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!

206. Chapter 208

There were a lot of things that Merlin Pendragon could have done after he had crossed the threshold of his estate for the very first time, half-chasing the boy he had been married off to with vile words clinging on the edge of his lips. The consort had felt sticky beneath his skin after having watched the way the man had taken over the conversation, gathering the stewards attention just so that he could complain about their not being a welcoming committee here to greet them at the gate. It had made Merlin feel sticky beneath his skin knowing that Arthur had thought this was an appropriate time to try and come in and sweep everything Merlin had nearly died to get right out of his hands. It had probably been his plan right from the start, which was why Arthur had spent the whole trip there trying to cozy up to Merlin in one way or another. He wanted to make the estate his own, to establish another home away from home that those who held Pendragon blood could disappear to for a few weeks if needed. And all of that talk about Merlin making decisions and making plans and figuring out if he could actually do anything with the land and the property… they were nothing but sweet words meant to distract Merlin as he threw his entire focus into this project for the last three weeks.

And Merlin had actually fallen for it.

Hook, line, and sinker.

Even when Merlin already knew how the prince was, and how he would always do these little tricks instead of just being honest about what he really thought, he had still fallen for it. Merlin had really thought HE would be allowed to take a chance and show somebody—anybody who cared to look—that he could be successful at something. This property wasn't just something that Merlin had to face out of the blue, and pull together something out of his arse, like when he had decided to go through with the trial that had won him this estate in the settlement, in order to get things moving. This was something he could try and take his time with, something that he could mold into whatever the hell he had decided, and watch as it either grew into something great, or ended before he had a chance to watch it flourish. But whichever way it went, it was supposed to be Merlin's success or his failure, and how could Merlin truly find out if he's up to the challenge if he had Arthur trying to take it from him?

Steam could have been blowing out of Merlin's ears from how furious he was at Arthur's behavior, though it also felt as if Merlin was ready to jump Arthur if he so much as looked at him funny. A thousand curses, both the kind a sailor might use and several Merlin felt like making up on the spot, were clogging up his throat as if he couldn't decide which one would be the most fitting to use in this situation. Or if he should use them all and hope Arthur realized he was mad about many things more than just Arthur behaving as if this estate's been given to both of them, instead of sorely placed in Merlin's name. And trust him on that, it had been one of the things Merlin had gotten Gaius to check during the last three weeks of his studies. He had wanted to make sure Arthur didn't have ANY claim to this plain, just in case something like this might happen like he thought it would. But just as the first syllable was escaping his lips, with the view of Arthur still talking to the steward on his behalf fueling his anger, he got cut off by the slamming of the ornate doors their entire group had just walked through. The sound echoing off the large walls surrounding them like it would if there was a singer trying to make their acoustics more vibrant.

It brought Merlin's attention to the rest of the house, his feet pausing in place as he took stock of the grand home and the dark atmosphere that surrounded them all. His eyes darted from one place to the next as if he couldn't decide if he wanted to look at one thing more than the other. Should he look at the large and grand entranceway that seemed to lead off into some sort of sitting area, in which he could see just the hint of a grand fireplace sitting against the wall, or should he look in the other direction to where there was a large staircase so wide that it seemed to stretch from one wall to the other, leading upwards to the mysterious second floor that seemed shrouded in shadows, a large rug at the foot of it stretching across the floor but looking thick enough for Merlin to sink his toes into. There were a few small tables in different areas of the room, though they seemed more decorative than something people could actually do anything with, considering they had silver candlesticks. The fancy kind holding three different candles, each one glowing bright, as if they were trying to burn brighter than the last. And since, just as Merlin had seen outside, there was a dark curtain over every window, it was the only light source, which only added to the dark opulent of the entire place.

"—And of course, your horses will be well tended to. I am sure the guards are out there right now, herding your great steeds into the barn situated out back. It has been a while since we've had any horses to actually occupy it, but that's because the former lord and lady of the estate didn't leave home unless there was an actual reason to do so. So there won't be anything to worry about, one of the serving girl's, her family used to raise horses before they lost what little business they had going on, so she'll be keeping watch on them." Jacqui said, talking sorely to Arthur, who needed along while listening for anything he may need to address, while Merlin continued to look around in a silent awe at what he was seeing around him. "And I am pleased to report that all of the items in the home were rightfully kept in their rightful places. The soldiers had a bit of a problem when they realized the youngest daughter of the family was trying to sneak the silver candlesticks in her belongings. Probably to sell them now that they won't have the land's natural riches to float off on wherever they do end up."

Jacqui sniffed his nose with self-importance, as if he was suddenly far more important than the people who had once lived in the home before they'd been kicked out. And while Merlin, marveling at the very same candlesticks that had almost been stolen, hadn't liked to think about them, he found himself thinking about them now. About the lord and the lady that had called this place a home for many decades, and the four children they had raised within the walls. Four children… three now adult daughters with husbands of their own, and the son, Bryon, who had lost it all for them. Where had they gone after they were told to leave? Merlin knew that it couldn't have been anywhere in Camelot, as the entire family had been ejected after the results of the trial. But did they keep moving west, until they ended up in Esstier, or did they decide to go further up north until they hit Mercia? How did they react when they had learned exactly what their son had done to them? Were they furious about his actions due to the pain it had caused them all? Or did they blame Merlin for what had gone on that day in the woods where Bryon had tried to kill him. It wouldn't exactly be the weirdest thing Merlin had been blamed for during his five months of living as Camelot's Consort. But… still… Merlin felt guilty knowing that he would not ever get the chance to meet these people and tell them face-to-face what had been done to him by their son.

Merlin listened with only half an ear as Jacqui started up a long winding spiral about the history of the land and how the estate had come into the possession of Bryon's grandfather decades before and what the land had been used for in the past to generate money. These were all things that Merlin already knew, as Gaius had insisted the history of the place was just as important as learning of taxes and growth and geography, and all the other little odds and ends he had drilled into his skull during these last three weeks. It was why he felt confident enough to ignore the way Jacqui spoke of Bryon's grandfather, a proud soldier in his youth that rose through the ranks but had only been gifted the estate by saving the life of the king—Arthur's grandfather. It was quite ironic if one tried thinking about it, and how it was this soldier's own grandson that had lost it to a member of the Pendragon line. It was almost as if the estate was returning to its rightful owners, if Merlin grudgingly said so himself. But he cared very little for what the estate had been through, since the only thing that mattered would be where it was going now, the consort thought as his eyes returned towards the curtains. He didn't really know why, but it was as if he couldn't stop from looking at them, and how utterly dreary it had to be living with them covered up like that. Did they cover up the windows because there were no owners on the land to keep them open? Or was there another reason…

"—Merlin, what do you think?"

Merlin blinked, startled, as his attention came back into focus at the sound of his name. And only now did Merlin see that the other guards that had came to the estate with them had started spreading out, claiming a piece of the wall for themselves as they checked out the minimalistic room. All except for Lancelot, who was still steadfastly refusing to leave Merlin's side until a certain situation forced him into doing so. But Arthur and Jacqui were standing directly in front of them, their attention on him for the first time since introductions had been made. It was Arthur that had spoken, asking Merlin something that he had not hard and didn't know what the appropriate answer should be—not that he'd let Arthur know he hadn't been paying attention to what was going on for so long that he hadn't noticed their conversation changing from the estate's history. It was Jacqui, though, who sniffed a little, as if he was trying to decide whether or not Merlin's opinion was really relevant around here, despite the fact that it was Merlin's opinion that should be the only one that mattered when it would come to matters of the estate. Merlin chewed on the inside of his cheek, eyes returning back to the curtains as he tried racking his brain for any hint of what he should've been listening to.

"…Why are the curtains closed?"

