Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The last thing Arthur remembered was a loud explosion and the earth giving way. He remembered blacking out and then, nothing. So when Arthur opened his eyes only to be greeted by darkness, he was a tad annoyed. 

“Ugh,” Arthur groaned as he pushed himself into a sitting position. 

“Arthur! You’re awake!” Sir Radnor exclaimed with a voice that betrayed his youth and inexperience. 

“You don’t have to sound so bloody surprised,” Arthur grumbled as he cracked his neck, realizing he must have slept in his armor. 

“Sorry, sire,” Sir Radnor replied remorsefully. “It’s just that you were the only one who had yet to wake up as you were closest to the blast and–” 

“Where are we?” Arthur interrupted, turning his body to where he heard other shuffling, not able to bear Sir Radnor’s blabbering any longer. Radnor had been knighted not long before the group had left on what should have been a regular patrol.

 ‘ Just a quick trip around his kingdom to show the newcomer our land,’ his father had said. ‘ You’ll be back in time for the feast .’ How wrong he had been. 

“We appear to have fallen into a cave, your Highness,” pronounced the voice of Sir Leon and Arthur adjusted his body to turn fully towards where he assumed the man to be. 

“Have we lost anyone?” 

“No, your royal highness, all six of your knights are accounted for.” 

“Good. And the warlock?” 

“It appears we have fallen into his trap. None of us have managed to find a way out and we have felt around every wall in the cave.” 

“Have we determined what he wants from us?” 

“How do you know he wants something?” Sir Bertrand’s voice asked from beside where he assumed Sir Leon to be. 

“He’s a sorcerer, Sir Bertrand. If he didn’t kill us on sight, it’s because he wants something from us.” 

“Maybe he just made a mistake. We are knights after all, he couldn’t have taken all seven of us at once.” 

“Sir Bertrand. The sorcerer took us unawares during an irregular patrol, meaning he had in depth knowledge of our routines. And, unless I am mistaken, all of us were knocked unconscious upon impact. Am I wrong?” Arthur’s question was followed by silence so he continued, “Very well then. If he didn’t kill us when he had every opportunity to do so, he must want something.” 

As if talking of the sorcerer’s intentions had summoned him, a crack of light suddenly appeared from a previously unseen back wall, outlining the silhouette of a cloaked figure before the door closed behind him and all the knights were plunged back into darkness. 

Arthur pushed forward as if to lunge at the man, but realized he could not. He was frozen in place. It was worse than any sort of chain his father could have used in the dungeons as he was unable to even twitch his fingers. 

Arthur could hear the ominous thump of feet make their way into the center of his circle of knights. The feet took twenty-two steps towards them, then stopped a hair’s breadth away from Arthur himself. Arthur could hear the man’s oversized cloak swish against the floor as he leaned down, and suddenly, Arthur’s ears were bombarded with the sound of metal against stone. There were a few other clattering and ruffling noises that Arthur couldn’t make out as the sorcerer moved around the cave and placed other objects in various positions. 

Just as Arthur could no longer stand it, the sorcerer opened the cave and Arthur’s eyes were overwhelmed with the bright light of day. He wanted to watch the sorcerer to see if there was any trick to making the door open. Unfortunately, the light became too much within a few seconds and Arthur was forced to look away, only to notice that there was a plate of fruits and vegetables in front of him and each of his knights. Arthur turned a confused gaze back towards the opening only to see the sorcerer wave his hand and move the rocks back into place. 

Arthur was once again drenched in darkness.

A few seconds after the rocks were thoroughly blocking any light from entering the cave, Arthur felt his body return to his control. He reached an arm out to grab a carrot in front of him. It was still wet, probably from being washed in a nearby stream. Arthur sniffed it thoughtfully before realizing that, if the sorcerer truly wanted him dead, he would have taken a more direct approach than food poisoning. He took a bite. The crunch reverberated through the small space. 

“Well,” Arthur announced after he let the food sit in his stomach for a few seconds, “it appears we have our answer.” 

“And what answer is that?” asked Sir Vidor in a voice to Arthur’s left. 

“He’s planning to use us for ransom.” 

------------------------------

After three meals, Arthur and his knights had explored every inch of the cave and found no escape. After four meals many of the knights decided to strip themselves of their armor in hopes of wriggling their way through smaller crevices. They were unsuccessful. After five meals, they were just bored. 

So when the sixth meal came along, Arthur decided to try something new. “What? Raw vegetables and fruit again? I am a prince, you know, and I’m used to better quality than this.” 

Arthur assumed the sorcerer paused on his way to setting the plate and cup down in front of Arthur as he had yet to hear the rattle.

“Over-spoiled prat,” the sorcerer mumbled and the voice sounded surprisingly young. Young enough to make Arthur hesitate before responding again. This allowed the sorcerer a chance to bring his plate to the next knight and move away from Arthur himself. 

“Fear-mongering pig,” Arthur prattled back. 

“I’m not a pig,” the sorcerer huffed as he made his way around the room. 

“Well, you’re no canary.”

The sorcerer chuckled, “You’re the real pig.” 

“You can’t talk to me like that.” 

“Sorry; you’re the real pig, My Lord.” 

“Merciless Sorcerer.” 

“Warlock, actually.” 

“What’s the difference?” 

“Sorcerers need to study to use magic. I was born with it.” 

Arthur paused in his tirade. Born with magic? One couldn’t be born with magic. It was a power that had to be learned, and the more one learned, the more it corrupted. Arthur had seen first hand the terrors that people who had delved too deep in the mystic arts had wreaked. 

“Merciless warlock, then,” Arthur huffed, annoyed at his own pause. 

“I am literally waiting on you hand and foot, sire,” the warlock replied, somehow managing to make Arthur’s title sound like a worse insult than prat.

“Yet you leave us in the dark every day.” 

“Does it really make that much of a difference?” 

“Seeing as how one of my men tripped and sliced himself open against the rocks, yes it does matter!” 

The warlock mumbled a few words under his breath and a yellow speck of light began emanating from the ceiling. A few seconds later, the spark expanded to an orb around the size of Arthur’s head. The orb illuminated the space with a pale hue like the world right before the sunset. Arthur was forced to look away, however, ashamed of his eyes for watering and being unable to look in even this low light, but refusing to shut them completely. 

Instead, his eyes turned towards the warlock and, under the shade of his hand, he saw the warlock’s feet make their way towards Radnor, the new knight who had indeed sliced himself open. The warlock examined the knight’s leg and, as Arthur was able to look up a bit more, he saw Radnor freeze. Arthur didn’t know if it was due to the sheer terror of being that close to a warlock, or it the warlock had reinforced his statue curse on the man. 

With a jolt, Arthur realized he could move his hand. He could move. The warlock must have forgotten to reinforce his curse! 

