[FIC] To Catch a Sparrow - Part I (Arthur/Merlin; NC17)
Author/Artist: flypaw
Title: To Catch a Sparrow
Pairing(s)/Character(s): Arthur/Merlin
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Though he was chosen as sorcerer for Camelot’s court when Arthur became king, Merlin can’t trust in his abilities. Shifting into animals has never been accomplished before, but Merlin sets out to prove his worth to the kingdom, knowing that no kingdom, however great, can last with a gap between the two most powerful people in the land.
Warnings (if any): Mention of (mild) torture, very, very brief mention/suggestion of rape, death of minor character (opposing king).
Total word count: 13,318
Original prompt number: 155 - Submitted by vesperdivum
Disclaimer: This story/artwork is based on characters and situations created and owned by the BBC and Shine TV. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Author's/artist's notes (if any): n/a
Beta(s): W - thank you!
To Catch a Sparrow - Part I
♦
Merlin never felt that he’d quite earned the title of Camelot’s court warlock. He knew he was powerful, yes, and that he was a good choice for the fact that he was friends with the king, but there were a lot of things that Merlin knew other people weren’t aware of, and surely that was the reason you elected someone?
When it came down to a choice, Arthur had called for the strongest sorcerers willing to serve him to come forward. The position was to fall back on tradition, with whoever gained the title being a most trusted member of court and acting as the king’s right hand man, even above almost all of the knights.
Of course, Arthur’s system worked a little differently in that the Round Table came into play. This meant than the sorcerer would join them at the ever-expanding table as a trusted person.
Because of that, Merlin never really considered asking Arthur for the position. Arthur knew of his magic now, yes, but Merlin didn’t really consider asking for such a position, happy to work for Arthur as a manservant-come-advisor when need be. It would be nice, yes, to be able to explore his magic, but it had genuinely never crossed Merlin’s mind to change jobs.
From all over the kingdom, men and women had arrived, some hopeful to gain position at court and others simply there for the spectacle. Arthur held the welcoming ceremony outside in the tourney field, shaking hands with everyone who had come forward.
It wasn’t until the afternoon that Merlin had been able to see the other sorcerers, having been held up copying some parchments for Arthur, and had been surprised by the sheer number of magic users. Magic was still somewhat new and the people were still a little skittish nowadays and it warmed Merlin’s heart to see so many.
It was Merlin who was asked to give the competitors their second task, but it was then that the competition ended. Not a single one of the sorcerers took the scroll Merlin offered, a list of objects to find. They shook their heads and smiled at Merlin, shaking his hand and clasping his shoulder.
That evening, Arthur had been furious, calling each of the sorcerers to the hall to hear what they had to say for their actions. Every single one had replied that they stood no chance against Emrys and that Arthur was a fool if he thought anyone else would be better in position, a statement both Merlin and Arthur had blinked stupidly at, looking at each other in surprise.
So it wasn’t a story of glory or excitement, or even on his own merit, but it was how Merlin became Camelot’s warlock. He worked hard, speaking to druids over the kingdom to learn spells that would boost harvests, smoothing negotiations with hostile groups and helping Arthur secure victories as Camelot spread her hands, welcoming more and more people under the banner of peace that Arthur brought.
There was still a sense that Merlin didn’t deserve his position though, even after five years of holding it. He was untrained in many aspects (though there were fewer and fewer people nowadays who had something to teach Merlin, considering the amount of time he’d taken to learn from others) and sometimes wondered if he really was so powerful. Arthur had simply taken others’ words for it and believed them, but was it true?
Before the times of powerful sorcerers such as Sigan, Merlin discovered that witches and warlocks would often try to turn themselves into animals. It was why many kept a familiar, to help them change shape and form, to become that animal too. In all the books that Merlin searched through, no magic user had ever been successful in changing their shape.
And so Merlin knew how he could test himself. If he could change into an animal - any animal it didn’t matter - then he knew he was deserving of Camelot. If not… then he’d need to seek the druids, get them to test him and prove that he wasn’t just an empty name.
His extensive research drew Merlin away from Arthur more and more and the easy relationship they’d held for years began to fray. Still, Merlin needed the proof, needed to be able to do this so Arthur could see he was useful and powerful, that he deserved to be there.
They drifted apart, but Merlin began learning and cultivating his knowledge. He kept it secret, not telling a single soul even as he drew closer to testing out what he’d learnt.
He was to start out small, with a little animal that was simple and easy, or at least in Merlin’s eyes. He’d chosen a mouse and kept the image of one in his mind, trying to think about what life as a mouse would be like.
It took three weeks before Merlin benefited from his experiment. The first few attempts drew nothing but sweat and aching bones, but as he drew closer to the three week mark, Merlin could feel parts of him shift. One day he’d even gone around with slight whiskers - on the one trip he’d made when he needed food that is.
Yet on the third week, Merlin felt pain like no other and clenched his jaw, arms jerking as he changed form. When it was over, he ached like nothing he’d ever felt before, but he’d done it. This elation coursed through him, blocking out any pain as he tested out his new body.
He was small, tiny even, but could see everything in the room and hear even more. He could hear sounds a human would never be able to and sniffed the air, scuttling over to the side of the room and resting against the wall.
Merlin couldn’t keep the form for long and after he changed back to a human he lay on the floor, exhausted, but it was a start.
In the following months, Merlin mastered a mouse form and moved onto others, becoming more adventurous as time moved on. He didn’t tell anyone, but that was because he wasn’t done yet. There were so many more animals Merlin wanted to try before he told Arthur and he was only just getting started.
♦
It was midsummer that Arthur was called to the coast. A lord on the edge of Camelot’s territories wanted to play host to the king and had graciously invited him to Land’s End. Arthur had accepted and selected a large group to accompany him.
Merlin rode beside Arthur as they led the procession of knights and noblemen. Ten noblewomen were also joining their party, pulled along in carriages and as a mark of respect to the lord hosting them. The women had been free to join and Merlin knew it was likely one of them could become the new lady of the coast.
A marriage to a noblewoman born in Camelot would have great advantage for the lord himself as well as the lady. The man was very wealthy - he’d have to be to want the king to stay for a week and explicitly stated for him not to bring any food - and the coast was renowned for their strongholds and amount of wealth. The women on the trip knew that and had come for that exact reason.
“We’re lucky it’s summer,” Arthur said as they began their last day’s journey. Everyone was tired, but they’d been assured that they’d reach the lord’s house in good time today and so spirits were high.
“And why’s that?” Merlin muttered, shifting in his saddle. He was restless, wanting to try out the animal forms he could change into. He wanted to join the seabirds in the air, cruising on the sea winds.
“It’s warm. We’ll even be able to swim, the sea won’t be too cold.” Arthur sounded pleased and turned in his saddle, smiling lop-sided at Merlin.
“I’ve never seen it properly,” admitted Merlin, nudging his horse until he was beside Arthur fully, able to talk in private. “I mean aside from the time with Anhora and the unicorn.”
Arthur made a noise of agreement and clapped Merlin’s thigh, the only part of him he could reach, with the flat of his palm.
