't want to do none of that.

But Merlin didn't know what he was going to do if the first draw of blood was Lancelot's. He didn't know how he was going to react if he saw the beading of blood against Lancelot's throat or somewhere along the long length of his arm depending on where Arthur struck him down at. Or how he was going to react if Arthur reacted like he always did… and took down what he thought would be a threat against Merlin. And as Merlin knew for weeks now, Lancelot was now considered to be Arthur's biggest threat. And really… what could Merlin do if Arthur refused to see reason?

He just needed to trust that Lancelot knew what he was doing.

Even if trust wasn't one of Merlin's biggest qualities these days.

X

Lancelot NoLastName surged forward with the same ferocity that he had been getting from Arthur, throwing himself ahead so that the two of them were now toe to toe against the other. Their blades were clashing together between the both of them, moving back and forth against the other in a way that would let only the stronger one between them prevail. But it seemed as if they were on equal footing in terms of muscle mass and upper body strength, neither one of them yielding down to the other. And Lancelot clenched his teeth tight, a hand shaking as he struggled to keep the grip on the handle of his blade so that he wouldn't lose it during the battle. Arthur though, seemed to be standing in the same boat that he was, pushing back against Lancelot but only succeeded in having the both of them looking at each other through the gap left in-between their swords.

Lancelot grunted beneath his breath as he slid his foot across the ground just so he could try and wrap it around Arthur's ankle to knock him off balance to break off the little standoff they seemed to be having. But Arthur was already prepared for Lancelot to try something, and managed to shift his body so that Lancelot's foot had somehow gotten pinned beneath it. Lancelot hissed under his breath as his toes got squashed beneath the force, darting his eyes from the captive appendage and back to the prince's face. Arthur hadn't stopped to look down at what he was doing, and Lancelot could feel his arms when they started to weaken and bend back. There had only been so long he would have the endurance to keep Arthur at bay, and he had been lucky to keep it up for as long as he had, but Lancelot was fast thinking. He wasn't going to be able to beat Arthur by brute strength alone. Their fights in the past had taught him that much. Which meant he had to try something different, try something that would catch Arthur completely off guard, if he wanted to get through this in a single piece.

And Lancelot already knew exactly what that was.

He could only hope Merlin forgave him for this.

"You do know that I thought things were going to be different between you and Merlin by the time we met again. I mean, I didn't have any hope that you'd start to see him as anything more than a nuisance, but I would've hoped after all the fight you showed against your own father for a commoner, that you would have been able to start tolerating him. Or at least leaving him along altogether." The warrior said with a dangerous sneer, and he watched as Arthur's eyes widened at his words. It was the first time either of them had actually spoken since they had started this fight, and it was clear that he had startled Arthur by suddenly mentioning Merlin as brazenly as he had. But Lancelot only saw this as a sign of being on the right path, and he peddled on, using whatever he had that was at his disposal to use. "But here you both are weeks later and I don't think it's changed at all. The tension is still there as strongly as it was, if not even more than it was, the day that I met you all. Merlin hardly even looks at you, and it's clearly something you've done. I mean, what was this I was heading about you and him sleeping together…?"

That seemed to do the trick because Arthur fumbled with his sword, his eyes growing wide and haunted as a furious blush burned across his face at what Lancelot might be insinuating. But Lancelot used that to his advantage while he still could, twisting his body and disconnecting their swords just enough to slam his shoulder against Arthur's prone body. His shoulder throbbed at the unexpected pain, but Arthur went down in a heap of tangled limbs, air coming out of his lungs in a rapid gush as he landed roughly on his back. But Lancelot was just as quick to try and come down on it, though it was only by the grace of god that allowed Arthur to roll away in time. It was only a second later that Lancelot's sword embedded itself into the ground halfway up the blade, right where Arthur's face would have been if he had remained any longer. And then Arthur was up on his feet, sword hand tightly in his hand as Lancelot grunted, trying to pull his out of the dirt. But Arthur used this moment of distraction to try and talk to Lancelot for himself.

