Merlin fanfic - It's Time to Begin - chapter four - The Tournament
Merlin entered the throne room with his mother on his arm, and Arthur a pace behind them. In front of him lay a immense crowd of smartly dressed men and women that were the competitors and their spouses. He half thought about turning right back around and leaving the decorated room.
Hunith looked at him inquisitorially when he paused at the opening.
“Are you alright?” she whispered, her mother hen voice out in full regalia.
Merlin took a deep breath to steady himself, and felt a hand fall in the small of his back.
Arthur leaned forward, mouth almost brushing Merlin’s ear and said, “You’ll be fine. You’re the Prince of Camelot. No one else is a prince here. Just think of them in their underthings.”
Merlin let out a shrill laugh, that certainly wasn’t going to help. He felt the tips of his ears start to burn and knew the blush was rushing it’s way to his cheeks. Arthur hadn’t helped even in the slightest.
But he still felt a flicker of disappointment when Arthur’s hand left the small of his back.
His mother flashed him a smile and pulled him gently into the over large room.
“Come one,” she said conspiratorially, “The sooner we go in the sooner we go out; and you and your Knight can do whatever pre-tournament rituals you do.”
“Mother!” Merlin said aghast, at the tentative implication that his mother had said, “Arthur and I will be doing nothing of any sort.”
Hunith patted his arm in a placating gesture. She steered him over to where Morgana, Gwen, and Gwaine stood speaking in hushed tones.
“Well I’ll just leave you here dear,” she said releasing Merlin from her grasp.
Merlin flashed a nervous grin at the trio.
Gwaine threw an arm around Merlin, smiling widely at him.
“You too Arthur!” he enthused as he brought Merlin into the fold.
“We were just talking about you Merlin,” Morgana crowed happily, in her hand was a silver goblet. Her silk blue dress had slipped off a shoulder, but she didn’t seem to mind terribly.
Gwen was dressed in a fine red dress, that judging by how long it was on her had come from Morgana’s closet.
Gwaine, however, stood out. He dressed as he typically did, gaping, white tunic, and brown vest, finished with brown breeches and boots.
“Yes, you look like you would prefer to jump out that window,” Gwaine said swinging himself and Merlin around to face the window behind them, “than continue to be here.”
Merlin shrugged, “I don’t want to be here. I would prefer to be in my chambers.”
“We have booze,” Gwaine said solemnly, and swung them back to face the group.
Merlin caught sight of Arthur’s slightly narrowed eyed look that was directed at Gwaine.
“Merlin can’t get tossed tonight Gwaine. He is one of the first to compete tomorrow,” Arthur said with a pointed look at Merlin.
Merlin narrowed his at Arthur; he really hated it when Arthur made statements that he was obviously supposed to obey. He took a deep breath. Arthur had a definite point. Getting sloshed would be a bad idea. Merlin focused on that thought to calm the wave of anger that Arthur always seemed to ignite.
But Merlin was incredibly disappointed. Parties were much more bearable with a drink, or six.
“Ahhh, ickle Arthurkins, has Merlin on a little leash!” Gwaine crooned, he was three sheets to the wind, just judging based on breath. Though, Merlin knew better than to underestimate Gwaine.
Arthur scoffed, and affectionately cuffed Merlin about the ear, causing an indignant yelp to come from Merlin, “He never listens to a word I say. Always talking back, and being a menace.”
Morgana dissolved into quiet giggles, leaning on Gwen for support. She also looked on the verge of giggles.
Merlin looked at the three oddly, “How much did you drink?”
“Lots,” Gwen managed to get out just before she too dissolved into hysterical giggles.
“Started early, Merrrlin,” Morgana purred leaning close to Merlin, “I wanted something that would leave me not rolling my eyes at male posturing,” she said in a conspiratorial way.
“And has it worked?” Arthur asked highly amused by this turn of events.
“Not a bit!” Morgana trilled, “I think it’s made them more insufferable. Gwen here saved me from Sir… I can’t remember, but Sir Something, who was certain that I would like the fact that he was the largest one of his brothers, and that he was the first to become a Knight out of all of them. What did I almost call him?”
“A ruddy twat, that you could take apart in moments. Any weapon, without magic,” Gwen said gleefully, “She informed me as I was dragging her away.”
“You too Gwen?” Merlin asked, his hope for the night going down as swiftly at a hawk catching it’s next meal.
