Arthur and the Pornbats 4/? - In the Bandits' Camp
~Chapter One~ ~ Chapter Two~ ~Chapter Three~
Rating is still T. Disclaimer, summary, pairings, and other information are available in Chapter One.
A/N: Hope you like!
They awoke the next morning side by side. Merlin had again gravitated towards the first source of heat he could find - Arthur - and had latched onto it, wrapping his long limbs around Arthur and acting like a blanket himself. To be fair, neither had any real blankets and the night had been chilly away from the fire or any sort of heat. But that, of course, didn't stop either of them from pretending to be asleep much longer than they needed to before they got up and moving.
They were both up and moving by the time Nerys brought them some breakfast in the form of yesternight's stew - which was cold, but tasted alright, even if most of its ingredients were unidentifiable.
Nerys, they quickly realized, was completely, barking mad. She gibbered, and drooled, and seemed completely lost to whatever delusions kept her going. She also, apparently, had completely forgotten about how she'd greeted Arthur and Merlin the night before, or even that she'd ever met them.
They discovered a few hours later, though, when the old woman had come to bring them blankets (dirty) and a bucket (filthy) and some lunch, that she had periods of lucidity, during which she would impart stories from her younger years, often repeating herself.
“I had sons, once,” she said as she slopped out some stew into the manky wooden bowls they had to eat out of. “They're both gone, now. War took 'em before Good King Uthur, bless 'im, came in and tossed out that other one.”
“Oh yeah,” Merlin said because it seemed appropriate and he had nothing else to say.
“Now, Pwyll, my eldest, he married some grand lady. What was her name now? Had a lot of horses, that one. Was far too above herself, if you ask me. Anyway, she run off with a fisherman when my Pwyll wasn't even cold in his grave. Had a son, too, my Pwyll did, but he don't visit his old Gran. Nothin' but trouble, that one. Too much like his mother.”
Arthur tossed Merlin a “please don't get her started” look. Merlin smiled and nodded.
“And after I worked for Miss Archer, I went to work for a Mr. Jones in the country, but then he died and I went to work at the castle, only Good King Uther, bless 'im, he caught the young master nicking yon jewels, so we come here to the woods.”
“It's a sad tale,” Merlin said because he was at a loss for words.
“You know,” Nerys continued - and would have even if a battle had been going on around her, “in my day, I had five lovers.”
Neither Merlin nor Arthur said anything for a long moment, and both of them hurriedly had to suppress mental images.
“Oh yeah?”
“Yup. Five. And I ain't never had one what looked at me like he does at you,” Nerys continued conspiratorially with a wink and a nudge for Merlin. Arthur looked sick. Merlin could feel him beginning to panic. Under a spell or not, there was no telling how violently people would react to their prince falling for a servant, let alone a manservant. Arthur seemed to think that the entire kingdom would destroy itself.
This woman's insane, Arthur ordered. Don't encourage her.
“Pity you had to cut your hair, though,” Nerys continued, the silent conversation missing her completely, “but don't worry about that. It'll grow back soon, and you'll be back in dresses in no time.”
“Oh...what?”
“Well, I can sees you's really a princess in disguise. I bet his Highness is secretly bringing you back from a far away country to be his bride. You've got the others completely fooled, missy, but not me. But don't worry; your secret's safe with me.”
She left.
Arthur laughed for a long time.
The day dragged on. Nothing interesting happened, unless you include the number of water stains in a five square-inch section of wall that Merlin counted, or the small hole in the dirt floor that Arthur dug, or the very deliberate way that they didn't go anywhere near one another.
Nerys brought them their evening meal, and apparently had forgotten everything she'd discussed earlier about princesses in disguise, which relieved Merlin to no end because he didn't think he could bear Arthur laughing like that for another ten minutes.
The guards had apparently gotten wind of the idea, though. When Nerys left, they tossed in a threadbare dress and told Merlin to put it on, and then they made suggestive comments about checking to see if he had the right bits. And it didn't help that Arthur was getting madder and madder and more and more jealous, and he had no outlet except to glare at the guards until they gave up and shut up.
Merlin didn't put on the dress, but he did ball it up for use as a pillow later. It was the cleanest thing they'd been given since they arrived.