"Okay, clearly you and Merlin have been talking whenever my back is turned, but let me be the first to assure you that I didn't dishonor him in any possible way! I mean… in any way like that. Not that it would be any of your business if I had considering he's MY husband, but whatever he's told you is clearly out of context or he didn't explain it right." Arthur was furiously saying, though it was on the wrong side of panicked, as he fumbled over himself the same way that Lancelot was fumbling over his sword. Lancelot clenched his jaw tighter… the warrior didn't care what the law says about husbands owning whoever they'd been married off to as if they were property. Merlin and Arthur didn't have the kind of relationship that had things such as that occurring. Merlin would never allow Arthur to touch him in that way. So therefore, the only conclusion he was able to draw was that Arthur must have done something to him. Something the consort may not have wanted. Which was a strange thought since it looked as if Merlin wasn't treating Arthur any differently than he had when Lancelot was there to see their interactions first hand. If Arthur had done something, then… wouldn't Merlin have been acting differently? Flinching more whenever Arthur came close, or shying away from him, or looking terrified or haunted like those women who had lived in his village as a child when they were being attacked by the raiders. But if Merlin did say something happened, then Lancelot would believe it without a second's doubt. "Perhaps you haven't noticed but Merlin's got a tendency to say things but means something completely different! You don't even know how many times I thought he was talking about something or was being inappropriate only to realize later that he meant something that was completely innocent in nature. Like us… like what I did… it was innocent, I will swear that to you."

Lancelot had only been speaking as a means of distraction, something that'd knock Arthur on his arse since Merlin seemed to be the only weakness he was able to use. But now that the words were out there in the open, now that they had been on his tongue and seeing how Arthur was reacting to it, made it feel as if reality was slapping him in the head. And brought to Lancelot's attention how absolutely… useless… he was if such a thing had really happened. He was supposed to be Merlin's guard, the first knight of the Whytt family and a head knight to the consort of Camelot. His sole duty was to his protection and to be sure that no harm came down upon him, even if the one doing said harm was Merlin's husband. Perhaps Arthur was a prince and it would be treason to fight against the man for real, but he's already committed treason before after lying about his identity. But treason or not… Lancelot never realized how hard it was going to be to do his job when he wasn't even allowed within the border of the city. He had never—until it hit him like a sledgehammer to the face—how much difficulty it was going to be carrying himself forward when Merlin was living in danger. Not just from outside forces trying to make their way into the city, but from forces that lived and breathed and worked practically in the same space that Merlin himself did.

"Nothing you have ever done when it came to Merlin has been innocent. You are obsessed with him, possessive to a degree that it frightening in nature and can be dangerous at even the best of times. Whatever swears you can say are meaningless when there is no telling what you could have done to him in these last few weeks." Lancelot snarled, already feeling the pulse of anger rushing in his veins as he imagined Merlin forced into doing 'husbandly duties' for a man that would never be able to appreciate him properly. Obsession was a greedy emotion and nothing more, it wasn't something that could be used as a means of forming a genuine companionship. And when Lancelot swung his sword, he did it with more strength than he had previously, and Arthur even went down in his attempt to dodge it, landing on the dirt with enough force that a cloud of it surrounded him. And then Lancelot was there, holding his sword in a tight grip as he hovered above the prince. "Remember, Arthur, the last time we managed to discuss Merlin in full. That day when I was in my cell, the day that you came in there to yell at me for my crimes. You weren't there for me. You came there only to demand answers from me. Right from the start you were demanding all your questions about Merlin be answered, demanded to know things that were probably meant to be kept between Merlin and myself. And even though I was aware enough of how insane that could be to us normal people, I still thought to ask you to look after him. I meant… see the error of your ways and notice he is a man that is much more than you could ever be, and be PROUD to have one who could stand on his own without fear. I did not mean for you to decide that he is yours for the taking. I did not mean for you to… for you to rape him."