Merlin hadn't meant to ask such a stupid question when the two men in front of him had clearly been expecting something else, but those stupid curtains were bothering him. Merlin had spent so much of his time in the dark, spent so much of his time wallowing in the shadows of his own misery as he struggled to figure out how to climb out onto the other side to where the light would be greeting him. Merlin didn't know exactly how long he would be staying here at this estate, if he would leave at the end of the weekend or decide to stay since Arthur would be leaving and could no longer influence what was going on. But Merlin did know he didn't want to spend however long he stayed here doing all the same things he had done in the early days of his marriage… wallowing here in the dark. But when Jacqui didn't immediately answer his question, the blond prince was suddenly asking him the exact same question. And only after it was spoken by the prince, was Jacqui prompted to answer.

There was a muscle in Merlin's jawline that jumped violently as he took note of that, listening to the long winded explanation Jacqui gave him about why these curtains were always kept closed. Always, apparently, because the former lady of the house was often paranoid and felt as if there were people outside who'd be looking in through the windows every time she passed them by, until came a day in which she ordered them shut and they hadn't been opened again ever since. Jacqui seemed quite proud to spill out this history, or more specifically, he was quite proud when he announced that the curtains hadn't been opened for longer than the time it took to dust them in twenty-three long years. Merlin had his jaw dropping when he heard the number, and he even saw that Arthur looked put out by such a thing. Such a ridiculous thing, considering the estate was surrounded by a large stone wall with no neighbors in miles, and the only people that would be able to look in were the people that already lived there.

It was such a strange concept to hear about…. Merlin had grown up with miles and miles of space to run around in, with endless forests that surrounded even the desolate place that was Ealdor. Merlin could certainly understand keeping the windows closed, he didn't think he had touched his at all when he'd been in the height of his depression. But twenty three years living among the dark, horrible shadows, where every living thing you've ever been scared of could come creeping out of the shadows at any minute… that was a fate Merlin did not want to wish upon anybody. It was a fate that could've very well been the same for him if he hadn't been desperate enough to attempt suicide, therefore giving him the wake up call that he needed to realize that was not the way that he had wanted his life to end. And as Merlin had already touched the darkest of all horrors that could come from life, as Merlin had already been touched by the other side and been scarred by it as well, there was only one real decision he could make about what was going to happen from this moment forward.

"I want to see the windows open."

This seemed to flip some kind of switch in Jacqui, who looked stricken at such a thing being said, but since Jacqui had already seen fit to ignore Merlin, then the consort saw no issues with doing the same. Besides, it appeared that this steward might still believe that whatever rules and such the former occupants had while they lived here would still continue being in effect despite the home now belonging to Merlin. That wasn't something Merlin wanted the other man to think. Merlin had already had so much taken away from him all those short months ago… his home, and his family, and his friends, and everything that he had ever known. If the only thing Merlin had left was this bloody estate, then it was going to be his. No matter what Arthur Pendragon tried to do to lay claim on it, and no matter what Jacqui considered was right by the previous owners degree.

"I believe that we all heard what my consort wanted. Open up the windows and get some light streaming in here before we all get blinded by the dark. I do not know about you, but I am sure my father does not want us returning with all of us having trouble with our vision."

Arthur said this gruffly, still somehow managing to take charge even though the other knights had already been moving at the consort's words. All except for Markus and Christian, who only stepped up to tackle another curtain when Arthur was the one that said something. But the consort continued watching them as one by one, the curtains were pulled off of the many windows lining the front walls of the estate. And, as the light was starting to stream in until Merlin could feel the warmth of the sun on his face, he could only ask himself one thing… would his mother enjoy a place such as this? Merlin knew that it was probably something that would never happen, but he wished it would. To see his mother standing outside the gates and running a hand through the coils of fur that covered the multitude of sheep that were littering the land. To see his mother walking through this manor and pointing at whatever she wanted replaced with something that was more suited with her own taste. To see his mother sitting curled up in one of the large armchairs in the sitting room, reading a new book that Merlin had gifted her, the pages of it untattered and still all in one piece, unlike the small handful of books that they had at home. To see his mother being able to sleep in whatever grand bed the place had just waiting for him upstairs, wearing dresses that were made out of the finest silk… all things Merlin had given to her. Merlin would never dream of using Arthur's money, but if they could get this place up and running so that it was profitable once again—something it hadn't been in decades—then Merlin would have his own money. And he couldn't think of anything better to spend it on than making sure his mother never had to work her fingers down to the bone in the fields again.

"And now that that's settled, I do believe that we were promised a tour of the land and all its assets, were we not?"

Merlin barely heard Arthur when he was addressing the steward, keeping up as the commander he thought he was, because he was too busy staring out those large windows. Not only did the room they were standing in suddenly seem as if it had grown twice as large now that they could see out, but there was also a good bit of land between the house itself and the gates that was keeping them separated from the outside world. And Merlin started to smile, imagining all he could do with a piece of land like this. There was so much open field, it looked as if the soil would be perfect for planting or some other endeavor. Maybe it'd be possible to bring in some of those sheep from outside and do something on that… he didn't know exactly what though. But that was okay, that was what he liked about this place despite its gloomy atmosphere. Because of all the many opportunities and possibilities that this land could afford to him, if he was able to moving forward.

"I think I will like a tour."

The steward had been stuttering through explanation after explanation about all of the many advantages that came with keeping the windows covered, but it was clear—as he was forced to stop by Merlin speaking up—that Arthur had long since stopped listening to whatever he was blabbering about. Instead, it seemed as if the prince was looking at him, though was that any real surprise to see that Arthur was trying to stare him into submission? It seemed as if the prince's penetrating gaze was impossible to escape, even so many miles away from Camelot City. Merlin thinned his lips, refusing to allow his irritation to be seen on his face… he wouldn't scream and fuss about Arthur taking charge as he had wanted to do. No, he wouldn't let the people who lived here think he's the hothead with the problem instead of Arthur. He'd simply have to do what it was that he did best…

And skulk around in the shadows while pulling everything together to throw in Arthur's face after he was done.

X

Arthur Pendragon hadn't been all too surprised when he found he had lost his voice and his inability to think when he had caught sight of Merlin standing in the light of the windows. Perhaps he should freak out, but being caught with his eyes latched firmly onto Merlin was hardly the worse thing he had gotten caught doing… staring was hardly any worse than wrapping himself around the consort as if he was an octopus. And besides, Arthur had already admitted to himself long ago that Merlin was his favorite thing to stare at. But Arthur found that there was just something… different… about seeing his angel with all that light basking behind him, as if drawn there by his very presence. It had made Arthur's chest feel warm, and his eyes followed Merlin as if he were a magnet when the consort walked past him to follow the steward into the next section of the house, seemingly taking the light with him. Arthur wiped his hands down the sides of his pants, trying to get rid of the nervous sweat that always found itself on him when Merlin did something or said something or looked a certain way that made him feel as if his head was spinning.

But the warmth in his chest that he carried with him as he stumbled after the consort and the steward to the sitting room wasn't exactly new. It had always been there, probably even from before Arthur knew how deeply his obsession with the consort ran. He didn't even know why he was so focused on it now, as he listened with only half an ear as the steward drone on for minutes at a time about the items in the sitting room and why they were so important. But having to hear about how a famous duke had once sat on the armchair eighteen years or so ago paled in comparison to watching Merlin look around. He watched as the consort also seemed to be listening with half an ear to the monotone voice of the steward, and tracking the way Merlin gentle touched on certain items. A brush of his fingers along the side of the writing desk pushed against the wall and out of the way, the gentleness in which he prodded at one of the candles in order to study the intricate designs embracing the sides, the way he looked as if he was studying the fireplace, and Arthur wanted to know so badly about what Merlin was thinking about the place.

