Please leave a comment! It's one of my first fics so please let me know how it is. One of the things i hate about the show is the great dragon. If his character was removed Merlin would solve a lot of his own problems. I think the character had good potential but they wasted it in the later seasons kind of like they did for the potential of albion :( either way I think if Merlin weren't so naive and inexperienced in season 1, he wouldn't have trusted the dragon. This is kind of my fix it for Merlin being so bad at nonintuitive magic and naive.

...

Merlin was an idiot. He'd been told that many times over the course of his life and he always brushed it off, but he was starting to suspect that maybe there was some truth to the claim. Merlin had successfully faked his own death, twice, escaped Essetir's army, avoided detection on all the busy roads he traversed, circumvented every population center, completed almost the entire width of the kingdom on foot, within a week and crossed into Uther's lands. All those victories undone by the decision to sleep on the ground, five feet off the road to Camelot in an area Merlin knows to be crawling with Essetir's knights.

Sure, Merlin could have made camp further off the road but that would imply he made camp to begin with. The young warlock was so delirious that he just dumped his belongings onto the ground and followed after them. His throat was in desperate need for a water. His mouth was so dry that he couldn't summon up enough saliva to spit on the ground, even if it would save him from the pyre. His stomach was so empty it began to feel sick at the thought of eating and sick at the thought of not eating. Even the pain of hunger and thirst paled in comparison to how bone tired he was. His legs ached to the beat of his heart, especially his left foot. Oh gods, did his foot hurt. So, he made no fire, ate no food (despite having some in his pack) and didn't refill his water. While lying face in the dirt next to his bag, he used one hand to feel for the opening of his bag and pull out his bedroll. Once it was technically unfurled, it still was half the size it should have been, Merlin rolled himself over it like a rabbit on a spit. He was asleep within seconds.

The fact that Merlin wasn't fully aware of what was happening until his hands were bound behind his back was a testament to how truly exhausted he had been. One moment he was closing his eyes, so worn out that the rocks under his back felt comfortable and the next he was being pulled to sit upright while his hands where shackled behind his back. It was a few more moments still until his vision cleared and he was able to make out what the men in front of him were doing. A group of Cenrid's knights had been dumping his bag of supplies and sifting through them, another was kicking his bedroll over as if looking for something but too lazy to bend over to search.

Merlin opened his mouth to tell the knights off for ruining his food or leaving boot prints on his bedroll but decided maybe now was the time to restrain his runaway tongue, like people had been trying to teach him to do for years.

"What are you doing here" the nearest knight demanded.

"I was sleeping"

"What are you doing in Camelot)?"

"Oh," Merlin was starting to think maybe they didn't know who he was, "I was traveling. I have arranged to start work as a stable hand and I was just on-"

"-Where is this job?"

"Camelot."

"Which part?" The knight asked bending over, so their faces were uncomfortably close. His eyes were unwaveringly pointed into Merlin's.

His own eyes betrayed him and refused to meet the gaze, "You know, I'm not entirely sure. That's the. Uh... I've never been, you see I'm from Lot's kingdom and cor-"

"-Stop, just stop" the knight said cutting off Merlin's floundering.

"What is an Essetir soldier doing in Camelot?"

Merlin's confidence returned along with the distance between his and the knight's head, "What is a border patrol doing on the wrong side of the border?"

His head snapped sideways at the backhand delivered via gauntlet, "Listen well, boy! You will cooperate, Cenrid doesn't suffer deserters. You tell us who you are and will return to your regiment and your punishment will be lenient. You make us drag you all the way back and search up your records and you will be 'demoted'"

Demoted wasn't good. Cenrid's army was made up of three classes. The noble class who could become knights and generals and war advisors, the common soldiers and the slave army. Slave army was a bit of a misnomer, more of a colloquial term if you will. It wasn't a solid entity. Units were a mix of all classes, with one exception. Sorcerers. They had several regiments of their own. The "slave army" soldiers were officially referred to as conscripts and every sorcerer, not of noble blood, was conscripted. It wasn't uncommon to hunt down rumors of sorcerers to conscript them in the 'name of the King'. Merlin was already in the slave army as a sorcerer. Being demoted from the slave army meant being demoted to actual slave. Slavery wasn't technically legal, but Cenrid allowed slavers operate on his lands as long as they paid a heavy fine. Said slavers were happy to help the army by taking undesirables off their hands. Though not many people actually got demoted that far. It was more of a threat than reality but it was still obviously avoided at all costs.

