#hi i feel insane about how arthur just stares at uther's hand on his shoulder

[gvaine]

1.04 ⋄ The Poisoned Chalice

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Rainbow

Prompt: have you ever heard the song rainbow by dodie? i just heard it for the first time and i cant think of anything except how much it makes me think of poor bb Merlin. if you're interested could you maybe write a little fic based on it or something? it basically just makes me think about how Merlin would feel the first time Arthur and the knights compliment him on his magic, which is something he's been so conditioned to hate and think is monstrous his whole life (':

Thank you for the prompt, babe!

Read on Ao3

Warnings: none!

Pairings: merthur, can be platonic or romantic you decide

Word Count: 2709

Merlin is magic.

The world doesn't like magic.

...does it?

The first time he sees Percival smile at him, he almost drops his bag.

 He’d barged into the armory, rubbed the wrong way from Arthur’s jests that had hit a little too close to home. Sure, in a few hours the prat would act like nothing was wrong or give Merlin some sort of soft look that would be an unspoken apology, but right now, he’s angry.

 Merlin angry is never a good thing, but it’s even less of a good thing when he’s got no one to talk to. His magic tends to…protest. A little. He’s gotten a pretty good handle on it over the years, but he’s not perfect.

 So when he swings open the door and the wooden boards decide now is the time to careen into a rack of swords, he barely glares in their direction before they freeze and sheepishly retreat back to their previous positions. He huffs and sets about getting the gloves mended.

 “Wish you could do that to the others.”

 He doesn’t want to say he jumps, because his feet never actually leave the ground, but…

 Percival isn’t paying attention to him. He just looks at the rack of swords, perfectly pristine, as if nothing ever happened. He turns to Merlin.

 “Can you do that all the time?”

 “Uh—technically, yes?”

 Percival’s face splits into a grin so wide Merlin would be worried if he didn’t know that spark behind Percival’s eyes. He echoes it warily.

 “You’re quite the man,” he says instead, clapping Merlin once on the shoulder as he leaves, “and I am honored to bear witness to it.”

 …see now normally Gwaine’s the one for flowery compliments, so coming from Percival…

 Merlin shakes it off and gets back to work. But if his face is turning up into a smile rather than the glower he’d been wearing, well, that’s just good for his worry lines.

 The first time Elyan claps him on the shoulder and says he should learn a thing or two about magic from him, Merlin stares at him like his eyes have sprouted into stalks.

 “I mean,” Elyan says as he gestures to the part of his side that’s still tingling with Merlin’s magic, “if you can make it so I don’t need stitches ever again, I’d better start paying attention, hmm?”

 Merlin blinks, still wondering whether there’s an infection settling in that would explain why Elyan is complimenting his magic. “…you could always talk to Gaius.”

 Elyan waves his hand. “I’ve gotten the battle healer speech more times than I can count, and I’ve no interest in becoming a court physician.”

 “Then you’re out of options.”

 “If you’re expecting me to believe Gaius doesn’t know anything about healing magic, I’m not going to believe you.”

 “I never said he didn’t.”

 Elyan fixes him with a look. “I could always ask you.”

 “But I learned from Gaius.”

 “Then I’ll talk to Gaius about healing magic.”

 “You shouldn’t,” Merlin blurts, “you shouldn’t talk to Gaius.”

 Elyan tilts his head. “But you just said you learned it from Gaius.”

 “I did, but—“

 “...but?”

 Merlin’s mouth opens and closes like a fish. Elyan just lies there, on the ground, as the others bicker about who’s looting what bandit. Children, honestly.

 But he can’t let them know Gaius is involved. Gaius has tried so hard to absolve himself of magic, to leave it in the past, to—to hide his magic. Told Merlin to hide it too.

 “Merlin?” Is that Elyan? “Merlin? What’s happening?”

 Merlin blinks. “What?”

 “You went away for a moment there.” Elyan frowns. “Are you alright?”

 “Yes! Yes, I’m fine, you’re the one who got shot.”

 He runs a hand over his side. “Doesn’t feel like it anymore, not thanks to you.”

 The knight gets to his feet, adjusting his tunic and armor. He smiles, reaching down to offer Merlin a hand up. Merlin takes it, still dazed.

 “We can speak about this later,” he says, “but I would like to learn from you.”

 “From m-me?”

 “Yes, Merlin, from you.”

 With that, Elyan disappears behind him. A few seconds later, he can hear him shouting with Gwaine. Merlin’s still frozen, looking down at his hands. Are they—huh.

 If he doesn’t bother to hide the golden curl of sparks around his irises the next time, well, it’s just that he wants to be sure Elyan knows exactly what the magic is.

 The first time Lancelot asks him what his favorite spell is, he drags the man into a secluded corner of the palace and hisses at him.

 “What is your problem?”

 “Easy,” Lancelot soothes, holding his hands up and letting Merlin fist his tunic, “I meant no offense.”

 “Do you have any idea how dangerous that is?”