“You’ll love this. Land’s End is beautiful, jutting out into the sea… you’ll love it.” Arthur moved his hand off of Merlin’s leg, smiling again and Merlin looked down at his hands, nodding.
“I’m sure I will,” he muttered, trying to focus on the journey and not the way Arthur’s hand had slid across his covered skin.
The lord was out in full pomp, with music drifting over them from a troupe of minstrels and dancers. Food was waiting and they were all sent off with a handful of sweet fruit and thin slices of meat before they were allowed to freshen up, the lord insisting they must be famished from their journey.
Likewise, the horses and pack donkeys they had brought were taken to a large stable and brushed down, watered and fed. Merlin shouldn’t have expected anything less, but it was still odd to see this amount of attention. When Arthur had been a prince, things were organised, yes, and he was doted on, yes, but there had never quite been this amount of bowing down and boot-licking.
Tradition in Camelot was clearly known here and Merlin’s rooms were adjacent to Arthur’s. Typically speaking, the court sorcerer was the most trusted member of court. Before Uther and the purge, Nimueh had been the most trusted member of Camelot’s court, only overshadowed by Ygraine. But the queen had been an oddity, choosing to immerse herself in politics, so her situation had been uncommon.
What this meant, though, was Merlin needed to be there at all times. Arthur could traditionally consult him on everything (and he did now, but it was less because he needed to hear Merlin’s view and more to irritate him) and with Merlin next door, it could be done in private, away from prying eyes.
A gaggle of servants hauled their luggage up the stairs, even though Merlin had offered to carry it himself. His magic could have made quick work of the bags, but the servants had insisted, wanting to prove their worth to the king and Merlin didn’t have the heart to stop them.
Inside of his room was spacious, brightly coloured and with a wide window. From the window, Merlin had an amazing view down the cliffs the castle stood on, down the shore to the sea. It was extraordinary the way the sea stretched beyond Merlin’s sight. It was vast and wide, greater and wilder than anything Merlin had seen before and he took a deep breath of air in as he opened the window.
High up above a gull called and Merlin knew he needed to join it. He’d never attempted anything larger than a robin before now and he grunted with pain as his body changed, holding in a louder shout in fear that Arthur would rush in, thinking he was under attack. It was hard, but Merlin managed to keep the screams down as feathers sprouted through his skin and his face elongated, pulling and stretching until he saw the glistening world of the ocean in greater clarity and stood with a heavy weight around him.
Balancing precariously on the window ledge, Merlin spread his wings and launched into the air, pushing up shakily until he caught an air current. Gulls called out to him playfully and he joined them, coasting through the breeze and dipping down to the waves.
Instinct broke Merlin to fly into a v-shape, low above the water. Other gulls plunged down, grabbing squirming fish from the sea and Merlin took a dive, wetting his beak and snapping wildly at the fish. He caught one, but it struggled down his throat, sticking until there was nothing else it could do, falling into his stomach. Though slightly unpleasant, Merlin cawed with the rest of the birds, satisfied with his catch.
Then something caught Merlin’s eye. He let his wings swoop him upwards, breaking from the squawking mass of birds fighting for food. A shape broke the surface of the ocean again, water sprouting upwards in a huge stream.
The creature remained at the surface, but began to dive back down. There was only one thing Merlin could do now; he needed to follow.
Knowing that if he changed to a fish now he’d only be caught, Merlin tucked his wings to his side, letting his body fall head-first into the ocean. The impact hurt, but the pain was nothing compared to the magic shift he put himself through a second later, bird shifting into fish, folding and compacting as Merlin screamed. Of course only a jet of bubbles streamed from his mouth and by the time any predator would see them, Merlin was away, swimming towards the huge monstrosity he had seen peeking through the waves.
He was grateful the sea was calm and clear for if it had been any darker, Merlin would never have seen the whale. He’d seen them n story books and in the volumes he’d studied, but Merlin had never fully comprehended the sheer size of a whale.
Its eye was easily bigger than the fish form he’d chosen. For its bulk, the whale moved gracefully through the seas and Merlin suddenly found himself wanting to know what it was like.
Pushing away from the whale, Merlin concentrated his magic again. It hurt, like it always did when he wasn’t used to the form he was taking, but it was a good hurt, a productive hurt. Merlin could feel his fish form growing, and suddenly he needed air. Whales were different to fish and Merlin used a huge flipped to push upwards, sucking in air as he hit the surface.
Life was slow as a whale. He moved through the waters with very little effort, opening his mouth just a little to let water and food in. He felt weighed down by the water, but it didn’t cause him trouble. In fact, Merlin realised, the water was helping him, sloshing around inside and around him. He was part of the very ocean itself and it was wonderful.
A deep rumble sounded and Merlin perked up a little. Instinct kicked in and he called back, eager to meet another whale. The other whale came up to his side, faster than Merlin would have thought, and rolled to its side, giving out another rumbled call.
When it was clear that Merlin was a bit of a strange whale, the other one soon lost interest and began its voyage out to the open seas. Merlin knew that he shouldn’t follow, not when his absence would be missed soon, but he couldn’t help but let curiosity win. When else would he get the chance to explore the ocean? There were so many amazing animals here that Merlin might need to know about them one day. It was research, he told himself, justifying the swim.
With eyes closed, Merlin let the ocean guide him, leading him on and on until he could hear nothing but the calm ocean. He barely noticed the sun dropping in the sky, instead focused on swimming across the waters, inspecting what he could and covering what must be furlongs of distance.
The water of the seas cooled a little and a prickle developed under Merlin’s skin. Something was wrong and he knew exactly what that something was. He’d stayed out here too long and someone was looking for him.
With a hint of regret, Merlin turned smoothly through the waves, heading towards the shore. He heard other whales noticing his direction and calling out in warning, letting him know the dangers of being beached on the shore. Merlin couldn’t reply, not knowing the right whale-song for one thing, because he knew they’d never understand that he wasn’t a whale at all.
As he drew closer to the shore, Merlin could hear who had come to search for him. He could hear Arthur’s voice calling to him, stomping through the sandy beach, almost frantic with worry. Perhaps it had been a little too much to simply slip away without a single word and knowing no one had seen you, but Merlin hadn’t thought it all the way through. He’d needed to come out here, it was a primal instinct.
The need for air became pressing, but if Merlin surfaced as a whale before he changed, Arthur would notice and link it together. He couldn’t let Arthur know just yet - he hadn’t perfected any useful forms to make his case. If Arthur could see the pain it put Merlin in, he’d forbid the practice, something Merlin didn’t think he could bear.
He began the change, lungs starved of air. It hurt more than usual, but Merlin broke the top of the sea with a mighty gasp, arms splashing up water as he broke surface.
“Merlin?” came an incredulous voice, floating on the white horses of the waves. “What the hell are you doing?”
Merlin kicked towards the short, the waves eager to help him return to Arthur. He clambered out of the sea, wishing for the cloak he’d packed in one of his bags to manifest before him. He wrapped himself in its warmth, stepping onto the beach and letting sand coat his feet as Arthur stared at him across the shore.
“I went for a swim,” Merlin replied simply, teeth chattering. “I wanted to freshen up a bit after our ride.”
