Notes:

Sorry for such a long wait. I had a bit of writers block and I also wrote 3 chapters ahead. the nest 3 chapters are nowhere near ready to post but they are drafted out. I have reread and rewrote this so many times that I am not even sure how I feel about it anymore. Of course all criticism is welcome and I wold like to give a shout out to PadrePedro for reliably commenting on all my chapters and has been a reader since the beginning! Thanks PadrePedro, you're the best.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

The stream was bitingly cold. Cold enough to burn his skin. In a weird way it was refreshing. It made the scrubbing feel all the more potent. The haze that had been corroding his thinking dissolved with the sweat and filth coating his skin. Icy water always got his heart pumping and adrenaline flowing. It was a fun rush, for a few minutes, then it was miserable. Not to mention, it felt amazing on his sore back and shoulder muscles. The refreshment was starting to wear off by the time he made it back to the fire, hair dripping and body trembling sporadically.

Merlin had been surprised to see the prince poking at the contents of his pot with a stick. He quickly dumped his freshly laundered clothes to dry, eager to settle back into his blankets. The descent was intended to be slow to appease the screaming muscles of his back, instead he just plopped down unceremoniously. If it couldn't do it painlessly, he could do it quickly. The royal had been watching with a knowing smirk. Compassionless ass.

"Stew?" Merlin asked, trying to change the subject while rearranging the blankets around him to stay put while he sat upright.

"Shut up" The noble grunted out. It seems he hadn't been forgiven quite yet for the previous night's cooking lessons.

After the meal received another few prods with a stick, Arthur declared the meal complete as if the last decisive poke actually contributed anything. Merlin was subsequently ordered to "Eat." The prat then served himself a bowl. Steam trailed the route of Arthur's portion from the pot to his sleeping roll against his self assigned tree. The scent was warm in Merlin's nose and had him leaning as far forward as his back would allow to take in as much of it as he could.

Pools formed in Merlin's mouth as he watched the prince take his inaugural bite of the meal. Had he known that the food was ready, he wouldn't have gone through the pain of settling in just to get up again. Plus his shivering had just subsided under his blanket. Goosebumps and a strained back or a growling stomach? Merlin chose the latter, less painful option and hunkered down even further. Uh oh, the prince looked annoyed again.

"I'm serious. I will not drag you around again. Eat." the royal insisted.

Merlin thought about it, "I'll be fine" he answered flippantly.

"You collapsing sounds like the epitome of fine." Arthur replied drily.

Arthur watched the newly freed prisoner open his mouth to argue then think better of it. He then lurched forward as if to get up, paused, pulled a face, then collapsed back into his own tree. Arthur just glared. He wasn't going to serve this buffoon food again, not after the last meal he was made a spectacle of, not even if he was sore. He'd just have to man up and push through.

Arthur just kept glaring and growing increasingly incensed. Merlin had to be toying with him again. He would not be bested by some hungry peasant. The phony ignorance to his anger made him want to dump the boiling pot on the idiot's head.

He just couldn't take it anymore. Arthur stormed the cookware, grabbed the second bowl, splashed a heaping helping into it and violently shoved the vessel into the simple fool's hands.

Merlin startled and almost dropped the stew. Arthur deflated when Merlin simply smiled in thanks instead of matching his own anger. Maybe he was the only player in his game.

"It smells good." Merlin complimented, once the dangerous sloshing ceased. The aroma had been amazing and rich and it tasted... just... ok.

"It's just boiled pheasant." The prince admitted.

Merlin frowned. It wasn't bad perse but the it was bland. He had also taken his bite expecting a similar meal as the night before. A similar phenomenon could be found when one bit into a regular roll expecting a sweet roll.

"We don't have any of the spices or herbs that we had last night" was explained.

Arthur had only caught one pheasant. It wasn't enough to feed both of them. They had some bread and dried meat left but it wasn't much and it was all they had to hold them over until they reached Camelot. So he had to try his hand at a stew again. After the bird meat started boiling, he realized that they had nothing else needed to make a stew.

"It's good," Merlin said taking another bite, now that the taste wasn't quite so surprising it was much better. It tasted like a plain broth, still very tasty in an empty stomach, "thank you."

Arthur seemed to calm once he realized that Merlin wasn't going to poke fun at him or bring up the previous stew. Merlin might have but he was still too tired and just grateful to have food to criticize it at all. It was fresh and warm. Anything that met those qualifications was an excellent meal in Merlin's world. Although the sorcerer was sure he could have made a better broth in the same situation. He did have more "resources" at his disposal normally.

Arthur watched Merlin scarf down his entire bowl while he picked at his own. He was losing his appetite watching. Merlin ate like the beggars he saw on the streets, with no shame. Once the bowl tilting started to get every last drop out, the prince got up and yanked it out of his companion's hands. Merlin scoffed at him with a betrayed look. Arthur wordlessly filled it with the rest of the "stew". The golden liquid was poured from a height, the same way he had seen jesters pour wine. It caught the firelight beautifully. The last of the stew was really laden with the majority of the pheasant chunks. Merlin looked enchanted, fixated on the steaming meal. Arthur smirked, he knew the sod was hungry. The chunks splashed a bit of the hot greasy liquid onto Arthurs shirt, nearly ruining the effect. He walked back to the greedy eyes and expectant hands and held the bowl just out of reach.