 “What? Asking you what your favorite sp—“

 “Shut up,” Merlin growls, his hand flattening over Lancelot’s mouth, glancing around frantically, “someone could hear you.”

 A weathered hand covers his and he lets Lancelot guide his hand away, still glowering. The knight just raises his eyebrows.

 “Is it an offense to all the others that you know to pick a favorite?”

 “What? No, that’s not—they don’t care, it’s not like they’re sentient.”

 “Then forgive me—“ and how is Merlin supposed to stay angry when Lancelot smiles like that—“but I do not see the problem.”

 “You can’t just talk about magic like that,” Merlin whispers angrily, “not out in the open.”

 “Merlin, in the time that I’ve known you, you’ve done magic more brazenly than I just spoke of it.”

 “That’s different!”

 “On multiple occasions,” he continues, still smiling, “you’ve done it in front of people that would happily have seen you killed for it.”

 “Hence why I don’t really want it being spoken about!”

 Something seems to flicker across Lancelot’s face and he steps forward, gently taking Merlin by the elbows. “Merlin,” he says softly, “none of those people are here.”

 “You don’t know that.”

 “I do,” the knight corrects softly, that blasted smile still in place, “I do know that because Arthur has rooted them all out. And I’ve helped.”

 “You’ve—“ Merlin blinks in surprise— “you’ve what?”

 “There is no member of court that openly despises magic,” Lancelot insists, “and none that would dare harm a single hair on your head.”

 Merlin’s fear fizzles and spurts in his chest, soothed in part by Lancelot’s grip. He swallows heavily, letting his head drop. It meets Lancelot’s sternum with a gentle thud.

 “Sorry.”

 “Don’t apologize,” Lancelot says immediately, his chest rumbling against Merlin’s forehead, “you’ve done nothing wrong. If anything it is I who must apologize.”

 “No, it’s okay.” Merlin takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly.

 “So?”

 “So?”

 “What’s your favorite spell?”

 Merlin glances around them. There’s a window overlooking the training field not too far. Tugging Lancelot along by his sleeve, he peers outside. No one.

 “Let’s go.”

 “Oh, we need to be outside?”

 “It’ll be less suspicious.”

 If Lancelot has any issue with it, he keeps it to himself. Instead he just chuckles and lets Merlin pull him outside like an anxious toddler. He lifts a hand to block the sun from his eyes as he watches Merlin wring his hands.

 “You needn’t show me if you don’t want to.”

 “No, no, it’s fine, I just…” he takes a deep breath, “I haven’t cast this in a while.”

 He cups his hands around his mouth and murmurs softly. As he parts them, a swarm of vibrant blue butterflies fills the air around them, fluttering up from the safety of his palms. A soft smile crosses his face as he watches them fly up into the golden sun.

 “Miraculous,” he hears Lancelot murmur distantly, still caught up in the swirl of wings, “truly miraculous.”

 If Merlin lets one of the butterflies linger on Lancelot’s shoulder for a little longer, well, he’s just apologizing for dragging the man into this with him.

 The first time Gwaine calls him beautiful, he laughs.

 To say that Gwaine is a flirt is perhaps the greatest understatement in Camelot other than Kilgarrah isn’t concise.

 Seriously. He doesn’t begrudge the dragon his fun—being locked and chained in a cave under Uther Pendragon is enough to drive anyone insane with boredom—but come on.

 Anyway. Merlin’s turning away from Gwaine, dismissing the man as drunk again, only for there to be a gentle hand on his elbow turning him back.

 “I heard you the first time, Gwaine.”

 “And you laughed like you didn’t believe me.”

 “Because you’re—“

 Merlin’s eyes land on Gwaine’s and he pauses. Gwaine’s eyes are clear. Not dazed or fogged by spirits in the slightest. His mouth isn’t lolling to the side, bared in some audacious smirk, it’s not even smiling.

 Instead, Gwaine looks the most serious Merlin’s ever seen him, bar the time he got stabbed and Gwaine pressed down on his stomach like a man possessed. It makes him want to laugh again, break the tension, get Gwaine back to his normal flirty self. But his laugh comes out choked and awkward and Gwaine still hasn’t blinked.

 “If you’re looking for a warm body,” he tries instead, “try somewhere else.”

 “I’m not, Merlin,” Gwaine says with a seriousness that makes Merlin wobble. “Nor am I joking.”

 “I’m not beautiful, Gwaine.”

 “Why not?” Gwaine looks him up and down. “Because you don’t think you are or because some nitwits told you you’re not?”

 “…both?”

 “You’re wrong,” Gwaine says softly, “you’re both wrong.”

 Merlin just huffs and makes to turn away again. Gwaine stops him, standing slowly.

 “Why don’t you want to hear this?”

 “Because I don’t know what you want, Gwaine. And you should know you don’t have to ply me to get me to give you what you want.”

 “What if I don’t want anything?” Gwaine won’t let go of him. “What are you running from?”

 Merlin sighs. He lets his head hang and sets the jug on the table next to him.

