Merlin - Where This Road May Go 5/9 (Arthur/Merlin, Gwen/Morgana - pg13)
Title: Where This Road May Go 5/9
Author: batgurl88
Pairing/Characters: Arthur/Merlin, Gwen/Morgana, Gaius, Uther, Nimueh
Wordcount: 7,189 (52,352 overall)
Summary: Arthur is a royal who can't remember his past. Merlin and Gaius are con-men, hoping to return Arthur to Uther for a hefty reward, but little do they know they have the real deal on their hands.
A/N: Some lines and plot aspects respectfully borrowed from both Fox’s Anastasia and BBC’s Merlin. Beta’d by the marvelous justicemischief.
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Where This Road May Go
Part Five
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"Fantastic. So, the brilliant new plan is to walk to Paris, is it?" Arty complained from the rear of the group.
Merlin sighed impatiently, raising his eyes to the heavens. They had spent the night camped out in the miserable forest near where the train had derailed, and first light had granted them an early start on their trek across the countryside.
They'd had a sufficient amount of food - the provisions they'd brought with them from St. Petersburg were more than enough to suffice for the evening and morning - and their coats had served as blankets in their makeshift shelter beneath the trees. Most of the previous day's snow had melted away as they walked, the air already much warmer than what they'd left behind in Russia. Nevertheless, the rotten accommodations had left them all in a rather crabby mood.
"Of course not, Your Grace," he replied sarcastically, doing his best to make the title sound like the equivalent of a dung-heap. "We're going to Stralsund to catch a ship to France."
"So, we're walking to Germany, then?" Gwen inquired tiredly.
"Just part of the way," Merlin answered in a much more pleasant tone than the one he'd granted Arty, knowing it would annoy him. "We'll try and catch a bus for the other part."
Despite his initial misgivings about her accompanying them, he'd found it rather hard to be angry with Gwen for any period of time. Her friendly countenance was simply too contagious. The girl was hardly seen without a smile on her face, and even Gaius - for all that his age did not appear to agree with their new mode of transportation - seemed the better for it.
Speaking of his partner, Gwen was giving him a rather concerned look, wincing at his small groans of pain and his stiffer-than-normal gait.
"Are you all right, Gaius?" she inquired kindly, placing a hand on his arm.
Gaius nodded, waving away her concern. "Yes, yes, quite all right. It's been a long time since these old bones have been up to such adventure, I fear."
"Don't mind him," Merlin grinned back at her. "He's always pulling the age card when he wants out of something. He's probably just gearing up to avoid buying our meal at the next city we pass."
He felt rather than saw Gaius' glare on the back of his neck.
"Yes, it's a shame we don't all have your vitality and youth, Merlin. Perhaps you could put it to better use walking rather than criticizing the rest of us?"
Arty snorted appreciatively, causing Merlin to scowl.
"Yes, Merlin," he agreed, a smug grin in his voice. "Why don't you shut up for a while?"
"I'm not the one whining about having to do a bit of walking," Merlin countered crossing his arms over his jacket.
"No, you're the one bothering everyone with your extremely large mouth."
"We could view this as a fortunate opportunity," Gaius interrupted between pained grunts, "to fortify Arty's knowledge of what it is to be a grand duke."
"What's there to know?" Arty asked, frowning. "They're the sons of the tsar, and they were all supposedly killed off in the revolution."
"Well, that's hardly going to impress Morgana," replied Gaius distractedly. Merlin shot a warning look behind him that was pointedly ignored.
"Who's Morgana?" Gwen asked, confused. "I thought we were going to see Prince Uther."
"She's the Comtesse de Montferrier, and the prince's first cousin. No one sees Uther without convincing her first," answered the older man, his eyes on his aching feet. Merlin frantically signalled him to be quiet, but the damage was already done.
"What?"
Merlin winced, feeling Arty bristle behind him. He'd been hoping to spring that particular surprise a little more gracefully, given Arty's reluctance to accompany them in the first place.
"I have to convince his cousin?" Arty demanded loudly, stopping in the middle of the road. "You never said I'd have to prove I was the grand duke!"
Merlin approached him with an uneasy grin, his hands out before him in what he hoped was a gesture of penitence. "Well, it's the only way to see the prince, really."
Arty scowled, crossing his arms. "I'm not going to lie!"
"Who says it's a lie?" he asked innocently, stepping forward with caution. This had to be played delicately. "For all you know, you could be the grand duke. We're just offering you the chance to find out."
Scoffing, Arty looked down at his ragged clothes, no better for having jumped from a train the day before. "Have you seen me? I'm not exactly grand duke material! I wouldn't know the first thing about it!"
"We can teach you," Gaius interrupted as Merlin nodded encouragingly. "The mannerisms, the history - everything you'd need to know."
The orphan looked between them helplessly before giving a frustrated groan, throwing his arms up in the air.
"Look, this isn't what I signed on for, all right?" Arty shook his head, turning back down the road. "I just wanted to go to Paris, and I can do that without you."
"Oh yeah?" Merlin called after him angrily, seeing his chances at a fortune slipping away with each step. "How're you going to do that, exactly, without a visa? Russia's not the only country that requires travel papers, you know."
"I'll figure something out," was the stubborn reply.
Left behind, Gwen eyed Gaius and Merlin uncertainly. "... It's just that I sort of came with him..." she explained awkwardly, gesturing to the departing orphan before trailing after him.
Gaius sighed heavily. "Well, that could have gone better."
"Oh, you think?" barked Merlin, glaring at his partner. "Why'd you have to go blabbering on about Morgana?"
"He was going to find out eventually," the old man defended, his eyebrows snapping together. "I don't know why you thought you could keep it from him. And you really shouldn't get him so wound up."
"Wha- He started it!" he retorted incredulously. He sighed, running his hand through his hair. "I guess I should probably go stop them."
"No, I think you've done quite enough for the moment," Gaius replied, moving to lean against a nearby tree. "Have patience. We'll give him a chance to cool down, and then go talk to him."
* * *
Arty huffed as he stalked down the road. The nerve of that skinny, big-eared idiot! Expecting him to cheat his way to an audience with the prince. He shook his head angrily. Fooling himself into believing there was a chance he could be the grand duke was one thing, but outright lying about it was something else.
"Are you all right?" Gwen asked, jogging to keep up with him, her small suitcase in tow. "You seem really upset by this whole thing."
He whirled on her. "How can they expect me to pretend to be royalty? There's nothing royal about me! I'm just an orphan from nowhere who doesn't even know his real name."
Gwen stayed quiet, sympathy in her eyes. They'd reached a small covered bridge over a thawing stream, and Arty sighed as he leaned against the wooden railing, staring out at the water.
"There's no way I could pull it off," he said to himself, looking down at his reflection. He couldn't bear the thought of getting his hopes up over this, only to face more disappointment. The trip had already had its fair share of it.
"But that's not true," Gwen protested, setting down her bag and standing just behind him. "Merlin and Gaius have offered to teach you, and they've already said how much you look and sound like Arthur. If it's just a matter of learning, there's no reason you couldn't do it."
She didn't understand.
"And then what?" he demanded, frowning as he kicked a small stone off the bridge into the water, the ripples distorting his reflection. "I convince myself I could be Arthur and get all the way to France just to find out they're not my family after all."
"At least you'd be in Paris," she offered softly. "And you'd be on your way to finding your real family, whoever they are."
He turned to her, guarded but hopeful, as if everything didn't ride on her answer. "Do you think it's possible? That I could be who they say I am?"
To her credit, she didn't answer right away, leaning against the railing as she considered it seriously. "I think... anything's possible..." she answered carefully, glancing sideways at him. "But if you're always afraid of being disappointed, you're never going to get anywhere, regardless of whether or not you go with them."
He sighed. "You don't know what it was like- Showing up at the orphanage without a single clue who I was or where I'd come from. Waiting by the window every day for someone to come looking for me. And when no one came..." Arty shook his head, turning away to face the stream as his thoughts turned to his necklace. "All my life, all I've ever wanted is to know where I belong. If there's even a chance I could be who they say I am..."
"Sounds like you've made up your mind," she concluded with a smile.
Arty ran a hand through his hair, sighing again as he spotted Gaius and Merlin walking down the road after them. "I guess I have." He eyed Gwen hopefully, "You're still coming with us, aren’t you? I mean, you're not heading back to Russia?"
She shook her head, excited. "Of course I'll still come. It’ll be an even bigger adventure than I thought, seeing you become royalty."
Merlin and Gaius drew nearer, hauling the rest of their luggage. They set it down, Merlin folding his arms, obviously still unimpressed by Arty’s earlier display.
"Well?" Gaius inquired, raising an eyebrow. "Are you still leaving us, or would you like to find out what awaits you in Paris?"
Arty sighed, Gwen giving his arm a reassuring squeeze.
"All right, fine. I'll do it," he agreed, pushing away from the railing. "How hard could it be?"
* * *
As it turned out, plenty hard.