Arthur glanced around the room himself, taking in the stiff armchairs and the long couch that looked as if it was more for show than for anybody to actually enjoy. And Arthur actually wrinkled his nose as he saw the thin laced rug that was stretching underneath the small table sat in the middle of the room, just a place meant to set down drinks as the people entertained their guest. But this was a room that was just so undeniably… not Merlin. As little as he could say—in confidence—that he knew about Merlin, he knew that this room was not the kind of room that he deserved. This was a sitting room, and it should've been designed with Merlin's comfort in mind. Perhaps the stiff-looking chairs could be switched out for something that was fluffier, something with a thick vision that Merlin could sink his tired body into after a hard day that included driving Arthur to insanity. Perhaps the same could be done for the couch, make it be a place where Merlin could lay down before retiring to bed, closing his eyes after his long day, doing nothing more than listening to the crackle of the fire going in the fireplace, warming the room to a degree that was both stifling but also comforting.

Arthur could almost picture it now, Merlin stretched out across whatever new couch they managed to bring into the space, his long limbs taking up so much of the space that there would be no room for Arthur to join him. But would that be something that stopped Arthur if he wanted to sit by Merlin? If he claimed it was impossible to sit on the other chairs for a thousand different reasons that would've been made up on the spot. Arthur was almost surprised by the sense of longing—so vividly that it felt like it was carving him from the inside out—to be that close to Merlin. To be able to lift up the consort's feet and have Merlin only mumble like an irritated kitten who had just been disturbed before settling back down when Arthur took his seat and allowed the consort to rest his feet in his lap. Arthur wouldn't even be surprised if he found himself wanting to slip off one boot of his angel's, followed by the second, so that Merlin's feet could breathe as his toes wiggled in the freedom they now had. And perhaps—there was a pulse point in Arthur's neck that felt as if it was trying to kill him due to how hard it was fluttering—Arthur would be allowed to touch those feet. Run a finger down along the sole, playfully prod at one of his toes just to watch as it twisted around as if trying to evade him. And maybe… just maybe… it wouldn't be out of the realm of possibilities if Arthur took one of those feet and started squeezing gently at the heel, massaging his consort who had been running on his feet all day long. Arthur had never given a message to anybody before but it wasn't as if Arthur would mind touching Merlin, feeling the warmth of skin as it seeped into his palm, hearing the little meows of encouragement after Merlin started putting for more.

Arthur cleared his throat, feeling as if the heat from the fireplace was already trying to make his brain melt. And he was almost thankful that the rest of the knights hadn't followed them into the sitting room, having opted for spreading out to get a lay of the land for themselves. But Arthur was still in there with the steward, and Lancelot, and Gaius, and… Merlin. And three of those men would also happen to be three men that would stake Arthur down to the ground if any of them knew how much Arthur wished he could worship at Merlin's feet in the place his consort had built for himself. Lancelot would probably challenge him to a duel if he knew the intensity in which Arthur wished he could speak to the consort about what kind of furniture he would like this room to have after all of the old was taken out to be burned, just to see if Merlin would also like to have big and fluffy things to lay on. Gaius would have Arthur's head placed right on top of a silver platter if he knew how much Arthur wanted to get the biggest or fluffiest rug that's ever been made to replace the poor one that the occupants of the past had used, just so he could watch Merlin sink his feet into the fur so his long toes could curl with the strands falling between each toe. And Merlin… well… let's just say Arthur was pleased to still be alive to live long enough just to think about such unclean things. Merlin should have killed him the second it had been clear that Arthur had been staring at him, considering their tempers and tensions were running high after the way they had woken up.

But, even while Arthur was stuck thinking about such impurities without Merlin telling him it was okay to think such thoughts about him, the tour continued on as if everything was perfectly normal. The steward continued showing then all the other rooms that were on the first floor of the house, while only mentioning briefly that the second floor had nothing but bedrooms and a study, which was perfect considering their many knights would need a proper place to rest their heads after their unexpected night in the woods. But apparently the first floor had an additional three rooms that were quite identical to the sitting room, the interior designs continuing to be more bland than the last one they'd seen, as amazing as that was. Rooms that were almost meant for entertaining guests as they visited, but it made Arthur wrinkle his nose at seeing so much space that was going unused. Arthur was sure that Merlin could have came up with better uses for the space if given the chance. Hell, one of those rooms could've been turned into an area for Merlin to continue learning whatever healing Gaius had been teaching him. It could be filled with long tables, just like it was at Gaius' chambers back in Camelot, and Merlin could fill in those spaces with whatever he wanted. Arthur could order dozens of rare books on the topic to be brought to Merlin, books he couldn't read but could at least possess until they had the chance to finally bring in a reading tutor. Perhaps a few baskets to litter about in different areas, full of spools of thread and empty vials and different herbs that could be made into some sort of remedy.

Considering it had been many months since Merlin had first expressed having an interest in the healing arts, and that interest hadn't seemed to whither at all during that timeframe, Arthur found himself more inclined to throw money into getting Merlin whatever he needed to continue pursuing his interest.

Despite the longing Arthur had towards Merlin's comfort level, the tour kept on moving without any input from the prince, which eventually led their group into the dining room. It was quite clearly the room that was meant to be held with a very high esteem, though it also looked as if any actual entertainment went on in the place. The floors were made out of hard wood that seemed like it's been recently polished, most likely only having been done to impress them for their arrival. Though the room itself seemed to be taken up by this grand table that was quite similar to the one his father liked to use at the castle when he had to entertain people. It was half as long as the one at the castle, of course, but the table still looked as if it could house a good ten people and still leave them all with a good bit of elbow room to spare. It was quite a thick one, and it already had a fancy golden plate setting sitting in front of each chair, as if just waiting for somebody as important as them to come and eat their meals.

Arthur swallowed hard, his hands twitching violently on either side of him after he eyed the head of the table. Considering Arthur was highest ranking person in the house, the head of the table is where he would have usually taken a seat at. But this wasn't his house… it was Merlin's, so it was only proper that Merlin would be the one sitting there. But… Arthur couldn't help but wonder what the consort's life would be like if he decided to stay and the rest were forced into leaving him behind. What would his meals look like if he had nobody but a man like Jacqui to join him? Merlin was so vibrant and so full of life when he wasn't around Arthur, the prince was sure that part of him still remained dominant in him even after everything Arthur had done to squash it like a big. And he found it quite difficult to imagine Merlin forcing himself to entertain a man like Jacqui simply because there was nobody else. It had been so easy to imagine Merlin being able to change things around to his taste and making this place a home for himself when they had been in the sitting room. But it was even easier for Arthur to imagine Merlin wasting away in such a lonely house, trying to make friends desperately with the other strangers that lived here simply because he had nobody else. Even if Lancelot decided to stay with him… how long would it be before Merlin was driven to do something insane because of the loneliness this place stunk of. With empty halls that stretched into parts that they hadn't yet seen, with more rooms upstairs that had gone untouched by anybody but the previous family for many years.

The steward leading them around continued talking as he led them into quite the empty kitchen, where it seemed not even the servants had been allowed to shelter inside during their royal walkthrough. He spoke hire proudly about the most unimportant things, going on long spirals about how all of the silverware used in the entire estate had been imported here many years ago as a gift for the family from somebody in Mercia. Arthur didn't even need to look at Merlin, as he studied the opaque black countertops, continuing on with the gothic-like atmosphere of the whole place, to know that the last thing Merlin cared about was how important the silverware was. The feeling inside of Arthur seemed to get worse, his chest clenching at the idea of Merlin losing his spark because it was broken by Merlin looking at empty walls and empty portraits that held no meaning to him, with empty rooms that he haunted like a ghost everytime that he walked through them. It tore him apart inside, as he wondered how he was ever going to be able to leave Merlin in such a place. Merlin was meant for far better things than being… impressed by silverware. Merlin was meant to be at his side, sitting in a chair of equal wealth as Arthur's throne, putting his input into royal situations and pointing out flaws that had gone unnoticed by Arthur or any other in the court.