 “I’m not—Gwaine, what…why?”

 “Because no one’s ever told you, Merlin,” the knight says, finally smiling as he runs his thumb along the sleeve of Merlin’s tunic, “and you deserve to hear it.”

 Merlin swallows heavily. “What makes you think I’m beautiful?”

 “Not to sound too brash—“

 “Since when have you cared about sounding brash?”

 He accepts the jibe with a nod, still smiling incredulously. “—but have you ever seen yourself when you do magic?”

 Merlin’s cheeks burn.

 He knows what Gwaine’s talking about. Some young upstart on the training field decided to show off like a pigeon about to be plucked and launched an errant spear in Merlin’s direction. He barely lifted an eyebrow and it dodged to the side as he fixed the squire with a look that said ‘do that again and it’ll be your head.’

 The knights had talked about it for hours.

 “Gwaine, I—“

 “Merlin,” Gwaine says instead, “why do you think your magic isn’t beautiful?”

 Ah.

 Well.

 That’s an interesting question.

 One that Merlin would much rather never answer or hear again, thank you very much.

 Gwaine, unfortunately, is not going to let him get away with that.

 “Merlin,” the knight prods, “Merlin?”

 Merlin’s face twists into an awful grimace. Gwaine doesn’t falter, just waits patiently.

 “Because it’s magic,” Merlin spits eventually, “it’s not supposed to be.”

 “Most things that are beautiful aren’t supposed to be.”

 “But—“

 “And just because they aren’t supposed to be doesn’t mean they are,” he continues gently. “And I don’t like seeing you grimace every time someone mentions it.”

 Merlin blinks. “I what?”

 “You make a face,” Gwaine says, “whenever people mention your magic. Like you wish you could’ve hidden it better.”

 “Because most people want me to use my magic for—“

 He cuts himself off. He shouldn’t have said that. He should not have said that. Gwaine just gives him a gentle squeeze of encouragement.

 “People want my magic,” he says eventually, “not—not—“

 “Not you?”

 Merlin nods miserably.

 “Well,” the knight says quietly, “we do. We want you. Magic and all.”

 Merlin blinks. Why did—?

 Oh. Now Gwaine’s leaving. As the door shuts behind him, Merlin stands completely still, puzzling over the words still ringing in his head.

  Magic and all.

 Merlin is inseparable from his magic. He is magic. Anyone who wants his magic is going to get—

 Oh.

  Oh.

  ‘We want you. Magic and all.’

 Most people who want his magic don’t want the man attached to it. Or rather, they do, because they want the scapegoat of someone to blame when the magic finally pays off. And most people who want Merlin don’t want the magic. Because—because—

 But Gwaine said they do.

 If Merlin stands there for a few more minutes before casting a simple spell in front of a mirror for the first time, well, he just—he just wants to see.

 The first time Leon pulls him into a hug he cries.

 “Come,” the knight murmurs, opening his arms and letting the great red cape spread out behind him, “shed your tears, Merlin, it’s alright.”

 Merlin all but falls into the firm cradle of Leon’s embrace, letting the knight tuck his head into the ginger curls and cup the back of his neck. His breaths are coming in great shuddering gasps and it hurts, it hurts, his veins feel like they’re on fire.

 “Calm yourself, Merlin,” Leon says in a low, even voice, “it’s alright. You’re safe.”

 Merlin’s safe, because Merlin has magic, but Leon isn’t. Leon is just a knight—he’s never been just a knight, but he’s just a knight, and Merlin is fire and chaos and he will hurt him.

 “You won’t,” comes the steady reply when Merlin whimpers that he will, Leon has to run before he destroys him, “you wouldn’t hurt me, Merlin, not ever.”

 But I could, an awful voice whispers in his head, I could tear you apart, bit by bit, without even lifting a finger.

 Something clenches in his gut that sends it roiling. He pitches to the side and dry heaves, horrible bitterness coating the back of his tongue.

 “You’re alright,” Leon murmurs, still rubbing his back in slow, reassuring circles, “it’s alright, Merlin, everything’s alright.”

 “No—no—it’s not—“

 “Hush now, Merlin, don’t try and speak yet, just let this go.”

 The ball of hurt in Merlin’s stomach snaps and unsnaps, coiling and recoiling until he’s dizzy, leaning entirely on Leon. Leon, of course, doesn’t even flinch at having the weight of an entire man on him. Instead, he sweeps Merlin into his arms and carries him a little further, settling him on the ground and wrapping his cape protectively around the two of them.

 “It’s all gone—“ Merlin chokes— “I destroyed it, I destroy everything—“

 “That’s not true, Merlin,” Leon says softly, “you know it isn’t.”

 “I ruin everything!”

 “You don’t,” comes the reassurance, soft, steady, unwavering, “and you know you don’t. Everything is alright, Merlin, no one is hurt, nothing is the matter, just rest.”

 “I’m sorry,” he gasps out, unable to escape the blackness roiling in his chest, “I’m sorry I have magic.”