Well, Arthur said when the guards had finally tired of their sport and moved on to other topics, unless we can find a way out, we can expect to be in here for a week at least.
And Morgana will likely be dead by then, Merlin added morosely.
We mustn't think that way, Arthur said forcefully. We'll get out of here, and then my father will make them pay.
Merlin's mouth twitched at the corners. You just can't stand to be in the same room as me, he said teasingly.
“That too,” Arthur said aloud, softly so the guards wouldn't hear. And then he grew serious. “Merlin, we shouldn't allow ourselves to get used to...this.” He waved his hand around to indicate the whole telepathy business. “It was a spell used against us, after all. It will wear off, or we'll counteract it, or something. And besides,” he added desperately when Merlin looked away, “my father would never allow...” he trailed off.
This? Merlin spun around and locked Arthur's gaze with his own. Because I can think of nothing more natural than this. He lifted a hand as though to brush Arthur's bangs from his eyes, but dropped it when Arthur backed away. “We are two sides of the same coin, Arthur,” he said aloud, quietly. “We always have been. Maybe those crazy women were right. Maybe this is something that was there all along, but we didn't notice it.”
“That's just the spell talking,” Arthur said, but as though he didn't believe it.
“Is it?”
Arthur could say nothing in reply.
That evening, after the bandits had finished preparing for their trip, the sounds of celebration drifted through the slightly open door of their tent-cage thingy. The bandits were having a piss-up, it seemed, celebrating the fact that they were going to get a hell of a lot of money for their hostages, and - if not - would kill them and sell the horses they'd been riding. They were simple people, and this seemed like a great deal of fun to them.
The bandit leader, whose name no one had bothered to mention to either Arthur or Merlin, staggered up at one point, reeking of booze and sweat and filth.
“Ye'll be comin' wit' us,” the leader slurred, breathing ale vapours in at them, “as s'curity. Plus, yer daddy'll listen to ye. Hand o'er the ransom wit' out a fuss, if ye'll tell 'im to.”
“I doubt it,” Arthur replied firmly. “I may be my father's heir, but he will not change the laws of Camelot for me. Trust me, I've tried.”
“Oh, I wouldn't know 'bout tha'...back when yer da' had that purty wife, he change the whole fate of the kingdom onna whim, practic'lly e'ery day. Back when Nimue was his pet sor...sorcerororor...witch.”
Arthur glared, and it was only because his eyes widened slightly, and because Merlin was listening in to Arthur's mind, that Merlin caught Arthur's surprise at this revelation. After all Nimue had done...trying to kill Merlin, destroy Camelot’s peace…she used to be closely allied with his family?
“Yer mam...yer mam were a good lady. Said I could have them jewels to feed my family, but yer da' didn't believe that.”
“I was seven when you stole them,” Arthur finally growled, reaching the end of his patience. “You waited seven years after my mother's death to collect them? Seven years of service to my father, and you robbed him?”
The former knight's eyes widened, and his face paled, and he backed away from the force of Arthur's anger, apparently forgetting that there was a cage door between them. He stood there and breathed heavily for a moment, and then turned to stomp away.
“Be ready in the mornin',” he called back. “We leave at dawn.”
“'Be ready,'” Arthur snarled, pacing the their prison like a caged animal. “Like we have a choice! That man is a liar and a thief!”
“I know,” Merlin said, though he could have said anything right then, including 'I have magic and it's innate, and by the way, I've saved your life more times than you can count so a little less menial work would be appreciated’ , and it would have gone right over Arthur's head.
“He has no right to speak about my mother like that!”
“It's obvious he's made up a story to comfort his conscience,” Merlin added soothingly.
Arthur said nothing for some time, but his tirade was carried over their private circuit with astonishing clarity.
“That's possible?” Merlin asked after a particularly graphic description in Arthur's thoughts of the bandit's possible parentage.
Arthur looked up, startled, as though he'd forgotten that Merlin was there.
He grimaced, and flopped down against the bars on his side of their prison.
“Not that I know of,” he said bitterly. “But I think the laws of nature made an exception on his behalf.”