Lancelot saw the way that Arthur reacted, the visible expression on his face as he blanched at the words being uttered by the warrior. Arthur had grown paler than the freshly fallen snow, looking as if he couldn't even see the sword that's being held dangerously close to his chest, protected by nothing more than the thin chainmail he had worn for two days straight. But Lancelot was hardly able to see straight himself, only able to think… maybe it was his fault that the man before him had decided to take advantage of somebody who was never meant to be him. Maybe Arthur had used what he had said as an 'excuse' to do what he thought Merlin 'needed' as a way of looking out for his 'different needs.' So with the pulsing anger beating in his veins as if they were a drum, Lancelot fell on top of the prince. Arthur grunted harshly as Lancelot buried his knee in his stomach, pinning him down to the ground, and it was only because of Arthur's trained reflexes that the prince was able to bring his sword up on time to stop the upcoming blow from coming down on him. Lancelot growled somewhere in the back of his throat, pushing himself forward and trying to drive his sword to go further down, closer to Arthur.

"I didn't… I didn't… Merlin's not…"

Lancelot could barely hear the way that Arthur stuttered, still looking as if he's physically shaken by the accusations Lancelot was throwing his way. But all he could hear was Arthur stuttering to get through whatever lies he was trying to think of on the spot since Lancelot had thrown him off guard. He clearly hadn't been expecting Merlin to disclose what had happened to somebody else, but it was EXACTLY why Lancelot was here in the first place. To hear about anything and everything that might try to harm his consort, to be aware of the dangers and the threats and the secrets that others weren't privy to. Perhaps Lancelot wasn't able to get into the city legally, but he felt like he had every right in the world to neutralize the threat against his consort. Especially when he was right in front of him, acting as if he had done no wrong and no harm to the last man on the PLANET that deserved to be treated so cruelly. Lancelot could see now, the way Arthur's eyes were darting between him and the swords between them as they started easing closer to his chest under the pressure Lancelot held on it. The swords were only a few scant inches from hitting Arthur, but Lancelot's seeing red almost, and hardly cares that this 'simple spar' had somehow been turned into a death match. The swords came closer and closer and closer until it looked as if Lancelot was going to pierce the prince in his chest and end the suffering for all who had to live through it if Arthur survived. And for a second there, it looked as if Arthur's arms were starting to go lax, as if he planned on letting go and allowing Lancelot to do whatever the hell he was going to do to him, even if that meant killing him.

Lancelot didn't know what changed from Arthur's arms loosening to the tip of their conjoined swords brushing against the links of chainmail covering across his chest, but at some point… something did. It seemed to have started in the prince's eyes, a shift of emotion not even Lancelot could decipher, the way his eyes grew wide as if a thought had struck him. And then, in one motion that is so smooth and quick that Lancelot didn't even realize it was happening until it was over with, Arthur hooked his ankle around one of Lancelot's and jerked it downward in order to offset his balance. And Arthur used the momentum that came from Lancelot's body falling forward to shove hard at his shoulder, which caused the pair of them to roll over. Now it was Lancelot's turn to be down on the dirt, the air escaping his lungs as the wind got knocked out of him, before the warrior flinched harshly at a loud thud that echoed in his ear. Blinking with the rays of the sun above him nearly blinding, he was stunned to see Arthur's sword a few scant inches away from his face, embedded in the dirt so deeply that it went halfway down the blade itself. Arthur could have easily sliced away his face before Lancelot was aware enough to get his bearings back in place, so he was baffled to see the sword beside him inside of in him, bleeding him the same way that one would a stuffed pig. And all Lancelot could do was shift his gaze above him to where Arthur had settled, kneeling above him with one leg beside him and another in his stomach, an almost mirror position with how Lancelot had been moments earlier.