 Shame blossoms in the wake of his words, the tears following shortly after.

 Leon simply wipes them away with a gentle hand, soothing Merlin’s whispered apologies with every stroke.

 “Never apologize for being who you are, Merlin,” Leon says firmly, holding Merlin’s unflinching gaze, “the world would be all the lesser for it.”

 “P-promise?”

 It’s the plea of a child. A desperate, frightened, lonely child.

 If Merlin refuses to let go of Leon for the next few hours after Leon promises, well, that’s his business, not yours.

 The first time Arthur tells him that he loves him, Merlin smiles as he tells him he loves him back.

[cupcakezys]

Protect.

This is, by far, the longest part to this series. As such, it will be split into three parts. Forgive me any mistake, for this one fought me the entire time I was writing it. Lucky for me, I had a sword of my own to fight back with.  

First. Previous.

Read on AO3.

Pairing: Merlin/Arthur. (This three-parter is the one folks!)

Summary: Two days after their kidnapping on the night of the full moon, Arthur surprised Merlin by asking him to eat breakfast with him. Arthur did this because he was an extremely kind prince, no matter what Merlin might say about him being a prat, and also because he was very nervous and maybe not quite over the fear of losing the only man he could, without hesitation, call a friend. Still, Arthur had been trained since birth to do many things, and faking confidence was one of them.

So, it was with great fake-confidence that he said. “So, when are we going to Ealdor to meet your imaginary friend?”

Merlin gaped at him for a moment, and Arthur tried not to feel like a fool for asking. “Unless, of course, you admit that you made him up in some misguided attempt to make me jealous, in which case I’ll be happy to let you off the hook with only a few extra chores. My stables have been needing a good mucking out for a while now.”

Arthur, of course, didn’t mention how hearing tales of Will and Merlin’s life in Ealdor had very much made him quite jealous, whether that was Merlin’s intention or not. He absolutely refused to tell him, because he already had too big of a soft-spot for Merlin, and Merlin knew it, and he really couldn’t let it get around that he cared for his servant in any meaningful way. That could lead to disaster, and many more kidnappings for Merlin, and that was the last thing Arthur wanted.

“I did not make him up!” Merlin said, voice rising in disbelief. “I can’t believe you really think that.”

Arthur grinned and bit down on a piece of sausage. “So when are we going?”

“Whenever you want.” Merlin picked up a slice of bread, fresh from the oven. He shoved it in his mouth. “And didn’t your nannies teach you manners? Don’t talk with your mouth full.”

Arthur swallowed and laughed. “You’re one to talk!”

Merlin swallowed and shot him a grin, all teeth, and for a moment Arthur got lost in the desire to lean into that smile like it was the sun, bright and dazzling. He shook it off, trying to come up with a plan.

“We could leave tomorrow, come up with some excuse for my father. Say it’s a hunting trip or something.” He said thoughtfully.

“So soon after we were kidnapped?” Merlin asked, then winced. They tried not to talk about that night, for several reasons. “Would he let you go?”

Arthur shrugged. “He might assign some guards. I could suggest he have Sir Leon come with us, he wouldn’t mind a short trip away from the castle.”

Merlin frowned. “He’s your second in command, right? I don’t think I’ve ever talked to him.”

“Of course you haven’t.” Arthur snorted. “Leon is very proper, he wouldn’t want to bother a servant working.”’

“Well.” Merlin drawled, in that voice that Arthur knew meant he still wasn’t sold on the idea. “What makes you think he’s going to agree to go to Ealdor with us, and not immediately tattle to the king?”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “Because Merlin, I’ve known Leon for years. He’s a loyal knight, but he’s also one of the few people I trust.”

Merlin looked surprised at that, but he nodded, a small smile on his face. “Alright. Good. I’ll get packing then, shall I?”

“After you finish cleaning my chambers Merlin. They’re filthy.”

Merlin spluttered, looked around the half-heartedly cleaned room, and pouted. “They’re clean enough.”

Arthur wanted to roll his eyes, call Merlin a hopeless servant that wouldn’t know clean if it hit him in the face, but he was too busy staring at those lips. Lips that were, quite frankly, sinfully pretty and plump and entirely too kissable.

Arthur shook his head free of such thoughts and stood, grabbing the last piece of bread as he went. “Whatever Merlin. Just make sure you at least tidy up a little. I am the prince you know, I deserve a clean room.”

Merlin muttered insults at his back, insults Arthur pretended he couldn’t hear, and got to work. Arthur left him to it, knowing he’d clean as much as he liked and no more, and entirely content with that. For now, he focused on getting through his own list of chores. First, to find Leon and convince him to go along with their plan, and then to find his father and request some days out for a hunting expedition. He might even throw in a little line about finding any stray bandits lurking around after the last attack. His father approved of fast retaliation, after all.