Arthur raised his eyebrows.
“The whole household has been looking for you for hours. Castle gossip has already insinuated you’ve been murdered or kidnapped by twenty different people, myself included, and instead you’re out here frolicking in the sea?” Merlin didn’t look at Arthur, recognising the angry tone in his voice.
“Well it sounds bad when you put it like that,” he mumbled after a moment, startling a little as Arthur sat down heavily beside him.
“I was worried,” admitted Arthur a moment later. “I mean I know you can defend yourself, but you’re also Merlin and goodness knows what might happen when you wander around alone.”
Merlin shoved him with an elbow, drawing a laugh from Arthur.
“Sorry,” he apologised lightly, not meaning it at all. “But I really was worried,” he added quietly, looking sideways at Merlin.
They never spent that much time together anymore. At least, not in the way that Merlin would have hoped. Their lives revolved around Camelot - and quite rightly so. Merlin was a warlock of the Court and Arthur the king, but still Merlin couldn’t help but wish sometimes, just sometimes, he and Arthur could go off for a night, eat half-burnt rabbit and laugh like they used to.
“Merlin, I-“ Arthur began, but that was all he struggled out before he gripped Merlin’s shoulders, kissing him on the side of his mouth.
Tilting his head for a better kiss, Merlin’s heart began to race. They hadn’t done this in a long time, and this time Merlin could tell it was more than casual sex.
Arthur kissed him with meaning, and Merlin drank it in, wanting it and needing it. He didn’t care for anything but Arthur then, clinging to him and feeling his heat, relishing in pleasure. It was sandy, the ground uncomfortable, but nothing else mattered. Merlin didn’t care if hundreds of crabs suddenly rose to grab him, he had Arthur in his arms and that was all that mattered right now.
Merlin sucked in a breath, unbuckling his belt as Arthur moved to his own, shaking hands catching on the metal. Merlin let Arthur push them down into the sand, rubbing their cocks together with such beautiful friction that Merlin couldn’t help but arch up, push back into Arthur and move.
They didn’t last long, but Arthur was in no rush to get them back to the house. They stayed outside for a while, reacquainting themselves for the first time in month, pledging to bridge the gap between them in kisses an intimate touches.
They made their way back to the castle where Merlin offered his apologies to the household, head bowed and explaining he’d wanted to go for a swim and simply lost track of time.
He and Arthur had thought everyone accepted the lie for what it was until a few days later when Merlin caught some chambermaid’s laughing, commenting on the way Merlin had come back with sand in his hair - the king too, someone had added - and how the warlock’s bed was mysteriously neat and tidy every morning, almost as if he’d slept elsewhere.
The party returned to Camelot in high spirits. The trip had been a wonderful summer and though Merlin would have to let Arthur slink back into his throne and away, he knew he hadn’t lost him. Merlin had nothing to fear; he’d gotten Arthur’s confession and though they might not spend every moment together (and Merlin suspected they’d hardly spend any time together once they reached Court again), it didn’t matter. What needed to be said had been and Merlin was more than content with it.
Besides, he still needed to perfect his transformations and to find a proper use for them. Curiosity wouldn’t win over the council and Merlin couldn’t let them ban the spells. He’d find a way, but he needed just a little more time.
♦
It wasn’t often now that Merlin called Kilgharrah down from the heavens, but this was different. Kilgharrah was the only one who knew the answers to Merlin’s questions and the only one who would be able to help him now.
As usual, the dragon bowed his head as he landed, waiting for Merlin to speak with a gleam in his eye. Merlin had first noticed the gleam after Arthur had been crowned king and he had earnt his title as Camelot’s warlock, but it was still hard to digest it. In Kilgharrah’s eye glimmered something akin to pride and love and though they were kin, such emotions were more than Merlin could bear. To have such an ancient creature not only bow down to you because of your blood, but respect and even love you was too much. For now, it was far too much.
“Can I ever become like you?” he asked without preamble.
For a moment, Kilgharrah frowned and looked taken aback, before he caught Merlin’s meaning.
“You were given the power over dragons,” he began, eyes widening. “A dragon is a creature of myth and enchantment, a creature of magic. You are also such a creature, but you will never be able to change into a dragon.”
Merlin nodded. He’d suspected as much, but everything he’d been working for had been to turn into a dragon, yet now he’d been told it was impossible.
“Why?” he asked, unafraid to seek wisdom from the dragon now.
Kilgharrah sighed, the sound rumbling through his body and through to the very earth itself.
“The magic that shapes me does so in the form of a dragon. Likewise the magic that shapes, say, a unicorn does so in the form of a unicorn.” Kilgharrah blinked slowly, waiting for Merlin’s understanding nod.
“And the magic that shapes me-“ he began, but was cut off once more by the dragon.
“Yes,” he said. “The magic does so in the form of you. If you try to reshape that magic into the form of another creature that magic shaped, it would bring pain and terror.” The dragon frowned again, narrowing his eyes.
“Merlin,” he said sharply. “You must promise me never to try such a transformation. If the change itself did not kill you then trying to sustain the form would burn even your magic to dust.”
Of course Merlin understood what was being said. Kilgharrah was warning him and he’d be a fool not to take that warning seriously. Still, he could never promise that he wouldn’t try. One day Merlin knew he would try - and most likely fail. Even if he failed then he knew beyond doubt that he couldn’t do it, but he needed the freedom to try.
“I can’t,” Merlin admitted and Kilgharrah sighed once more, a sad sound escaping him.
“Very well,” he said, knowing that Merlin wouldn’t be shifted from his decision. “But remember this; magic works in strange ways. Trying to force its path will do you nothing but grievous harm. Sometimes magic will rise to help you.”
With that, he surged upwards and away, long grass rustling in his wake as Merlin began his walk back to Camelot, mind reeling with what he could do next.
♦
In all honesty, Merlin didn’t think about shifting to a dragon for a long time after that. There were other things he had to do, such as make sure Arthur kept to all of his appointments, not just the ones he was interested in. Of course, hearing council about pigs wasn’t everyone’s interest, but Arthur needed to be there whether he liked it or not.
Between making sure Arthur was where he should be and his own court duties, Merlin was left with very little time for experimentation. Occasionally he’d venture down to the kennels to sleep in a pile of warm fur and wet noses, or venture out to one of the fields and keep watch over the horses as they slept, marvelling at how calm the world was, but these times were few and far between.
Besides, it was easy to shift to a hunting hound or a horse now, so easy that Merlin could do it with only a mere thought and pinch of magic. He needed something different, something that only posed a hint of a challenge.
It was nearing dusk when Merlin left the council chambers and he decided to take a walk through the lower town. The market sellers were packing up when he got there, but a few smiled and asked if they could sell him anything, a few even stopping to have a full chat. But Merlin needed to be on his way and he excused himself, heading to the edge of Camelot, through the town and to the outer gates.
“Merlin?” a voice asked, and Merlin turned with a smile to face Gwaine.
“How are you?” asked Merlin, giving his friend a hug. They’d been too busy for anything than a brief talk in a while and Merlin could spare a few minutes.