Merlin rubbed his jaw, recovering from the blow and trying to get a second to think before more answers were demanded from him. He looked around and didn't see a sorcerer among the knights, at least he didn't think so. Few magic users left the ranks traditionally held by sorcerers but those that did were usually noble blooded knights. The tingle in his wrists told him what he could have predicted. That the cuffs were the standard enchanted, magic suppressing kind. The knights definitely didn't know exactly who he was. There was no leniency for deserters from his regiment. It only made sense that Cenrid wanted his unit to be more afraid of deserting than staying. Soldiers trained in magical warfare were hard to come by and dangerous to have as enemies. But right now Merlin was just a soldier, no magic. Well, a lot less magic. He had long since learned that the cuffs only make it extremely hard for him to use magic and even then, only the weakest of spells. Every other sorcerer he met couldn't use magic at all while wearing them. This was going to be difficult but doable, definitely bloody like he hoped to avoid.

"I'm Merlin of Ealdor" It felt refreshing but odd to tell them the truth, so of course he had to balance it with a lie, "I am a part of the 54th"

The knight that had been doing all the talking looked around to his fellow noblemen, gave a nod and turned back to Merlin, "That unit's mostly conscripts, yeah?"

Merlin nodded.

"You're a conscript then?"

Merlin nodded a second time. The knight grunted in reply and stared at his detainee for a moment with a thoughtful look. It took everything in him not to look away again. He stared back in challenge.

The knight broke from the staring contest first, "Alright then, we'll be returning you to Ascetia straight away."

Merlin's arms, still restrained behind him, were gripped by a previously unseen knight and guided to his feet. His hands were unchained and rechained in front him, cuffs never removed as is protocol. The rest of the knights finished kicking at Merlin's stuff and he was chained behind the nearest horse.

The progress to Essetir was slow. Merlin's escape plan required time. Although he hadn't encountered any towns on his way to Camelot, that was by design. The nearest town was just a day's walk away, right across the border. They could reach it before nightfall if they kept a brisk pace. A proper town might have a proper sorcerer that could help fully subdue the sorcerer and thwart all his escape plans. Plus, the longer he remained in custody the more likely it became that his current jailers would discover which unit he had actually fled.

Merlin had a ghost of a plan that involved minimal magic and the cover of night so the procession wouldn't reach the border before tomorrow. Otherwise he would be sent back and probably not given another chance to escape. So, Merlin stopped trying to walk tall and stop exerting energy to hide his limp. His injury was long healed and gave him no issues at all normally but it would ache and swell if he overused the leg. Merlin made sure to limp behind the horse as slowly as he dared. The closer he stayed to Camelot the better, no use adding to the length of his journey if he didn't need to.

One knight in particular seemed annoyed with the lethargic pace. His horse kept speeding up then slowing to allow the group to catch up. He made several loud comments about the speed and looked back at Merlin often.

After an hour or so of this he exclaimed, "I've had it!"

The group halted their progress and he jumped off his horse and confronted Merlin with a dangerous glare, "Are you being obstinate or is there something wrong with you?"

Merlin normally would not act so compliant but it was important for the plan that he stayed in their good graces.

"Sorry, Sir. I'm not sure what you mean?" Merlin said with a lowered head.

"You're leg! Is it injured or are you having one over on us to delay your punishment?"

"I injured my foot years ago in service of the King."

Another knight called from his horse, "Perhaps you should check."