By the end of the day, Arthur was satisfied. His father had approved of his proposed plan, so long as he took Leon, and Leon had rolled his eyes but had agreed to accompany Arthur and Merlin without telling the king their true destination. After all, it wasn’t uncommon to wonder far on long hunting trips, chasing an elusive deer further than intended. Arthur had clapped Leon on the shoulder in thanks and left to tell Merlin the good news.

Merlin was, predictably, very excited to be going back to Ealdor. Arthur tried to tell him it would only be a short visit, likely no more than a week so they weren’t away from Camelot for too long. It didn’t dampen his grin in the slightest. Arthur found the happiness infectious, and so when Morgana cornered him that evening, he didn’t even flinch at her glare.

“You’re not seriously going out there again so soon, are you? Not after what happened last time!” She said, in that tone that told Arthur she would be yelling if they weren’t in a hallway crowded with servants.

“It’s just a simple hunting trip Morgana.” Arthur dismissed.

“Like two days ago was ‘just a hunting trip’?” She seethed. “Arthur, this is insane, and you know it! What if those bandits are still out there?”

“That’s exactly why I have to go!” Arthur hissed, stopping abruptly. “I have to make sure that if any bandits survived, they’re taken care of. Merlin and Leon will be going with me, we’ll be fine.”

“One knight and a servant? That’s all you’re taking? Do you have a death wish?”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “Father has agreed that a smaller group will be more likely to draw out any stray bandits. If there are any left, they’ll be weak and desperate. If they only see two knights and a servant, they’re more likely to expose themselves so we can get rid of them.”

Morgana huffed. “I still think you should take more men. What if there are more than you thought? You could get kidnapped again, or killed!”

“My my Morgana, is that concern in your voice?” Arthur teased, trying to calm Morgana down. Normally she only got like this after one of her nightmares. “I promise I’ll be back and annoying you in no time.”

Morgana frowned, but didn’t move to stop him when he left, so Arthur counted it as a win. Really, he should have known better.

They were roughly a half a day’s ride from Camelot when they found out Morgana had followed them. To make matters worse, her maidservant had insisted on coming too, not wanting to leave Morgana on her own, so now Arthur had two more people tagging along on a trip he had wanted to be only him and Merlin. At least they seemed excited enough when Merlin revealed their actual destination.

They settled down for the night, just a few hours from Ealdor. Merlin cooked for them, a faint annoyance taking over his face whenever he went to do something with his magic and realized they weren’t alone. His little pout was far too adorable for Arthur to stand for long, so he busied himself with helping Leon clear a space for them all the sleep. Morgana and Gwen took care of the horses, whispering to each other in hushed tones so quiet even Arthur couldn’t hear what they were saying.

“Food’s ready.” Merlin called a while later, and Arthur went to him greedily, starving.

Arthur took his share with a smile and slight nod, and soon enough everyone was eating around the fire.

“Why are you here Morgana?” Arthur finally asked, after the silence started to get to him.

Morgana sighed and looked down at her food. “I had a bad feeling that something was going to happen to you.”

Arthur rolled his eyes, but Leon tilted his head, considering. “A bad feeling, my lady?”

“I-“ Morgana fiddled with her dress, only stopping when Gwen squeezed her hand. She took a deep breath. “I had a nightmare. That you were fighting, and losing. I couldn’t just stay in the castle and do nothing while you were out here stupidly risking your life.”

Arthur rolled his eyes again, ready to say something scalding about the difference between dreams and reality, but a glance at Merlin stopped him. He was leaning forward, staring at Morgana intensely, and Arthur suddenly felt much more inclined to listen to her about her dreams and bad feelings.

“Well, we’re certainly in for a fight when we get back.” Arthur said instead, leaning back against the log behind him. “Father is going to be furious.”

Morgana lifted her chin. “I can handle Uther, don’t worry about that.”

Arthur raised an eyebrow. “I’m not.”

“Good.” Morgana said, crossing her arms and staring at him.

“Good.” Arthur crossed his arms right back.

Merlin rolled his eyes and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like ‘children’ under his breath. Arthur sent him a glare, only to get a sunny smile in return. He huffed.

“Alright everyone, get some sleep. I’ll take first watch. We leave at first light tomorrow.” He said.

The hours passed slowly. Arthur watched the forest around him, shivering slightly every time a cold breeze blew through their little clearing. It didn’t help that the moon was shining directly on him. It felt like it was calling to him, just like on the night of a full moon. Telling him to run, to hunt, to change.

He resisted the pull, and when it was Leon’s turn to stand watch, he gratefully laid down next to the fire, forcing his eyes shut. It took him longer than usual to fall asleep.

Sometimes he really hated the moon.

The next day saw them finally arrive in Merlin’s home village. Arthur would never admit it to anyone, but he was nervous. Merlin had been chatting non-stop about his mother and best friend since they set out, and Arthur felt he knew more about them than he did his own family. It made him feel almost desperate to impress them, to show them he was worthy of being Merlin’s friend.

Merlin all but launched himself off his horse when they arrived at his old house. Arthur and the rest of their party dismounted at a safer pace as Merlin knocked on the door to a rather small hut and danced on the spot, a happy grin on his face.