Gwen nodded, her complexion was ruddy from the amount of alcohol she had drank.
“That’s how Morgana talked you into wearing that dress?” Merlin asked, then felt like that was rude and hastened to add, “Which you look lovely in, by the way.”
Gwen gave a saucy wink, “Indeed it is. She insisted, and said that if I didn’t she wouldn’t attend, and she’d tell you it was my entire fault. That was many drinks in.”
Merlin sighed, and looked at Arthur for a long moment, “One drink?” he asked in a plaintive whine.
Arthur groaned, “You’re first up Merlin. You don’t need, or want the alcohol to mess you up.”
Merlin pouted, his bottom lip pushed out, almost comically.
Arthur ran a hand threw his hair; he really wanted to say no. He wasn’t going to drink. He was the designated, ‘get Merlin up at a reasonable time’ person. He grabbed the goblet in Morgana’s hand, ignoring Morgana’s indignant cry, and found that it was half-full in with what looked to be red wine.
“You can finish Morgana’s drink. She certainly doesn’t need anymore,” Arthur said and watched, slightly fascinated when she dissolved into giggles again.
Merlin whooped and took the proffered cup. It was his own, and it wasn’t even full, but it would help.
--
As the night wore on, Arthur became a wrangler for all of them. He kept pulling goblets from Merlin’s grasp. Raised disapproving brows when Morgana had miraculously found a wine bottle and steadily refilled her own, Gwaine’s, and Gwen’s goblets.
“Where do you even keep finding these?” Arthur asked finally completely exasperated. Merlin was already tipsy, and it was the fourth wine glass he had pulled from him
Merlin shrugged, “Around.”
He heard giggle from behind him and spun to see Gwen.
“Do you know,” he asked her, his voice was eerily calm.
Gwen gulped and nodded. She ducked her head, and stifled more giggles.
“Who?” Arthur asked silkily.
“Morgana,” Gwen hiccupped, she ‘eeped’ when she was caught by the person she had just given up.
“Are you ratting me out?” Morgana asked apparently shocked to find her friend spilling the beans.
Arthur groaned, “I’m talking Merlin to bed.”
Morgana giggled, “Make sure he gets a good seeing to. You know he’s gagging for it!”
Arthur’s mouth fell open in shock, and he spluttered incoherently.
“You-you,” Arthur gave up and spun.
He caught sight of Merlin with Gwaine. They were talking with their heads bent close together. Arthur felt a surge of jealously spike through him, but shook it off quickly. There was no place for that in their friendship.
His feelings just had to fall in line.
Arthur stalked over to where Gwaine and Merlin were laughing.
Arthur noticed a flush over Merlin’s face. He was most assuredly a little more than tipsy. This was not looking good for tomorrow. His only hope was that Merlin’s magic was naturally suited to work with little or no direction.
He dropped a heavy hand onto Merlin shoulder, causing him to jump violently.
Merlin spun around to face him quickly; the moment he focused a wide toothy grin blossomed over his face.
“Arthur! You found me!” he cooed waving his hands in excitement, “See Gwaine! I told you he’d find me.”
Gwaine laughed, “You’re the Prince of the universe Merlin. You’re always right; I bow to your rightness!” Gwaine exclaimed with a neat little bow.
Merlin preened under the attention, something he wouldn’t do… were he completely sober.
“Come on Merlin,” Arthur said tiredly. He really just wanted to go to sleep. He hadn’t wanted to play nursemaid to Merlin. He had wanted to at least get one drink in. But he was paying more attention to what Merlin was drinking to thinking about getting one himself.
Merlin grinned benignly, “Bed?” he said hopefully.
Arthur laughed. Nothing could make Merlin move faster than the promise of more sleep.
“Yes. Bed.”
“Bed!” Merlin repeated with a happy sigh.
Arthur looped an arm over his shoulder, and with a quick wave to Gwaine the young men left the still thriving party.
--
Arthur pulled the overly snuggly Merlin after him. He was relieved when he saw Merlin’s door in front of him.
“Thank the gods,” he muttered.
“Wha-?” Merlin garbled, lifting his head from Arthur’s shoulder.
“Your room,” Arthur replied, and drew them into the room quickly.
“Bed,” Merlin sighed, dropping face first into his plush bed.
“You are a true menace,” Arthur groaned.