"A grand duke is of royal blood," Merlin had started out by explaining.
"A grand duke is of royal blood," repeated Arty slowly, his tone as dry as paper. "That is quite the nugget of information, Merlin. I do hope I can look forward to further such gems over the course of my education."
Merlin thinned his lips, seemingly unimpressed with the interruption. "As I was saying, they're born with a certain poise and confidence that's hard to replicate. They're practically bred for the life. As much as you may look like the grand duke, it's going to be hard work schooling yourself to act that way."
Which was how Arty wound up walking the next three miles down the road, listening as the two men extolled on the virtues of a velikii kniaz, while attempting to balance a heavy bound book about royal etiquette on the top of his head.
"No, keep your back straight," Gaius guided as the book slid off again and fell to the ground. "Chin up and level with the floor."
"Imagine a string pulling you straight up from the top of your head," added Merlin helpfully, looking rather amused.
Arty glared at the pair of them, bending over to pick the book up again. "If it's so easy, why don't you try it?" he said, settling it on his head once more. His hair was going to look ridiculous when this was done, he was sure.
Merlin stood up taller, frowning. "It's not me who's got to impress the comtesse," he defended.
Sighing, Arty tried again, feeling stiffer and more uncomfortable that he'd ever felt in his life. How could anyone be expected to walk like this? It's a wonder the royals ever got anywhere.
Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Gwen covertly sneaking a book onto the top of her head. He noted with some envy that she appeared to be having far less difficulty than he was. Perhaps women were born with a natural gift for this sort of thing.
"You're still leaning forward too much," Merlin criticized as they came to a fork in the road. "Straighten your shoulders more."
Fed up, he started to bite out a comeback but stopped, composing himself. Straightening his shoulders, he glided past Merlin, digging out the most imperious tone he could muster. "You know, it's probably just as well it’s not you trying this. Behaving like royalty isn't for everyone. Such things are best left to those with natural grace and talent. Someone as awkward as you could never manage."
Merlin narrowed his eyes.
Which was how the three of them wound up walking the next two miles down the road with books balanced precariously on their heads as Gaius explained the history of the Russian monarchy, all the while shooting them exasperated looks.
Arty's mood had improved considerably.
"Not as easy as it looks, is it?" he gloated, watching as Merlin - too busy minding the book on his head to keep an eye on the path - stumbled over a tree branch, sending the book flying. Grumbling to himself, he bent to pick it up again, ignoring Arty.
Gwen, on the other hand, continued to fare far better than either of them, her book staying mostly in place as she walked. Arty privately thought her thick curly hair gave her an unfair advantage, but said nothing. She continued to dart concerned glances back and forth between the two of them as they bickered.
Arty's book slipped forward a bit, but he kept it from sliding off, impressing himself with his own skill even as Merlin's book fell off again.
"Come on, Merlin," he goaded. "Just prop it between those ridiculous ears of yours. That should keep it in place."
The glare he received in response was withering, and he smirked. It was about time that mouthy little upstart was put in his place.
"Are any of you paying attention to what I'm saying?" Gaius demanded, raising a severe eyebrow as he interrupted his own speech on the proper way to eat stroganoff at a formal dinner. Gwen shot him a sympathetic look while the other two largely ignored him.
Merlin's book continued to slide, and his expression soured. "I think mine is bigger than yours."
Arty snorted, biting back the rude comment on the tip of his tongue out of respect for Gwen's presence. Instead, he rolled his eyes. "They're the same size, idiot. You're just clumsy."
The other man shook his head, oblivious. "No, mine definitely has thicker pages. The weight distribution is off."
"That," Arty said, stopping and taking the book off of his head, "Is the single dumbest thing you've said so far. A very impressive feat, mind you - you've made some pretty stupid remarks."
Merlin stopped as well, affronted, his brow set in anger as he opened his mouth to retort-
"So, what else has Arty got to learn, Gaius?" Gwen interjected in an obvious attempt to keep the peace.
Gaius seemed grateful for the intervention. "Well, there are all the manners of the court, of course," he replied with far more enthusiasm than was strictly necessary, pleased to have an audience at last. "And some skill with the grand duke's pastimes, as well as the history of the Russian royal family. He'll have to learn all about the grand duke in particular - his habits, his friends, that sort of thing."
"I have to learn all of that?" Arty asked, feeling a bit intimidated. "How long do you think that'll take?"
"The rest of the trip, I expect. If we work at it," Gaius replied, unconcerned, as if he hadn't just suggested Arty learn a lifetime's worth of details and trivia in the space of two months or so.
"It's all right," Gwen assured him quietly, reading his expression. "We'll all help you."
"Yeah," said Merlin, fighting a grin. "We'll try to use as many small words as possible. It'll be no problem at all."
He ducked as Arty chucked the heavy book in his direction, laughing as it missed.
Sighing heavily to himself, Gaius pinched the bridge of his nose. "This is going to be a very long trip."
* * *
"A duke," Merlin called out, his arms folded where he leaned against a tree.
Arty inclined his head as Gwen bowed deeply. "My Lord Duke."
"Good. A princess of royal blood," said Gaius.
"Your Highness," bowed Arty to Gwen's curtsey, lightly kissing her proffered hand.
"Don't bend quite so much," instructed Merlin, moving forward to demonstrate. "You're the Grand Duke of Russia - you outrank all but the tsar and tsaritsa.”
Arty nodded, slightly overwhelmed. They'd been at it for almost five days now. His head was beginning to spin with names and dates and bits of protocol, and it was starting to feel as though he could not do a single thing without an annoying voice in his head - sounding infuriatingly like Merlin - reminding him of how Arthur would have done it.
He grit his teeth, repeating the bow. "Your Highness."
Gwen curtsied again with a laugh. "Your Imperial Highness."
They'd stopped for a rest just outside of Vilnius, Merlin taking the opportunity to school him on the proper way to greet dignitaries. As it turned out, Merlin was secretly as much of a stickler for details as Gaius was, hounding Arty for every mistake and insisting he do it again and again until it was perfect.
Arty was now firmly convinced that royals were insane from birth - why else would they waste all their time worrying about standing correctly or using the proper fork at a banquet? Speaking of eating-
His stomach growled loudly. "Are we done yet?" he asked, thinking fondly of the wrapped up kielbasa in the rucksack, leftover from when they'd last been through town.
"You can worry about eating once you've got this right," Merlin said harshly, folding his arms again. "A baron?"
Scowling, Arty started to refuse, but Merlin merely raised his eyebrows in a rather scary imitation of Gaius. "Do you want to meet the prince or don't you? A baron?" he repeated.
Heaving a frustrated sigh and plotting squishy things to leave in Merlin's bedroll later that evening, Arty inclined his head to Gwen. "My Lord."
* * *
"Uncle Tristan?"
"Tristan Gorloisovich Vasiliev. Second son of Gorlois Vasiliev. Born in Moscow, lived in St. Petersburg," answered Arty tiredly, sitting cross-legged and rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands.
Gaius nodded. "General Bounine?"
"General Sergei Pavlovich Bounine. Born in Yekaterinburg. Served the Russian army in Bucharest. Trusted friend of Tsar Ector."
"Your father," Gaius corrected meaningfully.
"Right," he sighed. "Trusted friend of my father, Tsar Ector."
They were stopped again for lunch, more than two days' journey from Warsaw, taking their meal on the ground near an expanse of trees as Merlin poured over photographs of the Russian royal family, searching for any details he may have missed. He and Gaius had been working nonstop to prepare Arty, spending every spare moment on his lessons, but there was still so much more for him to learn. At this rate, Merlin feared they would not be ready to see the comtesse when they arrived in Paris. Every extra day they were delayed was another day of funds wasted on lodgings, with the ever-looming threat that someone else might beat them to the reward.
"Lena Tarasova?" Gwen piped up, having taken to her part in Arty's studies quite enthusiastically, claiming the new knowledge as "fascinating."
"Lena Tarasova," Arty echoed, his brow furrowing in concentration. "Er..."
"Yes?" prompted Merlin, looking up from a photo of the Petrovin children.
"Maidservant to Tsarevna Helen; served my family for ten years..." he trailed off uncertainly.
"And?" Merlin prompted, frowning.
Arty closed his eyes, searching for the answer. "And... er ..."
"And she used to bring wildflowers for the grand duchess' chambers!" groaned Merlin, his head falling back against the tree in frustration. "Morgana will expect to hear details like that. We went over this a dozen times!"
"Well, I'm sorry, but maybe trying to memorize an entire family history in two weeks just isn't possible!" Arty argued back, equally frustrated. "We've been going at it for fifteen days straight now! Can't I just take a break for a bit?"
"No, you can't just 'take a break,'" countered Merlin, standing. "I thought you wanted to take this seriously!"
"It took the real Arthur a lifetime to learn these things!" Arty shouted, throwing up his hands. "He probably didn't even know all of it. How can I be expected to memorize so much in such a short time?"
He glared, the fingers of his right hand playing agitatedly with the gold chain around his neck. Merlin glared right back at him.