He stood up. 

The warlock healed Sir Radnor. 

Arthur didn’t attack. 

“Careful,” the warlock said without turning his back.

“I could take you apart with one blow,” Arthur defended. 

“I could take you apart with less than that.” The figure turned and, as Arthur’s eyes adjusted enough, he looked past the figure's hood and into his face. Arthur had been right about his previous assumption: the boy was young. Maybe a few years younger than Arthur himself. He was also quite skinny. Arthur realized that the bulk of the figure had been the warlock levitating plates in front of him and not his looming shadow. In fact, if Arthur had seen this scrawny boy anywhere except kidnapped in a cave, he probably wouldn’t spare him a moment’s notice. 

“‘I’ll leave the light on when I go,” the warlock said, taking Arthur’s silence as his cue to leave. 

With a wave of the warlock’s hand, the rocks opened and shut around him. The glowing ball of light remained lit. 

------------------

Arthur knew that this was meal time. He knew that this was when the warlock normally entered the cave. The warlock may have magic, but he was a scrawny boy, Arthur could take him. All it would take was one punch and the warlock would fall and they would all be free. The cave was getting smelly with their piss and Arthur wanted to eat meat again. 

He and his knights had surrounded the area where the rocks normally parted. If one didn’t manage to get a hit in, the others would be there ready to take up where their comrade had left off. It was seven to one. 

The warlock never brought dinner that night. 

----------------

They decided to take shifts by the rocks. That way some could sleep while the others would lie in wait to pounce. 

Breakfast didn’t come the next morning. 

------------------

It took Sir Leon’s stomach growling before Arthur finally relented and had the knights back away from the door. 

No sooner had they settled into the areas they had designated for rest when the rocks parted and the warlock entered with their plates of food. The warlock didn’t freeze him or his men, however. He simply stared at them, set their plates down near his spot at the door, and left. 

--------------

The next time the warlock came into their cave it was Sir Leon that spoke. “It takes a few days for the king to muster any massive amounts of gold. He has to be wary of bandits on the road and other outside influences.” 

“Why are you telling me this?” The boy warlock asked after a brief pause. 

“Simply so you don’t lose faith,” Sir Leon said with a tilt of his head. 

“Why would I lose faith if money is traveling–ah–no–I didn’t ask for money.” 

“You didn’t?” 

“No. I don’t need money.” 

“What did you ask for then?” 

For a moment Arthur didn’t think the young warlock was going to tell them anything, then he said into the silence, “A prisoner.” 

“A trading of lives?” 

“When you put it like that I sound awful.” 

“How else would you like me to put it?” Leon asked in that authoritative tone that he often used on Arthur in the training grounds. 

“Look, I asked him to release an innocent prisoner. I didn’t ask him to release anyone evil!” 

“I never said you were.” 

“My mother is innocent. She would never hurt a fly! I’m serious! There was one stuck in our tent once and it buzzed so loud you couldn’t even think, but she insisted we release him through the tent opening of the flaps! She would never–” 

“I’m sorry for insinuating,” Leon said with a glance up to the light on the ceiling that had gotten brighter with the man’s ramble. 

“No, it’s ok. I’m sorry,” the warlock said and Arthur looked up in shock. “I’m just kind of on edge right now.” 

“If she’s truly innocent, Warlock, then why did you kidnap us? Uther is a just king and kidnapping his son and his most trusted knights only implies that she was guilty and needed someone to break the law to free her.”  

“Merlin,” the boy said in reply. “My name’s Merlin. And she wouldn’t have gotten a fair trial.” 

“Hello, Merlin. My name’s Leon.” 

“Nice to meet you, Leon,” the warlock said with a voice that sounded surprisingly genuine and naive. 

 “Merlin, I’ve personally been to several trials and the King does his best to listen to all of his people. He even has a specific day dedicated for those not of noble blood to enter his palace and place their queries before him.” 

“She still wouldn’t have gotten a fair trial.” 

“Why, Merlin?” 

“She’s a servant accused of murdering a Lord.” 

“Well, did she?” 

“No!” The boy, Merlin, looked nearly desperate as he yelled, but the light on the ceiling remained constant. “The Lord died of natural causes, but no one wants to believe that!” 

“Well then she should have the palace physician check the body.” 

“He already did. But, you see, I checked it too. Just to be sure he wasn’t dead and there wasn’t anything I could do to help.” 

“Why is that such a bad thing?” 

“Because I tried to heal him using magic, and my mother was the one who was caught when sorcery and a Lord’s death were on display.” 

“Magic is forbidden in Uther’s kingdom.” 

“Was I supposed to just sit there as someone was hurting?” 

Arthur couldn’t stand this anymore, he had to speak up. Leon was being too delicate. They had to help this young, impressionable boy see sense before it was too late. “Magic corrupts, Merlin. You may start off with good intentions, but you will soon be corrupted enough that you are the very thing you fear.” 

“Am I supposed to change who I am?” 

“You are a boy, you are not magic.” 

“I was born like this, and you can’t tell me I’m evil just because of how I was born. That’s like telling you that you’re evil just because you have blond hair!” 

“No,” Arthur had had just about enough of this. “We think you’re evil because you kidnapped us.” 

That seemed to stop this Merlin. He stared between Arthur, Leon and his knights with watery eyes. “I’m sorry,” he whispered slowly with downcast eyes before swiping his hand behind him and making a quick retreat out the back wall of the cave. 

---------------

The next time Merlin entered the cave, a flood of water entered alongside him and Arthur could see the pour of rain from outside and the accompanying hum of thunder. Merlin was soaked. 

“Sorry. It’s so wet outside and my tent couldn’t stand upright with the wind.” 

Arthur could see several of his knights sitting upright, as if sensing their opportunity for attack. Arthur wished that was a viable option. Unfortunately, the few glimpses of the forest that Arthur had seen were unfamiliar–which meant they would be lost. Combine that with the fact that this warlock wouldn’t be able to open the door if he were dead and their lives were suspect to his good favor. “Stand down, men.” 

Merlin looked at him questioningly. Arthur just shrugged and lifted his eyebrows as if to say, ‘I couldn’t be bothered if you died, but I don’t want blood on my cave floor. ’ 

“Clotpole,” Merlin shot back. 

“That’s not even a real word.” 

“Yes it is.” 

“Define it for me.” 

“Prince Arthur.” 

“I just saved your life!” 

“I didn’t need saving.” 

“Very well then, I suppose we could all just attack each other then.” 

“You’re my prisoners.” 

“Bloody lot of good it’s doing you now.” 

“You weren't supposed to be here this long.” 

“I’ll say.” 

“Look, I thought Uther would release my mother the second he found out about the kidnapping. I didn’t realize it would take this long. I’m sorry.” 

“You keep saying that.” 