He was going to let Merlin sleep in his feast clothes. He wouldn’t even remove the boots. With his resolve he looked once more at Merlin.
Merlin was snoring softly; his arms wrapped tightly around a pillow.
He shook his head, a reluctant smile tugging at his mouth. He did want Merlin. He wanted him as much more than a friend. He could accept that. Maybe that would let it pass faster.
He left the room quickly through the adjoining door to his, much smaller, room.
Arthur tugged off his boots, “I do not love Merlin. I just greatly enjoy his company,” he muttered sourly to himself. Not sure if he wanted to convince himself or Morgana more.
--
In a crème canvas tent, baring the Camelot red and gold and a dragon, Merlin breathed in and out slowly. He was trying to calm his fried nerves.
“Not nervous, are you?” Arthur chided with a small laugh, as finished fastening Merlin’s last forearm guard.
Merlin scoffed loudly, straightening his chainmail on his shoulders.
“No,” Merlin said sounding incredibly unconvincing, even to his own ears.
Arthur shot Merlin what was probably meant to be a reassuring smile. But it looked a little tense around the edges.
“You’ll do fine. Remember that your best option, should you not be able to magic something up, is go for the back of the knee,” Arthur said in as reassuring voice as he could manage.
Merlin huffed slightly offended.
“I know that!” Merlin said glaring at Arthur.
Arthur rolled his eyes.
“I wasn’t saying you didn’t. You tend to panic when magic doesn’t work,” Arthur held up a hand to stall Merlin’s interruption, “You do Merlin; but, you know your moves, and honestly I’ve never seen anyone with quicker magic than yourself. Just take a breath, and fight.”
Merlin felt his jaw drop as fluttering warmth spread through him at Arthur’s statement. He also suppressed the want to hug Arthur tightly, and tell him, he was amazing.
Merlin was left gaping instead of doing any of the things he could have done.
Arthur snorted at Merlin’s dumbstruck look.
“You know, I have complimented you before. You’ll catch flies if you stand like that much longer.”
Merlin’s mouth snapped shut with an audible chink.
“Well, it’s so unlike you!” Merlin rushed out, then blushed hotly.
Arthur laughed loudly with his head thrown back and his neck straining.
“Merlin… You are an idiot,” He said with clear affection in his tone.
“You’re a prat!” Merlin cried indignantly glaring at Arthur.
Merlin planted his hands on his hips and held his glare for a moment, before he turned away from the Knight. He mindlessly picked up his gloves, and yanked them on with more force than was necessary.
Arthur chuckled lowly and crossed the tent so he was just behind Merlin.
“Not thinking about the tournament now?” He asked close to Merlin’s ear.
Merlin’s eyes widened and he flushed hotly, for an entirely different reason, and felt heat pool low in his belly and groin.
“You-you… YOU TRICKED ME!” Merlin yelled turning on Arthur when his words, and not just the feel of his breath on his neck and ear, sunk in.
“I did,” Arthur agreed easily, “So are you?”
Merlin’s eyes narrowed on Arthur.
“I hate you,” He said with as much venom as he could pack into his voice.
“No you don’t,” Arthur disagreed with a smirk.
Merlin groaned.
“I do. I really, really do.”
Arthur laughed his full belly laugh again.
He clapped Merlin on the shoulder, “You are a riot Merlin.”
Merlin winced and rubbed at his stinging shoulder.
“I don’t know why I decided you would be my partner,” Merlin bemoaned picking his staff up and examining the smooth exterior to make sure it have no stray splintering.
“Because Merlin, you trust me. You have to otherwise, this will not work,” Arthur said fixing Merlin with a serious stare.
Merlin sighed.
“Besides, we don’t have to worry about doubles for the next several days,” Arthur said brightly.
Merlin groaned loudly.
Arthur clapped him on the shoulder quickly, and ducked out with a quick, ‘good luck’.
--
It was Merlin’s last single competition. He was facing a young man named Mordred. He was good, but very young. It was odd that Nimueh hadn’t brought him to the castle.
They were tense waiting for the start horn. Merlin’s hand twitched. He had been mostly relying on natural magic as opposed to spells. It had brought him to the finals. But he wasn’t sure if he would be able to make it passed the finals with that alone.
Finally, after what felt like an hour the horn sounded, and Merlin felt the air shift with magic.