"Maybe if you were paying attention instead of always fiddling with that stupid necklace of yours you'd actually be able to learn something," he spat, crossing his arms.
Arty's expression pinched together, his eyes narrowing dangerously. "Look, I didn't ask to be a part of your little lessons - you asked me! And I'm sick of studying all this pointless trivia. Who cares how many spoons are in a formal dining setting? And who cares how the grand duke preferred his horses to be groomed? None of it means anything! I should have just gone to Paris myself."
"Well, if that's how you feel, maybe you should go," Merlin said, standing his ground.
"Maybe I will!"
"Fine."
"Fine!"
Arty turned on his heel, stalking off into the trees as Merlin huffed, taking his seat again and tearing angrily at a bread roll.
Gwen and Gaius exchanged meaningful glances.
"Arty's trying his best," Gaius commented, returning his eyes to the new travel visas he was making for their passage into Germany. "He's under enormous pressure. You could try to be a little more understanding."
"His best isn't good enough!" Merlin raged. "We see the comtesse in a matter of weeks and he can't even remember the names of all the grand duke's horses. Morgana will spot a mistake in an instant, and Uther will spot it faster than that. He needs to be perfect."
"Still, imagine it from his point of view," the other man continued, sounding uninterested as he carefully penned the letters of Gwen's name. "Three weeks ago, he had no past, no family, no formal training, and suddenly we've foisted all these rules and names and dates upon him as if they should be second thought. It takes a lifetime to become a grand duke, after all."
Merlin sighed, feeling some of his anger ebb away. "Well, a lifetime is the one thing we don't have."
* * *
The ice was slippery beneath his feet, the cold winter wind whipping across his face, leaving him numb. His heart pounded beneath his ribcage, threatening to burst.
Cruel red eyes glared at him from across the river. Desperately, he ran for firm ground, but the edge of the bank got farther and farther away with each step until his feet slid out from under him.
"You'll not escape this time."
He shouted for help, reaching his arm out as far as he could stretch it, even as he felt the ice cracking beneath him-
Arty jerked awake, an odd mixture of anger and what could only be fear coursing through him. It was the same nightmare that had haunted him as a child, but it had been years since he'd last dreamt of the evil monster his mind had created.
He sighed, letting his head fall back against his thin pillow as he waited for his breathing to even out again, rubbing a tired hand over his face. It was all these royalty lessons, he decided. They did odd things to a person's brain.
They'd made it to Warsaw only that evening, deciding to stop for the night, finding a room at a small inn. Despite this being the third week of their travels, Gaius and Merlin had once again waved off his offers to contribute what few kopeks he had to the fund for their lodgings, insisting it would be taken care of. Privately, he wondered if his companions were into forging more than just travel papers. The atmosphere between him and Merlin had been tense the last few days, and - exhausted already from their travels - everyone had unanimously agreed to turn in early.
Sighing again, Arty shuffled his feet beneath his blanket, trying to shake off the uneasy feeling of the nightmare.
"You all right?"
Arty absolutely did not jump at the voice - he merely turned alertly, finding Merlin staring at him from his nearby bedroll. He scowled, embarrassed that his nightmare had attracted such attention.
"Why do you care?" he demanded quietly in a petulant tone, turning on his side away from the other man.
Merlin frowned. "I was just asking," he whispered, settling back down into his bed.
Something in his voice made Arty regret snapping. He sighed, glancing back over his shoulder.
"It's nothing," he dismissed, trying not to wake Gwen who was dozing lightly on the other side of him. "Just a bad dream."
"Oh," Merlin said, sounding surprised that Arty had spoken. "All right, then."
Silence fell, interrupted only by Gaius' loud snores. Merlin seemed to be struggling with something, quietly arguing with himself.
"You... You did all right today, you know," he said after a moment, staring resolutely at the ceiling.
Arty blinked at the unexpected compliment, but cleared his throat softly, conjuring up a cocky tone. "Of course I did," he whispered back. "I was born for this stuff, right?"
Merlin huffed a laugh. "I wouldn't go that far," he retorted half-heartedly.
Silence followed again, though Arty knew the other man was still awake. He turned on his back.
"I hate sleeping on the ground," he complained softly.
"I've slept on worse," Merlin shrugged.
Arty had as well - the beds at the orphanage had been as hard as rocks - but that didn't make him like it any. Frowning into his pillow, he longed for the cool feel of a feather mattress beneath him, which was confusing, since he'd never so much as glimpsed at a real feather mattress, let alone touched one to ascertain its temperature. Chalking it up to a good imagination, he punched at his pillow in a vain attempt to make it more comfortable.
Finally he sighed, resigning himself to the soreness he’d face come morning.
"So, how come you're okay with leaving Russia?" Arty wondered, glancing at Merlin again. "Won't your family miss you?"
Merlin continued to stare up at the ceiling, looking vaguely uncomfortable.
"It was just me and my mom," he replied quietly after a moment. "She died when I was four, and I got sent off to- to work."
"Oh," said Arty awkwardly, regretting bringing it up. "I'm sorry."
"Not your fault," was Merlin's response, though Arty could tell he was forcing a light tone. "I mean, I loved her and all, but I've been on my own for so long that I don't really miss it, you know?"
Arty didn't know. He'd never known anything except the ache for a family, and could not conceive of the idea of going through the rest of his life without one. "Doesn't it get sort of ... I don't know, lonely?" he asked, suddenly wondering if it was just him that felt that way.
Merlin frowned, bringing an arm up to rest behind his head and looking thoughtful. "I've got Gaius," he offered. "He's pretty much like family, I guess."
"Yeah," Arty said, frowning. He really couldn't understand how Merlin could be so unconcerned about it. To him, finding his family - a place to belong - was the most important thing in the world. He'd never really thought about what might matter to other people.
"So, how come you're doing this, anyway?" he asked. "Why go through all this trouble just to find the grand duke?"
Merlin was quiet for a long time. Just when Arty began to think he might have fallen asleep, he answered.
"I dunno. Haven't you ever wanted to be someone important?"
Arty frowned, thinking. Sure, in his early life, when Lada Kuzmina was being particularly irksome, he'd daydreamed about being the lost son of a rich merchant or duke, imagining the look on old Lada's face when his family appeared in fine things to claim him. He supposed that finding the lost Grand Duke of Russia brought with it certain notoriety as well. However, something in Merlin's voice made him think there was more to it than that.
He heard Merlin sigh. "Goodnight, Arty."
"Goodnight," he bid, turning on his side again, hoping to catch some shuteye. But something about their conversation had Arty pondering his words long after the other man had fallen back to sleep.
* * *
"I don't think this is a very good idea."
Merlin smirked, putting one foot up on the fence. They'd been walking most of the morning when he'd spotted the large farm, the need for a break and another lesson fusing together in his brain to form a brilliant idea. It was a brilliant idea, no matter what Arty said. "Why? You need to learn how to ride, and the owner won't notice. It's not like we're stealing them, now is it?"
Arty crossed his arms, standing his ground as he eyed the distant pack of equines. "We can't just break into someone else's farm and start riding around on their horses. Besides, there's no tack, no saddle..."
"Then it's a good thing for you that the grand duke rode bareback, isn't it?" Merlin grinned, feeling rather pleased about the whole thing. He sidled up the wooden fence, sitting atop with a leg on either side. "Come on, it'll be fun."
It was a warm sunny afternoon with very few clouds marking up the sky. The port in Stralsund was only a week or so away, and after a month of nonstop travel, Merlin was eager for a change of pace.
"I don't see why I should bother," Arty continued, glaring. "It's not as if Morgana will make me trot around the front yard doing tricks."
"She might," Gaius piped up from his spot in the shade of a tree. "She's a frightfully clever girl. Everything you do will be a test with her. We have to be prepared for every possibility."
Gwen hopped up beside Merlin, mindful of her skirts. "Are you coming, Gaius?"
"No, my dear, I think I'll keep watch this time. You never know when that farmer will return."
"Gaius hates riding," Merlin confided.
"Whereas you are an expert, I'm sure." Arty rolled his eyes.
Merlin sighed dramatically. "Look, it's all right to admit you're afraid-"
"Afraid? I'm not afraid!" Arty protested immediately, putting his hands on the worn wood of the fence to hoist himself up.
Merlin smiled to himself, knowing he'd won. Swinging his other leg over the side of the fence, he jumped down, helping Gwen as well. "If you're sure," he sang, feeling decidedly cheerful.
The horses were all gathered on the far side of the pen, flicking their tails and nipping casually at the grass underfoot. There were six of them in all, including a small gray foal that was cantering on the outskirts of the group. They eyed the three strangers warily as they approached.
"Probably full of diseases," Arty mumbled, watching the pack with distrust.
"Nonsense!" Merlin waved him off, reaching his hand out carefully to let a speckled-gray mare sniff it. The horse huffed disinterestedly and allowed him to move closer.