Gwaine shrugged. “Same old. No threats really, though we’ve had more people coming in from Mercia. Seems that Bayard’s trying to start a war though he hasn’t any ammunition.”
It wasn’t old news, but Merlin wasn’t aware that it had caused people to flee Mercia itself.
“Best speak to Arthur,” he muttered, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. “You’re switching off soon?” was the next question, and Gwaine nodded, rolling his eyes.
“And not a bloody second too late.” He clapped Merlin on the shoulder. “Fancy a drink?”
Though he would have loved nothing better than to say yes and turn on his heel, Merlin was restless. He hadn’t been able to transform properly in a while - even into a horse or dog and shifting in his room was too hard when anyone could summon him and Arthur would just walk in - and he could feel his magic tingling with want.
“Raincheck?” he said, wincing as Gwaine smiled, the smile not quite reaching his lips. “I’ll be gone all night,” he added, nodding to the path that led from Camelot to the surrounding forests, ignoring the strange look Gwaine gave him.
“Do I dare ask?” the knight ventured, but Merlin simply offered him a small smile, shaking his head.
“Have a pint on me and we’ll go to the tavern next time.” With that, Merlin carried on, letting the darkness wrap itself around him as he headed for the closest forest.
The trees loomed in the darkness, hidden shapes jutting out and leaves rustling in the breeze. Merlin took a deep breath, stepping through the lines of trees until he was surrounded by the night, surrounded by the forest and bathed in moonlight.
The decision was easy. An animal jumped into his mind and Merlin reached for his magic, letting it coat his skin as he forced his body to change.
As he began to shift, Merlin’s body shuddered and he screamed out, bones popping and skin stretching. Fire and ice burnt along his body, shivers wracking through him and sweat dripping off of his skin. He stretched and changed, skull becoming wider and eyes shifting to the side, hands and feet shrinking as his spine elongated, forcing his body to curl over.
Merlin’s scream echoed around the forest before changing, becoming deeper as two tines split from his head, pushing up and thickening. He bellowed out into the still air of night, startling a few nearby animals as he thudded to the ground.
The magic suddenly stopped as hair coated Merlin’s body and he opened his eyes, snorting as he shut his jaw. The world was sharper than before, eyes able to see almost in every direction. He could hear clearer and if not for the impressive weight on his head, Merlin would think that he’d changed into a horse again.
He walked forward, testing out his new legs and cloven hooves, pausing only when he became caught on a tree. His antlers - a stag, he’d managed the stag! - were relatively easy to set free and he continued his walk through the forest, pausing to graze every now and again.
There was an odd sound off to his side and Merlin tensed, feeling powerful muscles tense at his flank. The bushes parted and a doe, long-eared and wide-eyed, stepped out, fawn at her side. She paused, staring at him, but Merlin didn’t dare move. The fawn took a step away from its mother before she let out a warning bark.
In their odd stalemate, Merlin could do nothing. Even though he was able to shift into an animal, the natural behaviour of that animal only taught him basic instinct - such as fight or flight, what was poisonous and how to move - but it didn’t teach him full etiquette. He had no idea what to do if the doe decided he was a threat (and would a doe even attack a young stag? Merlin didn’t know).
With a shake of her head, the doe bend down to butt her head against her fawn, stepping towards Merlin and ignoring him completely. The fawn trotted alongside, gazing up at Merlin as it trotted past, curious but not enough to leave its mother.
The night proved to be uneventful and Merlin lay down, curling up in a thicket and sleeping. He woke, still as a deer, just after dawn, joining the morning chorus with a hearty bellow. Now that the forest was alive, the sounds were even more amazing and Merlin felt his spirit lift in ways it hadn’t for weeks, not since the news on Mercia had drifted into Camelot.
Passing through a hilly area, Merlin came across a stream. He paused to drink, enjoying the cool, earthy water and flicking his ears around, taking in the sounds of a forest at dawn.
Later, Merlin would connect the dots, but he paid no real notice to a rustle in the bushes. He did jerk his head up as a twig snapped underfoot, but by then it was too late and a crossbow bolt was planted in Merlin’s side.
Bellowing in pain, Merlin felt the animal instincts overtake him and he ran, sprinting through the forest, hardly caring where he was going. He needed to get away from the hunters as soon as possible and then he’d be able to calm down enough to shift again and deal with the bolt in his side. It hurt, but thankfully it didn’t seem too deep or too harmful. Whoever the marksman had been, he had a piss poor shot, something Merlin was grateful for for once.
One thing Merlin hadn’t bet on, though, was the dogs. The hunters had brought dogs on the hunt and set them loose. They were crashing through the forest, trailing Merlin as he breezed through the trees, kicking up mulch as he sped onwards. In the peace of the forest he’d forgotten that the deer here were prized hunting tokens and that he, being a stag, was an ultimate prize for his antlers.
The wind shifted and Merlin knew what he had to do. He needed to head for Camelot, get out of the forest and into the open. He didn’t care any longer about letting the hunters see his magic, but the dogs at his heels were getting snappier, teeth grazing his heels as he ran on.
Another bolt fired off, a loose, cheap shot, but it brushed Merlin’s flank. It spooked him more than anything, but did leave a trail of glistening blood in its wake. He was evermore determined now and Merlin surged forward, bounding over logs and bushes, running faster than he ever had before in his life.
Merlin could feel Camelot now, the people and his home, and he ran on, breaking cover of the forest and skittering across the cobblestone path. He galloped along it, panting from the exertion as the crossbow bolt shifted, digging further into his skin, and almost slowed when he reached the guarded entrance.
There was no reprieve though, for the knights at the gate scattered, one man drawing his sword and frowning and the others presumably fetching crossbows. Panic surged up, but Merlin’s own instinct was too strong this time. He needed to be home, so he simply pushed past the knight, barrelling him over and almost falling on the cobblestones.
As he righted himself, Merlin felt another bolt sink into the muscle of his hind leg. He bellowed once more, the sound echoing through the lower town, but he carried on, trying to put distance enough between him and the knights so he could shift.
The lower town parted like a sea before Merlin as he charged on. He was bleeding freely now and his deer instincts were outraged that Merlin was inside of Camelot. He thundered on though, only falling to his knees and scraping the caps as he entered the courtyard, exhausted and wounded.
On his side, Merlin threw his head back and reached for his magic, wheezing as he struggled against the pain. Relief flooded him as he felt the push-and-stretch of his magic, a searing pain that tore through him like a knife. It was the pain that marked his transformation and, for once, Merlin was grateful for it.
He rolled onto his back, kicking his legs up in the air and screaming as he shifted, shrinking on himself and shedding his hair. His hands scrabbled at his face, nails digging into skin, as his skull rearranged itself, compacting and sucking in the antler protrusions.
There were people watching him, Merlin knew, but he couldn’t care less about them. He was back in his human form, but the pain hadn’t faded yet and two bolts were still lodged in his thigh and by his hip.
“No,” Merlin whispered, shaking his head with wide, shocked eyes. His magic was drained from his own exhaustion and the pain overtook him completely, even as he pressed a hand to the wounds, trying to stop the blood flow.