“What? That my mother is innocent?” 

“No, sorry.” 

“Sorry?” 

“Yes, sorry,” Arthur rolled his eyes. 

“Because I am sorry. I’ve kidnapped you, sire, and that’s not a nice thing to do.” The warlock’s voice drifted higher at the end, as if announcing a question more than an answer. 

“Stop it.” 

“I’m so confused right now.” 

“Of course you would be, you soldering idiot.” 

“You’re insulting me again?” 

“I’m trying to get a rise out of you.” 

“Oh. Well, do you want me to scream?” 

“What?” 

“Would screaming help?” 

“How would screaming help?”

“You are annoyed that I’m being rational. I can be angry if you want,” Merlin shrugged as his voice began echoing off the cave walls abnormally loud and all the knights moved to cover their ears. Several of them even moved to block themselves between the warlock and the prince. 

“Why would I want you to be angry?” 

“I don’t know? You’re the one who said you didn’t want me to be sorry.” 

“Well, you shouldn’t be sorry.” 

“Look, Arthur,” Merlin said, his voice returning to normal, “you can’t tell me how I’m supposed to react to things.” 

“You’re not supposed to be human!” 

Merlin huffed a laugh, his head tilted back and his hood fell off his face, revealing a mop of messy black hair. The knights looked at each other, confused, unsure of what to do. 

“Well, I’m sure not a troll,” Merlin responded, eyes glistening in the light. 

“I didn’t mean that,” Arthur mumbled under his breath.

Merlin paused his hysterical laughter long enough to gaze into Arthur’s eyes and Arthur couldn’t help but be entranced by the warlock’s eyes. He had never paid much attention to eye color before. He couldn’t tell you what color eyes his father, or even Morgana had. But after locking eyes with Merlin’s blue gaze, he couldn’t help but find himself lost in their depths. They were no longer the gold of the previous few days, when he had been levitating plates and cups and moving away stone. Now they were blue and full of life. Now they were human. 

“You meant that I’m not supposed to have feelings,” Merlin said after a prolonged pause. 

Arthur didn’t respond. 

Leon, feeling the pause begin again, decided to take this as his opportunity to step in. “That’s not what his highness meant.” 

“I know what he meant.” 

“Arthur would never imply that you were heartless. We’re quite glad for your heart, actually; the food has been delicious.” 

Only as Merlin shifted his gaze to Leon did Arthur realize they had been staring at each other the whole time. All the while Leon had been desperately intervening, Merlin had never strayed from his eye contact with Arthur. 

“Did you really like it? I try to keep seeds with me at all times, you never know when you’ll need to feed seven starving knights.” Merlin smiled, clearly trying to make a joke. 

“Have you been farming here for months, waiting to kidnap us?” Radnor asked as his expression hardened. 

“Oh, no,” Merlin responded as he shuffled around in his bag and pulled out a glass vial filled with seeds. “I grow them whenever I get hungry. Then I replenish my seed supply and move along. That’s how I make all my meals.” 

“You grow them on demand?” 

“Yeah. The druids were sad to see me leave. Tried to convince me to stay a little longer. Abusing me for my power, I tell you.” 

Arthur couldn’t tell if Merlin was joking or not. He decided it best to stay silent. 

“Why did you leave?” Sir Owain asked from his spot between Arthur and the Warlock. 

“I’d learned all I could, thought it was time to move on. You hungry?” Merlin asked, changing the topic, shaking the jar of seeds in his hand. 

Leon inclined his head in a semi-nod that Merlin took as his cue to continue. He walked to a crack in the flood near the far wall and leaned over to press some seeds into it. He then reached into his bag and grabbed another vial. “How do potatoes sound tonight?” He asked the knights. 

“Will we eat them raw?” Leon asked. 

“Oh, I suppose not. Hadn’t thought of that. No, we’ll have to start a fire. That’s fine, though. I’m getting sick of plain food anyways.” 

“How are we to start a fire?” Owain asked, and Arthur realized Owain had shifted himself so he was still in between Merlin and himself, even though Merlin had moved to a different side of the cave. 

“I can do it,” Merlin said as he sprinkled and placed the potato seeds back in his bag, picking out a third vial from his pouch. “Do you think rosemary would be a good spice to go with stew?” 

“Stew?” Sir Vidor cocked his head. 

“Well, veggie stew,” Merlin amended. “I don’t like hunting, so no meat for me.” 

“Don’t like hunting!” Sir Bertrand’s eyes widened in astonishment. 

“No, I hate killing.” 

“They’re not people and we have to eat somehow.” 

“We are eating!” Merlin responded, amused. “We’re eating veggies.” 

“Give me a good slab of red meat over a dirty carrot any day.” 

“You won’t be saying that after you’ve tried my stew. I’m going to change your mind. We’re going to grow celery and onion and beans and–oh–it’s dark enough in here I bet we could even grow mushrooms!” 

“How will we prepare this meal?” Leon asked doubtfully. 

“Well, here,'' Merlin said as his eyes glowed gold and the thin cracks of the cave where seeds had previously been sprinkled were filled with a lush garden that would make the court cook jealous. “You two–I’m sorry, what are your names?” 

“Sir Vidor, fourth son of Lord Thandris.” 

“Sir Owain, third son of Lord Stroganin.” 

“Merlin,” the Warlock responded with a teasing smile. “Bastard son of a stranger.” As he reached out to shake both of their hands Arthur couldn't help but notice the too-stiff handshake and the rigid poses of both his knights. Being a warlock was one thing, but a bastard, too? 

“Pleasure.” Owain regained his composure first, bowing slightly. Apparently he decided it was best to stay on the good side of a man who could kill you by blinking his eyes. 

“Yes, uh, pleasure,” Vidor replied with less enthusiasm and no bow. 

“Oh, the pleasure is all mine, fine young knights,” Merlin replied with a bow that was too flamboyant to be sincere. “Now, one of you will pluck the veggies and the other will hold the veggies out this hole in the wall to wash them.” With a flick of his wrists Merlin lets a rock loose and Arthur was greeted by the sight of rainwater gushing from the sky like a waterfall.

Arthur realized then that this wasn’t an ordinary cave. Merlin normally entered from the opposing side. The fact that where Merlin is standing was also so close to their freedom meant this cave was more dome-like than tunnel-like and Arthur had a foreboding feeling that this cave was built for the sole purpose of keeping Arthur and his knights captive. 

“Ok,” Merlin continued. “Now, who knows how to chop vegetables?” His knights remained silent. “Really! No one? I’m stunned. This is truly the worst travesty to ever cross my path, and that’s saying something. How have you all survived?” 

“We do have servants, you know.” 

“How in the world are you expected to lead these people if you don’t even know the first thing about their lives?” 