He grinned letting his fingers brush across its mane. "She's beautiful, isn't she?" he marvelled as the horse's head knocked against him gently.
Behind him, Arty heaved a put-upon sigh. "Yes, Merlin, the horse is very pretty," he replied sarcastically, his expression indulgent. "You're not going to start crying like a little girl over it, are you? No offense, Gwen."
"None taken," she replied easily, busy stroking a brown-spotted horse's snout. She laughed as it nipped at her palm.
Merlin turned to him, gesturing to the pack that had gathered around them in interest.
"See? They're very friendly creatures- Ouch!" he yelped, pulling away from a black steed that had just bit his hand. He glared at it, rubbing the injured appendage. The horse, he swore, glared back.
Arty laughed, slowly moving closer to the steed. "Oh, yes. Good taste, too. They know an idiot when they hear one."
"Clearly there's something wrong with that one," he retorted defensively. "Probably has rabies or something."
The devil horse - as Merlin had decided to call it - seemed to have no problem with the orphan, whickering softly against his hand, even while eyeing Merlin with dislike. He decided that the stallion's affection for Arty only further proved it suffered some sort of mental affliction found only in horses.
Mounting them was actually easier than he'd expected, Arty showing a natural grace for it as they used the fence for a leg-up. The three of them took their horses for a short walk in a circle, getting used to the exercise before Merlin suggested they try a slow trot to the edge of the pen. Merlin and Arty took the lead, Gwen following behind at a moderate pace, more interested in relaxing than actually learning the proper posture and form.
Leaving the circle of horses, the gray foal eagerly raced after them, stumbling clumsily as it tripped over its own long legs.
"I think we'll call that one 'Merlin,'" Arty decided gleefully, looking back at him with a teasing grin that he returned.
"Then the slow one sniffing the others' bottoms and being a general pain must be Arty," he replied easily, eyeing a bulky brown horse near the rear of the group as he set his own horse into a trot.
Arty seemed to get the hang of it after a short while, building up the courage to take his steed for a brisk gallop around the pen. Merlin watched him carefully from atop his speckled mare, occasionally calling out pointers for his posture and some of the grand duke's known mannerisms. Arty flashed him a quick grin, taking each tip in stride, the gesture sending a small flash of something warm through Merlin, the feeling disappearing almost as suddenly as it’d appeared.
"Want to race?" Arty asked, nodding his head toward the far end of the pen.
Merlin grinned, settling his grip on his horse's mane.
"You're on."
* * *
They hunkered down for the night in Szczecin, having thankfully caught a ride part way in the back of a carriage, giving their aching feet a rest. The room they'd rented for the evening had a fireplace, and they all gathered around it eagerly as they ate their supper, Gaius reviewing some of the grand duke's favourite pastimes for Arty's benefit.
"The grand duke was an avid hunter for his age," Gaius supplied, leaning over to stoke the fire. "He often accompanied his father and uncles on hunting trips to Spala. He made his first kill at the age of seven. Tsar Ector hung it on the wall of the Large Library in the Alexander Palace. There's no doubt he would have grown up to be quite skilled at the sport."
Arty looked pleased with this assessment, his smile taking on a cocky glint. "Now, that's more like it. Finally something interesting about him instead of all that boring protocol."
Merlin scoffed, taking a bite of his sauerbraten. "You would find something stupid like killing things impressive."
"Obviously, Merlin, you wouldn't know anything about such a manly endeavour as hunting," Arty drawled, rolling his eyes as he slouched forward. "You'd probably start weeping like a little girl the moment you hit something."
Setting down his fork, Merlin turned his attention to Arty with an impish smirk.
"I guess I just don't understand men who have to prove how big and tough they are by murdering small, defenceless animals. And is that how grand dukes sit, Arthur?" he inquired in an imperious tone, once again raising an eyebrow in an eerie impression of Gaius.
With a contemptuous look, Arty straightened his shoulders, sitting stiffly on the bench.
"Happy?" he retorted sarcastically as Gwen hid a smile behind her hand.
"Quite," said Merlin with a pleased grin. Arty responded with a rude gesture that he chose to ignore. "Tomorrow, we'll start more in-depth training on the grand duke's immediate family."
He glanced sideways at Arty again, expecting more snarky commentary, but the orphan actually looked rather excited. Merlin remembered with a start that Arty honestly believed he could be on the verge of finding his lost family, eagerly soaking up all that he and Gaius could divulge about the Petrovins. Frowning, he felt the first inklings of guilt about their scam, but he brushed them aside impatiently. Why should he feel guilty? Arty was the fool who believed he could be royalty - it wasn't Merlin's fault he was so easy to trick.
Suddenly feeling quite tired - and rather less cheerful than he had a moment before - Merlin excused himself from the group, heading for his bedroll. Lying down on his side away from the fire, he scowled. He'd never allowed himself to feel bad about a con before. It wasn't that he was heartless - it was a matter of survival. Gaius had taught him that there were two types of people in the world: those who used their wits and those who didn't. Merlin was merely the former, and so what if Arty was the latter?
He shut his eyes, pulling the blanket tighter around him. He'd make it up to Arty somehow, he thought. Maybe he could help point him in the direction of his real family, or maybe...
Merlin shook his head. There was no reason for him to be so upset about it. He was this close to the biggest payday in history, and he refused to have any second thoughts on the matter.
It's just the stress of the con, that's all, he decided. That, and the annoying brat it depended on. All he needed was a good night's sleep. Things would make sense again in the morning.
* * *
It was a bright sun that greeted them the next day, birds chirping animatedly overhead, though they were all far too tired to notice. The four of them had bartered a ride to the next town in the back of a farmer's cart after another morning of walking. Nestled amongst the bundles of hay, the travellers were all grateful for a chance to rest their weary legs.
After just over a month of non-stop instruction, they'd all unanimously agreed on a short break from their lessons, Gaius and Arty dozing lightly against the straw as Gwen took the opportunity to work on her sketches. Merlin watched her lazily, marvelling at the steady hand that kept the charcoal gliding smoothly across the crumpled page even as the cart hit another bump in the road. She could give Gaius a run for his money.
They'd been travelling in companionable silence for some time when Gwen finally decided to speak.
"It seems like an awful lot of rules, this royalty thing," she commented.
"Yeah, it is, I suppose," replied Merlin, leaning back against his own bale of hay.
"So, how is it you know so much about it?" she asked, her eyes on her drawing of a building they'd passed the previous morning. When he didn't answer right away, she glanced up.
"I mean - I don't mean to pry," she immediately backpedalled, obviously worried she'd offended him. "It's just that you seem to know a lot about the royals for someone who's not a noble- Not to say you couldn't be a noble, I mean - I mean, you're not one, obviously, but it's not because you're not dignified or anything- or-"
Merlin grinned, having grown quite used to her stammering over the course of their journey. He shook his head. "It's fine, Gwen." He shrugged, not certain he wanted to share the main source of his knowledge, but willing to provide a few nuggets of information. "I've studied all about them. And I knew some of the servants who worked in the Winter Palace," he answered truthfully.
"It must have been lovely," she gushed, turning her attention back to her artwork. "Working in such a beautiful place, surrounded by fine things all the time, with all those nobles coming and going. I expect it must have been quite exciting."
He ducked his head, thinking back to his years spent in the kitchens. Back then, the palace had felt more like a jail cell than an adventure, surrounded by reminders of his class at every turn, a thousand limitations on who and what he could be.
"Yeah," he said dully, looking down at his hands.
"Are you all right?" Gwen asked, concerned, setting down her charcoal. "It's just, I've noticed you've been a bit down lately. Is anything wrong?"
He shook his head, embarrassed that she'd noticed. "I'm fine," he insisted.
She looked unconvinced. "...You don't have to tell me," she said, returning to her work. "I just thought you might want someone to talk to."
Merlin watched her closely, a curious grin spreading slowly on his face.
"You know, I don't get you, Gwen," he said after a moment, shaking his head again. "I've never met anyone who could be so nice to people she hardly knows without wanting something in return."
She gave an infectious smile, willing to let him change the subject as she tilted her head. "But that's what you're doing for Arty, isn't it? I mean, you hardly know him, but you're taking him to Paris, helping him find his family, all without expecting anything in return. I know he wouldn't say anything, but it means a lot to him."
The grin froze on Merlin's face, the guilty feeling returning in the pit of his stomach. "Right," he said, uncomfortable. "Yeah, I- I guess."
He cleared his throat, returning his attention to the passing countryside. What was wrong with him? This was no time to be getting a soft head, not with so much at stake. Maybe Gaius was right - maybe it was Arty's increasing likeness to the grand duke that was affecting him, making him second-guess himself. Or maybe, he allowed, it's because Arty's less of a jerk than I thought he was.
He eyed the sleeping orphan warily, a hint of a smirk on the blond man's face even in sleep. He's still a pretty big jerk, though, he amended, closing his eyes. It was just jitters. He'd get over it.