Merlin might want to stay, but…

Arthur felt as if his throat was getting ripped out.

"Where does that lead?"

Arthur blinked back the emotion that had been building in his eyes when the sound of his consort's voice reached his ears, and he followed to where Merlin was pointing at a small and plain looking door shoved into the deep corner of the room, something that Arthur hadn't even noticed before Merlin had gotten his attention. He could only vaguely hear Jacqui explaining that it led down to the servants quarters, and that it was no place that Merlin wanted or needed to see since that place was the only real privacy that the servants had. It was a practiced answer, one that dismissed Merlin's only curious inquiry that he had made during the entire tour. Arthur wanted to snap, and say that Merlin had a right to question where mysterious rooms inside his own manor led to, and a right to see them. Especially if it had been the only thing Merlin was asking of him, since Arthur was positive Merlin had a thousand more questions that he's currently keeping to himself in order to keep the tour moving along. But Arthur saw the way Merlin nodded, agreeing with Jacqui without protest, which is so unlike Merlin, that Arthur automatically knew he was planning something. And seeing the way Merlin had narrowed his eyes on the door as Jacqui turned his back to him and started leading the group out the back door and to the fields behind the house, Arthur already knew what Merlin was planning.

At some point, before this trip was over, Merlin was going to see what was in those rooms.

Whether anybody liked it or not.

Because that was his Merlin, pushing boundaries every time he thought there was something being hidden from him.

But if Arthur was hoping the fields out back would somehow change how he's been feeling about leaving Merlin in such a drab place, he was dead wrong. All he did was step out onto the back grounds, and look at all of the endless miles of open fields within the gates, to know that Merlin would never be able to live in such a place. He would never be able to thrive in a place that was desolate and bare… all Arthur could imagine was the dying hope and dreams that swum in Merlin's eyes shattering. And the three unknown guards doing practice drills in the yard only tickled at Arthur's nerves, disliking them even before he talked to them.

X

Merlin Pendragon could see miles and miles of potential spread out before him in the backyard. He could envision having similar fields to the ones he worked on back in Ealdor. There was only one building out back, pushed off all the way to the back gates of the property, but that looked as if it was a small barn that had to be where their horses were residing. But that would do nothing to ruin the land or minimize the space that he had to work with. The soil here looked as if it was ripe, perfect for planting season, from what little Merlin was able to see at first glance without getting his hands dirty. He could probably work out a nice little farming project out here, so that the people who lived here weren't forced to trek through dangerous forests to pick fruits from the trees or face a tiresome journey of three hours just to reach the nearest village to fetch bits of food that were more substantial. In his mind, he could already imagine getting mountains of squash growing, or things of carrots and tomatoes, maybe a few potatoes and some cornstalks. And considering the gate around the property, it was less likely for the estate to be raided by bandits trying to steal the food before the people living there could eat it, like it happened in Ealdor on more than one occasion.

Merlin almost wanted to go ahead and get started, even when he knew that it was wholly inappropriate considering they weren't done looking around and he knew there would be plenty of time for such things later. But that didn't mean he didn't want to roll up his sleeves like he used to do back home, get down on his knees, and start the groundwork for getting it set up. Now, Merlin wouldn't say he had been thrilled with all the farming he had done back home, since it's only a necessity of his past life and not something he would've chosen himself if he had the option. But it had been five months since he had been allowed to do something that was so innately familiar to him, that it almost caught him off guard by how much he wanted to dig his hands in the dirt and get dirt beneath his fingernails like he used to. His mother, should she ever come and see what he had done with the place herself, might even be thrilled to know that he had taken everything she had taught him about how to grow his own food had not gotten lost behind the royal lifestyle he now had. He was almost upset when all his little fantasies were interrupted by Jacqui clearing his throat, and bringing Merlin's attention to the three knights that were approaching them.

The three men looked as if they could be no older than Arthur was, and they all wore chainmail and armor, though precious little else that would indicate which family had their allegiance. Each one carried a sword as their weapon of choice, though they were quick to place them back in their scabbards before approaching, stopping whatever training they had been doing before they had gotten interrupted. Though that was where the similarities ended, as each of the men seemed to be vastly different from the other. The one in the middle of the group, who seemed as if he was the self-imposed leader, was pale skinned with wild tufts of dark hair that was windswept and tousled in every direction it could go in, even more wilder than Merlin's was, with green eyes that could've pierced through a man's soul as he studied Merlin curiously. The second man looked as different as he could be from the first, with sun-kissed skin bringing out the multiple freckles across his face. His hair was so red and cut shorter to his head, that it almost looked orange under the light of the sun, and standing a good foot taller than the much shorter leader. But the third man seemed as if he was different from them both, standing a bit away but still part of the group as well. He seemed to stand somewhere in the middle, taller than the leader of the group but shorter than the red haired warrior. His skin was translucent that he could have shone like a torchlight if it was dark, with hair that was cut into a style that left it hanging in front of one eye and so blonde that it looked as if it was white, and his eyes were such a piercing grey shade that they could have passed for silver.

Merlin was cautiously curious about them, considering his past work knights he didn't know.

"Consort Merlin, Prince Arthur, Physician Gaius, I must introduce you to three knights that have been keeping our home safe single handed for weeks now." Jacqui announced, with a proud tilt of his head and a smirk on his lips, as if he had done anything to make these men into the warriors that they were today. It was an almost disgusting display of misplaced ownership, and Merlin couldn't help but find himself wondering if the servants would also be treated with the same attitude. But that was a thought for another time, considering the men in front of him would probably play an important part in Merlin's decision to stay or go. He was only just now getting things somewhat decent back in Camelot, he was not going to stay somewhere that had the same abusive knights issue he had faced before, only with less help since he'd be alone here. "The knight in the middle is Sir Hadrian Potter. He's the son of a great knight, and it's quite unfortunate that his father decided to marry one of the serving girls. His father had been going somewhere before that Lilliana sunk her claws into him, but it was quite unfortunate to see them both go when they died during a horrid land dispute twenty years ago. Sir Hadrian here, half blood that he is, was meant to be taken to the servants quarters to live with his aunt, another servant living in our household. But she didn't want the boy, and even ran off with some horrid traveling merchant when he was small and left him behind. One of the knights took pity on him and decided to raise him in the way of his father instead. And while I questioned the decision at first, Hadrian has done excellent since he's been given full knight status."

Merlin's cautious features turned a bit stiff as he heard everything that Jacqui spewed from his sickly sweet smile. And he could see the way Sir Hadrian was acting to all of his personal information being aired out right in front of them, a group of virtual strangers to the lone knight. The flash of unkept anger hidden in the depths of his green eyes, the stiffness of his features that matched with Merlin's, the subtle clenching of his hand around his blade as if he was holding himself back from doing something he might regret later on. But Merlin could not fault the knight for being angry about something like this. He would be just as furious if he was meeting somebody new, and Arthur decided to give out all the personal details he had about his family and the 'horrible life' he had lived before being rescued by nobility. But Jacqui either didn't notice or didn't care what the opinion of the knights were, already moving on as he gestured toward the red haired knight.