The knight gestured for Merlin to, "Go on then"

Merlin simply pulled off his left boot as the knight leaned in to inspect it. What came out was only half a foot, amputated several inches before his toes would have began. He then stuffed it back in the boot, which was full with cloth to make the boot actually fit and allowed for a normal stride. The knight simply gave it a disgusted look returned to his horse.

Merlin heard a whispered conversation.

"Poor cripple"

"Conscripts can't get discharged for anything these days"

"No wonder Cenrid has so many deserters"

The knights allowed for the pace to slow even further. Merlin was uncomfortable with their sympathy. He wasn't an invalid and certainly not a cripple. Were he not a captive, he would have made that known. But he could use their pity to his advantage even though he despised the thought. Soon after the initial stop, another was called for lunch. The knight who checked Merlin's foot even made sure to give him a waterskin and a meager helping of hard tack to eat. Merlin thanked his captors for the food and all the animosity he felt towards them slipped away. They seemed decent men, just given unjust orders by a tyrant king.

Although it wasn't much past midday, their progress was nonexistent and there was no way they'd make it to the border without stopping to make camp for the night Merlin noted with satisfaction. The sedate pace was helping ease his aches and the food and water had him feeling worlds better. He figured if the knights got too frustrated with the slow pace, they might just put him on a horse so he made sure not to go too slow to avoid that.

Merlin was listening to the men in front of him talk on top of their horses. He took note of names and ranks. He felt guilty at the obvious comradery they shared. The same comradery he shared with his brothers in arms, those same brothers he left behind to make his own escape. The truth is Merlin always enjoyed their friendship but was also aware that in their situation he couldn't fully trust any of them. Not with this anyway, he could trust them to have his back in battle. Essetir had an extensive system of spies in the army to prevent desertion. Sometimes men were tasked with planning to desert to turn in co-conspirators. Some were awarded by turning in others with just notions to defect. Dissent in the ranks of the conscripts were strictly monitored and used as a tool against each other at times. Everyone thought everyone else was working for Cenrid. That was the only way to keep everyone in line. Of course, stripping away the advantage of working collaboratively wasn't the only tool Cenrid had. Merlin knew that every soldier would protect each other in war but not at home, not against the King. He knew it pained them as much as him, but he could forgive them. It wasn't their fault they were trapped in the same system he was. He hurt people in his own best interests before and he couldn't blame his friends for doing the same. Even if it saddened him.

When the topic of conversation changed to the state of affairs on the other side of Essetir, Merlin himself was roped in to give whatever news and gossip he had about rising tensions with their northern neighbors. He was surprised to be brought into the conversation at all, but glad. He always was a social creature even though he wasn't being social just to satisfy his nature at the moment. Despite being prisoner and captor, their conversation was civil and pleasant enough. Soon talk strayed and Merlin gracefully bowed out. He was quite familiar with the 54th unit, which is why he chose that as his cover, but the more he spoke on it, the more opportunity his captors had to unearth his lie.

It was when the men were distracted laughing and Merlin was lost in thought that the horse at the very front halted and the knight atop held up a hand signal. Merlin held his position too out of reflexive habit then cursed himself once he realized that he was taking orders again.

Arthur had not been in the best mood recently. His servants had been avoiding him, his knights all scrambled to choose sparring partners to avoid fighting him in his terrible mood, Morgana cut their last meal together short and his father had suggested he go hunting. "And he had better come back with a more respectful attitude towards the council." Arhtur would only admit he was grateful for his father's orders once out of the castle. The day the orders were given, he was furious that his father thought he was incapable of handling criticism from those bags of air. Now that he was a day into his hunting trip, he realized that his father probably understood well how he was feeling. Though the Prince sensed that this would be his one and only warning before there would be consequences for losing his temper in court again.

Perhaps he had been allowing his foul mood taint everything else in his life. Luckily his favorite sport always cheered him up. Normally it was a sport best indulged with company. It was fun gloating over the other knights or nobles but right now company was the opposite of what he needed, so he set out of the castle for several days of hunting by himself. He had a servant with him of course, he couldn't be expected to prepare his own meals or set up the fire each night. Besides servants hardly counted as company, more like background noise than anything else. He was there to hand Arthur his equipment and cook his meals, nothing more.