"Lancelot," Arthur breathed out, the shifting sun casting a glow to his eyes as if emphasizing how serious he was being. This wasn't a man sitting on top of Lancelot's chest, struggling to command respect over somebody who had no respect for him. This was a prince who was demanding to be heard, and would not be taking no for an answer. "I don't know exactly what Merlin told you, but I swear on my mother's grave that I did not touch him in anyway that would've caused him dishonor. What happened between us was an incident on the road just this morning, and was nothing more than bodies shifting as they often do when sleeping. Now, Merlin reacted strongly against it, and has every right in the world to be pissed off at me for it. I wouldn't have expected him to act any less rashly than he did. I even encourage it, in fact, because I know my issues and my obsession is out of hand even now. And Merlin's behavior allows me to know when I need to take a step back and reassess what I am doing and how to make sure it doesn't happen again. But as I said before, on the grave of my mother, Merlin remains as untouched as he was the day we met. I DID NOT DO ANYTHING EVEN SYMBOLIC WITH RAPE."

Arthur's voice was low and meaningful, keeping what was happening between them strictly for them, less any of the onlookers try and ask questions when it was an issue that didn't include them. And Lancelot found it hard pressed not to start, well… start believing him. Lancelot's mind went wild as he thought on what Arthur had just said, though trying to think when he had a knee crushing him slowly was hard by myself. But… could this really be a misunderstanding of some sort? Could Lancelot have really misunderstood the consort had said to him earlier… had Lancelot taken Merlin's thrown away comment and blew it way out of proportion? It was no secret that Arthur had hurt Merlin, and spent much of his time abusing the consort before Lancelot had arrived in the city all those weeks ago, Gwen herself had only told him the barest hint of what she'd seen. So it hadn't been too hard to believe Arthur had decided to up his game to something that was even more brutal and vicious than what he'd done in the past. But… Arthur had sworn on his mother's grave, and even Lancelot knew it was not okay to speak of the fallen queen who had died tragically to bring the prince into this world so many years ago. And Merlin wasn't… acting like he'd been a rape victim. This incident on the road, whatever it might have been that the prince was speaking about… was it really not a rape? Lancelot wished that he knew more, or wished that he had asked Merlin more about what he'd been talking about, in order for him to get a clearer idea on what had happened.

"I want to… I want to do better when it comes to Merlin."

Arthur's eyes were shaking as they darted back and forth between Lancelot's own, as if he thought the warrior was about to laugh at him for his hidden want and desire. Or as if he scared that Lancelot was about to pop his bubble to tell him that nothing on god's green earth would be able to be done about what he had done to Merlin. But there was a certain clench to his jaw, the flexing of his fingers around his blade, the certain-ness in his shaking gaze that said he was meaning what he said. And if Arthur hadn't already caused Merlin all the strife that he's done, Lancelot might even be inclined to believe him. And all of this was nothing more than pretty words. Now, Lancelot didn't know if Arthur has actually done ANYTHING to back up what he was saying in front of Merlin, but all that Lancelot's seen was nothing but these few fancy words. The only thing Lancelot could think of that Arthur might've done for Merlin that he's seen was when he decided not to turn Merlin in for being Lancelot's accomplice with the whole paperwork forgery they had. And that could have easily been for Arthur, perhaps the man just didn't want to be seen as somebody who'd been married to a criminal. But what has Arthur actually DONE for Merlin? Lancelot couldn't say he knew if he'd done anything, but he DID know that Merlin was his friend so it was his lead he was going to follow with this whole Arthur situation.

"Merlin clearly doesn't think the same."

Lancelot grunted as he pointed this out, cocking his eyes off to the side where he could just barely see where Merlin was standing. If Arthur was serious with this whole… doing better by Merlin thing… then he needed to BE serious about it. This was no joking matter. This was no, playing around with being nice only to go back to whatever the hell he'd been doing before Lancelot strode in town all those weeks ago. He noticed the way that Arthur followed his gaze to where Merlin was standing, something shifting in his expression till it was something unrecognizable even to Lancelot. Now, Lancelot might not know what went on inside Arthur's brain, but he did know he was probably making the consort be highly uncomfortable with how intense the staring was. Arthur was distracted at the moment though, and Lancelot used this opportunity to slowly slide his hand upwards, just a few inches until he could grasp it around the dark handle of the blade he had dropped in the earlier scuffle.