“Their lives aren’t just chopping vegetables,” Sir Vidor argued with his hands crossed over his chest. 

“Of course their lives aren’t just chopping, but it’s something they do every single day! They cook, clean and wash. I bet you lot never even think to thank them for working themselves sick from sunup to sundown.” 

“You don’t really have any moral high ground Mr. I-kidnapped-the-crown-prince,” Arthur said as he crossed his hands over his chest. 

“I’m doing it to save my mother, remember.” 

“Ill-intent towards royalty is a crime, Merlin.” 

“How about ill-intent towards a prat?” the warlock mumbled under his breath as he moved away to get the sword that Sir Radnor had left lying in the corner of the cave. Unfortunately for him, noise echoed in this cave.

“I heard that,” Arthur crossed his hands across his chest. 

“These swords should do the trick.” Merlin changed the topic as he waved it in front of him experimentally, clearly unaware of how to handle a dangerous weapon. “You two, you’re going to use your swords to cut the veggies into bite sized pieces. Those are pieces about the size of–um–that rock.” 

Sir Carldoc–who had never stepped foot in a kitchen–and Sir Bertrand, affronted by the mere existence of vegetables, looked at Arthur imploringly as if this were a fate worse than death. 

Arthur laughed. “Oh, you both look more scared than the palace staff when Uther’s in one of his moods. Leon, remind me to add vegetable chopping as a penalty for failure in practice.” 

Leon chuckled uncomfortably, looking between the knights and his prince with a face that screamed of indecision. Arthur knew that playing along with this warlock's version of house was inadvisable. He knew it seemed like they were giving in. But Arthur wanted the warlock to let his guard down. To forget that they were his prisoners. To feel safe enough that they could pounce and escape before news of the mother’s death reached their ears. It wouldn’t be too long now. Uther would never let a servant accused of murdering a lord run free, let alone one accused of murdering a lord with magic. 

“Oh come, Leon,” Arthur smiled conspiratorially. “Surely these knights are strong enough to chop vegetables?” 

“Yes, but–” Before Leon could finish, Arthur nodded his head towards the warlock who had tilted his head back in laughter and, suddenly, Leon caught on. “Ah, yes. Surely you two–  um–weak knights need to train?” 

Leon didn’t have the same talent for insults as Merlin and Arthur both seemed to share, but his poor excuse at a tease didn’t seem to dampen Merlin’s spirits. 

“Very well, I’ll have you cut your veggies in the space next to–hmm…wait a second.” Merlin’s eyes glowed gold as the ground beneath them began to shake and a flat piece of the earth began to elevate itself several feet above the surface. Both Arthur and his knights flinched away from the sight but, no sooner had it started, than the flat stone surface reached the height of Merlin’s hips and his eyes returned to their normal shade of blue. “Perfect, a tabletop!” 

Sir Bertrand looked between the table and the crop of plants that had now completely changed their cave and scowled. He grabbed the potato from Merlin’s hands begrudgingly and sat on the floor a few feet away with an intentional harrumph, clearly preferring the floor over a magically formed table. Arthur wanted to point out that, with Sir Bertrand’s line of reasoning, the potato he was rigorously chopping should also be unsuitable. Also, the food he’d been eating for the past few days and the light shouldn’t be suitable. 

Arthur didn’t think pointing out the hypocrisy of magic was in his best interests, however, and he just chuckled. 

“Don’t think you're getting out of this so easily, your highness,” Merlin added with a chuckle as he turned his attention to the man with a grin that Arthur could only describe as evil. 

“No.” 

“Oh yes!” 

“No.” 

“Yes.” 

“Absolutely not.” 

“Absolutely yes! Our stew wouldn’t be complete without your contribution, your lavish royal highness.” 

“I won’t do it.” 

“You don’t even know what it is yet!” 

“You can’t make me.” 

“Well, I actually could–” Arthur’s eyes widened in shock, “–but luckily for you I’m too nice of a person.” 

“You are cruel.” 

“What, are you going to cry if I ask you to help?” 

“I don’t cry.” 

“It’s ok. I doubt you’d be able to do it anyways.” 

“I could, I’m just choosing not to.” 

“It’s your choice.” 

“And I’m choosing not to.” 

“You can totally choose to be a coward!” 

“I am not a–” 

“There’s no shame in being a coward. Servants work is tough, your majesty. I don’t want to put you up to a task you cannot do.” 

“I can do anything you can do.” 

“No.” 

“Yes!” 

“I don’t think you can,” Merlin said as he grabbed a plant that had been tossed into one of the deepest cracks and pulled it from the ground, a giant red sphere coming with it. 

“Give me that!” Arthur huffed, yanking the plant from Merlin’s hands. 

“The onions need to be cut quite small.” 

“I can do it.” 

“Smaller than the size of a pebble.” 

“I’m quite capable with a sword.” 

“Yes, but this is delicate work.” 

“Leave me alone.” 

“Alright, but I can help if you just–” 

“Shut up.” 

Arthur heard a chuckle from the back of the cave and realized it had been Leon, a man who had raised him like his own son. Leon, a stoic man who was second-in-command to all the knights, had chuckled. It paused Arthur enough for him to realize how he had been played and he scowled at Merlin. 

“All the dry peel needs to be removed before you cut up the onions.” Merlin turned to the stones where he normally exited. “And Leon can help when you start to cry.” 

Without so much as a wave of his hand Merlin’s eyes glowed gold and the door opened again, leading Merlin into the torrential downpour to get god-knows-what, leaving Arthur alone with his knights preparing food. 

He scowled. 

“Your highness, I can do the task if you so desire.” The smile still on Leon’s face revoked any genuine charity from his expression and Arthur’s scowl only deepened. 

“Leave me alone.” 

“It is a joy to see you finally meet your match.” 

“What? You like seeing me bested by a sorcerer!” His knight sobered immediately. “I thought not.” 

---------------

As it turned out, onions had an unfortunate ability to make one’s eyes water. Arthur originally believed the onion to have been cursed by the warlock; after all, when Leon attempted his chopping he began crying as well. It was only when Merlin returned with several stacks of miraculously dry kindling and a cauldron that he admitted all onions forced your eyes to water. 

“You set me up to fail,” Arthur said, propping his feet around the fire as Sir Radnor stirred the cauldron at the center of the room. 

“That would be underhanded and maniacal and I can’t believe you would accuse me of such heinous activities.” 

“Big words for a kidnapper who didn’t deny my accusation.” 

“I’ve said I’m sorry.” 

“Words mean nothing if you don’t have actions to back them up.” 

“What, like your father’s claim of a peaceful Camelot?” 

“My father has created a peaceful Camelot.” 

“The weekly executions must have given me the wrong impression. My mistake.” 

“What? Is my father supposed to turn a blind eye when people break his laws? What kind of a king would he be then?”