They shared a short, bitter laugh, and Merlin settled down on the far side of their cage.
Neither spoke, either aloud or telepathically, for some time. Finally, Arthur seemed to come to a decision and sighed. We will have to make an escape attempt within the next couple of days, he said silently.
If he's taking us to Camelot, isn't that where we want to be? Merlin replied, and he couldn't disguise his relief at Arthur's apparent acceptance of their mind-to-mind communication situation.
Do you want to spend the next three or four days in his company?
Not especially.
Then we're getting out of here first chance. Keep your eyes open for an opportunity while we're on the road.
What about the Ivegoth Erpes moss? Merlin asked, concernedly. We don't know where they're keeping it, and the whole quest will be for nothing if we don't get it back to Morgana in time.
It's clear that he doesn't know its worth, Arthur said, tossing his head in the direction of the noisy party by the fire. It might not be well guarded.
True.
There was nothing else to prepare. All they could do now was - as the bandit leader had said - get some rest. So they did. Neither expected to sleep; it crept up on them slowly.
Their opportunity came much sooner than either of them had thought.
Nerys slept in the 'young master's' tent most nights, and - as she complained repeatedly when she was lucid - never got much sleep. Bad dreams, and all that. She quite often rose in the middle of the night and would wander about. Never far, but she did this often enough that none of the bandits thought it anything odd to see her out and about in the middle of the night, her long, scraggy, white hair puffed out around her head from lack of care.
Merlin, however, knew nothing of this habit, so when he was shaken awake by what he thought was a ban sidhe, the only thing that stopped him from screaming was the fact that her hand darted out and covered his mouth with alarming speed.
I know who you are, Nerys said into his mind. Her eyes, Merlin realized, were clear, and full of intelligence, and there wasn't even a hint of drooling. It's been made clear. Wake his Highness and come with me.
Merlin rose as quietly as he could, and shook Arthur awake.
Arthur, unlike Merlin, was disciplined enough not to make any noise upon waking. He stood and frowned. The party was still going on, in full force, but no one was looking in the direction of the tent. Not even their guards, who'd apparently frozen into statues.
Merlin, what's going on? Arthur wanted to know. He glanced concernedly at Nerys. What does the old bat want?
I can hear you, young Pendragon, Nerys interjected sternly before Merlin could answer. I've been told to save you and Lord Emrys.
Told? Arthur asked, completely unabashed. By whom? He did not ask about her referral to Merlin as ‘Lord Emrys’, but Merlin was sure that particular question would be coming later.
No one you've met, Nerys replied bitingly. We haven't time for questions. Put this on. She handed him a rolled up bundle, which - when Arthur shook it out - turned out to be a dress. It was a fine dress, made of velvet. He couldn’t tell what colour it was.
I am not, Arthur began.
You are, your Highness, or I'm leaving you here. There isn't much time before they'll notice. This is your only chance. Put it on. And you, Emrys, can stop your grinning and put this on. She thrust another bundle at him.
It was another dress. It wasn't quite as fine, but it was also made of velvet.
They glanced at each other. They glanced at Nerys. Arthur went to toss the dress on over his head, but Nerys told him it had to be worn next to the skin. They stared at one another again, and then turned away to strip.
Arthur was sure someone was shining a light on him. He could hear every single movement that Merlin made, every shallow, quiet breath, could practically feel the heat radiating off his friend's skin from where he stood, shirtless.
He changed as fast as he could.
Five minutes later, Nerys the apparently-not-as-crazy-as-she-looked crazy woman led two well-dressed young women out of the camp. The young women themselves led two fine horses right past the sentries' noses, with well-stocked saddle bags. Another leather bag, filled with a valuable moss, was slung across the shoulders of the skinnier one.
Silence. It lasted for a long while, and then Nerys the crazy old woman stumbled out of the woods, drooling and babbling about the escaping princesses, and oh what a delight they'd been! Her eyes showed no sign of the intelligence that they'd held scant minutes before. No one thought twice about her wandering at night, and even in the morning, when it was discovered that their prisoners were gone, and their two horses, a great deal of their food, some gold, no one thought of Nerys.
After all, the woman could barely hold a sentence together.