A woman opened the door, brown hair tied up in a messy bun and her posture tired but determined. Arthur watched the recognition in her eyes as Merlin shouted and pulled her into a hug, saw how she melted against his side in surprise and happiness, one hand coming up to mess with Merlin’s hair. He forced himself to look away for a moment, a pang going through his heart when he thought of how badly he wished his mother was still alive to hug him so.

“Merlin!” The woman cried. “What are you doing here?”

Merlin drew back from the hug, smile still firmly on his face, then abruptly froze. He touched his mother’s face, where Arthur saw a bruise forming. Surprise and cold anger stirred distantly in his chest.

“Mother?” Merlin questioned, soft and on the verge of fury. “Who did this to you?”

She went to answer, glanced at Arthur, and instead smiled at her son. “Why don’t you and your friends come inside?”

Merlin glanced back at Arthur, trying to visibly calm himself. “Of course. Mother, this is Prince Arthur, Lady Morgana, Guinevere and Sir Leon. Everyone, this is my mother, Hunith.”

Arthur stepped forward, his best court-smile on his face. “It is lovely to meet you Hunith. We’ve all heard a lot about you.”

Morgana moved to his side, a more genuine smile on her face. “We’re terribly sorry to arrive unannounced. We hope we won’t be any trouble.”

Hunith looked a little faint and was shooting worried glances at her son every few seconds, but she smiled and curtsied all the same. “Of course my lord, my lady. It is an honour, truly.” She stood seemingly frozen for a few moments before Merlin pointedly cleared his throat. “Right. There’s space for your horses around the back, and I have some fresh bread made if you’re hungry.”

Guinevere smiled, already pulling her horse away with Leon. “Thank you Hunith.”

Merlin was sending Arthur desperate little looks and kept glancing at his mother. Arthur nodded. He got the message loud and clear. He grabbed Morgana’s arm firmly, ignoring the look she sent him.

“We’ll go with them.” He said.

Merlin smiled at him thankfully and pulled his mother inside, body tense. Arthur could only imagine what he must be feeling, coming home and seeing his mother injured so. Arthur was already feeling the anger pumping through his chest, and he didn’t even properly know Hunith yet. Morgana put up with his grip on her arm for a few more seconds before she grumbled and pulled away.

“What was that?” She hissed.

Arthur looked at her. “Merlin clearly wanted a moment to talk with her alone. Whatever happened to her has got him really riled up, and I doubt Hunith would want to tell him when there are a bunch of strangers in her house.”

“What?” Morgana frowned, glancing black at the house. “You got all from one look?”

Arthur laughed. “Oh please, it’s not that hard. Merlin’s like an open book when it comes to his emotions, it gets embarrassing sometimes.”

He fully expected Morgana to snipe back something about men being allowed to have feelings, or how not everyone was an emotionless brat of a prince, but strangely enough she just sent him an odd look and went to Guinevere’s side. Arthur shook it off, wondering idly if he’d ever understand women, and realising the answer was probably not. He sighed.

“Sire?” Leon called, drawing his attention out of his head. “Something feels wrong.”

Arthur narrowed his eyes. “How so?”

“The village is too quiet. No one was on the streets when we arrived, and no one came to see who we were.” Leon glanced around. “Not to mention Merlin’s mother. She was clearly struck by someone.”

“What are you suggesting?” Arthur murmured.

“It could be many things sire. Perhaps an angry husband?”

“No.” Arthur shook his head. “Merlin’s father left before he was born, and his mother’s never married. And it wouldn’t explain the quiet town.”

Leon bowed his head in a nod. “An attack then?”

“Bandits?” Arthur asked, straightening.

Leon shrugged. “Perhaps.”

“Hey!” Morgana called, startling them both. “If you two are finished with your whispering, Hunith is calling us inside. She’s made tea.”

Arthur and Leon shared a look before following after her. Hunith greeted them with a smile and ushered them into the smallest house Arthur had ever seen, and then through to a tiny kitchen, barely big enough to fit them all. Merlin was sat at a small table, glaring into a cup of tea. Whatever Hunith had told him must have been bad.

Hunith bustled about, making sure they all had a cup and were comfortable. Morgana and Gwen chose to sit in the remaining chairs, while Leon stood near the door, trying to stay out of the way. Arthur chose to stand beside Merlin, offering his friend the same comfort he got during feasts or long meetings he forced Merlin to attend with him. Merlin shot him a look, thankful and angry all at once.

Guinevere was the first to speak. “Thank you for this.”

Hunith smiled, though it was strained and didn’t reach her eyes. “It’s quite alright my dear. It’s not often that I get guests, so this is a nice change of pace, even if it is a surprise.”

She glanced at Merlin at that, causing him to duck his head in embarrassment. “Sorry.”

The conversation stilled after that, until Arthur spoke up. “Forgive me Hunith, but we couldn’t help but notice the village is a bit quieter than we expected. Has something happened recently?”