And then everything became spotted and grey, the world shrinking until there was nothing left but darkness and pain.
♦
PART II
Title: To Catch a Sparrow
Pairing(s)/Character(s): Arthur/Merlin
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Though he was chosen as sorcerer for Camelot’s court when Arthur became king, Merlin can’t trust in his abilities. Shifting into animals has never been accomplished before, but Merlin sets out to prove his worth to the kingdom, knowing that no kingdom, however great, can last with a gap between the two most powerful people in the land.
Warnings (if any): Mention of (mild) torture, very, very brief mention/suggestion of rape, death of minor character (opposing king).
Total word count: 13,318
Original prompt number: 155 - Submitted by vesperdivum
Disclaimer: This story/artwork is based on characters and situations created and owned by the BBC and Shine TV. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Author's/artist's notes (if any): n/a
Beta(s): W - thank you!
To Catch a Sparrow - Part I
♦
Merlin never felt that he’d quite earned the title of Camelot’s court warlock. He knew he was powerful, yes, and that he was a good choice for the fact that he was friends with the king, but there were a lot of things that Merlin knew other people weren’t aware of, and surely that was the reason you elected someone?
When it came down to a choice, Arthur had called for the strongest sorcerers willing to serve him to come forward. The position was to fall back on tradition, with whoever gained the title being a most trusted member of court and acting as the king’s right hand man, even above almost all of the knights.
Of course, Arthur’s system worked a little differently in that the Round Table came into play. This meant than the sorcerer would join them at the ever-expanding table as a trusted person.
Because of that, Merlin never really considered asking Arthur for the position. Arthur knew of his magic now, yes, but Merlin didn’t really consider asking for such a position, happy to work for Arthur as a manservant-come-advisor when need be. It would be nice, yes, to be able to explore his magic, but it had genuinely never crossed Merlin’s mind to change jobs.
From all over the kingdom, men and women had arrived, some hopeful to gain position at court and others simply there for the spectacle. Arthur held the welcoming ceremony outside in the tourney field, shaking hands with everyone who had come forward.
It wasn’t until the afternoon that Merlin had been able to see the other sorcerers, having been held up copying some parchments for Arthur, and had been surprised by the sheer number of magic users. Magic was still somewhat new and the people were still a little skittish nowadays and it warmed Merlin’s heart to see so many.
It was Merlin who was asked to give the competitors their second task, but it was then that the competition ended. Not a single one of the sorcerers took the scroll Merlin offered, a list of objects to find. They shook their heads and smiled at Merlin, shaking his hand and clasping his shoulder.
That evening, Arthur had been furious, calling each of the sorcerers to the hall to hear what they had to say for their actions. Every single one had replied that they stood no chance against Emrys and that Arthur was a fool if he thought anyone else would be better in position, a statement both Merlin and Arthur had blinked stupidly at, looking at each other in surprise.
So it wasn’t a story of glory or excitement, or even on his own merit, but it was how Merlin became Camelot’s warlock. He worked hard, speaking to druids over the kingdom to learn spells that would boost harvests, smoothing negotiations with hostile groups and helping Arthur secure victories as Camelot spread her hands, welcoming more and more people under the banner of peace that Arthur brought.
There was still a sense that Merlin didn’t deserve his position though, even after five years of holding it. He was untrained in many aspects (though there were fewer and fewer people nowadays who had something to teach Merlin, considering the amount of time he’d taken to learn from others) and sometimes wondered if he really was so powerful. Arthur had simply taken others’ words for it and believed them, but was it true?
Before the times of powerful sorcerers such as Sigan, Merlin discovered that witches and warlocks would often try to turn themselves into animals. It was why many kept a familiar, to help them change shape and form, to become that animal too. In all the books that Merlin searched through, no magic user had ever been successful in changing their shape.
And so Merlin knew how he could test himself. If he could change into an animal - any animal it didn’t matter - then he knew he was deserving of Camelot. If not… then he’d need to seek the druids, get them to test him and prove that he wasn’t just an empty name.
His extensive research drew Merlin away from Arthur more and more and the easy relationship they’d held for years began to fray. Still, Merlin needed the proof, needed to be able to do this so Arthur could see he was useful and powerful, that he deserved to be there.
They drifted apart, but Merlin began learning and cultivating his knowledge. He kept it secret, not telling a single soul even as he drew closer to testing out what he’d learnt.
He was to start out small, with a little animal that was simple and easy, or at least in Merlin’s eyes. He’d chosen a mouse and kept the image of one in his mind, trying to think about what life as a mouse would be like.
It took three weeks before Merlin benefited from his experiment. The first few attempts drew nothing but sweat and aching bones, but as he drew closer to the three week mark, Merlin could feel parts of him shift. One day he’d even gone around with slight whiskers - on the one trip he’d made when he needed food that is.
Yet on the third week, Merlin felt pain like no other and clenched his jaw, arms jerking as he changed form. When it was over, he ached like nothing he’d ever felt before, but he’d done it. This elation coursed through him, blocking out any pain as he tested out his new body.
He was small, tiny even, but could see everything in the room and hear even more. He could hear sounds a human would never be able to and sniffed the air, scuttling over to the side of the room and resting against the wall.
Merlin couldn’t keep the form for long and after he changed back to a human he lay on the floor, exhausted, but it was a start.
In the following months, Merlin mastered a mouse form and moved onto others, becoming more adventurous as time moved on. He didn’t tell anyone, but that was because he wasn’t done yet. There were so many more animals Merlin wanted to try before he told Arthur and he was only just getting started.
♦
It was midsummer that Arthur was called to the coast. A lord on the edge of Camelot’s territories wanted to play host to the king and had graciously invited him to Land’s End. Arthur had accepted and selected a large group to accompany him.
Merlin rode beside Arthur as they led the procession of knights and noblemen. Ten noblewomen were also joining their party, pulled along in carriages and as a mark of respect to the lord hosting them. The women had been free to join and Merlin knew it was likely one of them could become the new lady of the coast.
A marriage to a noblewoman born in Camelot would have great advantage for the lord himself as well as the lady. The man was very wealthy - he’d have to be to want the king to stay for a week and explicitly stated for him not to bring any food - and the coast was renowned for their strongholds and amount of wealth. The women on the trip knew that and had come for that exact reason.
“We’re lucky it’s summer,” Arthur said as they began their last day’s journey. Everyone was tired, but they’d been assured that they’d reach the lord’s house in good time today and so spirits were high.
“And why’s that?” Merlin muttered, shifting in his saddle. He was restless, wanting to try out the animal forms he could change into. He wanted to join the seabirds in the air, cruising on the sea winds.
“It’s warm. We’ll even be able to swim, the sea won’t be too cold.” Arthur sounded pleased and turned in his saddle, smiling lop-sided at Merlin.
“I’ve never seen it properly,” admitted Merlin, nudging his horse until he was beside Arthur fully, able to talk in private. “I mean aside from the time with Anhora and the unicorn.”
Arthur made a noise of agreement and clapped Merlin’s thigh, the only part of him he could reach, with the flat of his palm.
“You’ll love this. Land’s End is beautiful, jutting out into the sea… you’ll love it.” Arthur moved his hand off of Merlin’s leg, smiling again and Merlin looked down at his hands, nodding.