“Færblæd wawe,” Merlin whispered, just as a fire ball was flung at him. The swift wind spun it away from him, much to the shock of the crowd.
A few screamed when it impacted the magical shield that protected the crowd.
The first time it had happened Merlin had been concerned. But he had been assured when it flared and receded properly.
He heard Arthur yell something and he refocused on the task at hand just in time to dodge the spell that Mordred sent his way.
He focused and called his inherent magic. Maybe he was wrong. His natural magic was usually the answer.
He took up the defense, while Mordred launched attack after attack on him. He weaved, dove, and dodged swiftly as he avoided the spells.
He focused all of his energy. He made sure his magic knew that he didn’t want to injure Mordred. He just wanted to incapacitate him. Make him sleep. He whispered that to his magic as it grew inside of him.
He felt another fire ball skirt a touch to close to him. He could feel the heat coming from it. That was way too close.
He let the magic flow from him. He let his eyes drift close just as they started to glow gold. He followed in in his mind’s eye, it blocked off vicious attacks from Mordred and followed him quickly. Merlin gave his magic a firm push, and it impacted with Mordred.
Mordred slumped over as soon as the magic hit him.
Merlin ignored the war cheer, and raced to make sure the boy was fine. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the boy’s chest rise and fall.
He stood and smiled a bright proud smile.
He watched the medics go to Mordred, lift him onto a stretcher, and take him to the other tent.
Morgana, Arthur, Gwaine, Gwen, Percival, and Leon rushed into the arena.
Merlin found himself surrounded by his friends. He was right next to Arthur.
Arthur pulled him into a tight hug.
“You did good,” he murmured against Merlin’s ear.
Merlin flushed all over. He felt warm and tingly all over at Arthur’s compliment.
“Just make sure you do the same thing tomorrow. With me,” he said louder and released Merlin with a quick pat of the back.
Merlin grinned at him, forcing away the tiny feeling of disappointment that had flared when Arthur had released him from his hold.
“Got to go Merrrrrlin,” Arthur purred, “You should get back to your tent. Wouldn't want people to think you were gloating.”
Merlin watched him leave feeling somewhat put out at the casual dismissal.
Gwaine watched the interaction with an assessing eye; seeing Merlin's light melancholy he dropped a hand into Merlin's hair and ruffled it maliciously.
Merlin ducked his head instinctively when Gwaine dropped a hand on his head and ruffled it affectionately.
“Stop!” Merlin yelled ducking out from under Gwaine's assault, much to the amusement of the others
Gwaine laughed merrily at Merlin, “Go get your... man?” he trailed off with a raised brow in question.
Merlin put his hands on his hips and glowered at Gwaine.
Morgana smiled at the Gwaine over Merlin’s shoulder.
Merlin glared at Gwaine for a moment longer, before he stalked away from his friends into his tent.
Gwaine looked over at Morgana with an appraising look.
Morgana shook her head with a small smile, and went to his side.
“Not going to happen I’m afraid,” she said bumping her hip into his.
Gwaine sighed, “I can never get the pretty ones.”
Morgana patted his arm sympathetically, “Tomorrow starts the fun stuff.”
“I’m up against Merlin and Arthur first thing! No fun for me to have!” Gwaine groused remembering the planned lineup for the next day.
Morgana laughed, he would get thoroughly thrashed by the duo. She pushed down the small nugget of doubt and fear that the days ahead would bring. No one knew the absolute future. She just had a possible idea.
“You’ll manage,” she said with forced brightness, feeling the apprehension fill her stomach more firmly.
--
Arthur entered Merlin’s dark room just after sunrise to see that Merlin was still asleep. Not that that was surprising. His red duvet was rumpled and one slender foot and ankle peeked from under the blanket.
“Merrrrrlin,” Arthur called, and pulled Merlin’s leg by his ankle.
“No,” Merlin grumbled and tried to pull his leg from Arthur’s grasp.
“Merlin, we have our competition today. In just a little while,” Arthur said exasperated, he left the foot of the bed and crossed to the window. Once there Arthur threw the curtains open letting light stream over the messy room, “Merlin do you ever clean?”
Arthur looked at the clothing, books, and journals that littered the floor.
Merlin shoved his head under his pillow avoiding the light and Arthur.
Arthur sighed, it was going to be an extra difficult day then.
He quietly stalked Merlin in the bed; Arthur carefully took hold of the blanket, not wanting Merlin to know what was happening, and forcefully yanked it away from Merlin’s body.