“The stew looks done!” Radnor squeaked from his spot by the fire and Merlin scowled, clearly upset his argument had been interrupted but willing to take his cue.

As Merlin approached the young knight, Arthur watched as he lifted his shoulders and took a calming breath, adding a smile even to his eyes and a pep to his step. “Sorry, Radnor,” Merlin said sheepishly. “The stew looks delicious, though, you did a great job!” 

Arthur was surprised Merlin remembered his name as the young knight had only introduced himself once. 

“Thank you,” Radnor said beaming with pride, though trying desperately not to show it. 

Merlin lifted a spoon from who knows where and looked at the stew’s contents. “Bertrand, the veggies seem to be the perfect size, and Carldoc, you even peeled the potatoes!” 

For two men who had been reluctant to touch the veggies a few hours ago, Arthur was surprised just how high their chins lifted. “I remembered my wife saying something about the never ending potato peeling when she had my triplet sons, so I thought that maybe–” 

“Yes! It’s perfect! I completely forgot to give you that instruction so I’m quite glad you had your wits about you.” 

Arthur rarely acknowledged his knight’s accomplishments, and even when he did it was through veiled half compliments and less punishment than normal. He was surprised how his top knights were becoming all sappy over a few words of praise from their kidnapper. Maybe they were just playing along. Arthur thought to himself, maybe they just wanted their dangerous warlock overlord to grow compliant. 

“Oh!” Merlin blew on his stew. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed you, Vidor and Owain. You both picked some extra veggies for tomorrow so we can eat even after the rain stopped. You both were bloody brilliant. Thank you so much. I should have had you all helping me from the beginning.” 

“You don’t have to pretend to compliment us,” Sir Vidor replied with a skeptical voice. 

“I’m not. I seriously mean it. I’ve… I’ve honestly been a little lonely out there. A week of no company except for people who want to kill me, I’m really appreciating the help. Even if you are all just trying to lull me into a false sense of security.” 

Arthur’s head snapped up. 

“What do you mean?” Leon asked as his voice rose an octave higher. 

“Oh, don’t worry about it. I’m not going to leave now that the stew is cooked.” Merlin took a bite now that he deemed the stew to be cool enough for consumption. He hummed in appreciation. “Yep. Definitely can’t leave now. You all are in for a treat.” 

And if Arthur watched Merlin for a few seconds longer than necessary, it was only to make sure Merlin truly had no evil plans since he knew of their attempt at subduing him. He definitely hadn’t been watching the warlock’s adam's apple as he swallowed the stew.

------------

Ever since that day, Merlin made a point of making dinner with the knights in the evenings. There would be fruit for breakfast and a plate of veggies for lunch, but dinner would be a community project. There were three days of stews and today the group had even attempted to make bread. It turned out that making flour was a lot more difficult than Arthur had imagined. Arthur was determined to pay his flour providers double their normal wage when he returned home. 

That was a thought Arthur had been having a lot lately. Somehow his brain had stopped saying, if he returned home, and started saying when he returned home. Which was frustrating since Arthur’s reluctant contribution to their meals was supposed to bring the warlock a sense of calm. The meals were a way to make his kidnapper forget that they were enemies and let them go. Instead, Merlin had yet to slip up once, and Arthur was beginning to feel more and more at rest. 

In fact, if Arthur was being honest with himself–which he was not–he would go as far as to admit that he felt more at home in this secluded dome than he ever had in Camelot. Here Arthur could take a break from his constant responsibilities. Here, Arthur didn’t have to be blank faced as he watched an execution. Arthur didn’t have to be the best soldier in every attack and push himself to the breaking point. Arthur never had to worry about whether the people would listen to him when he became king. All Arthur had to worry about was avoiding chopping vegetables. 

“Come on Arthur, you have to do something,” Merlin wheedled. 

“Why?” 

“Because there’s a lot of work to be done.” 

“I am the crowned prince.” 

“You are a royal pain in the behind.” 

“So you admit I’m royal.” 

“Royally screwed is more like it,” Sir Carldoc jabbed from his place grinding wheat.

“I feel betrayed,” Arthur exclaimed in mock horror as he looked at his knight. Last year, Arthur could hardly have told you if Sir Carldoc had kids or not. Now he could tell you the names and favorite foods of all nine of his sons. He felt he had a friend now, not people he was forced to memorize facts about. 

“Live with it,” Merlin said as he tossed Arthur a stone and gestured for the prince to come over and help. 

“I’m being attacked on all sides.” 

Merlin’s laugh was cut short as a gopher crawled up from the ground and all six of their eyes were drawn to the sight. 

“Philip!” Merlin said as he crouched to the ground and the gopher crawled over. 

“Phillip?” Arthur asked. “You have a pet gopher?” 

“Not a pet,” Merlin said, “a friend.” 

“I’m so confused right now.” 

“So, no different than normal then,” Merlin sat down and grabbed some chalk from a previously unseen pocket in his robes. 

Arthur opened his mouth to protest, but in doing so realized Merlin’s focus was no longer on him. Merlin’s gaze was fixed solely on the gopher and he asked, “Do I have permission to cast this spell?” 

The gopher stayed in place and, though Arthur would never admit this to anyone, he may have seen the gopher nod its head slightly. Merlin took this inaction as his cue to draw several druidic symbols on the ground. He then spoke a few harsh words and his eyes, along with the symbols on the ground, glowed gold. A few seconds later the symbols dissolved and the gopher was left standing still, no harm seemingly done. 

“Well my friend?” Merlin asked. 

“Hello, Emrys,” the gopher spoke and Arthur’s gaze widened as large as the royal plates back at the palace. 

“Hello, Phillip,” Merlin smiled as he took note of all the wide gazes around their campfire. 

“I’m afraid you may not like what news I have for you, Merlin.” Merlin’s eyebrows furrowed and his shoulders slumped, all attention turning from the stunned knights to the informative gopher. 

“I will not punish you if you bring me bad news.” 

“You know, I had to travel a long way to bring you this news,” The gopher began and Merlin just gestured to their tiny garden. 

“All that food is yours for the taking if you tell me what you learned.” 

“There was an execution today.” 

“And–?” 

“Your mother’s cell is empty.” 

“So she’s–?” 

“The square was quite crowded and gophers aren’t exactly welcome in the square, so I didn’t quite see who they burned.” 

“But only one cell was emptied.” 

“Yes, Emrys.” 

“And she’s gone.” 

“May I take my vegetables now?” 

Merlin simply nodded and the gopher made several trips to and from his small hole to their garden. The cave was quiet as the gopher carried carrots and a few small potatoes over to his hole. When he seemed satisfied with his haul, he looked up and, in a chattery tone that Arthur assumed meant the spell was wearing off said, “I am sorry, Merlin.” 