"This one right here is Sir Ronald Weasley, another knight that I was uncertain about when the former lord and lady allowed him to stay when he came to our door as a young lad. Now, unlike Hadrian here, Ronald has quite a bloodline of noble knights, each member of his family more fascinating than the last. He's got a total of FIVE older brothers, and he often receives letters from them that details all of their latest achievements. All of them are scattered about, living in different estates across the country than the one they were born to, but that doesn't stop them from keeping in touch. I do believe that the eldest has been trusted enough to keep guard over the treasury and important historic items in the estate he's living in, which I always thought was a marvel, considering the Weasley's might be tempted to take something, they never did have as much money as other noble's considering the sheer amount of children they had. It's the second Weasley that I quite enjoy hearing about though, apparently he has taken refuge at an estate that often deals with wild animals trying to get in the gates, his stories on how he leads them away are always quite entertaining. It's the third one that I am uncertain about, since he always seemed more like he's a scholarly type, sending endless bits of parchment about the thousands and thousands of different things he learned from his estates library when I'm sure there is actual knight work he could've been doing. And the fourth and fifth of the Weasley's are twins actually, quite the dynamic duo I heard, always able to make their enemies heads spin with their tricks, their letters always make me want to laugh. And then of course, there's Ronald here. Now, he hasn't done much, but I believe that's simply because of how quiet it is in the area that we live in. I'm still waiting for him to prove himself should something actually need doing. Oh, but of course, I cannot forget about the youngest of the Weasley's, but she's a lady, so she's unable to train with her brother as a knight. In fact, it was her that followed Ronald here only a year after he first arrived. But there's really nothing our estate can offer a lady, so she has been put to work in order to allow her to stay for as long as she has. She's actually one of the girls you'll meet later on."

Merlin's head was almost spinning from the sheer information that was being spewed from Jacqui as if they were well-known facts and he had every right in the world to be telling it. There were just so many brothers, that it was almost fathomless for Merlin to know how it would feel to grow up with so many family members. Merlin didn't have any brothers or sisters, and he couldn't say that he knew anybody who had more than two or three. But Ronald has SIX siblings that he was in constant contact with. One of which, worked right here. And the consort wondered how such things could be so different between the two. The knight in front of him was a soldier, but his sister was a girl, so that somehow made even a noble lady worth less in the eyes of the people who'd been living here? How did Ronald feel about being talked down to when compared to what sounded like more successful brothers? How did Ronald feel about his training as a knight, while his sister had been reduced to wearing rags and scrubbing at the pots and silverware? Apparently not well, since Hadrian had to put out an arm to stop Ronald from beating the ever loving shit out of Jacqui when he put a foot forward. Jacqui seemed to be completely obvious, as he moved on to the final knight with a more dismissive attitude than he had given the other two.

"And the final knight that we have here is Sir Draconis Malloy, who has lived in our humble estate for only the last few years. He was also forced to leave the estate he was raised in because of a terrible land dispute that nearly killed all the people who lived in the area. Quite a violent affair, from what stories I have heard about it. But Draconis ended up escaping during the battle and was able to find his way here for sanctuary. Personally, I was against it at first, there are horrible stories that were being told at the time about his family and their part in the dispute and how they added in the raiding of their home. And really, how could anybody trust a knight when they come from a family that betrays those whose land they live upon? But the former lord and lady decided to give him a chance to prove himself, but don't worry, I have been keeping an eye on him to make sure there is nothing untoward happens while our land is in this delicate state of transition."

Jacqui sniffed loudly as he finished speaking, behaving as if he was doing all of them a generous favor by scrutinizing those who still lived on the land when nobody had asked him to do so. But Merlin felt the surge of irritation shooting through him that could hardly be contained, especially when Draconis reacted with nothing more than a steely eyes gaze of distain. Merlin hadn't liked Jacqui speaking about the three knights and telling their stories without permission, but there was something about this final part that made him feel worse than all the other. Perhaps it was because Merlin could see himself in the blond haired knight's story. Draconis had come to a land that he was not familiar with, as he did when he had to come to Camelot. And people expected Draconis to act as his family did, looking over his shoulder at every opportunity because they just knew he was going to feed a rival family information that could allow them the ability to steal this estate away from its rightful owners. Just like Merlin came to Camelot, with thousands of expectations being thrown on top his shoulders without any explanation on what he should do, with everybody looking over his shoulder and expecting him to fail. Merlin cleared his throat and took a step to them, ignoring Jacqui, who still carried around with him the air of a man that is far better and smarter than everybody else around.

"Well, I would like to say that it's nice to meet each of you, even if the reasons for it were probably not expected. But I hope that we can get along during the time I stay here. I'm not really sure what I want to do while I'm here, but if any of you wish to ask for something that would make your life here better, then I do hope that you won't hesitate to ask." Merlin said, with a weak looking grin as he studied the three soldiers standing in front of him. From Hadrian and his piercing green eyes, to Ronald's annoyed looking blue, and Draconis' eyes of steely grey. Merlin knew that he had stumbled over his words, allowing for his breath to catch considering the bad memories most knights had given to him. But he had to push that back. He was different than he was then, braver and stronger than when he had been dealing with all of that alone. But he now had Gaius and Lancelot standing right behind him, and fucking Arthur waiting and watching to see what would happen. So everything was going to be okay, most especially if he could make some kind of connection with the mirror image that he'd seen in Draconis. "I mean, I'm not just here to check over the land or see and decide what I wish to do with it. I have to say that I don't know much over anything about the land other than what was in the public records in Camelot's archives. So I'll be willing to listen to any input from the people that live here and are actually going to be affected by whatever choices or changes that I'll decide to make."

There, Merlin thought over the pounding of his heart as he released a breathy sigh of relief, he was leaving whatever happened next to the knights, allowing them to decide how their relationship was going to continue in the future. The consort had spent many weeks studying each and every folded and pieces of parchment that Gaius had handed over to him the second the property ended up signed over in his name. Merlin had ran over the numbers concerning all of the money the property had originally produced before slowly declining until it became the barely functioning numbers they were now, barely hanging above the redline, so to speak. He had studied extensively over the history that was attached to the land and the inhabitants that had came before him, he had to know far more about Knight Bryon's family than he had ever wanted or cared to learn before all of this. He had studied the maps Gaius had brought to him so he could have a bearing on where the land was actually located, though he knew he would never have been able to find it on his own. But the point is that Merlin had learned all of that, and probably twice as more useless information that was deemed 'necessary' for him to know. But Merlin had only known one thing when he had left Camelot the day before… and that was that he did not know anything.

If anybody had asked Merlin about the politics and running of Camelot, there would have been plenty of things he could have recited. He could've explained how Camelot celebrated, throwing big and extravagant parties with a tourney or two thrown in to boost the morale of the knights with a healthy competition. He could have explained how a majority of the knights operated and how they did his rotating schedule and which knight should be at which post by which time… a little something he had started to pick up after five months of living in that city. He could have also explained extensively about the water supply and how Camelot was able to use piping to have fresh water available to everybody in the city, something else that he had picked up on when he and Gaius were busy trying to figure out what to do with the afanac poisoning their water. And Merlin could have also spoken about how Camelot worked out treaties and the code of conduct and what steps were involved when a trial was being placed among nobles… all little tidbits he had to learn when Bayard had came to the city and when Lancelot had been expelled from it. Everything Merlin learned had been things he had picked up on his own, and it only barely scratched the surface of other things he should probably know as it's consort, but none of that would've explained what the city actually needed.

None of that explained the woman whose husband had died during the horrid sickness that had ran amok, and was struggling to make ends met while also taking care of three children too small to lend a hand. None of that explained the old man who needed help fetching water from the pump because he was no longer able to close his hands properly around the handle to lift it up, and would die of dehydration if he didn't have neighbors looking out for him. None of that would explain the people who were only just now being able to rebuild their homes after it got crushed at some point during the attack of the griffin on the city. And these were only a handful of smaller facts that wouldn't have shown up on any report or record Merlin could drag from the archives to learn about. Those were things Merlin actually needed to be on the streets to know about, things he had only learned by listening as people spoke and watching as they lived their daily lives. He was sure there had to be something that the three knights living in his estate, or the three serving girls wherever they were currently, that would make things better, but again, not deemed important to be put on record for others to know.