Hunith looked into her cup, tense and eyes far away. “A group of bandits have been terrorizing the village for the past few days. Two days ago their leader rode in and demanded all of our harvest. There are many children here, and the winters are harsh.” Merlin reached out for her and squeezed her hand. “Some of them won’t be strong enough to survive, and if Kanen takes our harvest I don’t think all the adults will live to summer either.”

Guinevere gasped and Morgana looked grim, like she had known from the beginning. Arthur shot a glance at Leon. His knight nodded back, a grim smile on his face. They had guessed right, and Arthur had never before wished so hard that they had been wrong.

“Surely you could appeal to Cenred for help? He is you king.” Arthur said.

Hunith shook her head. “Our king cares little for the outlying villages. We’ve appealed to him many times, and he has yet to send us any aid.”

Arthur felt anger bubble up in his chest. He had known Cenred was a selfish and greedy king, but this was disgraceful. His people were in danger, and he refused to help them! It went against everything Arthur had been taught about being a king.

“I was going to go to Camelot to plead for help there. I thought perhaps King Uther would be more likely to help us.” Hunith continued.

“He would.” Arthur said, confident, then wilted. “But Ealdor is beyond our borders.”

“Why does that matter?” Merlin asked, agitated.

“Because if he were to send any type of army to Ealdor, Cenred would see it as a declaration of war.” Leon explained, looking pained. “Thousands would die. He couldn’t afford risking the peace.”

Morgana glowered at her tea, clearly disagreeing. “He could send troops in disguise. It wouldn’t be that hard.”

“Even if he did.” Arthur interrupted before Morgana could really get going. “By the time they got back here it could already be too late.”

Silence descended on the room, before Merlin spoke up, voice right and determined. “Then what are we going to do?”

“We’re going to come up with a plan.” Arthur said, determined. “And then we’re going to get rid of those bandits.”

They spent hours going through plans. Arthur wanted to gather the villagers and rally them to fight back, but Morgana reasoned that they were untrained people, not soldiers like Arthur was used to commanding. Hunith said that they would be willing to stand up and fight for their home if it came down to it, but Arthur knew that was a last resort.

“How many men does Kanen have, do you know?” Arthur asked Hunith.

She shrugged helplessly. “I’m not sure. It could be as many as forty, from what I’ve seen.”

Leon looked grim at the news. He had suggested a surprise attack on the bandit camp during the night. Hunith had shot that idea down fast, saying they had no idea where Kanen and his men even were, and neither did they have the numbers to face him. Morgana had growled and suggested they set up traps around the outside of the village. Leon liked that idea, and soon enough the two of them were planning the best way to trap the bandits before they could even reach the village the next time they attacked.

Arthur left them to it. Once Morgana set her mind to something there wasn’t much that could stop her, and setting up a few traps would only help them. Guinevere was helping Hunith clean up and talking to her in low tones. Arthur looked around and then grabbed Merlin’s arm and tugged him out of the room.

“So what’s our plan?” Merlin whispered.

“I’m thinking we find out where those barbarians are hiding and get rid of them.” Arthur whispered back. “You in?”

“Of course.” Merlin said, fierce and with gold swirling in his eyes. “We have to make sure they can’t come back.”

“You know any spells that could help us?”

Merlin thought and hesitantly nodded. “Yeah, yeah I do.”

“Excellent. We’ll talk to the villagers, see if they have any idea where they might be. Then we go at night and strike while they’re asleep.” Arthur pulled a face. “It’s not exactly honourable, but we can’t afford to fight fair.”

Merlin nodded. “Just the two of us?”

“If you want to be able to use your magic freely.” Arthur whispered.

Merlin nodded again. “Yeah. Okay.”

Arthur grinned and slung an arm around Merlin’s shoulders, ignoring his racing heart at the close contact. “Then let’s go ask around. We might even meet that friend of yours, if he even exists.”

Merlin blushed a pretty red that disappeared into his neckerchief. “For the last time Arthur, I didn’t make Will up!”

Arthur laughed and pulled Merlin back towards the kitchen, arm still around his shoulders. “We’re going to ask around the village, see if anyone knows anything that might help us.”

Morgana waved a hand at him, not even looking up at them. Leon looked up, a question in his eyes, and Arthur shook his head. He wouldn’t need a guard for a quick trip around a small village. Leon turned back to Morgana. Guinevere and Hunith simply nodded in acknowledgement, the latter sending Merlin a look Arthur didn’t understand.

Merlin slipped out from under his arm, a faint blush still on his cheeks, and Arthur tried to ignore how keenly he missed having Merlin pressed up against him. They slipped out of the house, Merlin leading the way into the village proper.

They made it only a few steps before someone came running towards them, a grin on his face and eyes locked on Merlin.

“Will!” Merlin called, as bright and happy as the smile that lit up his face.

“Merlin!” The other boy laughed and raced over.