"He's a stubborn sort. I know I don't deserve anything from him. But I cannot keep myself from trying—"

Perhaps most people would have called this as 'having a moment', despite the odd circumstances in which led to Lancelot and Arthur having this sort of talk. But talk was cheap when one's words were meaningless, and Arthur's eyes fell back onto Lancelot and they landed on the way Lancelot's hand grew tight on his blade, the words he had been trying to say dying on the edge of his tongue as if they had never been there. There was a moment of silence between them, as if they didn't know which one of them should be the first to move. Lancelot could see some kind of shadow forming in Arthur's eyes, something unspoken that would remain unspoken, because that was the moment that the knight of Consort Merlin surged forward, throwing his body up and bringing his sword to the tan flesh of Arthur's.

There were several gasps coming from multiple different directions when their scene unfolded in front of the eyes of half a dozen people…

X

Arthur Pendragon hadn't been planning for it to happen this way, he's not sure he had quite planned it at all before it was happening. But there it was… blood pooling out of him from the swift slice of Lancelot's blade. Arthur was still in a half crouch above the fallen warrior as he brought his hand up to his cheek so he could feel the spot that was stinging, Lancelot's sword falling onto the dirty grassland beside them now that their work was done. It stung something harsh when Arthur pressed his fingertips against the aching sore that was his upper cheekbone, but when Arthur pulled away, the only thing he could see was the slightest bit of blood on his gloved fingertips. It wasn't exactly a wound others would call honorable for having gotten it in the throes of battle. No, this looked as if it was nothing more than a paper cut. And from the droplet of blood along the tips of his fingers, he was pretty sure it wasn't even going to scar. This tiny wound was even less than a child with a wooden sword could've done during a fight with an opponent.

Arthur was almost disappointed it wasn't something worse.

He had allowed Lancelot to draw 'first blood' from him, after all.

Was this what Merlin felt?

This desolate need to gain resolution and absolve himself from his problems …when he has started mutilating his arms.

Arthur felt as if his legs, his arms, his heart, his entire soul, was nothing more than completely numb as he slowly stood to his feet. He hardly heard anything that was going on around him, he barely noticed Lancelot joining him by rising to his feet, as he continued staring at the splotch of blood on his glove. It was strange to be so sickly fascinated with the sight of his own blood, it was even sicker to wonder if this would make him and Merlin closer. His pride has gone and suffered a bit today, but his conscious had never felt more muddied in his life… Arthur had never thrown a match before a day in his life. He had not ever allowed somebody else to take a win from him if they weren't good enough to beat him with their own skillset. And yet, that was exactly what Arthur's gone and done today… what lengths he would go with Merlin in mind. There seemed to be very little, Arthur numbly mused to himself, that Arthur wasn't willing to do if it might make Merlin happy.

"I suppose, considering the state of Prince Arthur's face, this means that it is Lancelot who is the winner of this challenge."

Arthur looked up, still as numb as before, as he watched Hadrian stepping up in order to officially announce Lancelot's winning. This was usually the second that Arthur would do want he had to do to make himself look like he was great despite his failure, by showing good sportsmanship by clapping the hand of a man who had beaten him. But it had been such a long time since he had been allowed to even make his decision on how a match should go… he'd never had an option before. Once Arthur had hit a certain level of his training as a knight, he hadn't been allowed to be anything but the best according to his father. He was exhausted just thinking about what his father would say about this, and he was exhausted to think about the repercussions that might come with actually doing something that was so out of character for him, that he was almost too exhausted to even lift his head. But lift his head he forced himself to do, keen but weary eyes—this fight hadn't even been the worse fight he'd been in, and yet, he was drained by the event in a way that dragged his muscles down—fell onto Hadrian as he stepped up beside where Merlin was standing.