“I’m sure I will,” he muttered, trying to focus on the journey and not the way Arthur’s hand had slid across his covered skin.
The lord was out in full pomp, with music drifting over them from a troupe of minstrels and dancers. Food was waiting and they were all sent off with a handful of sweet fruit and thin slices of meat before they were allowed to freshen up, the lord insisting they must be famished from their journey.
Likewise, the horses and pack donkeys they had brought were taken to a large stable and brushed down, watered and fed. Merlin shouldn’t have expected anything less, but it was still odd to see this amount of attention. When Arthur had been a prince, things were organised, yes, and he was doted on, yes, but there had never quite been this amount of bowing down and boot-licking.
Tradition in Camelot was clearly known here and Merlin’s rooms were adjacent to Arthur’s. Typically speaking, the court sorcerer was the most trusted member of court. Before Uther and the purge, Nimueh had been the most trusted member of Camelot’s court, only overshadowed by Ygraine. But the queen had been an oddity, choosing to immerse herself in politics, so her situation had been uncommon.
What this meant, though, was Merlin needed to be there at all times. Arthur could traditionally consult him on everything (and he did now, but it was less because he needed to hear Merlin’s view and more to irritate him) and with Merlin next door, it could be done in private, away from prying eyes.
A gaggle of servants hauled their luggage up the stairs, even though Merlin had offered to carry it himself. His magic could have made quick work of the bags, but the servants had insisted, wanting to prove their worth to the king and Merlin didn’t have the heart to stop them.
Inside of his room was spacious, brightly coloured and with a wide window. From the window, Merlin had an amazing view down the cliffs the castle stood on, down the shore to the sea. It was extraordinary the way the sea stretched beyond Merlin’s sight. It was vast and wide, greater and wilder than anything Merlin had seen before and he took a deep breath of air in as he opened the window.
High up above a gull called and Merlin knew he needed to join it. He’d never attempted anything larger than a robin before now and he grunted with pain as his body changed, holding in a louder shout in fear that Arthur would rush in, thinking he was under attack. It was hard, but Merlin managed to keep the screams down as feathers sprouted through his skin and his face elongated, pulling and stretching until he saw the glistening world of the ocean in greater clarity and stood with a heavy weight around him.
Balancing precariously on the window ledge, Merlin spread his wings and launched into the air, pushing up shakily until he caught an air current. Gulls called out to him playfully and he joined them, coasting through the breeze and dipping down to the waves.
Instinct broke Merlin to fly into a v-shape, low above the water. Other gulls plunged down, grabbing squirming fish from the sea and Merlin took a dive, wetting his beak and snapping wildly at the fish. He caught one, but it struggled down his throat, sticking until there was nothing else it could do, falling into his stomach. Though slightly unpleasant, Merlin cawed with the rest of the birds, satisfied with his catch.
Then something caught Merlin’s eye. He let his wings swoop him upwards, breaking from the squawking mass of birds fighting for food. A shape broke the surface of the ocean again, water sprouting upwards in a huge stream.
The creature remained at the surface, but began to dive back down. There was only one thing Merlin could do now; he needed to follow.
Knowing that if he changed to a fish now he’d only be caught, Merlin tucked his wings to his side, letting his body fall head-first into the ocean. The impact hurt, but the pain was nothing compared to the magic shift he put himself through a second later, bird shifting into fish, folding and compacting as Merlin screamed. Of course only a jet of bubbles streamed from his mouth and by the time any predator would see them, Merlin was away, swimming towards the huge monstrosity he had seen peeking through the waves.
He was grateful the sea was calm and clear for if it had been any darker, Merlin would never have seen the whale. He’d seen them n story books and in the volumes he’d studied, but Merlin had never fully comprehended the sheer size of a whale.
Its eye was easily bigger than the fish form he’d chosen. For its bulk, the whale moved gracefully through the seas and Merlin suddenly found himself wanting to know what it was like.
Pushing away from the whale, Merlin concentrated his magic again. It hurt, like it always did when he wasn’t used to the form he was taking, but it was a good hurt, a productive hurt. Merlin could feel his fish form growing, and suddenly he needed air. Whales were different to fish and Merlin used a huge flipped to push upwards, sucking in air as he hit the surface.
Life was slow as a whale. He moved through the waters with very little effort, opening his mouth just a little to let water and food in. He felt weighed down by the water, but it didn’t cause him trouble. In fact, Merlin realised, the water was helping him, sloshing around inside and around him. He was part of the very ocean itself and it was wonderful.
A deep rumble sounded and Merlin perked up a little. Instinct kicked in and he called back, eager to meet another whale. The other whale came up to his side, faster than Merlin would have thought, and rolled to its side, giving out another rumbled call.
When it was clear that Merlin was a bit of a strange whale, the other one soon lost interest and began its voyage out to the open seas. Merlin knew that he shouldn’t follow, not when his absence would be missed soon, but he couldn’t help but let curiosity win. When else would he get the chance to explore the ocean? There were so many amazing animals here that Merlin might need to know about them one day. It was research, he told himself, justifying the swim.
With eyes closed, Merlin let the ocean guide him, leading him on and on until he could hear nothing but the calm ocean. He barely noticed the sun dropping in the sky, instead focused on swimming across the waters, inspecting what he could and covering what must be furlongs of distance.
The water of the seas cooled a little and a prickle developed under Merlin’s skin. Something was wrong and he knew exactly what that something was. He’d stayed out here too long and someone was looking for him.
With a hint of regret, Merlin turned smoothly through the waves, heading towards the shore. He heard other whales noticing his direction and calling out in warning, letting him know the dangers of being beached on the shore. Merlin couldn’t reply, not knowing the right whale-song for one thing, because he knew they’d never understand that he wasn’t a whale at all.
As he drew closer to the shore, Merlin could hear who had come to search for him. He could hear Arthur’s voice calling to him, stomping through the sandy beach, almost frantic with worry. Perhaps it had been a little too much to simply slip away without a single word and knowing no one had seen you, but Merlin hadn’t thought it all the way through. He’d needed to come out here, it was a primal instinct.
The need for air became pressing, but if Merlin surfaced as a whale before he changed, Arthur would notice and link it together. He couldn’t let Arthur know just yet - he hadn’t perfected any useful forms to make his case. If Arthur could see the pain it put Merlin in, he’d forbid the practice, something Merlin didn’t think he could bear.
He began the change, lungs starved of air. It hurt more than usual, but Merlin broke the top of the sea with a mighty gasp, arms splashing up water as he broke surface.
“Merlin?” came an incredulous voice, floating on the white horses of the waves. “What the hell are you doing?”
Merlin kicked towards the short, the waves eager to help him return to Arthur. He clambered out of the sea, wishing for the cloak he’d packed in one of his bags to manifest before him. He wrapped himself in its warmth, stepping onto the beach and letting sand coat his feet as Arthur stared at him across the shore.
“I went for a swim,” Merlin replied simply, teeth chattering. “I wanted to freshen up a bit after our ride.”
Arthur raised his eyebrows.
