FIC: A King's Ransom (9/12) Merlin: Merlin/Arthur, PG-13
TITLE: A King's Ransom (9/12)
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: 1,484
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. Previous parts here
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.
Morgana and Gwen stood by the well, watching Uther talk with Old Mike. Both men were smoking pipes and surveying the village as if they owned it. Gwen laughed and together they drew up the water, carrying it back to Merlin and Arthur's house.
The village was strange without the boys. People kept coming up to them to ask how they were, and where was Gaius, and when would they all be in the village together. They didn't ask about Uther but Morgana volunteered that he was Arthur's father, a serious merchant from Camelot. The villagers nodded solemnly and generally gave him a wide berth, sensing his disdain from the other side of the settlement.
It didn't seem like almost a year since they'd been away, but the villagers remembered it well, telling stories of how they never thought the house would go up, how Arthur made the best pies for three villages and how Merlin tended their animals and their families at all hours, in all weathers. Everyone asked if they'd heard about the cattle raids along the border and whether Merlin knew of anything to stop it, if Arthur could join the men as they marched. They were loved here, respected, wanted. Morgana was beginning to wonder if they'd ever return to Camelot.
"I think he's actually listening to him," Gwen said, in awe, and Morgana smiled.
"Oh, Uther can listen, when he wants to. It just doesn't happen very often."
"But what could Old Mike possibly be telling him?"
Morgana shook her head and placed the bucket on the table, carefully refilling the washtub and refreshing the dishwater. Arthur would expect her to keep the place clean.
She knocked the bucket - the jeers, the shouts - a sword to his head - alone, together - fire and flight and steel - the strength that flows - the march - the audience - the end - and water splashed her dress, soaking it through. Morgana shivered, clutching at the fragments of the visions, struggling to piece them together.
"My lady?"
Morgana looked at Gwen, eyes wide. "It happens today."
~
He couldn't sleep. He couldn't eat. He could only think of Arthur.
"Tell me."
Gaius frowned as he entered the room, obviously unhappy. "The bout begins at sunset."
"Caradoc and Arthur," Merlin said dully, struggling to sit up. Even after three days, the strength was refusing to return to his hands - he'd tried some light levitation, but he couldn't concentrate and his energy waned quickly.
Sitting across from him, Gaius nodded. "The prince barely knows who he is, let alone how to hold his sword. I'm afraid it will over in mere minutes."
"We can do it," Merlin insisted, though he was beginning to have doubts. The Dragon had said sword and magic could bring about victory, but what if its wielders weren't strong enough? What if, in trying to fix this on their own, they'd ruined any chance of victory together?
Merlin had greatly reduced his expectations. If he could get Arthur through this day alive, then he was calling a victory. Camelot could fend for herself - he only had eyes for Arthur.
"If Camelot falls," Gaius said softly, "there will be no safe place."
And Merlin knew that, he did, but he didn't have the energy to care. It was taking all his effort to keep his eyes open and worry about Arthur. His brave, self-sacrificing prat who didn't even know his own name right now.
At least Morgana and Gwen were safe. The village would take care of them, until Caradoc decided to wage war on Garthmadrun and anyone else he could target. The fragile peace of the world was about to come undone and Merlin could only watch from his bed.
"Merlin, what if he-"
"He won't." Because it was unthinkable. Because he was Arthur.
Because Merlin would die first.
~
Gwen approached Uther late in the day, bringing him a simple meal of bread and cheese as he sat on a chair outside the house. He was watching Thomas chase chickens through the village, before playing games with some of the other children, laughing and shouting in their freedom.
"Arthur didn't play as a child," he said absently and Gwen nodded, not sure what she was supposed to say. Uther took the plate from her and smiled a little. "Thank you, Guinevere."
"Sire," she said softly, not wishing to interrupt his thoughts. Uther sighed.
"I can see why he would want this. A simple life. No obligations, no expectations."
Gwen looked out and saw differently. Every hut had Merlin's jars stacked outside, and they were building a new oven, this one closer to Arthur's watchful eyes. The children were playing in front of Merlin and Arthur's house, when they had the run of the whole village. They were part of this place.
"I think...there are different expectations here," she said slowly. Uther turned to her, frowning. "I mean, you're right, sire, of course. I didn't mean to- I'll go now."
"Yes." Uther turned to watch the children again. "The elders respect them here. That man, he said I should be...proud."
Gwen stayed silent, watching Uther watch the village. His son's home.
"I was proud of his swordsmanship, the way Camelot's knights fight for him. His manners at the table, the strength of his convictions. I did not think of...this."
She wasn't sure he even knew what "this" was, wasn't sure she knew herself, but she nodded anyway. "There are many things that make a man." He looked up at her. "Sire."
A shadow crossed his face and Uther sighed under his breath. "I hope those things are enough."
~
Caradoc had dug out his spare armour. How thoughtful.
With aching slowness, Arthur fitted the pieces over the bandages, tying them as tightly as the pain would allow. He had only taken half of Gaius' tincture, determined to keep a clear head. The salient details of his life were beginning to return to him and he would need all his physical and mental agility to defeat a knight in his prime.
Arthur could hear the crowd. They were shouting, screaming, filled with passion for blood. They wanted Caradoc's head. And, with a small smile, he realised that it was his doing. Caradoc had let his power go to his head - he had paraded his victory over Arthur for all to see.
He hadn't counted on the people actually liking their prince.
Their voices roused him and, taking up his sword, Arthur marched out into the arena. Foreign knights formed an honour guard as he strode towards the centre, a grudging respect in their eyes. He had earned something from them, and that gave him power.
Helm in hand, he stood at the centre, waiting. The crowd died down as the trumpets blasted, and Caradoc emerged. His armour was shining, carefully polished to perfection, designed to intimidate and remind Arthur who was superior. The heir to the Pendragon throne could never feel threatened by wealth.
"Are you ready to die?" Caradoc yelled, raising a roar from the crowd. Arthur merely smiled and pulled on his helm. He remembered competing against the idiot at their first meeting, dragging Merlin out to catch that stupid stag. A foolish errand that had almost ended everything - this time, he wouldn't let Caradoc trick him. This time, he was ready.
And he had the love of a good man. He had Merlin.
Distantly, a gong sounded, and Caradoc charged. Arthur dodged, but he was too slow and Caradoc's shoulder caught him, knocking him to the side. He recovered quickly, bringing up his sword to defend against Caradoc's swipe. Arthur saw that he'd angered him with his silence; he could use that tempestuousness to his advantage.
Pulling back his sword, apparently leaving himself open, Arthur invited him in and Caradoc took the bait. Slamming his shield into the man's chest, Arthur forced him back, but without his full strength, the blow barely winded Caradoc.
They danced around each other, probing strikes knocked back by blade and shield, the crowd's collective voice rising to meet the encroaching darkness. The sun was fading fast, the last vestiges of warmth lapping at the edge of the arena.
Caradoc surged forward once more and Arthur couldn't react quickly enough; something struck his head and he fell to his knees, helm bouncing on the ground. Reflexively, he ducked and rolled, coming up and holding his sword in front of him, unable to discern which of the hundred Caradocs was the real target.
Stumbling backwards, he defended on instinct, trying to stay on his feet as his shield was stolen from his arm. The sword struck his damaged shoulder, another blow targeted his knee, and he was on the ground again, staring up into Caradoc's thousand smirking faces.
Hold on
"And now we end it." Caradoc raised his sword.
And a shadow flew across the sun.