Arthur and Peter had been rather far from Camelot when he heard a group of men in the distance. His immediate fear was bandits, though he knew that simple travelers were just as likely. Arthur had no intention of engaging with whoever he saw. Still, he motioned for Peter to be as quiet as possible and stay put while he surveyed the situation for himself. Peter must not have understood because he started following Arthur towards the possible danger. Arthur felt irritated and turned to signal for Peter to stop following him in an exaggerated manner. Peter nodded his understanding, so the royal turned to continue stalking the group.

Arthur crept through the trees, keeping parallel to the road at a distance. The easy chatter belied the nature of the group. It seemed to be an armed escort for a prisoner or a slave. The knights wore the signature style of armor found in Essetir and were all armed. The treaty between the two kingdoms did not allow for militant border crossings without permission of the King. This was an act of war or the dissolve of diplomatic relations and trade at the very least. The Prince could not let this go uninvestigated.

Arthur was in a noiseless pursuit when the Essetirian group came to a stop and began to survey their surroundings. That wasn't good. Arhtur felt fairly confident that if he remained still and opted for a more relaxed tailing method, all would be well. As the tension built, crouching in the trees, Arthur heard movement behind him. He turned, unsheathing his sword as silently as possible to face his would-be attacker. Peter suddenly found a sword blade at his neck and lurched backwards to the ground and Arthur swore that he would kill this stupid servant if those knights didn't.

The absence of birdsong just made the quiet feel louder and the sense of unease grow. Merlin just knew that something was wrong too and moved in closer to the knights. He wasn't in a position to defend himself right now but trusted their integrity to protect him. Something big was heard rustling the leaf litter to their right. All their heads snapped towards the sound as one. The man closest to the disruption silently drew his sword and swung off his horse. As he lurked towards the sound a panicked string of curses rang out as well as what sounded like someone trying to take off running but their feet were struggling to find purchase on the wet leafy ground. The rest of the knights jumped off their horses to join their comrade and rushed towards the sound, into the trees off the road.

Merlin thought now might be a good time to get away while no one was watching him. Unfortunately for Merlin, the horses got spooked by the sounds of steel meeting and also thought now might be a good time to get away. Except the horses could ran much faster than Merlin. Even once he dropped the limping charade, he was only able to keep up for a second before he was yanked onto his stomach and dragged by his wrists. Merlin shouted a spell to unlock the shackles after spitting out a mouthful of dirt. Nothing seemed to happen. Luckily the horses hadn't run very far and Merlin scrambled to his feet, repeating the spell. When that inevitably failed again, he attempted another spell to snap the chains binding him to the stupid beast.

"Aha!" Merlin cried feeling the magic work and hearing a crack but huffed in frustration once it became clear that the link was only dented not broken.

He rushed the horse, realizing that he could just steal the animal and ride away instead of relying on magic.

"Come here, Horsey!" Merlin practically begged, "I'm not gonna hurt you just let me-"

The horse remained skittish and leaped out of his reach as he got close, threatening to once again pull him around like a child's toy. Another spell, this time to calm the stead.

"See, I'm a friend, you're all nice and calm now," He spoke patiently.

This time he approached much slower with his hands out in a placating gesture, "That's it. Good horse. Just like that. See, I'm nice. That's a goo- STUPID HORSE!"

By this point the sounds of swords clashing and shouted orders were growing louder. Merlin couldn't tell how many men there were. He ignored the herd of riderless horses skirting around him and started repeating the last spell to work over and over again. He was also throwing in every spell he could think of into the mix. The chain was definitely growing weaker and more disfigured, but it still held strong enough. He resorted to grabbing the chain and desperately yanking it with his bare hands. Just as Merlin was about to give it another heave, four of the six men reappeared in his periphery walking a new fifth blonde man between them. Merlin dropped the chain like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Said blonde studied Merlin with a dirty look as he was led at sword point and hands above his head. No one seemed to notice that Merlin had been trying to escape. At the very least no one mentioned it.