“Just go,” Merlin said, face downcast.

The gopher did. 

The knights were left in silence. 

After a few steadying breaths Merlin spoke again. “That includes you all, too.” 

“What?” Leon asked, sword drawn, standing between Merlin and Arthur. 

Merlin looked up and grinned sadly, tears beginning to fall down his cheeks. “Just go.” With a wave of his hand a small opening appeared in the rock behind Arthur’s head. 

Leon said nothing as he kept his blade extended as he began backing towards the exit, herding Arthur alongside him. The status-quo had changed. 

When the group were a few steps from the forest Radnor spoke. “Thank you, Merlin.” 

Merlin never even looked up from his spot on the ground. 

They turned and ran. 

Chapter Text

Arthur wished he could say he was dignified in his retreat. He wished he could claim it was a glorious escape and reenter Camelot with tales of battle and leadership. However, in his mind, he knew he was taking the coward’s way out. He was fleeing, and he wasn’t even leading the escape, Leon was. Instead, Arthur was following another as they ran from a warlock who hadn’t actually made any moves to harm them, regardless of the fact that he had every motivation to. 

Arthur slowed to a stop and turned back. 

“Arthur, run!” Leon shouted back in panic as he grabbed onto his arm and began pulling him ahead. Arthur let himself be dragged for half a second before stopping again. 

“No.” 

“No? Arthur, he gave us a chance to run but that doesn’t mean he won’t follow soon. We have to escape while we still can.” 

“Why didn’t the warlock kill us?” 

“I don’t know. That’s why we have to leave before he starts to question it too.” 

“No, I mean. The warlock had six of us, right? Why didn’t he kill one of us to use as an example and send it back to my father?” 

“What?” 

“Or cut off one of our fingers with the signet ring on it and send that back to Camelot?” 

“Sire?” 

But Arthur’s mind was spinning too fast to be interrupted. “And what about hurting us while we were here to make us fear him? Why the kindness and food?” 

“He wanted us to trust–” 

“What use would he have for our trust? I mean, he already had us right where he wanted us.” 

“He couldn’t–” 

“What? He couldn’t break into Camelot and take his mother back? I’m pretty sure he could, though. So long as he didn’t mind killing a few people, I’m sure a man with enough power to knock out six of Camelot’s finest knights in one blow, and a man who had the power to move walls without uttering a single spell, and a man who can make crops grow with a single blink and–” 

Arthur’s rant was cut short as a scream echoed through the forest and the earth around them shook. Cracks began forming and, in front of Arthur’s very eyes, a wave of death began emanating from where the six of them had just been running. Trees blackened, bushes withered away and all manner of forest animals began fleeing. Before any of them had a chance, however, the wave of magic hit with full force and all Arthur could feel was an overwhelming pull of pain and loneliness. It was as if he himself had lost his family and he knew he was the one responsible. He felt guilty and hollow and, as he looked around at the world, he felt it was fitting that the forest’s life was sucked out of it like his life was. Was he even worthy of life at all, if this destruction was all he ever achieved, if–

Arthur shook himself and looked back to his knights. He knew that they were all feeling the same thoughts as he was. He also knew where those thoughts were coming from. 

“Merlin,” he said aloud before he turned and ran back. 

As he ran, cracks began forming in the earth’s surface. It was as if the ground itself was pulling apart. The sky began to darken and rain began pelting down. A scream echoed through the woods and, with it, lightning was pulled from the sky. It hit one of the many dead trees in the forest and immediately set it aflame. 

Arthur was close enough now that he could hear every one of Merlin’s sobs and could feel the hairs on his arms rise with their accompanying lightning strikes. Arthur didn’t know if his knights were crazy enough to follow Arthur closer towards this volatile array of emotions and power, but before he had a chance to look back, he saw Merlin, and his gaze tunneled. 

Years later, when he would tell the story, he would tell people that he was only running back to Merlin to stop the destruction of the forest. ‘ After all ’, he would tell whomever would listen, ‘ if Merlin wasn’t being such an emotional idiot, he would’ve burned the whole forest down and we never would have escaped .’

The truth, however, could only be seen in Arthur’s eyes the moment he found Merlin crumpled in on himself in the center of death and destruction. The truth that his eyes never strayed from Merlin as he jumped over another forming crater. The truth that he too began to cry when faced with the destruction of someone he cared about. 

“Merlin!” Arthur cried out as he ran the final few steps and collided with the crumpled figure on the ground. 

Merlin’s sobs stuttered as he glanced up seconds before being enveloped in a hug, a thing which Arthur would later claim never happened but the knights would tease him endlessly about. 

Merlin didn’t speak a word though, he simply unwrapped his hands from himself and turned to grasp the shoulders of the only man who’d ever come back for him. He wept and wept and clawed his hands against Arthur’s shoulders. Arthur simply held him as his grief ebbed and flowed through his body. Being Merlin’s anchor in the midst of his literal storm. 

Arthur stayed there for what was probably hours because, by the time the clouds began to dissipate, the sun was rising on the next day. 

“Sire,” Leon spoke up from his place behind Arthur.

“Yes?” Arthur whispered, though Merlin didn’t so much as twitch in his arms. 

“What is your plan?” 

His plan? Did Arthur have a plan? What was he going to do with Merlin? Could he return to his father with his current doubts? Were his doubts worth causing a rift between him and his father? 

“Do you have a plan?” Sir Vidor asked as he walked into Arthur’s line of sight. 

“He’s not a monster,” Arthur said in a voice that was supposed to be a command, but instead sounded surprised. 

“So what do we do?” Sir Radnor asked. 

At this, Merlin straightened and pulled himself from Arthur’s grip. 

“Merlin!” Radnor exclaimed, seemingly shocked that the warlock in Arthur’s arms hadn’t been asleep. 

“Sorry about this. You didn’t need to come back for me,” Merlin said, eyes downcast. 

“It’s not like we could have escaped with the earthquake and the lightning storm.” 

“What?” Merlin asked and, glancing around, his eyes widened at the destruction around them. “Did I do that?” 

“Well, it wasn’t Carldoc.” 

“Oh.” 

“Merlin, it’s fine. No one was hurt and–” 

Before Arthur had a chance to finish, however, Merlin placed his hands on the ground and his eyes glowed gold. A spark of green lit underneath his fingertips and it was like watching the royal seamstresses add dye to a previously blank cloth. Color came flooding back into the grass and, within seconds, vivid green began spreading out and everything from the flowers to the trees seemed to regain their life instantaneously. Even the shattered ground seemed to reform itself at Merlin’s whim and, if Arthur had been stunned by the man’s destructive power, he was even more in awe of Merlin’s healing capabilities. 

“How did you…?” 

“I told you,” Merlin exhaled as his hands started to shake, “I’m kind of a big deal in the magic community.” 