Part Six
Translations (for those that need them):
Tsarevna - roughly translates to Grand Duchess. The title of Arthur’s older sister, Helen.
Author: batgurl88
Pairing/Characters: Arthur/Merlin, Gwen/Morgana, Gaius, Uther, Nimueh
Wordcount: 7,189 (52,352 overall)
Summary: Arthur is a royal who can't remember his past. Merlin and Gaius are con-men, hoping to return Arthur to Uther for a hefty reward, but little do they know they have the real deal on their hands.
A/N: Some lines and plot aspects respectfully borrowed from both Fox’s Anastasia and BBC’s Merlin. Beta’d by the marvelous justicemischief.
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Where This Road May Go
Part Five
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"Fantastic. So, the brilliant new plan is to walk to Paris, is it?" Arty complained from the rear of the group.
Merlin sighed impatiently, raising his eyes to the heavens. They had spent the night camped out in the miserable forest near where the train had derailed, and first light had granted them an early start on their trek across the countryside.
They'd had a sufficient amount of food - the provisions they'd brought with them from St. Petersburg were more than enough to suffice for the evening and morning - and their coats had served as blankets in their makeshift shelter beneath the trees. Most of the previous day's snow had melted away as they walked, the air already much warmer than what they'd left behind in Russia. Nevertheless, the rotten accommodations had left them all in a rather crabby mood.
"Of course not, Your Grace," he replied sarcastically, doing his best to make the title sound like the equivalent of a dung-heap. "We're going to Stralsund to catch a ship to France."
"So, we're walking to Germany, then?" Gwen inquired tiredly.
"Just part of the way," Merlin answered in a much more pleasant tone than the one he'd granted Arty, knowing it would annoy him. "We'll try and catch a bus for the other part."
Despite his initial misgivings about her accompanying them, he'd found it rather hard to be angry with Gwen for any period of time. Her friendly countenance was simply too contagious. The girl was hardly seen without a smile on her face, and even Gaius - for all that his age did not appear to agree with their new mode of transportation - seemed the better for it.
Speaking of his partner, Gwen was giving him a rather concerned look, wincing at his small groans of pain and his stiffer-than-normal gait.
"Are you all right, Gaius?" she inquired kindly, placing a hand on his arm.
Gaius nodded, waving away her concern. "Yes, yes, quite all right. It's been a long time since these old bones have been up to such adventure, I fear."
"Don't mind him," Merlin grinned back at her. "He's always pulling the age card when he wants out of something. He's probably just gearing up to avoid buying our meal at the next city we pass."
He felt rather than saw Gaius' glare on the back of his neck.
"Yes, it's a shame we don't all have your vitality and youth, Merlin. Perhaps you could put it to better use walking rather than criticizing the rest of us?"
Arty snorted appreciatively, causing Merlin to scowl.
"Yes, Merlin," he agreed, a smug grin in his voice. "Why don't you shut up for a while?"
"I'm not the one whining about having to do a bit of walking," Merlin countered crossing his arms over his jacket.
"No, you're the one bothering everyone with your extremely large mouth."
"We could view this as a fortunate opportunity," Gaius interrupted between pained grunts, "to fortify Arty's knowledge of what it is to be a grand duke."
"What's there to know?" Arty asked, frowning. "They're the sons of the tsar, and they were all supposedly killed off in the revolution."
"Well, that's hardly going to impress Morgana," replied Gaius distractedly. Merlin shot a warning look behind him that was pointedly ignored.
"Who's Morgana?" Gwen asked, confused. "I thought we were going to see Prince Uther."
"She's the Comtesse de Montferrier, and the prince's first cousin. No one sees Uther without convincing her first," answered the older man, his eyes on his aching feet. Merlin frantically signalled him to be quiet, but the damage was already done.
"What?"
Merlin winced, feeling Arty bristle behind him. He'd been hoping to spring that particular surprise a little more gracefully, given Arty's reluctance to accompany them in the first place.
"I have to convince his cousin?" Arty demanded loudly, stopping in the middle of the road. "You never said I'd have to prove I was the grand duke!"
Merlin approached him with an uneasy grin, his hands out before him in what he hoped was a gesture of penitence. "Well, it's the only way to see the prince, really."
Arty scowled, crossing his arms. "I'm not going to lie!"
"Who says it's a lie?" he asked innocently, stepping forward with caution. This had to be played delicately. "For all you know, you could be the grand duke. We're just offering you the chance to find out."
Scoffing, Arty looked down at his ragged clothes, no better for having jumped from a train the day before. "Have you seen me? I'm not exactly grand duke material! I wouldn't know the first thing about it!"
"We can teach you," Gaius interrupted as Merlin nodded encouragingly. "The mannerisms, the history - everything you'd need to know."
The orphan looked between them helplessly before giving a frustrated groan, throwing his arms up in the air.
"Look, this isn't what I signed on for, all right?" Arty shook his head, turning back down the road. "I just wanted to go to Paris, and I can do that without you."
"Oh yeah?" Merlin called after him angrily, seeing his chances at a fortune slipping away with each step. "How're you going to do that, exactly, without a visa? Russia's not the only country that requires travel papers, you know."
"I'll figure something out," was the stubborn reply.
Left behind, Gwen eyed Gaius and Merlin uncertainly. "... It's just that I sort of came with him..." she explained awkwardly, gesturing to the departing orphan before trailing after him.
Gaius sighed heavily. "Well, that could have gone better."
"Oh, you think?" barked Merlin, glaring at his partner. "Why'd you have to go blabbering on about Morgana?"
"He was going to find out eventually," the old man defended, his eyebrows snapping together. "I don't know why you thought you could keep it from him. And you really shouldn't get him so wound up."
"Wha- He started it!" he retorted incredulously. He sighed, running his hand through his hair. "I guess I should probably go stop them."
"No, I think you've done quite enough for the moment," Gaius replied, moving to lean against a nearby tree. "Have patience. We'll give him a chance to cool down, and then go talk to him."
* * *
Arty huffed as he stalked down the road. The nerve of that skinny, big-eared idiot! Expecting him to cheat his way to an audience with the prince. He shook his head angrily. Fooling himself into believing there was a chance he could be the grand duke was one thing, but outright lying about it was something else.
"Are you all right?" Gwen asked, jogging to keep up with him, her small suitcase in tow. "You seem really upset by this whole thing."
He whirled on her. "How can they expect me to pretend to be royalty? There's nothing royal about me! I'm just an orphan from nowhere who doesn't even know his real name."
Gwen stayed quiet, sympathy in her eyes. They'd reached a small covered bridge over a thawing stream, and Arty sighed as he leaned against the wooden railing, staring out at the water.
"There's no way I could pull it off," he said to himself, looking down at his reflection. He couldn't bear the thought of getting his hopes up over this, only to face more disappointment. The trip had already had its fair share of it.
"But that's not true," Gwen protested, setting down her bag and standing just behind him. "Merlin and Gaius have offered to teach you, and they've already said how much you look and sound like Arthur. If it's just a matter of learning, there's no reason you couldn't do it."
She didn't understand.
"And then what?" he demanded, frowning as he kicked a small stone off the bridge into the water, the ripples distorting his reflection. "I convince myself I could be Arthur and get all the way to France just to find out they're not my family after all."
"At least you'd be in Paris," she offered softly. "And you'd be on your way to finding your real family, whoever they are."
He turned to her, guarded but hopeful, as if everything didn't ride on her answer. "Do you think it's possible? That I could be who they say I am?"
To her credit, she didn't answer right away, leaning against the railing as she considered it seriously. "I think... anything's possible..." she answered carefully, glancing sideways at him. "But if you're always afraid of being disappointed, you're never going to get anywhere, regardless of whether or not you go with them."
He sighed. "You don't know what it was like- Showing up at the orphanage without a single clue who I was or where I'd come from. Waiting by the window every day for someone to come looking for me. And when no one came..." Arty shook his head, turning away to face the stream as his thoughts turned to his necklace. "All my life, all I've ever wanted is to know where I belong. If there's even a chance I could be who they say I am..."
"Sounds like you've made up your mind," she concluded with a smile.
Arty ran a hand through his hair, sighing again as he spotted Gaius and Merlin walking down the road after them. "I guess I have." He eyed Gwen hopefully, "You're still coming with us, aren’t you? I mean, you're not heading back to Russia?"
She shook her head, excited. "Of course I'll still come. It’ll be an even bigger adventure than I thought, seeing you become royalty."
Merlin and Gaius drew nearer, hauling the rest of their luggage. They set it down, Merlin folding his arms, obviously still unimpressed by Arty’s earlier display.
"Well?" Gaius inquired, raising an eyebrow. "Are you still leaving us, or would you like to find out what awaits you in Paris?"
Arty sighed, Gwen giving his arm a reassuring squeeze.
"All right, fine. I'll do it," he agreed, pushing away from the railing. "How hard could it be?"
* * *
As it turned out, plenty hard.
"A grand duke is of royal blood," Merlin had started out by explaining.