“Ha!” Arthur crowed holding his prize happily. He looked at Merlin, and froze. Merlin’s night shift had obviously ridden up through the night because Arthur could see his soft, pink, prick nestled in dark curls.
Merlin yelped and yanked the shift down to cover himself.
“What in the hell, Arthur?” Merlin complained, flushing bright pink.
Arthur stared stupidly at Merlin’s, now covered, groin; he had the irrational thought that he wanted to let Merlin’s cock harden on his tongue.
“Umm…” Arthur uttered unthinkingly.
Merlin looked at him expectantly with a heavily pinked face.
Arthur didn’t know why Merlin expected him to be even remotely coherent. He knew what Merlin looked like all over now. Albeit not at full mast. Or even half. But he’d seen Merlin naked. Fully naked.
“I’ve - I’ve got to…” Arthur stuttered, and pointed in the direction of the door, “Get up and dressed. Meet me in your tent. We’ll get ready there.”
With that Arthur turned abruptly, only to be caught effectively in the duvet he was still gripping in his hands. He released it, but still found himself caught. He struggled with it, and came out the victor and raced away from the room.
The door slammed loudly behind him.
Merlin stared at the closed door mouth slightly agape. He had never seen Arthur so flustered before. It was odd.
“Why?” Merlin asked the empty room. He knew Arthur had seen naked people before. He knew that the Knights often bathed in the lakes around Camelot. They were never shy about stripping. Merlin had been coerced and cajoled into several outings.
“I’m not even terribly impressive,” he muttered and shook his head. It was odd, and he wouldn’t figure anything out in his room. He rolled out of bed to get ready, his tiredness a thing of the past.
--
Arthur paced restlessly in the tent. He had made an utter twat of himself. He hadn’t just made a twat of himself, but he also left, and refused to go get, Merlin.
“Fuck. He just rolled over and went back to sleep,” Arthur said out loud. He shoved his fist in his mouth and left out a frustrated yell.
He really couldn’t go back to that room.
“I’d probably jump him,” Arthur grumbled, mortified by the thought. He wished the soft canvas walls of the tent were hard stone with which he would be able to beat his head with.
He ground out a pained sound and bit the meaty bit of skin between his thumb and forefinger.
That was the sight that greeted Merlin when he walked into the tent.
“Arthur?” he asked tentatively, looking concerned at his friend.
“Merlin!” Arthur squeaked as he whipped around, “I thought you might’ve fallen back asleep,” he joked weakly.
Merlin glared, knowing it was a ploy.
“Are you fine?” he asked slowly.
Arthur took a deep inhale. He needed to get a hold of himself.
“Yes!” he said with a fake bright smile, “Perfect. Just a touch worried about the upcoming match.”
Merlin raised an eyebrow at Arthur, “It’s Gwaine, and Freya.”
“Freya, is…” Arthur paused. He actually really never remembered Freya. He knew Merlin had talked about her. So much that he had gotten jealous at one point.
“You don’t remember her!” Merlin accused planting his hands on his slim hips.
Arthur’s eyes darted to where Merlin’s hands were, and his brain short-circuited for a second time.
“I - I… she’s small and brown haired, yeah?” Arthur finally managed to stutter out.
“Yes,” Merlin shook his head disparagingly, “She’s good with magic, but she’s also…” Merlin stopped and thought for a minute, “unwilling to use it with the intent to harm. She was the last one left, and Gwaine was never particularly fast. She’ll be preforming defensive spells. I’ll put them both to sleep before either know what’s happening.”
Arthur looked at Merlin incredulously; it was odd to here Merlin talk like a statistician.
“Good,” Arthur finally said, “As long as you have a plan.
--
As a team Merlin and Arthur were good. They moved together like they had always been that way. Always been by one and another’s side.
Arthur hadn’t really needed to be at the first or second matches of the day. Merlin had let Gwaine and Arthur for barely any time before he was working his way between Freya’s block, and they were bound by invisible ropes easily.
The second was much of the same, except Merlin had made them float and struggle ineffectually in the air.
Each time they won Arthur would smile winningly at Merlin, and Merlin’s heart would perform a little flip.
He was slowly realizing that he wanted more than Arthur’s approval.
Arthur’s approval had been more easily flowing for Merlin, since they had reconciled their animosity.