“When did you ever say that?” 

“The druids didn’t want me to leave. They said it was too dangerous for me on my own.” 

“I thought you said they just wanted you to be their farmer.” 

“And the person who’ll–umm–” Arthur could see Merlin’s eyes begin to flutter close and wrapped his arms back around the warlock once more, taking away the space that Merlin had created upon awakening, “–bring magic back to–to Albion.” 

“Big destiny.” 

“Yeah.” 

“Yeah.” 

“I just, well, I just need to rest now.” 

“Sounds reasonable.” 

“If you are going to kill me, can you please do it in my sleep? I don’t want to be burned.” 

It was only after Merlin asked the question that Arthur realized he could never kill Merlin. Merlin proved that his father’s view on sorcery was incorrect. He was the antithesis of evil and was currently laying in Arthur’s arms. Merlin was trusting him, even though Arthur’s father had killed his mother. Merlin had every right to turn to devastation yet, even in his darkest hour, he had still allowed Arthur, his knights, and the animals around them to run free. 

“Why don’t you fight back?” Arthur asked. 

“Well, I’m about to pass out and don’t really feel like killing the person who still has my tear stains on their shoulder.” 

“No, why didn’t you kill us all when you found out your mother died?” 

“Because then I’d be the monster you–you all feared me–to be.” Merlin’s speech was muffled and halted as he leaned forward into Arthur’s shoulder and, almost as soon as Merlin finished speaking, his breathing deepened. Arthur was sure he had to be sleeping now. 

“Merlin?” Arthur asked just to be safe, there was no response. 

“Your highness,” Sir Vidor began, “are you going to kill him?” 

Arthur glanced up so sharply that Merlin’s head lolled to the side. Arthur carefully pushed Merlin’s head back into place, but Merlin’s breathing never quickened. “Of course I’m not going to kill him.” 

“He used magic to kidnap you, sire.” Sir Owain said as he glanced skeptically between Arthur and the boy laying on him. 

“He never hurt us.” 

“He knocked us unconscious and kept us in the dark for three days.” 

“He healed Radnor’s leg.” 

“Merlin hasn’t harmed us,” Leon interjected, “so let’s leave him here. When he wakes he will return to his people and we will be halfway to Camelot by then.” 

“He has no people.” Arthur countered angrily. “He left the druids and we killed his mother.” 

“His mother was accused of murdering one of our own.” 

“Which she didn’t do.” 

“So you’re going to take the word of a known sorcerer over the decree of your father, the King.” 

Arthur knew he should back down. He knew he shouldn’t cross his father to his father’s knights. Arthur may be the first knight, but that didn’t mean talking against his father wasn’t still treason. Still, he couldn’t stop the flow of words from leaving his mouth. “My father is blind when it comes to magic.” 

“Your father is just.” 

“Fine. Leave me then and return to him. I won’t be bullied into killing a person whose only crime is trying to help his family.” 

“Your highness, I’m not proposing we chop off his head. I’m simply proposing we leave him to regain consciousness and fend for himself. We’ve seen his magic, he’s quite capable.” 

“He’s unconscious as we’re yelling over his life right now! Do you really think he would survive for more than five minutes alone out here?” 

“What do you propose we do then?” Leon asked, anger clearly getting the better of his usually calm demeanor. “That we bring a warlock into the heart of Camelot and get him treated by the court physician!” 

“Why not?” 

Leon scoffed. “Because that would be as good as signing his own death warrant. Your father wouldn’t ever allow a sorcerer into Camelot’s outlying villages, let alone the inner citadel.” 

“We wouldn’t have to tell them Merlin’s magic.” 

“And what, you think Merlin would prefer to wake up in the castle that sent his mother to death?” 

“I think Merlin would like to wake up alive. Something we cannot guarantee if we leave him alone out here.” 

“If we let him into Camelot, I cannot lie to the king.” 

“We don’t have to lie, just tell him that Merlin helped us escape the cave. Merlin let us go in the end, so it wouldn’t be a lie.” 

“Well then who would we say kidnapped you then?” 

“We could say Emrys did. That’s what the gopher called him, anyways.” 

“I don’t think we could–” 

“If he doesn’t come back to Camelot with me, I’m staying out here with him. I’m not going back if he doesn’t come with me.” 

Arthur,” Leon sighed, “I know that you like this boy, but–” 

“I don’t–” 

“Don’t try and deny it. I’ve seen the way you look at him. It was funny at first, but it has to stop.” 

“I wouldn’t be staying because of–” 

“Wouldn’t you? Because from the looks of it, this boy has bewitched you.” 

“I’m not bewitched!” 

“Arthur, how would you know if you are bewitched? You’re barely older than the boy in your arms. I know you like to think of yourself as a man, but you aren’t, Arthur, you’re just a boy who–” 

“I’ve just had my entire world shattered in the span of a few days. I’ve realized that the horrible things I’ve watched and done were meaningless. If Merlin’s right, then not all magic users were evil by definition. Do you have any idea how many executions I’ve witnessed? You all can choose to avoid them if you want to but I can’t. I’m the crowned prince. I have to stand at my father’s side and stay still as my nose is filled with the scent of burning flesh and my ears ring with their cries. If they were innocent, than I can’t stand to watch another one of those stupid ceremonies. If I can’t have hope for a future, I won’t stay where I have none.” 

“Your highness, I–” 

“This isn’t some stupid love note to someone I’ve only known a few days. This is my life! If I can’t have Merlin to give me hope that, eventually, life will be different, I’m not going back. He said he’s destined to change all of Albion. I want that future by my side. I want to see the change he will bring.” 

The forest was silent then. Birds were chirping, and the newly grown leaves were still rustling in the wind, but Arthur’s six most trusted knights were deathly silent as they stared at their future king. 

It was Radnor who spoke up first, the newcomer who Arthur had despised in the beginning of this trip. Arthur couldn’t believe how much had changed in those few days, “Sire,” he said, “I will serve you in whatever change you strive to bring. You have my loyalty.” 

Sir Radnor sank to one knee and placed his sword point first into the earth before him, a sign of honor to his king. A pose he had recently given to Uther, except now Radnor’s eyes remained fixed on Arthur. His gaze was firm, as if understanding this act of loyalty to the prince and the prince alone may prove difficult, but he was willing to brave the odds. 

“You have my support as well, Arthur,” Sir Owain said as he too sank to his knees. 

One by one, all the knights knelt on the ground in front of Arthur, pledging fealty not to a crown and not to Camelot, but to Arthur himself. These six knights were loyal to him and him alone. A daunting feeling for a twenty-year old. 

“Thank you.” Arthur said with a nod. “Let’s get him back to Camelot.” 

—------------

“Are you cooking?” Merlin mumbled as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes almost two days later. 