Will, who was rather plain looking if you asked Arthur, and not at all handsome, laughed and hugged Merlin. Merlin laughed and hugged back. They separated soon after, and Arthur wondered what it must be like, to be able to embrace a friend so easily. It sent something sharp through his heart that he viciously ignored.

“What are you doing here?” Will asked, messing up Merlin’s hair, to much protest.

“It’s good to see you again too Will.” Merlin mumbled sullenly, trying to fix his hair. “As for why I’m here-“

“Merlin here thought it would be a good idea to visit.” Arthur forced a grin, walking up to the two and trying to ignore the weird feeling in his chest. “I think he was feeling homesick.”

“That’s not it at all, you prat.” Merlin rolled his eyes and turned back to Will. “Arthur was convinced you didn’t exist. He insisted I bring him to Ealdor to prove your existence, or else he was going to tell anyone that listened that I was a friendless pauper.”

“Well.” Arthur cleared his throat, slightly embarrassed. “It’s not my fault all your stories are so unbelievable.”

Will looked between them in confusion before his gaze settled on Arthur. “And who are you?”

Arthur stood a little taller, shoulders back. “Prince Arthur of Camelot.”

Will blinked, then turned an unimpressed look to Merlin. “This is the prince you’re skivvying for?”

Merlin spluttered. “I’m not a skivvy!”

Arthur snorted. “No, you’re a servant, and a terrible one at that.”

Merlin pouted at him. Arthur ignored him, instead eyeing Will as Will eyed him. Will met his eyes unflinchingly, just as Merlin always did, and Arthur wondered if Ealdor taught all its children to be so bold. Somehow, Arthur figured that wasn’t the case. Merlin and his friend were simply special.

Merlin was the one to break the silence. “Mother told us about the bandits.”

Will’s eyes turned sad. “I’m sorry about what happened to her.”

Merlin nodded, and Arthur spoke up. “We aren’t going to let it happen to anyone else.”

Will narrowed his eyes at him. “What are you going to do? Kanen has too many men, even if we could fight, we wouldn’t stand a chance of winning. We’d be better off just giving him what he wants.”

“And let everyone starve?” Arthur asked, incredulous.

Will sent him a dirty look. “We’ll manage. We’ll survive.” He turned up his nose. “That’s better than what’ll happen if we fight. Kanen would kill us all and take what he wants anyway.”

“Will.” Merlin said, warningly.

Arthur ignored him and crossed his arms. “The only way men like him can be stopped is if you stand up to them.”

“No.” Will growled, getting close to Arthur and jabbing his finger into his chest. “You just want the honour and glory of battle! That's what drives men like you! If you want to die then go ahead and fight, but don’t drag the rest of us down with you!”

“Will!” Merlin yelled, forcing them apart and standing in front of Arthur. “That’s enough!”

Will glared at them both, fuming, and then stormed off. Arthur watched him go, anger and confusion swirling in his chest.

“What the hell just happened?” He asked.

“I’m sorry Arthur.” Merlin sighed, turning to face him. “I should have known something like this would happen. His father was killed fighting for King Cenred, so he doesn't trust anyone of nobility.”

“That seemed like more than simple mistrust.” Arthur raised an eyebrow.

Merlin glanced back to where Will had disappeared around a hut. “He just doesn’t want anyone else to die.”

Arthur grunted. “Then he should see why they cannot simply roll over and give in to Kanen’s every command.”

Merlin nodded, shifting on his feet. “Will you be alright on your own for a bit?”

Arthur wasn’t even surprised. “Going to talk some sense into him?”

Merlin shot him a quick grin. “I hope. Besides, we aren’t actually going to ask anyone to fight. He’ll calm down once he knows that.”

“I’m sure I’ll be fine on my own for a while.” Arthur rolled his eyes, no bite and all fond. “I’m hardly going to get into trouble in a tiny place like this.”

Merlin frowned. “You never know with you.”

“Oi!” Arthur protested.

Merlin grinned and glanced around, then turned back to Arthur with determined eyes. “Gebeorgan min baldor fram hearm.” His eyes flashed gold, making Arthur’s heart beat faster, and he grinned in satisfaction. “There. Now you’ll be fine.”

Arthur shoved him, heart pounding in his ears. “Go on.”

Merlin smiled, as bright and intoxicating as ever. He turned to go after Will, not quite running after his friend. Arthur watched him go, something incredibly fond in his chest. It left him frozen in place for a moment, watching as Merlin disappeared. Then he forcibly shook himself and went to find some villagers to talk to.

Arthur spent an hour speaking with anyone that would talk to him. Few were open with him, a stranger in their midst, but some welcomed him. None of them knew any details, much to his disappointment, but one old lady managed to point him in the direction the bandits had ridden off to after they had attacked. He thanked her and bowed regally, causing her to blush and wave him away.

He was heading back to Hunith’s when he saw Will leaning against a building. He gestured for Arthur to follow, movements stiff. Arthur narrowed his eyes. Merlin was nowhere to be found, and Will had walked around the side of the building, out of Arthur’s sight.

He hesitated for only a moment, then followed.

-

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