Merlin still wasn’t exactly sure what he wanted from Arthur. But he was getting surer that he wanted whatever it was forever.
--
The final happened the following day. Both the fighter and mage were odd. Merlin had recognized neither of them. The mage also appeared to do nothing, and the fighter beat both opponents.
Merlin had noticed that Morgana, Nimueh, Gaius, and Hunith had looked more and more nervous as Merlin and Arthur kept competing and nothing happened. Not more than a few bruises.
But as he stood next to Arthur in the arena he felt the first flicker of unease. There was something off about their competitors. Merlin glanced at Arthur.
Arthur too wore a grim expression; he made eye contact with Merlin. They had matching apprehensive looks.
Seeing Arthur so unsteady before they were going to be fighting, for what Merlin was sure, was their lives, was frightening.
Merlin gripped his staff; glad he had decided to bring it into the match.
They returned to watching the fighter, who looked downright mean wore oddly dark armor and full body chainmail, and the mage, who was standing behind the other wearing purple robes with the hood pulled over his face. Merlin wracked his brain for their names, but they escaped him.
Arthur shot one last look at Merlin, and noticed his rigid stance. Arthur knew this wasn’t going to be a pleasant battle. The battles that had happened before had been primarily friendly, with a strong undertone of competition; but everyone understood that, while there was a prize, it wasn’t worth dying, or killing for.
Arthur tensed hearing the bell that sounded the beginning of the match.
The warrior didn’t waste a minute and immediately rushed Arthur.
Arthur knew he was strong. He had seen him flatten Percival against the wall and hold him there. But he still wasn’t prepared for it when he was knocked flat on his back by the large man.
Arthur laid there panting for a longer moment than he should have.
Merlin skipped backwards quickly when the large man turned a cruel grin on Merlin. He let his magic have free reign, and his eyes glowed gold and he called a gust of wind to knock the man off his feet.
The wind, which should’ve worked, did nothing. It seemed to part around the man.
Merlin risked a glance at the mage behind the man, but didn’t see or hear anything that would indicate that he was using magic.
The man took a measure step close to Merlin, causing him to stumble back quickly.
Arthur struggled to his feet, still winded from the harsh push.
“Hey!” he called, “Why don’t you pick on someone your own size?”
The man laughed, his voice was rough and low, “I already beat ‘im.”
Merlin tried another spell, but it seemed to dissipate around the man.
--
Morgana was watching with Nimueh in the high box. She twisted a handkerchief in her hand nervously.
“There’s something wrong,” she whispered to Nimueh, “Merlin’s magic doesn’t seem to be doing anything!”
Nimueh watched the match closely. She could clearly see Merlin saying spell after spell, visible, or in, they just dissipated around the man. She had also noticed that the same appeared to be happening with the mage.
Egor, that was the burly fighter’s name. Milan, was the mage; Nimueh hadn’t recognized either, but as it was an open invitation competition, so hadn’t thought much of it.
It was queer though. She knew of most of the magic users. She spoke with the Druids, and looked for those that had showed an interest or ability. She was aware, if only peripherally of them.
Morgana looked at Nimueh for a long moment. She saw the hard line of her mouth and it did nothing to soothe her fears.
“Merlin and Arthur must handle it. Those are the rules,” Nimueh finally said softly, but she watched closely, and tensed, ready for action when she notice that Merlin was slowly backing himself into a corner.
--
“Merlin!” Arthur yelled, fighting off an invisible foe, the mage had acted, though he had stood without movement, and now Arthur faced a foe that he couldn’t see, “Get out of that corner!”
Merlin’s eyes flashed gold, and the invisible fighter, became opaque. His magic may be useless against the megaman that was slowly boxing him in.
“I know!” Merlin yelled, “It’s not like I’m trying to be trapped.”
Arthur grunted as the now visible thing swiped at him again with long sharp fingers and caught his side. He had scratches all over from that thing.
Merlin focused on his opponent’s sword, as opposed to the man himself.
The sword was swept from the man, and Merlin had to withhold the whoop that threatened the back of his throat. Merlin readied the staff for a physical fight. The man might be larger, but he was much bigger than Merlin.
“That was not smart little sorcerer,” The man spat the word. He roared, and brought a meaty fist to meat Merlin’s forearm. There was a loud crack that surely meant the bone was broken.