"Perhaps we should retire to the sitting room and discuss the results. I'm sure Prince Arthur and… Knight Lancelot would like a moment to rest after what we all just witnessed. It will be dinner time soon enough, and I'm sure that there's many here who wouldn't mind taking a few moments to wash up before it'll be time to sit down and enjoy whatever the girl's will have made. I'm sure once we do sit… we can have a few of the questions we would like answered by Consort Merlin out in the open. Yes? Is that agreeable with everybody else, or is there's something else that needs to be doing before night has fallen completely?"

Hadrian had continued talking, his voice as calm and as even as could be for a man who had apparently just witnessed a simple peasant being skilled enough to defeat a prince. But it honestly didn't matter if Lancelot had won the match because Arthur had thrown it or if he had won it by his own merit… he already knew for a fact that Lancelot was skilled enough to give lasting impressions to those who saw him fighting. But Arthur didn't even bother looking over to see what Draconis or Ronald might be thinking about seeing the scratch bleeding on his face or the equally exhausted warrior by his side, not when Arthur had eyes on Merlin, and the impassively blank face he was wearing despite having also witnessed Lancelot's win. Arthur frowned, his shoulders slumping forward a little, his eyebrows creasing together as he wondered why Merlin wasn't just a little excited. Lancelot had won! Wasn't that the man Merlin wanted to see on the winning side of things? Merlin was the type to clap his hands as loud as he could, whistling in excitement as he allowed his happiness to overtake him and ignoring others who might think he was being a disturbance. He wasn't Uther, who would do nothing more than nod his head with a thin lipped smile after he had won whatever match his father expected him to partake in.

A rock hit Merlin on the shoulder.

Arthur's eyes landed on the spot in question, frowning lightly at the sight. But it wasn't anything that should have caught his attention, and it probably would not have if it was somebody else or if he hadn't been watching Merlin as close as he always did. Arthur wasn't even sure if Merlin had noticed, considering it was actually such a small pebble that had fallen from somewhere above them. But there was just something disturbing about it that tingled the hair along the back of his neck, something that had all of Arthur's senses going haywire in a way that didn't make sense for such a small incident. More little pebbles were falling again, just as small and as little as the first one had been, though they fell somewhere between Merlin and Hadrian rather than directly on Merlin. He was standing too far away, but Arthur's eyes latched onto the pebbles as they rolled across the ground between Merlin and Hadrian's boots, feeling as if he heard the way they scattered across the ground, though he was sure that was impossible because of how far away he was standing. As nothing as those little pebbles were, Arthur couldn't help but ask himself the dark questions. What if those pebbles had been bigger than they were? What would have happened if those pebbles were as big as a fist or more? Merlin could have gotten knocked on his arse if one that size had hit him just because he had chosen a poor spot to stand at. What if…

"So what if Lancelot's got some skill. That doesn't mean he's—"

Draconis had started to burst out, immediately whipping around to complain to Hadrian about what he had been suggesting. But that was all the knight could get out before there was a loud and ominous sounding crack that echoed all of the way across the fields. It was enough to silence everybody, and Arthur flew his eyes upwards in the direction of where the sound had came from, ignoring all others who were doing the same thing. And Arthur's mouth grew dry as he saw what was happening about one hundred feet or so in the air. There was a statue situated on one of the upper floors of the estate, some weird thing that looked as if it was a cross between a bat and a gargoyle, but probably had not been tended to since it was built decades ago. Arthur would have never looked at it twice, Camelot had many weird statues itself, if there wasn't this huge and jagged crack in the marble, separating it from the main building.

And it was still moving….

Still moving…

Moving….

Arthur knew what it was going to do almost before anybody else did.

"LOOK OUT!"

The scream was practically ripped out of Arthur's throat, tearing right through his vocal muscles rough enough that it could've bled from under the straining of his scream. There was a sudden wave of chaos and screaming that awoken the people outside as the statue started sliding out of place, and Arthur's feet was moving before he was aware of it. He could vaguely hear Lancelot coming from behind him, heading in the same direction, but Arthur was faster, his legs burning as he pumped them faster and faster and faster. His heart pounded in his chest, driven by pure and unadulterated fear. Merlin was dead, Merlin was going to die, Arthur wasn't fast enough, he failed Merlin again and again and it was going to happen again. He could feel his heart throwing itself to his throat but he still refused to stop running, closing the distance between him and the consort just as the two hundred pound statue was released from the building, free falling through the air to where Merlin and Hadrian were standing beneath it.