“The whole household has been looking for you for hours. Castle gossip has already insinuated you’ve been murdered or kidnapped by twenty different people, myself included, and instead you’re out here frolicking in the sea?” Merlin didn’t look at Arthur, recognising the angry tone in his voice.
“Well it sounds bad when you put it like that,” he mumbled after a moment, startling a little as Arthur sat down heavily beside him.
“I was worried,” admitted Arthur a moment later. “I mean I know you can defend yourself, but you’re also Merlin and goodness knows what might happen when you wander around alone.”
Merlin shoved him with an elbow, drawing a laugh from Arthur.
“Sorry,” he apologised lightly, not meaning it at all. “But I really was worried,” he added quietly, looking sideways at Merlin.
They never spent that much time together anymore. At least, not in the way that Merlin would have hoped. Their lives revolved around Camelot - and quite rightly so. Merlin was a warlock of the Court and Arthur the king, but still Merlin couldn’t help but wish sometimes, just sometimes, he and Arthur could go off for a night, eat half-burnt rabbit and laugh like they used to.
“Merlin, I-“ Arthur began, but that was all he struggled out before he gripped Merlin’s shoulders, kissing him on the side of his mouth.
Tilting his head for a better kiss, Merlin’s heart began to race. They hadn’t done this in a long time, and this time Merlin could tell it was more than casual sex.
Arthur kissed him with meaning, and Merlin drank it in, wanting it and needing it. He didn’t care for anything but Arthur then, clinging to him and feeling his heat, relishing in pleasure. It was sandy, the ground uncomfortable, but nothing else mattered. Merlin didn’t care if hundreds of crabs suddenly rose to grab him, he had Arthur in his arms and that was all that mattered right now.
Merlin sucked in a breath, unbuckling his belt as Arthur moved to his own, shaking hands catching on the metal. Merlin let Arthur push them down into the sand, rubbing their cocks together with such beautiful friction that Merlin couldn’t help but arch up, push back into Arthur and move.
They didn’t last long, but Arthur was in no rush to get them back to the house. They stayed outside for a while, reacquainting themselves for the first time in month, pledging to bridge the gap between them in kisses an intimate touches.
They made their way back to the castle where Merlin offered his apologies to the household, head bowed and explaining he’d wanted to go for a swim and simply lost track of time.
He and Arthur had thought everyone accepted the lie for what it was until a few days later when Merlin caught some chambermaid’s laughing, commenting on the way Merlin had come back with sand in his hair - the king too, someone had added - and how the warlock’s bed was mysteriously neat and tidy every morning, almost as if he’d slept elsewhere.
The party returned to Camelot in high spirits. The trip had been a wonderful summer and though Merlin would have to let Arthur slink back into his throne and away, he knew he hadn’t lost him. Merlin had nothing to fear; he’d gotten Arthur’s confession and though they might not spend every moment together (and Merlin suspected they’d hardly spend any time together once they reached Court again), it didn’t matter. What needed to be said had been and Merlin was more than content with it.
Besides, he still needed to perfect his transformations and to find a proper use for them. Curiosity wouldn’t win over the council and Merlin couldn’t let them ban the spells. He’d find a way, but he needed just a little more time.
♦
It wasn’t often now that Merlin called Kilgharrah down from the heavens, but this was different. Kilgharrah was the only one who knew the answers to Merlin’s questions and the only one who would be able to help him now.
As usual, the dragon bowed his head as he landed, waiting for Merlin to speak with a gleam in his eye. Merlin had first noticed the gleam after Arthur had been crowned king and he had earnt his title as Camelot’s warlock, but it was still hard to digest it. In Kilgharrah’s eye glimmered something akin to pride and love and though they were kin, such emotions were more than Merlin could bear. To have such an ancient creature not only bow down to you because of your blood, but respect and even love you was too much. For now, it was far too much.
“Can I ever become like you?” he asked without preamble.
For a moment, Kilgharrah frowned and looked taken aback, before he caught Merlin’s meaning.
“You were given the power over dragons,” he began, eyes widening. “A dragon is a creature of myth and enchantment, a creature of magic. You are also such a creature, but you will never be able to change into a dragon.”
Merlin nodded. He’d suspected as much, but everything he’d been working for had been to turn into a dragon, yet now he’d been told it was impossible.
“Why?” he asked, unafraid to seek wisdom from the dragon now.
Kilgharrah sighed, the sound rumbling through his body and through to the very earth itself.
“The magic that shapes me does so in the form of a dragon. Likewise the magic that shapes, say, a unicorn does so in the form of a unicorn.” Kilgharrah blinked slowly, waiting for Merlin’s understanding nod.
“And the magic that shapes me-“ he began, but was cut off once more by the dragon.
“Yes,” he said. “The magic does so in the form of you. If you try to reshape that magic into the form of another creature that magic shaped, it would bring pain and terror.” The dragon frowned again, narrowing his eyes.
“Merlin,” he said sharply. “You must promise me never to try such a transformation. If the change itself did not kill you then trying to sustain the form would burn even your magic to dust.”
Of course Merlin understood what was being said. Kilgharrah was warning him and he’d be a fool not to take that warning seriously. Still, he could never promise that he wouldn’t try. One day Merlin knew he would try - and most likely fail. Even if he failed then he knew beyond doubt that he couldn’t do it, but he needed the freedom to try.
“I can’t,” Merlin admitted and Kilgharrah sighed once more, a sad sound escaping him.
“Very well,” he said, knowing that Merlin wouldn’t be shifted from his decision. “But remember this; magic works in strange ways. Trying to force its path will do you nothing but grievous harm. Sometimes magic will rise to help you.”
With that, he surged upwards and away, long grass rustling in his wake as Merlin began his walk back to Camelot, mind reeling with what he could do next.
♦
In all honesty, Merlin didn’t think about shifting to a dragon for a long time after that. There were other things he had to do, such as make sure Arthur kept to all of his appointments, not just the ones he was interested in. Of course, hearing council about pigs wasn’t everyone’s interest, but Arthur needed to be there whether he liked it or not.
Between making sure Arthur was where he should be and his own court duties, Merlin was left with very little time for experimentation. Occasionally he’d venture down to the kennels to sleep in a pile of warm fur and wet noses, or venture out to one of the fields and keep watch over the horses as they slept, marvelling at how calm the world was, but these times were few and far between.
Besides, it was easy to shift to a hunting hound or a horse now, so easy that Merlin could do it with only a mere thought and pinch of magic. He needed something different, something that only posed a hint of a challenge.
It was nearing dusk when Merlin left the council chambers and he decided to take a walk through the lower town. The market sellers were packing up when he got there, but a few smiled and asked if they could sell him anything, a few even stopping to have a full chat. But Merlin needed to be on his way and he excused himself, heading to the edge of Camelot, through the town and to the outer gates.
“Merlin?” a voice asked, and Merlin turned with a smile to face Gwaine.
“How are you?” asked Merlin, giving his friend a hug. They’d been too busy for anything than a brief talk in a while and Merlin could spare a few minutes.
Gwaine shrugged. “Same old. No threats really, though we’ve had more people coming in from Mercia. Seems that Bayard’s trying to start a war though he hasn’t any ammunition.”