"A grand duke is of royal blood," repeated Arty slowly, his tone as dry as paper. "That is quite the nugget of information, Merlin. I do hope I can look forward to further such gems over the course of my education."
Merlin thinned his lips, seemingly unimpressed with the interruption. "As I was saying, they're born with a certain poise and confidence that's hard to replicate. They're practically bred for the life. As much as you may look like the grand duke, it's going to be hard work schooling yourself to act that way."
Which was how Arty wound up walking the next three miles down the road, listening as the two men extolled on the virtues of a velikii kniaz, while attempting to balance a heavy bound book about royal etiquette on the top of his head.
"No, keep your back straight," Gaius guided as the book slid off again and fell to the ground. "Chin up and level with the floor."
"Imagine a string pulling you straight up from the top of your head," added Merlin helpfully, looking rather amused.
Arty glared at the pair of them, bending over to pick the book up again. "If it's so easy, why don't you try it?" he said, settling it on his head once more. His hair was going to look ridiculous when this was done, he was sure.
Merlin stood up taller, frowning. "It's not me who's got to impress the comtesse," he defended.
Sighing, Arty tried again, feeling stiffer and more uncomfortable that he'd ever felt in his life. How could anyone be expected to walk like this? It's a wonder the royals ever got anywhere.
Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Gwen covertly sneaking a book onto the top of her head. He noted with some envy that she appeared to be having far less difficulty than he was. Perhaps women were born with a natural gift for this sort of thing.
"You're still leaning forward too much," Merlin criticized as they came to a fork in the road. "Straighten your shoulders more."
Fed up, he started to bite out a comeback but stopped, composing himself. Straightening his shoulders, he glided past Merlin, digging out the most imperious tone he could muster. "You know, it's probably just as well it’s not you trying this. Behaving like royalty isn't for everyone. Such things are best left to those with natural grace and talent. Someone as awkward as you could never manage."
Merlin narrowed his eyes.
Which was how the three of them wound up walking the next two miles down the road with books balanced precariously on their heads as Gaius explained the history of the Russian monarchy, all the while shooting them exasperated looks.
Arty's mood had improved considerably.
"Not as easy as it looks, is it?" he gloated, watching as Merlin - too busy minding the book on his head to keep an eye on the path - stumbled over a tree branch, sending the book flying. Grumbling to himself, he bent to pick it up again, ignoring Arty.
Gwen, on the other hand, continued to fare far better than either of them, her book staying mostly in place as she walked. Arty privately thought her thick curly hair gave her an unfair advantage, but said nothing. She continued to dart concerned glances back and forth between the two of them as they bickered.
Arty's book slipped forward a bit, but he kept it from sliding off, impressing himself with his own skill even as Merlin's book fell off again.
"Come on, Merlin," he goaded. "Just prop it between those ridiculous ears of yours. That should keep it in place."
The glare he received in response was withering, and he smirked. It was about time that mouthy little upstart was put in his place.
"Are any of you paying attention to what I'm saying?" Gaius demanded, raising a severe eyebrow as he interrupted his own speech on the proper way to eat stroganoff at a formal dinner. Gwen shot him a sympathetic look while the other two largely ignored him.
Merlin's book continued to slide, and his expression soured. "I think mine is bigger than yours."
Arty snorted, biting back the rude comment on the tip of his tongue out of respect for Gwen's presence. Instead, he rolled his eyes. "They're the same size, idiot. You're just clumsy."
The other man shook his head, oblivious. "No, mine definitely has thicker pages. The weight distribution is off."
"That," Arty said, stopping and taking the book off of his head, "Is the single dumbest thing you've said so far. A very impressive feat, mind you - you've made some pretty stupid remarks."
Merlin stopped as well, affronted, his brow set in anger as he opened his mouth to retort-
"So, what else has Arty got to learn, Gaius?" Gwen interjected in an obvious attempt to keep the peace.
Gaius seemed grateful for the intervention. "Well, there are all the manners of the court, of course," he replied with far more enthusiasm than was strictly necessary, pleased to have an audience at last. "And some skill with the grand duke's pastimes, as well as the history of the Russian royal family. He'll have to learn all about the grand duke in particular - his habits, his friends, that sort of thing."
"I have to learn all of that?" Arty asked, feeling a bit intimidated. "How long do you think that'll take?"
"The rest of the trip, I expect. If we work at it," Gaius replied, unconcerned, as if he hadn't just suggested Arty learn a lifetime's worth of details and trivia in the space of two months or so.
"It's all right," Gwen assured him quietly, reading his expression. "We'll all help you."
"Yeah," said Merlin, fighting a grin. "We'll try to use as many small words as possible. It'll be no problem at all."
He ducked as Arty chucked the heavy book in his direction, laughing as it missed.
Sighing heavily to himself, Gaius pinched the bridge of his nose. "This is going to be a very long trip."
* * *
"A duke," Merlin called out, his arms folded where he leaned against a tree.
Arty inclined his head as Gwen bowed deeply. "My Lord Duke."
"Good. A princess of royal blood," said Gaius.
"Your Highness," bowed Arty to Gwen's curtsey, lightly kissing her proffered hand.
"Don't bend quite so much," instructed Merlin, moving forward to demonstrate. "You're the Grand Duke of Russia - you outrank all but the tsar and tsaritsa.”
Arty nodded, slightly overwhelmed. They'd been at it for almost five days now. His head was beginning to spin with names and dates and bits of protocol, and it was starting to feel as though he could not do a single thing without an annoying voice in his head - sounding infuriatingly like Merlin - reminding him of how Arthur would have done it.
He grit his teeth, repeating the bow. "Your Highness."
Gwen curtsied again with a laugh. "Your Imperial Highness."
They'd stopped for a rest just outside of Vilnius, Merlin taking the opportunity to school him on the proper way to greet dignitaries. As it turned out, Merlin was secretly as much of a stickler for details as Gaius was, hounding Arty for every mistake and insisting he do it again and again until it was perfect.
Arty was now firmly convinced that royals were insane from birth - why else would they waste all their time worrying about standing correctly or using the proper fork at a banquet? Speaking of eating-
His stomach growled loudly. "Are we done yet?" he asked, thinking fondly of the wrapped up kielbasa in the rucksack, leftover from when they'd last been through town.
"You can worry about eating once you've got this right," Merlin said harshly, folding his arms again. "A baron?"
Scowling, Arty started to refuse, but Merlin merely raised his eyebrows in a rather scary imitation of Gaius. "Do you want to meet the prince or don't you? A baron?" he repeated.
Heaving a frustrated sigh and plotting squishy things to leave in Merlin's bedroll later that evening, Arty inclined his head to Gwen. "My Lord."
* * *
"Uncle Tristan?"
"Tristan Gorloisovich Vasiliev. Second son of Gorlois Vasiliev. Born in Moscow, lived in St. Petersburg," answered Arty tiredly, sitting cross-legged and rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands.
Gaius nodded. "General Bounine?"
"General Sergei Pavlovich Bounine. Born in Yekaterinburg. Served the Russian army in Bucharest. Trusted friend of Tsar Ector."
"Your father," Gaius corrected meaningfully.
"Right," he sighed. "Trusted friend of my father, Tsar Ector."
They were stopped again for lunch, more than two days' journey from Warsaw, taking their meal on the ground near an expanse of trees as Merlin poured over photographs of the Russian royal family, searching for any details he may have missed. He and Gaius had been working nonstop to prepare Arty, spending every spare moment on his lessons, but there was still so much more for him to learn. At this rate, Merlin feared they would not be ready to see the comtesse when they arrived in Paris. Every extra day they were delayed was another day of funds wasted on lodgings, with the ever-looming threat that someone else might beat them to the reward.
"Lena Tarasova?" Gwen piped up, having taken to her part in Arty's studies quite enthusiastically, claiming the new knowledge as "fascinating."
"Lena Tarasova," Arty echoed, his brow furrowing in concentration. "Er..."
"Yes?" prompted Merlin, looking up from a photo of the Petrovin children.
"Maidservant to Tsarevna Helen; served my family for ten years..." he trailed off uncertainly.
"And?" Merlin prompted, frowning.
Arty closed his eyes, searching for the answer. "And... er ..."
"And she used to bring wildflowers for the grand duchess' chambers!" groaned Merlin, his head falling back against the tree in frustration. "Morgana will expect to hear details like that. We went over this a dozen times!"
"Well, I'm sorry, but maybe trying to memorize an entire family history in two weeks just isn't possible!" Arty argued back, equally frustrated. "We've been going at it for fifteen days straight now! Can't I just take a break for a bit?"
"No, you can't just 'take a break,'" countered Merlin, standing. "I thought you wanted to take this seriously!"
"It took the real Arthur a lifetime to learn these things!" Arty shouted, throwing up his hands. "He probably didn't even know all of it. How can I be expected to memorize so much in such a short time?"
He glared, the fingers of his right hand playing agitatedly with the gold chain around his neck. Merlin glared right back at him.