Arhtur was going to kill Peter, he made up his mind. That servant would be executed, sacked and sent to the stocks. Maybe not in that exact order. Had he just understood the UNIVERSAL hand gesture for 'stay', the knights wouldn't have gotten off their horses to investigate all the racket he was making. Had Peter not lost his nerve and scrambled away before even being spotted he'd probably be hunting with Arthur again right now. Well, handing Arthur his gear for hunting.

Two men, swords in hand, had immediately broke off in pursuit of Peter after his pathetic display of cowardice alerted the entire convoy of foreign knights to their presence. Arthur wasn't as stupid as Peter to believe that he could outrun six fully trained knights with horses at the ready. He also knew there was no chance of taking four trained knights in a fight either but he wasn't about to lay down and die. So, he fought. He fought until the knights surrounding him made it clear they had no intention to kill him. Yet. Then he easily surrendered his sword. Then one of the knights grabbed the nearby discarded crossbow Peter had been carrying.

Arthur was marched back towards the horses and the dumb looking prisoner. A truly humiliating ordeal.

A quick discussion broke out about how to bind the noble. They had only one set of cuffs and one chain, which were currently being used on the raven haired prisoner. It was decided to uncuff the captive's right hand and secure the new captive's left hand with it. Both captives were chained side by side, bound by the wrists with one foot of length between them. Arthur was less than pleased with this solution. He studied his new companion. There was no way his fellow prisoner was going to be any use in an escape. Besides being almost unforgivably smelly and covered in dirt, he had been trying to rip chains apart with his bare hands when Arthur first saw him. Not what he would call a genius solution. He looked rather young, not too far from his own age but certainly younger. One half of his face was a molted bruise and the other had a scar that started from the middle of his cheek, ran parallel to the ground across his nose and just across the bridge of it. All that, scar and bruise, were sandwiched between an impressive set of ears. He was rather on the lean side and tall, which only served to make him look lankier. He eyed Arthur as well but seemed rather nonchalant about the whole situation which infuriated Arthur and only added to his theory that he was chained to a simpleton, too dull to understand the peril they were in.

The blonde gave merlin a once over then stared seething at the ground while Merlin just stared openly at him rubbing his wrists. This really messed up his plans. His wrists were really starting to hurt once the adrenaline of the encounter wore off.

The man beside him looked fit and well fed. Undoubtedly a noble. Dressed too finely to be otherwise. No peasant had a belt that long either. Saving space to add holes to your belt weren't usually concerns peasants had. He also looked like he had a teeth grinding problem because he was really working his jaw. Merlin was still sore and desperately wanted to sit while they waited for the other two knights to return so he simply said, "pleasure to meet you, what's your name?"

The blonde stared daggers at him but he was undeterred, "I'm Merlin by the way, thanks for asking. My legs are terribly sore from failing to evade capture so if you don't mind, I'd like to sit and that would require you sit down too. So, what do you say?"

The noble was openly gaping now, "you can't be serious?!"

"Quite. I'm very tired, so will you sit while we wait?"

Merlin could tell his new acquaintance was getting ready to yell when one of the knights who Merlin had chatted with earlier, turned from his position several feet away, "Sit down, boy!"

"Thanks, Ewan!" Merlin called cheerily as if he was talking to a friend.

Ewan glared at their newest captive but nodded at Merlin before turning away again. Both boys sat in unison, one more reluctantly than the other.

"You can't seriously be friends with them? Are you some kind of simpleton?" he asked exasperatedly.

Merlin shook his head as if it was the most obvious thing, "Of course we aren't friends but he seems a decent fellow. Though I keep hearing that one can never have too many friends. So, what's your name, friend?"

"Were not friends" he answered gravely.

Merlin huffed a laugh, "That was my mistake."

"Yes, I think so"

Merlin was trying to build a rapport with the man who he would have to escape with later and he was being a prat about it, "Yeah, I'd never have a friend who could be such an ass."