"I need to ask you some questions." Arthur said still hovering the food out of reach.

"About what?" Merlin asked puzzled.

"I need to know what Cenrid is up to" he explained.

"I'm not sure I'll be much help." The sorcerer answered truthfully.

The royal expected as much but he had to ask, "But will you answer my questions?"

"Sure?" Merlin said arms had never dropped from their position ready to receive the bowl.

Arthur narrowed his eyes at Merlin as if inspecting the easy answer. Merlin narrowed his eyes at Arthur in return demanding the release of the bowl. Whatever battle of wills was happening, Merlin was the victor. The bowl was shoved into his arms with a rattle of his remaining chains and the other man retreated to his side of the fire.

"You said these might as well be Cenrid's lands?" Arthur said at last, "Why?"

The question was acknowledged with a full mouth "Mmm".

"Its just forest" he answered once his bite was swallowed, "Nothing near the border but roads and trees." he punctuated his explanation with a slurp "The only people there are usually Cenrid's patrols."

Arthur pointedly ignored the abhorrent manners "But why does he always have men patrolling Camelot?"

"Too many people fleeing into Camelot" Merlin said around his next bite, "If it makes you feel better he does the same thing with the border to Lot's kingdom."

"That doesn't make me feel better." It did... but only fractionally. "why are people fleeing?'

"Bandits, unfair taxes, corruption, conscription, constant wa-"

Merlin could have continued with his list for quite some time if Arthur hadn't cut him off to ask "-So Cenrid doesn't have plans to invade Camelot?"

"No. He's just a bastard with no respect for people, not even his own." He replied casually while drinking from the bowl like it was a cup, spoon abandoned in the mess of the forest floor.

"Would you know if he did?" the royal asked immediately, " ...and could you just eat like a civilized person?"

The last comment was met with a stare and eyebrow raise reminiscent of merlin's supposed contact in Camelot.

"If he has any plans, he hasn't started acting on them yet." the Essetirian replied while returning to a more respectable way of eating. He was still drinking the broth as if from a cup but in a more sedate manner.

"What did you do as a conscript?"

"Does it matter?" Merlin asked curtly. He was happy to tell the Prince of Camelot anything he needed to use against Cenrid. Almost anything.

"I would hardly think you'd know what Cenrid was planning if you were just a cook." the prat said with surprising patience.

The sorcerer was getting frustrated, "Why are you so stuck on this cook idea!?"

"If not cooking what did you do?" the prick asked as if humoring him.

"I was a soldier, a conscripted one," Merlin said exasperatedly, "I thought we'd already been over this?"

"You've seen combat?" Arthur asked skeptically.

"Obviously" Merlin said gesturing to the scar crawling across his face.

Merlin found his earlier forgotten spoon and turned his focus back onto the remaining stew in an attempt to end the conversation. Merlin was content giving away all of Essetir's sensitive information to it's biggest rival but he was unwilling to be cooperative if the conversation kept steering into unproductive and personal territory.

Arthur watched the deserter eat. The thin scar that had been veiled in mud was visible once again; he had forgotten that it existed until Merlin returned from his creek bath. It wobbled across his cheek and nose as he chewed, shinning white in the firelight. An old scar. Another indicator that his traveling companion had probably been a slave or a soldier for a while. He wasn't sure he believed Merlin's description of his conscription. The brand on his back did not align with the story he was being told. Either way Merlin seemed younger than he appeared earlier without the dirt and blood. He must have been a boy when enslaved/conscripted. He might still be a boy.

"I thought you were a slave?" Arthur asked, trying to get Merlin to admit it.

"Conscript." He corrected abruptly.

"You called it the slave army," Arthur argued.

"yes but no-" Merlin started before being cut off again.

"-stolen from your home, forced to do labor, no way out except death, sounds like slavery" The prince continued gaining momentum.

"hang on, I think th-" The younger man tried.

"Branded. Never hea-" the blond continued.

"-What!?"

"They don't tend to brand anyone but slaves" Arthur concluded.

Merlin seemed to struggle to keep his mouth closed for a moment before finding the words, "How did you- You perved on me while I was bathing?!"

The royal was not ready for the conversation to be flipped on him, "Wha- No!"

"Then how did you see it then?" Merlin pressed.

"You fell off the horse for seemingly no reason. I thought you might be bleeding out." Arthur explained angrily.

"Oh." Merlin uttered instantly calm. " ... Sorry" He said somewhat awkwardly.

" ...S'fine" The royal was quick to accept.

Neither man would meet the other's eye. The dark haired boy studied the depths of his soup while the blond inspected his shackled wrist. Arthur was growing uncomfortable as the silence stretched on. He feared he would have to be the one to break it.

"You were right." Merlin said at last, "I am under no illusions. I know conscripts are... I think I am more like a soldier than slave. I've seen the proper slaves that Cenrid keeps around and I think you would agree that the life of a conscript is much more preferable."