It wasn’t old news, but Merlin wasn’t aware that it had caused people to flee Mercia itself.
“Best speak to Arthur,” he muttered, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. “You’re switching off soon?” was the next question, and Gwaine nodded, rolling his eyes.
“And not a bloody second too late.” He clapped Merlin on the shoulder. “Fancy a drink?”
Though he would have loved nothing better than to say yes and turn on his heel, Merlin was restless. He hadn’t been able to transform properly in a while - even into a horse or dog and shifting in his room was too hard when anyone could summon him and Arthur would just walk in - and he could feel his magic tingling with want.
“Raincheck?” he said, wincing as Gwaine smiled, the smile not quite reaching his lips. “I’ll be gone all night,” he added, nodding to the path that led from Camelot to the surrounding forests, ignoring the strange look Gwaine gave him.
“Do I dare ask?” the knight ventured, but Merlin simply offered him a small smile, shaking his head.
“Have a pint on me and we’ll go to the tavern next time.” With that, Merlin carried on, letting the darkness wrap itself around him as he headed for the closest forest.
The trees loomed in the darkness, hidden shapes jutting out and leaves rustling in the breeze. Merlin took a deep breath, stepping through the lines of trees until he was surrounded by the night, surrounded by the forest and bathed in moonlight.
The decision was easy. An animal jumped into his mind and Merlin reached for his magic, letting it coat his skin as he forced his body to change.
As he began to shift, Merlin’s body shuddered and he screamed out, bones popping and skin stretching. Fire and ice burnt along his body, shivers wracking through him and sweat dripping off of his skin. He stretched and changed, skull becoming wider and eyes shifting to the side, hands and feet shrinking as his spine elongated, forcing his body to curl over.
Merlin’s scream echoed around the forest before changing, becoming deeper as two tines split from his head, pushing up and thickening. He bellowed out into the still air of night, startling a few nearby animals as he thudded to the ground.
The magic suddenly stopped as hair coated Merlin’s body and he opened his eyes, snorting as he shut his jaw. The world was sharper than before, eyes able to see almost in every direction. He could hear clearer and if not for the impressive weight on his head, Merlin would think that he’d changed into a horse again.
He walked forward, testing out his new legs and cloven hooves, pausing only when he became caught on a tree. His antlers - a stag, he’d managed the stag! - were relatively easy to set free and he continued his walk through the forest, pausing to graze every now and again.
There was an odd sound off to his side and Merlin tensed, feeling powerful muscles tense at his flank. The bushes parted and a doe, long-eared and wide-eyed, stepped out, fawn at her side. She paused, staring at him, but Merlin didn’t dare move. The fawn took a step away from its mother before she let out a warning bark.
In their odd stalemate, Merlin could do nothing. Even though he was able to shift into an animal, the natural behaviour of that animal only taught him basic instinct - such as fight or flight, what was poisonous and how to move - but it didn’t teach him full etiquette. He had no idea what to do if the doe decided he was a threat (and would a doe even attack a young stag? Merlin didn’t know).
With a shake of her head, the doe bend down to butt her head against her fawn, stepping towards Merlin and ignoring him completely. The fawn trotted alongside, gazing up at Merlin as it trotted past, curious but not enough to leave its mother.
The night proved to be uneventful and Merlin lay down, curling up in a thicket and sleeping. He woke, still as a deer, just after dawn, joining the morning chorus with a hearty bellow. Now that the forest was alive, the sounds were even more amazing and Merlin felt his spirit lift in ways it hadn’t for weeks, not since the news on Mercia had drifted into Camelot.
Passing through a hilly area, Merlin came across a stream. He paused to drink, enjoying the cool, earthy water and flicking his ears around, taking in the sounds of a forest at dawn.
Later, Merlin would connect the dots, but he paid no real notice to a rustle in the bushes. He did jerk his head up as a twig snapped underfoot, but by then it was too late and a crossbow bolt was planted in Merlin’s side.
Bellowing in pain, Merlin felt the animal instincts overtake him and he ran, sprinting through the forest, hardly caring where he was going. He needed to get away from the hunters as soon as possible and then he’d be able to calm down enough to shift again and deal with the bolt in his side. It hurt, but thankfully it didn’t seem too deep or too harmful. Whoever the marksman had been, he had a piss poor shot, something Merlin was grateful for for once.
One thing Merlin hadn’t bet on, though, was the dogs. The hunters had brought dogs on the hunt and set them loose. They were crashing through the forest, trailing Merlin as he breezed through the trees, kicking up mulch as he sped onwards. In the peace of the forest he’d forgotten that the deer here were prized hunting tokens and that he, being a stag, was an ultimate prize for his antlers.
The wind shifted and Merlin knew what he had to do. He needed to head for Camelot, get out of the forest and into the open. He didn’t care any longer about letting the hunters see his magic, but the dogs at his heels were getting snappier, teeth grazing his heels as he ran on.
Another bolt fired off, a loose, cheap shot, but it brushed Merlin’s flank. It spooked him more than anything, but did leave a trail of glistening blood in its wake. He was evermore determined now and Merlin surged forward, bounding over logs and bushes, running faster than he ever had before in his life.
Merlin could feel Camelot now, the people and his home, and he ran on, breaking cover of the forest and skittering across the cobblestone path. He galloped along it, panting from the exertion as the crossbow bolt shifted, digging further into his skin, and almost slowed when he reached the guarded entrance.
There was no reprieve though, for the knights at the gate scattered, one man drawing his sword and frowning and the others presumably fetching crossbows. Panic surged up, but Merlin’s own instinct was too strong this time. He needed to be home, so he simply pushed past the knight, barrelling him over and almost falling on the cobblestones.
As he righted himself, Merlin felt another bolt sink into the muscle of his hind leg. He bellowed once more, the sound echoing through the lower town, but he carried on, trying to put distance enough between him and the knights so he could shift.
The lower town parted like a sea before Merlin as he charged on. He was bleeding freely now and his deer instincts were outraged that Merlin was inside of Camelot. He thundered on though, only falling to his knees and scraping the caps as he entered the courtyard, exhausted and wounded.
On his side, Merlin threw his head back and reached for his magic, wheezing as he struggled against the pain. Relief flooded him as he felt the push-and-stretch of his magic, a searing pain that tore through him like a knife. It was the pain that marked his transformation and, for once, Merlin was grateful for it.
He rolled onto his back, kicking his legs up in the air and screaming as he shifted, shrinking on himself and shedding his hair. His hands scrabbled at his face, nails digging into skin, as his skull rearranged itself, compacting and sucking in the antler protrusions.
There were people watching him, Merlin knew, but he couldn’t care less about them. He was back in his human form, but the pain hadn’t faded yet and two bolts were still lodged in his thigh and by his hip.
“No,” Merlin whispered, shaking his head with wide, shocked eyes. His magic was drained from his own exhaustion and the pain overtook him completely, even as he pressed a hand to the wounds, trying to stop the blood flow.
And then everything became spotted and grey, the world shrinking until there was nothing left but darkness and pain.
♦
PART II