Arthur practically dove forward, ignoring the likely possibility that he was two seconds away from being squished to death himself. As long as he could push Merlin out of the way, as long as he didn't suffer from one scrape or scratch to his body because of this incident… Arthur would gladly accept the feeling that came with dozens of his bones breaking before he started choking to death on his blood as they started filling up his lungs. As long as he… Arthur practically body slammed himself into the consort with the same force of a carriage as it went rolling wildly down a street unattached to anything that could guide it to where it was supposed to go. There was more screaming and shouting coming from somewhere behind him, the loud sound of something smashing as it hit the ground, and then silence.

Blissful silence.

Only broken by the sound of Arthur's heart echoing in his ears like drums.

Arthur didn't know how long he continued to stand there with his eyes closed so tightly, as if he was waiting for an impact that was never actually going to come since he had escaped the onslaught of pain. It couldn't have been long though, no more than only a few moments before he was able to get some of his bearings back into place. But the scent wafting in his nostrils, the scent of electric storms forming on the horizon and speaking of dangers that have not yet reached their land, was grounding. Soothing. His hands were shaking as he clutched them around Merlin's still form. He could feel Merlin's arms through that stupid brown jacket that he always wore, so slim and weak but carrying a strength not even Arthur would be able to match. Arthur squeezed those arms as if needing to feel the minute twitches of Merlin's body being made, assuring him that Merlin still lived and breathed, burying his face low enough to breathe in more of Merlin's scent through his dark hair. The dark silk of hair seemed so soft against his face, and Arthur was vaguely aware of this being the first time he touched Merlin's hair. Really touched it. Feeling the softness of it and all of the scent congregating there as if wanting to make Arthur feel better now that it was filling up his lungs until it felt like his chest was going to burst from how relieved he was.

More proof of Merlin's life.

More proof that he hadn't failed at this.

More proof that he…

Arthur sucked in one final lungful of air, feeling the way Merlin twitched once again, before he finally pulled back and blinked his eyes open to take in what was happening around him. Or more specially, what was happening in front of him, as the others behind him descended into rapid sounds of noises as they frantically screamed over each other to figure out what had just happened. It had once again been regulated to background noise because of how focused he was on making sure Merlin was okay. Arthur's eyes darted all around Merlin to make sure there was, in fact, no injuries on his person. He checked over his consort's face, Merlin's skin a shade paler than it normally was, as if he knew what had almost happened to him as well as Arthur did. His blue eyes so wide, so completely different from the impassive way he had been staring when the match had ended moments before… Arthur shuddered against Merlin, his body immobilized between Arthur and the wall they had been plastered against so they could avoid death via statue. It was terrifying, having proof of how quickly everything one knew could change, how one person could be in your life only to be gone the next. Merlin looked as if he was in a state of shock, and Arthur was sure that he had been more terrified than the consort had been, even if he had been nowhere near the incident sight when the statue had started to fall.

"Are you okay?"

There was still loud screams coming from somewhere behind him, people are still shouting around to make sure that nobody had gotten injured, but Arthur kept his voice low and his eyes trained on Merlin. He was suddenly discovering he was too terrified to move away from Merlin's prone form, too terrified that he'd speak too loudly and send Merlin scattering like a terrified kitten that did not understand the people it was scared of were really just trying to help. But Merlin wasn't a kitten, despite the many times Arthur had compared him as a feline in the past, and Arthur could see Merlin's eyes darting in every direction that wasn't Arthur's. Looking somewhere over his shoulder, to where Lancelot was starting to make their way over to them around the statue? To where they could see Draconis frantically checking over Hadrian to make sure that he was alright after having escaped the fall of the statue himself. To where Gaius was coming up from behind Lancelot, also making a beeline to where he and Merlin had landed? To where the rest of their knights were just now racing out of one of the side doors, having been drawn to all of the noise happening? Or maybe he just didn't want to look at Arthur, the one that had saved him…