"Maybe if you were paying attention instead of always fiddling with that stupid necklace of yours you'd actually be able to learn something," he spat, crossing his arms.
Arty's expression pinched together, his eyes narrowing dangerously. "Look, I didn't ask to be a part of your little lessons - you asked me! And I'm sick of studying all this pointless trivia. Who cares how many spoons are in a formal dining setting? And who cares how the grand duke preferred his horses to be groomed? None of it means anything! I should have just gone to Paris myself."
"Well, if that's how you feel, maybe you should go," Merlin said, standing his ground.
"Maybe I will!"
"Fine."
"Fine!"
Arty turned on his heel, stalking off into the trees as Merlin huffed, taking his seat again and tearing angrily at a bread roll.
Gwen and Gaius exchanged meaningful glances.
"Arty's trying his best," Gaius commented, returning his eyes to the new travel visas he was making for their passage into Germany. "He's under enormous pressure. You could try to be a little more understanding."
"His best isn't good enough!" Merlin raged. "We see the comtesse in a matter of weeks and he can't even remember the names of all the grand duke's horses. Morgana will spot a mistake in an instant, and Uther will spot it faster than that. He needs to be perfect."
"Still, imagine it from his point of view," the other man continued, sounding uninterested as he carefully penned the letters of Gwen's name. "Three weeks ago, he had no past, no family, no formal training, and suddenly we've foisted all these rules and names and dates upon him as if they should be second thought. It takes a lifetime to become a grand duke, after all."
Merlin sighed, feeling some of his anger ebb away. "Well, a lifetime is the one thing we don't have."
* * *
The ice was slippery beneath his feet, the cold winter wind whipping across his face, leaving him numb. His heart pounded beneath his ribcage, threatening to burst.
Cruel red eyes glared at him from across the river. Desperately, he ran for firm ground, but the edge of the bank got farther and farther away with each step until his feet slid out from under him.
"You'll not escape this time."
He shouted for help, reaching his arm out as far as he could stretch it, even as he felt the ice cracking beneath him-
Arty jerked awake, an odd mixture of anger and what could only be fear coursing through him. It was the same nightmare that had haunted him as a child, but it had been years since he'd last dreamt of the evil monster his mind had created.
He sighed, letting his head fall back against his thin pillow as he waited for his breathing to even out again, rubbing a tired hand over his face. It was all these royalty lessons, he decided. They did odd things to a person's brain.
They'd made it to Warsaw only that evening, deciding to stop for the night, finding a room at a small inn. Despite this being the third week of their travels, Gaius and Merlin had once again waved off his offers to contribute what few kopeks he had to the fund for their lodgings, insisting it would be taken care of. Privately, he wondered if his companions were into forging more than just travel papers. The atmosphere between him and Merlin had been tense the last few days, and - exhausted already from their travels - everyone had unanimously agreed to turn in early.
Sighing again, Arty shuffled his feet beneath his blanket, trying to shake off the uneasy feeling of the nightmare.
"You all right?"
Arty absolutely did not jump at the voice - he merely turned alertly, finding Merlin staring at him from his nearby bedroll. He scowled, embarrassed that his nightmare had attracted such attention.
"Why do you care?" he demanded quietly in a petulant tone, turning on his side away from the other man.
Merlin frowned. "I was just asking," he whispered, settling back down into his bed.
Something in his voice made Arty regret snapping. He sighed, glancing back over his shoulder.
"It's nothing," he dismissed, trying not to wake Gwen who was dozing lightly on the other side of him. "Just a bad dream."
"Oh," Merlin said, sounding surprised that Arty had spoken. "All right, then."
Silence fell, interrupted only by Gaius' loud snores. Merlin seemed to be struggling with something, quietly arguing with himself.
"You... You did all right today, you know," he said after a moment, staring resolutely at the ceiling.
Arty blinked at the unexpected compliment, but cleared his throat softly, conjuring up a cocky tone. "Of course I did," he whispered back. "I was born for this stuff, right?"
Merlin huffed a laugh. "I wouldn't go that far," he retorted half-heartedly.
Silence followed again, though Arty knew the other man was still awake. He turned on his back.
"I hate sleeping on the ground," he complained softly.
"I've slept on worse," Merlin shrugged.
Arty had as well - the beds at the orphanage had been as hard as rocks - but that didn't make him like it any. Frowning into his pillow, he longed for the cool feel of a feather mattress beneath him, which was confusing, since he'd never so much as glimpsed at a real feather mattress, let alone touched one to ascertain its temperature. Chalking it up to a good imagination, he punched at his pillow in a vain attempt to make it more comfortable.
Finally he sighed, resigning himself to the soreness he’d face come morning.
"So, how come you're okay with leaving Russia?" Arty wondered, glancing at Merlin again. "Won't your family miss you?"
Merlin continued to stare up at the ceiling, looking vaguely uncomfortable.
"It was just me and my mom," he replied quietly after a moment. "She died when I was four, and I got sent off to- to work."
"Oh," said Arty awkwardly, regretting bringing it up. "I'm sorry."
"Not your fault," was Merlin's response, though Arty could tell he was forcing a light tone. "I mean, I loved her and all, but I've been on my own for so long that I don't really miss it, you know?"
Arty didn't know. He'd never known anything except the ache for a family, and could not conceive of the idea of going through the rest of his life without one. "Doesn't it get sort of ... I don't know, lonely?" he asked, suddenly wondering if it was just him that felt that way.
Merlin frowned, bringing an arm up to rest behind his head and looking thoughtful. "I've got Gaius," he offered. "He's pretty much like family, I guess."
"Yeah," Arty said, frowning. He really couldn't understand how Merlin could be so unconcerned about it. To him, finding his family - a place to belong - was the most important thing in the world. He'd never really thought about what might matter to other people.
"So, how come you're doing this, anyway?" he asked. "Why go through all this trouble just to find the grand duke?"
Merlin was quiet for a long time. Just when Arty began to think he might have fallen asleep, he answered.
"I dunno. Haven't you ever wanted to be someone important?"
Arty frowned, thinking. Sure, in his early life, when Lada Kuzmina was being particularly irksome, he'd daydreamed about being the lost son of a rich merchant or duke, imagining the look on old Lada's face when his family appeared in fine things to claim him. He supposed that finding the lost Grand Duke of Russia brought with it certain notoriety as well. However, something in Merlin's voice made him think there was more to it than that.
He heard Merlin sigh. "Goodnight, Arty."
"Goodnight," he bid, turning on his side again, hoping to catch some shuteye. But something about their conversation had Arty pondering his words long after the other man had fallen back to sleep.
* * *
"I don't think this is a very good idea."
Merlin smirked, putting one foot up on the fence. They'd been walking most of the morning when he'd spotted the large farm, the need for a break and another lesson fusing together in his brain to form a brilliant idea. It was a brilliant idea, no matter what Arty said. "Why? You need to learn how to ride, and the owner won't notice. It's not like we're stealing them, now is it?"
Arty crossed his arms, standing his ground as he eyed the distant pack of equines. "We can't just break into someone else's farm and start riding around on their horses. Besides, there's no tack, no saddle..."
"Then it's a good thing for you that the grand duke rode bareback, isn't it?" Merlin grinned, feeling rather pleased about the whole thing. He sidled up the wooden fence, sitting atop with a leg on either side. "Come on, it'll be fun."
It was a warm sunny afternoon with very few clouds marking up the sky. The port in Stralsund was only a week or so away, and after a month of nonstop travel, Merlin was eager for a change of pace.
"I don't see why I should bother," Arty continued, glaring. "It's not as if Morgana will make me trot around the front yard doing tricks."
"She might," Gaius piped up from his spot in the shade of a tree. "She's a frightfully clever girl. Everything you do will be a test with her. We have to be prepared for every possibility."
Gwen hopped up beside Merlin, mindful of her skirts. "Are you coming, Gaius?"
"No, my dear, I think I'll keep watch this time. You never know when that farmer will return."
"Gaius hates riding," Merlin confided.
"Whereas you are an expert, I'm sure." Arty rolled his eyes.
Merlin sighed dramatically. "Look, it's all right to admit you're afraid-"
"Afraid? I'm not afraid!" Arty protested immediately, putting his hands on the worn wood of the fence to hoist himself up.
Merlin smiled to himself, knowing he'd won. Swinging his other leg over the side of the fence, he jumped down, helping Gwen as well. "If you're sure," he sang, feeling decidedly cheerful.
The horses were all gathered on the far side of the pen, flicking their tails and nipping casually at the grass underfoot. There were six of them in all, including a small gray foal that was cantering on the outskirts of the group. They eyed the three strangers warily as they approached.
"Probably full of diseases," Arty mumbled, watching the pack with distrust.
"Nonsense!" Merlin waved him off, reaching his hand out carefully to let a speckled-gray mare sniff it. The horse huffed disinterestedly and allowed him to move closer.
He grinned letting his fingers brush across its mane. "She's beautiful, isn't she?" he marvelled as the horse's head knocked against him gently.