A/N: Like? Don't worry...the smut is on it's way >:)
Rating is still T. Disclaimer, summary, pairings, and other information are available in Chapter One.
A/N: Hope you like!
They awoke the next morning side by side. Merlin had again gravitated towards the first source of heat he could find - Arthur - and had latched onto it, wrapping his long limbs around Arthur and acting like a blanket himself. To be fair, neither had any real blankets and the night had been chilly away from the fire or any sort of heat. But that, of course, didn't stop either of them from pretending to be asleep much longer than they needed to before they got up and moving.
They were both up and moving by the time Nerys brought them some breakfast in the form of yesternight's stew - which was cold, but tasted alright, even if most of its ingredients were unidentifiable.
Nerys, they quickly realized, was completely, barking mad. She gibbered, and drooled, and seemed completely lost to whatever delusions kept her going. She also, apparently, had completely forgotten about how she'd greeted Arthur and Merlin the night before, or even that she'd ever met them.
They discovered a few hours later, though, when the old woman had come to bring them blankets (dirty) and a bucket (filthy) and some lunch, that she had periods of lucidity, during which she would impart stories from her younger years, often repeating herself.
“I had sons, once,” she said as she slopped out some stew into the manky wooden bowls they had to eat out of. “They're both gone, now. War took 'em before Good King Uthur, bless 'im, came in and tossed out that other one.”
“Oh yeah,” Merlin said because it seemed appropriate and he had nothing else to say.
“Now, Pwyll, my eldest, he married some grand lady. What was her name now? Had a lot of horses, that one. Was far too above herself, if you ask me. Anyway, she run off with a fisherman when my Pwyll wasn't even cold in his grave. Had a son, too, my Pwyll did, but he don't visit his old Gran. Nothin' but trouble, that one. Too much like his mother.”
Arthur tossed Merlin a “please don't get her started” look. Merlin smiled and nodded.
“And after I worked for Miss Archer, I went to work for a Mr. Jones in the country, but then he died and I went to work at the castle, only Good King Uther, bless 'im, he caught the young master nicking yon jewels, so we come here to the woods.”
“It's a sad tale,” Merlin said because he was at a loss for words.
“You know,” Nerys continued - and would have even if a battle had been going on around her, “in my day, I had five lovers.”
Neither Merlin nor Arthur said anything for a long moment, and both of them hurriedly had to suppress mental images.
“Oh yeah?”
“Yup. Five. And I ain't never had one what looked at me like he does at you,” Nerys continued conspiratorially with a wink and a nudge for Merlin. Arthur looked sick. Merlin could feel him beginning to panic. Under a spell or not, there was no telling how violently people would react to their prince falling for a servant, let alone a manservant. Arthur seemed to think that the entire kingdom would destroy itself.
This woman's insane, Arthur ordered. Don't encourage her.
“Pity you had to cut your hair, though,” Nerys continued, the silent conversation missing her completely, “but don't worry about that. It'll grow back soon, and you'll be back in dresses in no time.”
“Oh...what?”
“Well, I can sees you's really a princess in disguise. I bet his Highness is secretly bringing you back from a far away country to be his bride. You've got the others completely fooled, missy, but not me. But don't worry; your secret's safe with me.”
She left.
Arthur laughed for a long time.
The day dragged on. Nothing interesting happened, unless you include the number of water stains in a five square-inch section of wall that Merlin counted, or the small hole in the dirt floor that Arthur dug, or the very deliberate way that they didn't go anywhere near one another.
Nerys brought them their evening meal, and apparently had forgotten everything she'd discussed earlier about princesses in disguise, which relieved Merlin to no end because he didn't think he could bear Arthur laughing like that for another ten minutes.
The guards had apparently gotten wind of the idea, though. When Nerys left, they tossed in a threadbare dress and told Merlin to put it on, and then they made suggestive comments about checking to see if he had the right bits. And it didn't help that Arthur was getting madder and madder and more and more jealous, and he had no outlet except to glare at the guards until they gave up and shut up.
Merlin didn't put on the dress, but he did ball it up for use as a pillow later. It was the cleanest thing they'd been given since they arrived.