"Why did you send Lancelot here?"

Merlin had been taking a step back so that he could take his place between his uncle and Lancelot, with Arthur hovering awkwardly behind them like the freak he was, when the question was asked. And Merlin blinked, his mouth dropping into a startled frown, feeling the way that Lancelot stiffened up behind him. He could see Hadrian hissing at Draconis, the one that had asked the question, as if trying to get him to shut up before he started something. But Ronald seemed as if he would quite like to know the answer as well, if the expression that was on his face was anything to go by. And Merlin darted his eyes between each of the men, his words failing him for a second, because he didn't understand just what was going on. Why was Draconis asking him about Lancelot, and did the other knight really care about what Lancelot was doing here? Or was he caring only because it was Merlin that was the reason for him being here. As Jacqui, who was once again eyeing Lancelot with silent disapproval like he had been when they had arrived at the gates, had already mentioned earlier, there had been many stories that they had heard over the months. What kind of twisted versions had they heard about Merlin, and which truth did they believe? What stories had Lancelot been telling them personally, that would lead to this awful question?

"No. Harry, you have been asking the exact same question since Lancelot first showed up on our doorstep and brandishing a sigil that claims he's under oath to follow the orders of the Whytt family, despite the heir of said family is living under his marriage name. If those other knights hadn't shown up to get rid of the former family, and explained that it is a Whytt family crest and that there's a well-known relationship between the consort and him, then we wouldn't have believed him." Draconis said with a disgusted sniff of his nose, looking down at Harry—clearly a nickname for Hadrian—with the expression of a man that was clearly used to getting his way. Merlin had seen himself in the man, but now… it was clear he had some Arthur inside of him as well. The superiority complex was something neither of the men could hide. "I have a thousand questions on why something like this happened. Why would Lancelot be serving underneath the Whytt Family name instead of Pendragon when the latter would have given him prestige? Why would he have been sent here instead of staying in Camelot where his lord lives? You and I both know that it is because Lancelot's a fraud, those other knights that were here before spoke all about his banishment from the city. Was he sent here to spy on us? Did the consort send him here to spy on me and my loyalty to the protection of this estate? Because I would just like to know why I am constantly being judged on the sins of my family, and how it is that the consort can trust what this… peasant man might have to say about me."

Merlin's entire body seemed to twitch at the term Draconis had just used when describing his chosen knight. Being called a peasant had never felt like it was an insult before he had came to Camelot, and it was often a word that Merlin liked to own and claim as his own, a way of taking back his power when people had tried shoving him down by using it as a derogatory term. And it felt as if it was being used in the same way… a derogatory term meant to push his chosen knight down until he was below the 'real knights', who had ancestries that were stretched back centuries. Merlin had gotten used to the name-calling though, but it filled him with unimaginable fury to hear somebody calling Lancelot that very same name. Especially from a knight who sounded as if he hadn't tried to start off on friendly terms. But Draconis didn't know what Lancelot's real truth was. He didn't know that Lancelot had been a survivor of a bloodbath when he had been only a child, and he didn't know that Lancelot had been raised with a bunch of other children until he was old enough to set off on his own. Draconis didn't know anything about the journey Lancelot had traveled, walking across Camelot as he struggled through sweat and blood and tears to learn the art of the blade. He didn't know Lancelot had spent ten year extensively training just to feel as if he was a halfway decent swordsman, or how terrified he had been when he finally made the decision to try his hand at Camelot's royal guard. He didn't know that it was Merlin—a peasant who now bore a title and stood with Camelot's most royal elite members—that had inspired him enough to push all his fears down. He hadn't been there when Lancelot had saved Merlin, or had been going through his self-doubt and wondering why the other knights would allow him to join them. Draconis hadn't seen Lancelot at his worst, and he had not seen Lancelot at his best. He hadn't seen Lancelot fighting Arthur because he had just learned of the prince's abusive nature. He hadn't been there when Merlin accidentally exploded about the contract, and being forced to trust this stranger with that kind of information. He hadn't been there when Merlin found out Lancelot knew about him being a sorcerer, and he hadn't been there when Merlin realized he could actually trust this man. And he hadn't felt what Merlin had felt when Lancelot had sworn allegiance to him, their souls bonding at the vow in ways not even Merlin truly understood.

Draconis knew nothing.

"I can assure you Knight Draconis, that Lancelot did not come here to spy on the people that are already living here. He has only came to this estate for me and me alone. He wishes to see to my protection and my safety, and I am sure that as long as you aren't hiding any ill intentions towards my person, then he will have no reason to report anything about you to me." Merlin said, with this harsh clicking of his tongue as he struggled to keep his voice as calm and as even as he could possibly make it before he blew up at the knight. Draconis wasn't Arthur. Just because he was a paranoid bastard that thought Lancelot somehow had something to do with him and the family he came from, did not mean he was worth the extra effort. Merlin even glanced over at Lancelot, as if to silently ask whether or not that was true, and whether or not Draconis was actually hiding something and that was the reason for his outburst. But it was Lancelot who silently shook his head in denial, telling him that he had nothing to report on that front. But there was something in Lancelot's eyes, something that said something else. Draconis might not have done anything that caused justice needing to be served, but it was clear Lancelot wasn't surprised by the way Draconis was behaving. Had Draconis asked these same questions to the knight Merlin had chosen? Had Draconis—and perhaps even the others—gone out of their way to treat Lancelot as if he was the enemy? To freeze him out of their little group because he wasn't a 'real' knight. The idea of Lancelot being on the same receiving end of contempt that Merlin had often been in the past made his insides red hot with fury. The straining in his voice was noticeable by now, "As for your other question, the reason as to why Lancelot fights beneath the name of my blood instead of the name of my marriage are for reasons that only we need to know. But if the three of you know all about what happened to Lancelot that led to his banishment, then perhaps you also know that I was the one most involved with the situation. Perhaps you also know that I felt having a knight that understood me and MY peasant background, was much preferable when compared to the incompetence of the knights back in the city who were more concerned with their own prejudices than they were with my safety."

Merlin's stern voice was the type people used to chastise children when they had stepped over the line and needed to know that such things weren't going to be tolerated. And he made sure to look each and every one of them in their eyes to make sure they understood his message loud and clear. Strangers they might be, but Merlin would not be overrun by those who were now living in HIS home. He would not allow Lancelot to be treated with even half the disrespect that Merlin had gone through those first few months of his marriage. Lancelot had EARNED his right to be a knight, while the three men in front of him's done nothing to prove they could handle themselves and weren't just shooting their mouths off. Ronald's entire face seemed to go red when Merlin met eyes with him, and he almost felt sorry for the guy, feeling as if he was the type who had every emotion showing on his face for the world to see, kinda like Merlin knew his did. He met eyes with Hadrian, who at least seemed to somewhat agree to Merlin's boundaries, because he nodded his head sharply the one time, but if he actually agreed or was just not going to bother fighting against it would be forever a mystery. But the real person Merlin wanted to understand would have to be the one that started all of this… Draconis. It almost felt like this battle of wills between him and the blond haired knight, staring each other down to see which of them would break first. But Merlin has had thousands of battles with another blonde that was standing right behind him, and though he would never strike Arthur's ego by admitting it, Draconis had nothing on the prince.

"I simply wanted to point out that such a thing would be insulting to many men out there. And not just us. Whatever reasons you have for appointing Lancelot or whatever reasons you have for being involved with any previous crime that's been committed by him, there are other knights back in the city that I am sure would question such a decision." Draconis continued with a blunt tone, such a tone made Merlin's teeth ache as a muscle buried somewhere in his jaw tried jumping violently. Draconis was completely ignoring the sharp grip the knight Hadrian had on his bicep, as if he was trying to silently tell his friend to stop all of this before things grew worse for them. "I'm sure, if you were so deadset on having a knight that fits your… particular background, then there are dozens of minor nobles that would've been thrilled with the job. Or higher up nobles that are fifth or sixth sons, people who aren't expected to inherit anything from the families they come from because of how far down the line they are. I'm certain that you could've found at least one that wouldn't allow… prejudices to decide how they behaved. Considering how many years of extensive training that has to be put in for a knight to be halfway decent at their job, it's insult for them to have been passed over so easily by someone with no worth."