Arthur couldn't believe he was being pulled into an argument right now while the knights were probably discussing if they should kill him or not. Merlin didn't seem to understand the danger they were in so he added, "Nor I, one who could be so stupid"

Merlin simply turned around so he wasn't side by side with the Prince anymore. Instead, he sat back to side (not much room to move around). Arthur was absolutely enraged. This imbecile was making him dumber by proximity, one of the knights disappeared again, Peter was still missing and the only possible ally he had was too immature and frustrating to take anything seriously. Arthur was screwed the only way someone his status could be, royally.

After some time passed sitting on the ground, Merlin began scratching at the dirt with a stick. It kept distracting Arthur from his reconnaissance of the knights. He still needed to determine their motives and plan his survival accordingly. Though they weren't doing much except taking the opportunity to make sure the horses were fed and watered. It seemed like they were comfortable waiting for the remaining two knights and his servant. They didn't seem worried. Arthur supposed they shouldn't be. Two trained knights versus one servant who has never held a sword before, besides to polish it.

Merlin's absolutely terrible drawings, that looked suspiciously like a certain noble in various forms of peril, began to crowd around his knees and towards Arthur, interrupting his musings. He tried to ignore it. He really did, but when they made him tear his eyes away for a third time, he smacked the idiot's hand away and erased the chicken scratch with a few, excessively aggressive, pats.

There was a scoff of disbelief behind him and an indignant, "I would think a noble such as yourself would have more manners than that"

Arthur was gearing up to smack the man when he heard the telltale sound of armored men approaching. He stood up with little concern for Merlin and smiled in satisfaction when he was dangling like a fish on a hook and clambering to get his footing. The Prince didn't have much time to enjoy it though, he had to know what happened to the servant. Not that he cared much for Peter. He'd never met the man in his life. Peter just happened to be the first palace attendant walking by when he stormed off to go on a hunt. Arthur felt responsible for what happened to him. As soon to be Crown Prince, the wellbeing of his people, especially those in his employ, was his responsibility.

The knights walked straight for the prince, who looked at them expectantly, "Where is my servant?"

The two just looked at each other as if not sure how to answer the question.

"Did you kill my servant? What use do you have for me and not him? Where is he?" he demanded.

The knight who cracked Merlin in the face that morning spoke up, "He tried to elude us by crossing a river and got swept away."

"So, he's most likely dead then?" he asked, Adam's apple bobbing.

"It would appear so." He responded just as solemnly. They bowed their heads slightly and walked off, leaving the Prince with the news.

Arthur sat back down on the ground, legs feeling weak. Once again uncaring that he essentially dropped his companion like a sack of potatoes with him. Now he stared at the little remains of the doodles he destroyed earlier. It seems he killed his servant. A part of him thought perhaps the knights just killed Peter because he was no use as a ransom. He dismissed the thought. It seemed they were treating their other prisoner humanely and seemed apologetic to return without him. Peter hadn't seemed all that bright either, it sounded like something he'd do. Arthur would be unable to confirm the knights' claims, at least not anytime soon, so there was no use dwelling on the 'how'. The 'what' was haunting enough.

Arthur hadn't realized how lost in thought he was until he was jolted by a soft voice next to him, "I'm sorry about your servant."

Arthur could only nod in reply.

...notes...

I have Merlin's whole backstory planned out. Honestly don't think I'm going to reveal most of it. It's just for me to get a better feel of where the characters where coming from in this story. I was thinking of maybe writing a series of one shots set with in this universe but I will defiantly finish this fic first. I have the whole story plotted out for once and I wrote it down so I don't forget. Please leave a comment!

I gave Merlin the facial scar to match mine lol. Although Merlin's scar is bigger. It is also on his cheek, mine is just on my nose. He barely dodged getting slashed to death by a sword and I was mauled by a sausage dog, we are not the same. I guess i also am no longer in possession of every part of my feet that i was born with. kinda like Merlin. My foot wasn't amputated but i am missing parts of 2 toes now.