"Slavery is illegal in Essetir?" Arthur was confused. Years of tutoring ensured that he knew the policies of all the kingdoms in Albion.

"It is." the deserter confirmed, "Cenrid allows the real slavers to pay a special tax to look the other way. Whenever his council or visiting nobles get upset, he makes a big production of shutting them down. Then the next one sets us shop and Cenrid pretends not to notice if they agree to the same deal. Helps him control the conscripts too. Rebellion and desertion are not that appealing of ideas when you can go from being like a slave to being an actual slave if caught."

It made total sense. It was also completely in character for Cenrid. The man was no king, just the only warlord to hold power long enough to call himself that. Uther made sure Arthur understood that well. "Know thy enemy" and all that. Technically Essetir and Camelot were allies but it was mutually understood that both kingdoms didn't trust each other. Uther trusted Cenrid to only follow the treaty when it suited his needs and Cenrid trusted that Uther knew this. Essetir was a mighty kingdom for its size but it was much smaller and certainly no match for Camelot.

"You seem to know an awful lot about this for someone so low ranking." the prince commented.

Merlin quipped, "You wouldn't believe what people say in front of the help."

Arthur had been right. Most conscripts wouldn't be nearly as knowledgeable. Magical conscripts tended to have more education than most. Although that education is highly regulated and focused. Knowledge was power and Cenrid wanted powerful soldiers but not soldiers with enough power to overthrow him. Merlin was observant. The nature of his position had him traveling all over the kingdoms and his ability to collect gossip along the way made him quite knowledgeable. It was also no lie that nobles in the army especially were too used to speaking around people of lower stations as if they weren't there.

Arthur went a bit cold at the reminder that he too hadn't really thought to hold his tongue in front of servants. He obviously knew that they were people but he never really considered that they might be interested in what the nobles said. They always seemed too bored, lifeless and submissive. It was easy to forget they had lives just as rich or complex as him especially because he had never actually spoken to a servant besides to order them around. He certainly couldn't imagine someone as lively and talkative as Merlin listening quietly and falling into the background, anticipating mundane orders as a room of officers put together military strategies. As hard as that was it was harder to imagine Merlin on the battle field. He seemed too young.

"You said Cenrid takes boys for his army. How young are they."

Merlin thought about it for a moment, there was no official age just "any able bodied man" and it was left up to the discretion and mercy of those rounding up the newest troops. Men too old were taken as often as those too young.

"Youngest I've seen was 6 but that's rare."

"What could a 6 year old possibly do in the army?" Arthur demanded.

Merlin knew the prince's anger wasn't directed at him but it didn't make dealing with the royal any less annoying.

"There's a lot they can do. They usually don't see actual battle at that age." The explanation was accompanied by a nonchalant shrug. He hated it. It had always bothered him but it was his reality, one he was quite used to.

Arthur's tone softened as he asked, "How old were you?"

"I was one of the younger ones." Merlin admitted.

Speaking on his past was dangerous. A balance needed struck between answering questions fully as to prevent further questioning without actually giving away any information.

Something seemed to be turning in that blond head because it took a few moments to ask, "What will you do if Gaius doesn't know where your mother is?"

"It's none of your business."

"I think you'll find everything in Camelot is my business," preached the noble.

Merlin shrugged it was a fair point, "Find work. See if Gaius could use some help." He answered truthfully enough. So far nothing he said was a lie. Certainly truths were withheld but lies were told. He found he quite enjoyed the honesty. It felt like a fitting way to start his new (hopefully) honest life.

Arthur bit his tongue. Gaius already had an assistant. For which Arthur was thankful. He trusted Merlin well enough to travel back to Camelot together. He wasn't sure the laze-about's motives for being in the city could be trusted. Gaius had never mentioned a Merlin, although that didn't make it untrue. A man who spent his lengthy lifetime in service of the public probably had many contacts he had never heard of. Although Gaius had a special place in the royal household that gave him fairly unlimited access to the king and important documents. He would be a good target for thieves and spies so Arthur felt he had a duty to vet possible threats.

"And if Gaius doesn't need any help?" Arthur questioned.

"Camelot sounds better than Essetir."

Merlin meant it. Uther might lose all sense of reason and turn into a genocidal maniac at the whisper of magic but in mundane matters, he genuinely cared for his people. He certainly cared for the nobility a lot more but he still cared. He was downright decent at times. Cenrid was a ruthless tyrant at all times.

"Well, I certainly agree with you on that."

Notes:

Sorry not a lot of action has taken place this chapter. Merlin and Arthur were overdue a talk. I think that Arthur needs time to sus out Merlin and if he is lying about Gaius.

Merlin definitely understands his lot in life. He knows that the conscripts are just a higher slave class but also knows that thinking of himself like that isn't a good way to view himself. I actually had way more in depth answers from merlin about his past earlier but I realized that I was writting it for the audience not because that is what Merlin would admit to. I also had Arthur be way more concerned about Merlin after realizing that he was a slave adn they had a little heart to heart but it didn't fit the characters as I already wrote them and didn't further the story. I have an end goal in mind with this fic but i am having trouble getting there.

Thanks for all the love and comments!