As if he was scared he might owe something to Arthur now that the prince has done something that probably couldn't be ignored…

"Oh, Merlin! Are you alright! Did you get hurt by the stone! Were you injured in anyway? Crap, I did extensive checks on the yard itself to make sure I knew of and could monitor any entrance and exit points the grounds could have just in case somebody tried coming after you. But I didn't think about needing to get the building itself checked for. I would have thought a home that still had quite a few people living in it, would have been a bit more vigilant about keeping the structure itself in check." Lancelot was suddenly at their side, speaking in this hurriedly rushed voice, practically shoulder checking Arthur out of the way so that he could look over Merlin himself to check for any visible injuries, as if he thought Arthur was so negligent that this wouldn't have been the first thing he did. But Arthur didn't say a word, his hands still shaking from the adrenaline of what had just happened as he released Merlin's arms… the consort didn't look as if he even noticed as Arthur was suddenly replaced with Lancelot. He kept being frozen, his eyes constantly glancing in what Arthur assumed was toward him… until he realized it wasn't him Merlin was looking at, but somewhere over his shoulder. But the only people there were Draconis frantically hissing under his breath at Hadrian, clutching at the man's wrists as if they were a lifeline to him or something. "Here, Merlin, your uncle is right here and he's going to look at you just to make sure you aren't suffering anything internally. You did hit the wall pretty hard there, but I suppose it could've been loads worse if you'd been where you were when the statue hit. Now, I'm not any physician, but I think it's possible that you might be going into shock. Can you hear me… Merlin?@

Merlin still didn't say a word, even as Gaius came up beside him and started to feel around his ribcage… Arthur supposed the older man was checking just to make sure Arthur really hadn't broken something in his hurry to knock the boy out of the way. But while Gaius' hands were starting to go up Merlin's shirt so that he could press more firmly against Merlin's ribcage to inspect for damage of any kind before risking they move, Arthur noticed the way that Merlin's eyes had shifted. He was no longer looking at the people around him, but it seemed as if he was finally looking at Arthur himself, probably for the first time since it had all happened. And there was only one thing Arthur could see as he looked into Merlin's deep oceanic blue eyes, and it wasn't pain from a potential break of bone.

It was fear.

Pure, unadulterated fear.

Merlin was looking at Arthur with sheer terror on his face.

Merlin hadn't looked at Arthur like that since… since the day the prince heard of those horrible rumors and decided smacking some sense into Merlin would be the only thing that he could do.

Arthur's hands started to shake once again.

Only this time, it had nothing to do with the adrenaline still flooding harshly in his bloodstream.

There was only one reason Arthur could think of for Merlin having that kind of expression on his face right now…

Rape.

Now, when somebody really thought about it, obviously Merlin didn't think that Arthur was going to try and rape him just because they had been standing that close to each other. Especially since his sweet little Merlin was as innocent as a flower blooming for the first time, and had no idea that such a thing could've been possible between two people of the same gender, consenting or not. But that didn't mean that Arthur didn't know. That didn't mean Arthur didn't have Lancelot's earlier accusations echoing in his ears until it sounded like the over lapping voices were screaming at him. That didn't mean Merlin wasn't able to understand when something was wrong! Yes, Arthur had held onto him when they had been sleeping, but before that? When was the last time Arthur threw Merlin against a wall and held him there? When the plague was still running its rounds through the city? Did he do it sometime before Merlin decided to drink from the poisoned goblet? It didn't matter if he did or not, because he'd been planning to do worse than just holding Merlin down when he didn't even like to be touched… he still had the chains and everything to prove it, too terrified to try and move them on his own from where he had hidden them underneath his bed.

Oh, god…

Arthur was going to be sick again.