Well, Arthur said when the guards had finally tired of their sport and moved on to other topics, unless we can find a way out, we can expect to be in here for a week at least.
And Morgana will likely be dead by then, Merlin added morosely.
We mustn't think that way, Arthur said forcefully. We'll get out of here, and then my father will make them pay.
Merlin's mouth twitched at the corners. You just can't stand to be in the same room as me, he said teasingly.
“That too,” Arthur said aloud, softly so the guards wouldn't hear. And then he grew serious. “Merlin, we shouldn't allow ourselves to get used to...this.” He waved his hand around to indicate the whole telepathy business. “It was a spell used against us, after all. It will wear off, or we'll counteract it, or something. And besides,” he added desperately when Merlin looked away, “my father would never allow...” he trailed off.
This? Merlin spun around and locked Arthur's gaze with his own. Because I can think of nothing more natural than this. He lifted a hand as though to brush Arthur's bangs from his eyes, but dropped it when Arthur backed away. “We are two sides of the same coin, Arthur,” he said aloud, quietly. “We always have been. Maybe those crazy women were right. Maybe this is something that was there all along, but we didn't notice it.”
“That's just the spell talking,” Arthur said, but as though he didn't believe it.
“Is it?”
Arthur could say nothing in reply.
That evening, after the bandits had finished preparing for their trip, the sounds of celebration drifted through the slightly open door of their tent-cage thingy. The bandits were having a piss-up, it seemed, celebrating the fact that they were going to get a hell of a lot of money for their hostages, and - if not - would kill them and sell the horses they'd been riding. They were simple people, and this seemed like a great deal of fun to them.
The bandit leader, whose name no one had bothered to mention to either Arthur or Merlin, staggered up at one point, reeking of booze and sweat and filth.
“Ye'll be comin' wit' us,” the leader slurred, breathing ale vapours in at them, “as s'curity. Plus, yer daddy'll listen to ye. Hand o'er the ransom wit' out a fuss, if ye'll tell 'im to.”
“I doubt it,” Arthur replied firmly. “I may be my father's heir, but he will not change the laws of Camelot for me. Trust me, I've tried.”
“Oh, I wouldn't know 'bout tha'...back when yer da' had that purty wife, he change the whole fate of the kingdom onna whim, practic'lly e'ery day. Back when Nimue was his pet sor...sorcerororor...witch.”
Arthur glared, and it was only because his eyes widened slightly, and because Merlin was listening in to Arthur's mind, that Merlin caught Arthur's surprise at this revelation. After all Nimue had done...trying to kill Merlin, destroy Camelot’s peace…she used to be closely allied with his family?
“Yer mam...yer mam were a good lady. Said I could have them jewels to feed my family, but yer da' didn't believe that.”
“I was seven when you stole them,” Arthur finally growled, reaching the end of his patience. “You waited seven years after my mother's death to collect them? Seven years of service to my father, and you robbed him?”
The former knight's eyes widened, and his face paled, and he backed away from the force of Arthur's anger, apparently forgetting that there was a cage door between them. He stood there and breathed heavily for a moment, and then turned to stomp away.
“Be ready in the mornin',” he called back. “We leave at dawn.”
“'Be ready,'” Arthur snarled, pacing the their prison like a caged animal. “Like we have a choice! That man is a liar and a thief!”
“I know,” Merlin said, though he could have said anything right then, including 'I have magic and it's innate, and by the way, I've saved your life more times than you can count so a little less menial work would be appreciated’ , and it would have gone right over Arthur's head.
“He has no right to speak about my mother like that!”
“It's obvious he's made up a story to comfort his conscience,” Merlin added soothingly.
Arthur said nothing for some time, but his tirade was carried over their private circuit with astonishing clarity.
“That's possible?” Merlin asked after a particularly graphic description in Arthur's thoughts of the bandit's possible parentage.
Arthur looked up, startled, as though he'd forgotten that Merlin was there.
He grimaced, and flopped down against the bars on his side of their prison.
“Not that I know of,” he said bitterly. “But I think the laws of nature made an exception on his behalf.”
They shared a short, bitter laugh, and Merlin settled down on the far side of their cage.