Merlin almost could have seen red at that point, feeling a rush of anger that he has only ever felt when he was being talked down to by Arthur. If Draconis had simply made himself clear about where he stood, and how he thought Merlin's going to lead the kingdom nowhere considering his background like many had, then the consort would have dismissed him the same way somebody would've dismissed a particularly annoying fly buzzing around their head. But what did Draconis think LANCELOT had been doing all these years? Did he think he was sitting on his arse all these years with a blade he didn't know how to use and had no interest in learning? Lancelot had trained extensively as well! Sure, the warrior didn't have the same formal and strict training like Merlin had seen his husband doing when running the new recruits through practice drills, but there was some that would argue that Lancelot had something far more important to have than simple training. He had experience. Real, actual experience fighting against people that wouldn't hesitate to run him through and kill him dead had they gotten through his defenses. He had experience with fighting against the creatures of magic, for crying out loud! And what did these three knights fight against, hidden behind the gates like they were. The only thing Merlin's seen in miles and miles and miles were hoards of sheep. So unless those sheep were trying to suffocate them with their wholly bodies, then Lancelot was already a far better fighter.

And a trustworthy one to boot.

Merlin was two seconds away from ripping into the other knight, this stranger who had questioned something that had nothing to do with him, when there's a loud clearing of a throat coming from somewhere behind him. It felt as if his teeth were set on edge as he shit a glare over his shoulder to where the blond haired prince had came into play. There was only so much Merlin was willing to take from the blonde haired knights, and Arthur trying to play hero or act as if he was Merlin's great defender or whatever the crap he thought he was doing by interrupting, might just be enough to push him over the edge. Which wasn't the impression Merlin had been hoping to give to the people who would have been apart of his fresh start. But it seemed as if Arthur wasn't even looking at him, a narrow eyed gaze focused straight on Draconis as he took a step so he was standing behind Merlin. Perhaps if Merlin was thinking clearly, then maybe he would've noticed how much it looked as if he and Arthur were now a united front against those who questioned them.

But as it may, Merlin had other matters to worry about.

"Perhaps you should understand that it is not your place to question anything that doesn't pertain to you yourself. You do not even live in Camelot City, so it isn't as if you would have been a contender for the spot. Besides, my consort did not set out to find somebody he wanted that was not only skilled enough to do the job but somebody he was comfortable enough with to be around for long amounts of time. He just happened to find those things in Lancelot and took the opportunity when he saw it:" Arthur said bluntly, doing a far better job at keeping his temper in check than Merlin had been, which was amazing since the prince was the biggest hothead Merlin had ever met in his life. But why the hell was Arthur even bothering? From what he had seen when they had arrived at the gates, it appeared that the old rivalry that had been going on inbetween them last month had just been reignited. One would have thought the prince would have been thrilled to have somebody else point out how Lancelot wasn't really a good and proper choice for him to make. "Besides, perhaps you should understand more about what you are talking about inside of complaining about how none of the lesser nobles got their chance. First of all, just because some of them are lesser than others, doesn't make them able to understand certain aspects about my consort that only somebody raised peasant could be. And to a second note, considering it is only just recently that my knights have slowly stopped tormenting my consort in anyway they thought they could've gotten away with doing, I do not blame my consort for not giving them the honor. Not one of them deserved it."

Merlin narrowed his eyes sharply on the prince, listening carefully to each and every word as if he was trying to find the hidden agenda somewhere beneath what he was actually saying. To those who didn't know them, it would look as if Arthur was a devoted husband who was simply standing up for Merlin while standing behind the decisions he had made for himself. But Merlin was sure he could find some kind of deception behind Arthur… it wasn't like the other to try and defend Merlin. Not unless this was another stupid ploy to make Merlin fall over himself to forgive the prince. But Merlin didn't think Arthur would go that far, considering the prince hated Lancelot almost as much as he hated Merlin. He was almost surprised Arthur wasn't agreeing wholeheartedly with Draconis, considering how much surprise and protest he had put into it when he'd found out about Lancelot's new role in Merlin's life just a few hours earlier. But what could be driving Arthur to run to Merlin's defense… the consort scoffed. Merlin knew he was thinking about this too hard. Obviously it was because the prince didn't like how Draconis had argued with him, or something like that, even if it was the prince himself who had done a thousand things worse than that during their past.

"But I suppose that there are a few questions or worries one would make when one considers a peasant man was chosen over anybody else. But let me be the first to tell each and every one of you, that I have had the extreme pleasure of battling Lancelot both on and off the field before. Which has only allowed me to test what his skill level was, and I can easily compare it to what little I saw when you were practicing your drills over there a minute ago." Arthur said, as he gestured to where the three men had originally been working when they all came outside. But Merlin did nothing to hide his scoff, and watching as Arthur subtly winced as he heard him, before putting back on his mask as if Merlin's done nothing. Merlin knew they were both thinking the same thing for once… Arthur's battles with Lancelot. The one on the training field where the warrior had earned his knighthood by tricking Arthur and holding the blade of a sword against his chest. And the second one in which Arthur took the handle off of a broom and nearly destroyed an entire street just so he could kill Lancelot since he thought he and Merlin had been sharing a bed together at the time. It was unclear if Arthur won that one, considering he was beating Lancelot before the consort had ended things. "And let me tell you, I suspect that you don't get to be do much practical fighting since you are so far out of the way from anything else, but I believe even you lot could take lessons from Lancelot. He's a fellow that will probably wipe the floor with any of you any day of the week."

Arthur had started smiling as he finished what he had said, but it was the kind of smile that resembled that of a shark's, full of sharpened teeth that seemed to be more than ready to bite into the jugular of their prey. It was a cocky look that Merlin had only seen a few times—considering the prince only ever smiled at him when he wanted something or thought he had said something that was particularly cleaver but meant to drive Merlin's spirit into the ground—but that look was not one Merlin particularly missed seeing. With a look like that, Merlin could only guess at where Arthur could be going with this and the consort had to think hard as his eyes narrowed into slits. Merlin was used to the way Arthur always fought against Lancelot and his presence in Merlin's life. The only time Merlin had ever felt like Arthur was genuine when he said something that was good about Lancelot, had been that time when he had fought against his own father to try and make Lancelot one of his knights. But he had also given up on that pretty quickly when Lancelot had decided he wanted to go. What would Arthur have to gain by defending Lancelot against three knights that he would probably never see again once their weekend here at the estate was over.

"So, what do you say, Lancelot? Perhaps a spar for old times sake? Just so we can show these people that my consort didn't make the wrong choice to have a peasant head his protection."

Merlin's jaw dropped in upmost horror, the dread shooting through his body so quickly that it caused every hair on his body to stand on end. That was it, this was the reason as for why Arthur was suddenly defending Lancelot as harshly as he had been! It wasn't for Merlin at all! This was for Arthur and his horrible ego and his power tripping ways! All Arthur wanted to have was another fight against Lancelot, another macho showdown to prove that he was a far better fighter than Lancelot was, with an audience to boot who could wow over him as soon as they were done and Arthur stood victorious. It was a truly sickening thought to the consort, who had thought the days of watching Arthur trying to beat the shit out of Lancelot was over. Or who knows… maybe Merlin was more involved in this than he thought. Maybe Arthur thought he had something that he needed to prove here. Maybe he thought, if he won the match, then it'd be the same as winning over Merlin himself. Maybe he thought, if he won, that the consort would see how weak Lancelot really was and not want him as a knight anymore. Maybe he thought, if he won, than Merlin would come running right to his arms, ready to devote himself to the biggest and strongest and fiercest fighter in the arena. It was making so much bloody sense to Merlin. Arthur had not been happy about Lancelot's new career, and now he was here bragging to these strangers about how great of a fighter Lancelot was? No, that wasn't the prince at all. Not unless he was just trying to pretend to be a gracious man, so it wouldn't look as if he had planned this whole thing out for reasons that were more nefarious than what it looked like.