Behind him, Arty heaved a put-upon sigh. "Yes, Merlin, the horse is very pretty," he replied sarcastically, his expression indulgent. "You're not going to start crying like a little girl over it, are you? No offense, Gwen."
"None taken," she replied easily, busy stroking a brown-spotted horse's snout. She laughed as it nipped at her palm.
Merlin turned to him, gesturing to the pack that had gathered around them in interest.
"See? They're very friendly creatures- Ouch!" he yelped, pulling away from a black steed that had just bit his hand. He glared at it, rubbing the injured appendage. The horse, he swore, glared back.
Arty laughed, slowly moving closer to the steed. "Oh, yes. Good taste, too. They know an idiot when they hear one."
"Clearly there's something wrong with that one," he retorted defensively. "Probably has rabies or something."
The devil horse - as Merlin had decided to call it - seemed to have no problem with the orphan, whickering softly against his hand, even while eyeing Merlin with dislike. He decided that the stallion's affection for Arty only further proved it suffered some sort of mental affliction found only in horses.
Mounting them was actually easier than he'd expected, Arty showing a natural grace for it as they used the fence for a leg-up. The three of them took their horses for a short walk in a circle, getting used to the exercise before Merlin suggested they try a slow trot to the edge of the pen. Merlin and Arty took the lead, Gwen following behind at a moderate pace, more interested in relaxing than actually learning the proper posture and form.
Leaving the circle of horses, the gray foal eagerly raced after them, stumbling clumsily as it tripped over its own long legs.
"I think we'll call that one 'Merlin,'" Arty decided gleefully, looking back at him with a teasing grin that he returned.
"Then the slow one sniffing the others' bottoms and being a general pain must be Arty," he replied easily, eyeing a bulky brown horse near the rear of the group as he set his own horse into a trot.
Arty seemed to get the hang of it after a short while, building up the courage to take his steed for a brisk gallop around the pen. Merlin watched him carefully from atop his speckled mare, occasionally calling out pointers for his posture and some of the grand duke's known mannerisms. Arty flashed him a quick grin, taking each tip in stride, the gesture sending a small flash of something warm through Merlin, the feeling disappearing almost as suddenly as it’d appeared.
"Want to race?" Arty asked, nodding his head toward the far end of the pen.
Merlin grinned, settling his grip on his horse's mane.
"You're on."
* * *
They hunkered down for the night in Szczecin, having thankfully caught a ride part way in the back of a carriage, giving their aching feet a rest. The room they'd rented for the evening had a fireplace, and they all gathered around it eagerly as they ate their supper, Gaius reviewing some of the grand duke's favourite pastimes for Arty's benefit.
"The grand duke was an avid hunter for his age," Gaius supplied, leaning over to stoke the fire. "He often accompanied his father and uncles on hunting trips to Spala. He made his first kill at the age of seven. Tsar Ector hung it on the wall of the Large Library in the Alexander Palace. There's no doubt he would have grown up to be quite skilled at the sport."
Arty looked pleased with this assessment, his smile taking on a cocky glint. "Now, that's more like it. Finally something interesting about him instead of all that boring protocol."
Merlin scoffed, taking a bite of his sauerbraten. "You would find something stupid like killing things impressive."
"Obviously, Merlin, you wouldn't know anything about such a manly endeavour as hunting," Arty drawled, rolling his eyes as he slouched forward. "You'd probably start weeping like a little girl the moment you hit something."
Setting down his fork, Merlin turned his attention to Arty with an impish smirk.
"I guess I just don't understand men who have to prove how big and tough they are by murdering small, defenceless animals. And is that how grand dukes sit, Arthur?" he inquired in an imperious tone, once again raising an eyebrow in an eerie impression of Gaius.
With a contemptuous look, Arty straightened his shoulders, sitting stiffly on the bench.
"Happy?" he retorted sarcastically as Gwen hid a smile behind her hand.
"Quite," said Merlin with a pleased grin. Arty responded with a rude gesture that he chose to ignore. "Tomorrow, we'll start more in-depth training on the grand duke's immediate family."
He glanced sideways at Arty again, expecting more snarky commentary, but the orphan actually looked rather excited. Merlin remembered with a start that Arty honestly believed he could be on the verge of finding his lost family, eagerly soaking up all that he and Gaius could divulge about the Petrovins. Frowning, he felt the first inklings of guilt about their scam, but he brushed them aside impatiently. Why should he feel guilty? Arty was the fool who believed he could be royalty - it wasn't Merlin's fault he was so easy to trick.
Suddenly feeling quite tired - and rather less cheerful than he had a moment before - Merlin excused himself from the group, heading for his bedroll. Lying down on his side away from the fire, he scowled. He'd never allowed himself to feel bad about a con before. It wasn't that he was heartless - it was a matter of survival. Gaius had taught him that there were two types of people in the world: those who used their wits and those who didn't. Merlin was merely the former, and so what if Arty was the latter?
He shut his eyes, pulling the blanket tighter around him. He'd make it up to Arty somehow, he thought. Maybe he could help point him in the direction of his real family, or maybe...
Merlin shook his head. There was no reason for him to be so upset about it. He was this close to the biggest payday in history, and he refused to have any second thoughts on the matter.
It's just the stress of the con, that's all, he decided. That, and the annoying brat it depended on. All he needed was a good night's sleep. Things would make sense again in the morning.
* * *
It was a bright sun that greeted them the next day, birds chirping animatedly overhead, though they were all far too tired to notice. The four of them had bartered a ride to the next town in the back of a farmer's cart after another morning of walking. Nestled amongst the bundles of hay, the travellers were all grateful for a chance to rest their weary legs.
After just over a month of non-stop instruction, they'd all unanimously agreed on a short break from their lessons, Gaius and Arty dozing lightly against the straw as Gwen took the opportunity to work on her sketches. Merlin watched her lazily, marvelling at the steady hand that kept the charcoal gliding smoothly across the crumpled page even as the cart hit another bump in the road. She could give Gaius a run for his money.
They'd been travelling in companionable silence for some time when Gwen finally decided to speak.
"It seems like an awful lot of rules, this royalty thing," she commented.
"Yeah, it is, I suppose," replied Merlin, leaning back against his own bale of hay.
"So, how is it you know so much about it?" she asked, her eyes on her drawing of a building they'd passed the previous morning. When he didn't answer right away, she glanced up.
"I mean - I don't mean to pry," she immediately backpedalled, obviously worried she'd offended him. "It's just that you seem to know a lot about the royals for someone who's not a noble- Not to say you couldn't be a noble, I mean - I mean, you're not one, obviously, but it's not because you're not dignified or anything- or-"
Merlin grinned, having grown quite used to her stammering over the course of their journey. He shook his head. "It's fine, Gwen." He shrugged, not certain he wanted to share the main source of his knowledge, but willing to provide a few nuggets of information. "I've studied all about them. And I knew some of the servants who worked in the Winter Palace," he answered truthfully.
"It must have been lovely," she gushed, turning her attention back to her artwork. "Working in such a beautiful place, surrounded by fine things all the time, with all those nobles coming and going. I expect it must have been quite exciting."
He ducked his head, thinking back to his years spent in the kitchens. Back then, the palace had felt more like a jail cell than an adventure, surrounded by reminders of his class at every turn, a thousand limitations on who and what he could be.
"Yeah," he said dully, looking down at his hands.
"Are you all right?" Gwen asked, concerned, setting down her charcoal. "It's just, I've noticed you've been a bit down lately. Is anything wrong?"
He shook his head, embarrassed that she'd noticed. "I'm fine," he insisted.
She looked unconvinced. "...You don't have to tell me," she said, returning to her work. "I just thought you might want someone to talk to."
Merlin watched her closely, a curious grin spreading slowly on his face.
"You know, I don't get you, Gwen," he said after a moment, shaking his head again. "I've never met anyone who could be so nice to people she hardly knows without wanting something in return."
She gave an infectious smile, willing to let him change the subject as she tilted her head. "But that's what you're doing for Arty, isn't it? I mean, you hardly know him, but you're taking him to Paris, helping him find his family, all without expecting anything in return. I know he wouldn't say anything, but it means a lot to him."
The grin froze on Merlin's face, the guilty feeling returning in the pit of his stomach. "Right," he said, uncomfortable. "Yeah, I- I guess."
He cleared his throat, returning his attention to the passing countryside. What was wrong with him? This was no time to be getting a soft head, not with so much at stake. Maybe Gaius was right - maybe it was Arty's increasing likeness to the grand duke that was affecting him, making him second-guess himself. Or maybe, he allowed, it's because Arty's less of a jerk than I thought he was.
He eyed the sleeping orphan warily, a hint of a smirk on the blond man's face even in sleep. He's still a pretty big jerk, though, he amended, closing his eyes. It was just jitters. He'd get over it.
Part Six
Translations (for those that need them):
Tsarevna - roughly translates to Grand Duchess. The title of Arthur’s older sister, Helen.