Merlin gasped in pain. His arm felt like it was on fire; he drew it against his chest, even as he pressed on and rolled along the wall, jamming his staff between the man’s legs as he did so.
Merlin felt the man fall and curl in on himself. Merlin placed his staff along his neck, and then turned his attention to where Arthur was. He looked to where Arthur was still fighting the semi opaque thing. Merlin focused and let the magic flare and the thing dissipated.
Arthur took his chance and attacked the shocked sorcerer. He had his sword against the man’s neck, and snarled, “Yield.”
The man held his hands up, and Arthur tightened the sword on his neck, “Yield.”
The man, Milan glared, but conceded, “I yield.”
Merlin did crow at that. Merlin put pressure along the man’s neck.
“Do you yield?” Merlin asked. Unconsciousness or yields were the only way to end the game.
“No,” the man, Egor, Merlin’s mind decided to supply, grunted and his leg shot out, landing Merlin on his ass.
He rolled on top of Merlin.
Merlin cried out as his arm was jostled roughly; he was about to try magic again, but Egor’s meaty hands had clamped around his neck.
Arthur watched the man leave the arena. The light around the entrance flared, and a bell tolled signaling a failure. He looked to where Merlin had been challenging the larger man.
His blood ran cold, then ran immediately to a boil. Merlin was obviously struggling, but there was not a sound to be heard from him.
Arthur crossed the arena in five quick strides, and slammed the hilt of his sword on the back of the man’s head.
Merlin’s vision was dimming, when he saw Arthur. Egor’s hands went limp and Merlin gasped for much needed breath.
“God,” Arthur said, and pushed the man off of Merlin.
Merlin panted sitting up and cradling his arm close to his chest.
“Arthur!” Merlin choked out, he had never been happier to see him.
“Shit Merlin,” Arthur said, crouching down and putting a hand on Merlin’s slender shoulder, “You worried me.”
Merlin croaked out a simile of a laugh. His throat hurt.
People started to flood the arena, and it became chaotic. Gaius was first there, and was looking over Merlin.
Arthur stepped away from them, letting Gaius work unhindered.
“I think you’re showing favorites,” Merlin croaked with a smile that crinkled his eyes.
Gaius looked at him with a raised brow and annoyance. Egor was unconscious, the most he could do was give him smelling salts. Merlin was awake and seriously injured.
“Well, he shouldn’t have tried to kill you,” Gaius quipped, he could already see purpling bruises forming around Merlin’s neck.
Arthur watched them and glanced at Egor. Arthur looked at him to try and see his he was breathing.
He froze, when he finally realized he wasn’t breathing.
Another healer was rolling the man over and checking for vitals.
But Arthur already knew. He’d killed a man. He hadn’t meant to. But he had. He knew that it was inevitable, but he hadn’t thought it would happen in a tournament that up until the final match had been friendly.
But he also knew in that moment, if anyone was hurting Merlin in the same way as that man was, he’d kill them every single time.
Arthur looked back at Merlin talking to Gaius. He didn’t know yet.
--
They were moved to the medical tent. Gaius splinted Merlin’s arm and put it in a sling.
Egor was carried in as well, though Arthur wasn’t sure what for.
He was being seen to by a Freya. She was dabbing a green paste over his lacerations, and applying a single layer of gauze over it.
“How’s Egor?” Merlin asked, while he winced when Gaius help him put his arm in a sling.
Arthur swallowed. He didn’t want to say it.
“Dead,” Arthur said softly not looking at Merlin.
“Dead?” Merlin gasped, “What? How?”
Arthur sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face, ignoring the small ‘eep’ that Freya uttered as he suddenly moved the arm she was working on.
She yanked it back to her, and leveled Arthur with a hard look.
“I guess I hit him too hard,” Arthur said, wishing he could look at Merlin.
But he knew the look that he would be wearing. The one that screamed he didn’t like what was happening, but would try to understand.
Merlin gaped at Arthur. It obviously was weighing on Arthur. It was a shock to hear that Arthur had killed someone. The tournament allowed to the death. It was a holdover from several generations. But it usually was either to the yield, or the opponent passes out.
He couldn’t help but feel grateful to Arthur. But also saddened by the death of someone.
Gaius looked at them. He had to examine the body. Something was wrong. He had seen Arthur hit the man. It was certainly hard, but it couldn’t have been hard enough to kill a man.
tbc
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