FIC: A King's Ransom (1/12) Merlin: Merlin/Arthur, PG-13
TITLE: A King's Ransom (1/12)
AUTHOR: Demon Faith
SERIES: Love and Loyalty
CATEGORY: Hurt/Comfort, Drama
PAIRING: Merlin/Arthur
SPOILERS: For Season 1 (AU after 1x5: Lancelot)
RATING: PG-13
WORDS: 1,364
SUMMARY: Camelot is burning. A Dragon's call, a Seer's voice and discord between lovers do battle in the fight for a kingdom - but can anyone truly emerge victorious?
DISCLAIMER: I own not the boys, nor the show. Thankfully, they’re doing just fine.
NOTES: Sequel to Fealty.
I really wasn't going to do this, but this savage little bunny latched on to my leg and wouldn't let go.
This is dedicated to The Coven and the Dragon. He knows why.
Arthur Pendragon had faced mortal combat, monsters in sewers, mythical creatures and giant spiders. He would not be defeated by pastry.
"Give up and come to bed."
"No, it's almost done."
He prodded the edges until they stuck together and then smothered the whole thing in egg. Arthur felt Merlin's eyes on his back, could sense his smile from across the room, but he diligently marked the pie with an approximation of his family crest. It was the thing to do.
"Arthur…"
"There!"
He brought it over to show Merlin, who rolled his eyes affectionately. "Yes, very…neat. I'm sure it will do fine at the fayre. Bed now?"
Arthur smirked. Merlin really had no time for pies. To be honest, Arthur wasn't infatuated with them, but it was always fun to wind Merlin up. He placed his creation on the top shelf of the cupboard and started to wash the utensils.
"You have a round in the morning?"
"Just a sick cow and Old Mike's water trouble." Merlin joined him, carefully wiping the plates and putting them away.
"So you'll be at the fayre?"
Merlin laughed. "Yes, I'll be at the fayre." He set down the plate and snaked his arms around Arthur's waist, laying his head on his shoulder. "I'm proud of you."
Arthur tilted his head to look at him. "Oh?"
"For not entering the tourney."
Arthur snorted. "Merlin, I could run them all through with a fork."
Yet it would be strange to watch others fight without him, but he knew they couldn't draw attention to themselves that way. He was already a man who made pies - his swordwork would surely force them to leave the village, and he wasn't prepared to do that just yet.
Merlin laughed and picked up the next plate. "Yes, sire."
It was a joke between them now and Arthur ducked his head, grinning. There was a crash behind him and he whirled round. Merlin was holding his hands out, eyes vacant, the plate on the floor.
"Merlin?"
He was frozen, lips moving soundlessly, as his eyes got wider and his mouth twisted in pain. Arthur rushed forward and grasped his shoulders, but he didn't even blink.
"Merlin!"
Abruptly, he lurched forward, breathing heavily and starting to fall. Arthur took hold of him and lowered them both to the floor.
"Merlin, can you hear me?"
"Camelot's burning. We have to go."
Arthur's heart stilled. "Burning? Merlin, speak sense."
"It's burning," he whispered dully. "The people are screaming. Foreign knights everywhere. Morgana is held prisoner."
His hands tightened on Merlin's shoulders and he struggled to remain calm. "Merlin, you are no seer. How do you know?"
"The Dragon's calling me." Finally, Merlin met his eyes: they were sun gold and filling with tears. "We have to go, Arthur."
With a curt nod, Arthur pulled them both up and, when he knew Merlin could hold his own weight, he let him go and hurried to the door.
"I'll prepare the horses. We will need three days food and I will require my armour."
"On it," Merlin said, shakily, and Arthur gave him what he hoped was a reassuring smile as he ran into the night.
~
He met the Dragon's cold eyes and knew this was the end.
Everyone was shouting, baying for his death, but he would not back down. Camelot needed him to be strong. Arthur needed- Arthur...
The warm arm beneath his disappeared and he cried out in rage. If he couldn't save Arthur, it wasn't worth it. None of it was worth it.
Merlin.
He lashed out with his magic and the whole arena rocked with the force of it, all his anger directed at that one smirking man-
Merlin! Wake up!
He started awake and saw fire. He scrambled backwards and almost fell out of the tree, dimly aware of Arthur swatting at the burning canopy with a pillow.
With a wave of his hand, the flames died and the canopy started to regrow. Arthur turned to him and sighed under his breath, squatting down and swiping at his head with the singed pillow.
"We need to talk about this, Merlin. Before you set the whole tree on fire."
Merlin lay down and rolled onto his side, his back to Arthur. "Nothing to talk about."
"Oh really? Well, that's just fine then. I'll run back to the village and put some bread in the oven, shall I? It's only my kingdom's destruction that's waking you in a panic. Nothing at all."
"Arthur..."
A hand gently touched his head, and another his shoulder. When Arthur spoke again, his breath was warm on Merlin's neck.
"I need to be prepared. Please."
Merlin relented and turned onto his back, staring up at the stars until the leaves obscured them again.
"It's different every time. Sometimes I see Camelot burn, or the Dragon flying. Sometimes I see your father and Morgana - never together, always...angry." His voice caught. "I never see Gaius, or Gwen. And there's...a man. I think I know him but... I can't remember. He's your age, dark hair - cruel, noble. And he...laughs at me." He laughs while you die...
Arthur was silent for a moment. "Do you see an army? Knights? Soldiers?"
Merlin tried to concentrate but the images were already fading from his mind. "I don't know. I'm sorry."
"It's all right," Arthur murmured. "Get some rest."
Merlin didn't sleep again that night.
~
For the first time since his departure, Uther was glad Arthur was away from Camelot.
He could fancy that, with his son at the fore, the knights might have triumphed over the invaders, but that was a pretty lie. No doubt he would be bleeding on the castle steps, or confined to his rooms, fuming and plotting. There would be no victory.
Uther did not want to think about the sorcerer.
Now, the king occupied the prince's bedrooms, pacing back and forth as he waited for that idiot boy to grace him with his presence. What an ignoble defeat - to lose to such a pathetic man, one who had already bested him and had now fooled him a second time.
Morgana was safe, that much he knew, and the invaders were not stupid enough to execute the court physician - or so he kept telling himself. He could not lose his oldest friend as well as his son; the pain would be too much to bear.
He was glad Arthur was away, but he wished he could send him a message. Uther was proud, but there were still allies he could call upon, ones who did not wish to see this upstart take control of such a fortress as Camelot. Better the devil you know.
The large door swung open and he stopped his pacing and waited. And there was the boy, grinning inanely and munching on an apple. "Your highness," he said mockingly, bowing low and throwing the apple core on the bed.
"You cannot think you will succeed here," Uther said coldly, meeting the boy's eyes with disdain.
"Oh, I think I already have." He wandered around, picking up some of the china and opening a couple of drawers. "The city is guarded by my men, the throne is where I sit, and your little prince is off on his...diplomatic mission. And if he even dared to approach my city, I would shoot him from the ramparts."
Uther reined in his temper, forcing his face into a cold mask. "He will not come alone. He will bring an army."
The boy laughed. "He will not come at all! He's afraid - he always has been. I am his superior in every way."
Taking his seat casually, Uther chuckled. "You are no match for him, little Caradoc. This is bluster to impress your ailing father, nothing more. Mark me well - he will see you die for this."
Caradoc rolled his eyes. "Oh yes, of course he will. And Morgana will never marry me, I suppose? And you really do keep a Dragon under the castle? Please."
Withdrawing another apple from his pocket, he bit into it and strolled out of the room, leaving an irate king in his wake.