Neither spoke, either aloud or telepathically, for some time. Finally, Arthur seemed to come to a decision and sighed. We will have to make an escape attempt within the next couple of days, he said silently.
If he's taking us to Camelot, isn't that where we want to be? Merlin replied, and he couldn't disguise his relief at Arthur's apparent acceptance of their mind-to-mind communication situation.
Do you want to spend the next three or four days in his company?
Not especially.
Then we're getting out of here first chance. Keep your eyes open for an opportunity while we're on the road.
What about the Ivegoth Erpes moss? Merlin asked, concernedly. We don't know where they're keeping it, and the whole quest will be for nothing if we don't get it back to Morgana in time.
It's clear that he doesn't know its worth, Arthur said, tossing his head in the direction of the noisy party by the fire. It might not be well guarded.
True.
There was nothing else to prepare. All they could do now was - as the bandit leader had said - get some rest. So they did. Neither expected to sleep; it crept up on them slowly.
Their opportunity came much sooner than either of them had thought.
Nerys slept in the 'young master's' tent most nights, and - as she complained repeatedly when she was lucid - never got much sleep. Bad dreams, and all that. She quite often rose in the middle of the night and would wander about. Never far, but she did this often enough that none of the bandits thought it anything odd to see her out and about in the middle of the night, her long, scraggy, white hair puffed out around her head from lack of care.
Merlin, however, knew nothing of this habit, so when he was shaken awake by what he thought was a ban sidhe, the only thing that stopped him from screaming was the fact that her hand darted out and covered his mouth with alarming speed.
I know who you are, Nerys said into his mind. Her eyes, Merlin realized, were clear, and full of intelligence, and there wasn't even a hint of drooling. It's been made clear. Wake his Highness and come with me.
Merlin rose as quietly as he could, and shook Arthur awake.
Arthur, unlike Merlin, was disciplined enough not to make any noise upon waking. He stood and frowned. The party was still going on, in full force, but no one was looking in the direction of the tent. Not even their guards, who'd apparently frozen into statues.
Merlin, what's going on? Arthur wanted to know. He glanced concernedly at Nerys. What does the old bat want?
I can hear you, young Pendragon, Nerys interjected sternly before Merlin could answer. I've been told to save you and Lord Emrys.
Told? Arthur asked, completely unabashed. By whom? He did not ask about her referral to Merlin as ‘Lord Emrys’, but Merlin was sure that particular question would be coming later.
No one you've met, Nerys replied bitingly. We haven't time for questions. Put this on. She handed him a rolled up bundle, which - when Arthur shook it out - turned out to be a dress. It was a fine dress, made of velvet. He couldn’t tell what colour it was.
I am not, Arthur began.
You are, your Highness, or I'm leaving you here. There isn't much time before they'll notice. This is your only chance. Put it on. And you, Emrys, can stop your grinning and put this on. She thrust another bundle at him.
It was another dress. It wasn't quite as fine, but it was also made of velvet.
They glanced at each other. They glanced at Nerys. Arthur went to toss the dress on over his head, but Nerys told him it had to be worn next to the skin. They stared at one another again, and then turned away to strip.
Arthur was sure someone was shining a light on him. He could hear every single movement that Merlin made, every shallow, quiet breath, could practically feel the heat radiating off his friend's skin from where he stood, shirtless.
He changed as fast as he could.
Five minutes later, Nerys the apparently-not-as-crazy-as-she-looked crazy woman led two well-dressed young women out of the camp. The young women themselves led two fine horses right past the sentries' noses, with well-stocked saddle bags. Another leather bag, filled with a valuable moss, was slung across the shoulders of the skinnier one.
Silence. It lasted for a long while, and then Nerys the crazy old woman stumbled out of the woods, drooling and babbling about the escaping princesses, and oh what a delight they'd been! Her eyes showed no sign of the intelligence that they'd held scant minutes before. No one thought twice about her wandering at night, and even in the morning, when it was discovered that their prisoners were gone, and their two horses, a great deal of their food, some gold, no one thought of Nerys.
After all, the woman could barely hold a sentence together.
A/N: Like? Don't worry...the smut is on it's way >:)