"I'll do it."

Merlin's head whipped around, the horror thrumming strong all throughout his body when he heard the answer coming from his chosen warrior. He saw that Lancelot was not looking at him, and was instead, looking straight at Arthur as if they were already in the midst of a battle despite neither one actually raising a hand to touch their blade yet. He wanted to scream at Lancelot to not play in these games that Arthur liked to craft in order to make himself seem far better and more superior than he actually was. He wanted to scream at Lancelot that a battle between them would do no good, when they were both already pretty evenly matched in terms of skill level, despite their different training methods. But Merlin felt as if his voice had failed him, being lost somewhere between his stomach and his tongue. Couldn't Lancelot see that this was just Arthur's way to try and… and… establish dominance! He should have bloody well known the prince had been a little too kind earlier, when he had been trying to flatter the consort on his decision in fighters. Arthur was just waiting for the opportunity to wipe the floor with Lancelot. And while obviously Merlin knew Lancelot had just as much of a chance to win as Arthur did, it was the prince who had seen the three strangers and decided THIS was the opportunity that he was waiting for.

"I'll fight you, and perhaps we can settle whatever there is between us once and for all."

Lancelot's words were blunt and unrelenting, with every feature in his face far stiffer than the last one was, looking as if he was Arthur's equal in every single way that he could be. Merlin's head whipped back and forth rapidly so he was able to see the both of them—and not even Gaius was any help when tried to look at him pleadingly—but it didn't seem as if either man was going to try and back out of the fight. But of course they weren't… they both had something to prove. Arthur clearly wanted to prove that Merlin was wrong to make choices on his own protection without Arthur's input, and Lancelot wanted to prove he had every right to be a knight despite his peasant. background. But… Lancelot had said that this fight might finally settle everything—every friction the two of them had with the other—once and for all. But Merlin feared that there may be only one outcome that could stop the tension that flooded these two men and the consort who stood between them every time they saw one another.

Death.

X

Arthur Pendragon had honestly not suspected that he was going to end up in a fight today, unless that fight somehow included him trying to make some kind of progress with Merlin only for it to end with Merlin throwing out his obviously justifiable accusations at him. But those fights never ended in violence, or… at least they didn't end in violence anymore on Arthur's part. Not since he swore months ago that he would never lay another hand in anger on Merlin again. But a swords fight, something that was right up his alley, was not something even he could have foreseen. Today was supposed to be all about Merlin, and since it was their first day at the estate, it was supposed to involve Merlin taking his look around and meeting people and figuring out what first steps he might be interested in making with the property. What was NOT supposed to happen on this day was Arthur taking attention away from Merlin by suggesting Lancelot and him have another match.

But there was only so long that Arthur could have put up with somebody who was going to try and start an argument—and seriously, what kind of name was Draconis to begin with?—with his consort. Now, Draconis didn't have to try to understand or like who Merlin decided to employ, but the knight had treaded a dangerous line by pushing against his decision. Arthur himself hadn't liked the choices Merlin made sometimes, but he had learned pushing back—literally, as his case had been—was the wrong choice for him to make. And Draconis didn't even KNOW about all the pain Arthur had went through trying to get the boy a SINGLE guard that he found acceptable to have for long periods of time. Then Lancelot comes out of nowhere, turns everybody's world upside down, and he is now apparently the ONLY person that Merlin trusted for the role. And it was quite clear that Draconis didn't know how hard it was for Merlin to open up to trust somebody else with something as important as his life, but Arthur knew for sure that he had contributed to Merlin's trust issues.

All Arthur needed to do was partake in a simple match with Lancelot while the others watched so that they could see his skills for himself. Did Draconis really think for one second that Arthur, even if he couldn't actually do anything since Merlin was using his blood family's name for Lancelot to work under, would've done nothing if he didn't think Lancelot was adequate enough to do the work a job like this would demand? Yes, he and Lancelot has had their issues from the second they had met, and there was still an undercurrent of tension there even after Lancelot had demonstrated his sheer skills by landing the killing blow on that griffin. But that tension didn't take away the obvious loyalty Lancelot had shown to his consort, and it didn't diminish the skills that the man clearly had in him. It wasn't everyday that somebody had managed to trick Arthur for long enough that they could knock him flat on his arse and have their sword poised on his chest in victory. It wasn't everyday that somebody, who Arthur wanted and was trying to kill with a ferocity that surprised even him, was able to keep up and put up a half decent fight. There were a lot of things Arthur could say he hadn't been expecting from Lancelot, and a lot of things he's not expected from Merlin. It made sense that the two of them, loathe as Arthur was to admit it, was joined at the hip whenever they could be. But he would be stupid to try and split them up. Just like Draconis was stupid for trying to challenge Merlin about this.

His dark angel hadn't needed his help at all.

But that didn't mean Arthur would watch such disrespect being launched at his consort.

Arthur was ready for this fight, he could feel his blood pulsing right beneath his skin as if it was trying to egg him on. He could feel the anticipation that's been apart of him ever since he first picked up a sword and fought against his first opponent. He could feel, in contrast, the calm that overtook him when he laid a hand on the hilt of his sword, waiting for their match to start. Yeah, the prince was ready. He was confident. He knew what he was going to be doing here today. Arthur might never know how he was supposed to react or how he was supposed to behave or how he was supposed to treat the boy that was in his care, and he feared he might never know how to get something right when it came to him. But a swords fight… that has been Arthur's calling long before he had been old enough to pick one up himself. A swords fight, even against an opponent that has already bested him in more than one way, was the one and only thing that Arthur needed to keep going.

Well… that and…

Arthur's eyes drifted across the field to where he could see Merlin standing off to the side. His proud consort had practically retreated to the far corner of the house as soon as Lancelot had agreed to the fight, and had dragged both the warrior and his uncle with him. It had been a few minutes since they had went to their corner, the three of them discussing things in quiet whispers that the prince was not privy to hearing. Arthur lowered his head, waiting as he shifted from foot to foot, a steady frown causing his lips to go thin as he focused onto the grass at his feet. He might not be able to hear exactly what was going on, but he didn't need to hear anything to see that Merlin seemed to be the most agitated, waving his arms about as he hissed something frantically. Arthur felt his eyes burning as he focused on the blades of grass, already knowing it was shameful for him to feel as dismayed as he was. He was sure that Merlin had a grand and elaborate explanation of his own as for why Arthur was doing all this right now. He was sure Merlin was over there spitting his name out and trying to discourage Lancelot from fighting against him.

Because the simplest answer as for why Arthur was doing this was something Merlin refused to see.

He was doing this for him.

Arthur wanted to show those three knights that they were wrong to try and get answers from Merlin about his decision. Arthur wanted to show everybody that was in this field today that Merlin hadn't made his choice lightly. That Merlin's literally vetoed every knight Arthur had put on him until he had found the ONE knight that fit. He wanted Merlin's choices and decisions to be respected, in a way that Arthur had never respected them. Maybe it was a lot to put on a spur of the moment fight, and maybe many of the people here would be unable to understand what Arthur was trying to say through competition, but that didn't matter.

Because Merlin would either hate him or love him depending on the end result.