“Merlin, thank god,” Arthur exclaimed as he turned his gaze from his meticulous evaluation of the stew to the warlock struggling to sit up.

“So you’re not cooking?” 

“He was trying,” Sir Bertrand mumbled as he returned from gathering wood for the fire. 

“The stew is being idiotic,” Arthur complained as he removed his stirring stick from the dented cauldron. 

“The stew was being idiotic?” Merlin repeated as his eyes made a sweep around their hastily put together campsite. They hadn’t yet moved from the clearing and, as Merlin turned his head, he was greeted by the ruins of his cave prison. 

“Yes. Now get up and fix it before we’re all forced to swallow poison.” 

“Why?” 

“Well, I know the taste buds of a peasant can be lacking, but a prince like myself has higher standards for food consumption and–” 

“No. I mean, why am I not dead?” 

Arthur set down the stick he had been using as a baton for the previous minute and went to sit on the mossy surface beside Merlin. The knights who had been previously keeping busy, situated themselves around the fire. Arthur and his men had set up several rocks and logs, so the group created a circle. 

“You haven’t done anything wrong.” 

“I kidnapped you.” 

“You set us free.” 

“I’m a warlock.” 

“Yet, you aren’t evil.” 

“I broke the law.” 

“If you break the law just by existing, then the laws are wrong.” 

That, finally, made Merlin pause. “What?” 

“I said, the laws are wrong.” 

“Why?” 

“How many times have you murdered anyone?” 

“I could have murdered you.” 

“But you didn’t.” 

“No.” 

“So how many people have you killed?” 

“None, I’m not a monster.” 

“But I am.” 

“What?” 

Arthur folded his hands over his chest, “I’ve killed many people.” 

“What you do in battle is self defense. It’s not murder if–” 

“Lucinda Fale.” 

“What?” 

“She was 10 and set fire to her home.” 

“I don’t understand, Arthur.” 

“She was cold and her house didn’t have enough firewood for the winter. In an attempt to warm up her house, she set the entire place ablaze.” 

“So she died?” 

“No. My father was able to get everyone out.” 

“So she's not dead?” 

“She set her house ablaze using magic.” 

“Oh.” 

“My father locked her up in the cells until they were able to get enough wood for her pyre. I talked to her and she was so scared. She said it was an accident, that she never meant to hurt anyone.” Merlin looked away. “I asked my father if we could turn a blind eye this once and, do you know what he said to me?” 

Merlin was silent so Arthur continued, “He said ‘We’re not killing a child, we’re killing what that child will become.’” 

“Your father might have a point. I just destroyed a forest because I was a little upset.” 

“And you mended it back together again! Magic doesn’t corrupt. It will protect as well as well as cause harm. I’m not saying that every execution I’ve witnessed was unjust. All I’m saying is that magic is a weapon, just like a sword. And if Camelot killed every child that wielded a weapon, I wouldn’t be alive today.” 

“Yes but, Arthur, that’s different.” 

“No, it’s not. Lucinda was innocent, and I watched her die.” 

“You didn’t kill her.” 

“I may as well have. I talked to her in those cells with the key in my pocket, and I never once even thought to free her.” 

“I’m sure Lucinda never blamed you.” 

“But that’s the point, isn’t it? She was pure. I refuse to kill warlocks, or even sorcerers, anymore without reason.” 

“Not even kidnappers?” 

“It’s a good thing you’re also the savior who got me out of captivity.” 

“So, what? I’m just allowed to roam free again?” 

“Well, about that–” 

Merlin sat up ramrod straight. “I won’t be kept prisoner.” 

“No!” Arthur exclaimed, backing himself away from Merlin quickly. “No, that’s not what I meant at all.” 

“Then what did you mean?” 

Arthur looked around at his knights, seeking approval. They all nodded in agreement, and Arthur spoke up again. “I wanted to offer you a position in the royal household.” 

“I’m sorry, I must be hearing things, I thought you just said you wanted me to serve in Camelot.” 

“You’re not mishearing anything.” 

“How is that any better than immediate death? You do realize you’re asking me to live at the heart of a kingdom that kills magic users.” 

“We wouldn’t tell Uther of your abilities.” 

“Arthur, I’ve never once had to contain my powers. They’re as much a part of me as breathing. Why would I want to come to Camelot?” 

“You said it was your destiny to bring magic back to Albion.” 

“How does that have anything to do with Camelot?” 

“I’d like to help you do it.” 

“What!” Merlin turned his gaze from Arthur to the knights around the fire and saw no one else seemed surprised by this revelation. He looked back to Arthur. “You can do that? Just like that?” 

“Well I’m not king yet, and I doubt that a kingdom founded on my father’s murder would succeed, but eventually, I’d like to do that, yes.” 

“I’m sorry, I’m just–woah.” 

“I would need to gather solid proof and reasoning for my actions. I would need the future laws to be well thought through and planned. It’s not like I can pardon all magic. After all, if magic is used to murder someone else, it’s obviously being done maliciously and deserves some sort of punishment.” 

“So I would just be your advisor?” 

“Advisor and protector. It’s come to my attention that my knights and I are useless against magical attacks.” 

Merlin smiled. “And how did you discover this?” 

Arthur grinned in return as some of the tension eased from his shoulders. “I don’t know if you’ve heard, but I was recently kidnapped by a warlock?” 

“Oh really!” 

“Yes, his name was Emrys. He was truly terrifying. It’s a good thing a passing peasant named Merlin was able to get us out.” 

“He must be quite the hero.” 

“He’s average. I’m sure mighty Prince Arthur would’ve been able to get himself out eventually.” 

Merlin grinned and opened his mouth to retort before he paused and seemed to reconsider his statement. “I doubt magical defense and advisor are current job descriptions within the Pendragon household.” 

“No, but servant to the crowned prince would be.” 

“And be forced to clean up your dirty laundry every day? No thanks.” 

“It’s a privilege!” 

“It’s dirty laundry.” 

“So you’ll come with me?” 

Merlin stared at the surely burnt stew as he seemed to weigh the pros and cons in his mind, his head tilting back and forth as if holding a conversation with himself. “Very well,” he agreed. “I’ll come back with you.” 

“So you’ll be my servant?” 

“You should also add, ‘making-sure-the-Prince-doesn’t-behave-like-an-absolute-clotpole’ as one of my many job descriptions.” 

“How about ‘teleporter-of-knights-who-want-a-meal-not-made-in-the-forest?’” 

Merlin sighed with a grin on his face. “How about ‘teleporter-of-lazy-sods-who-haven’t-walked-a-foot-from-their-prison-since-they-escaped?’”

“What? And drag you along with us? You’ve been sleeping for nearly two days straight. You have no moral high ground.” 

“I just regrew an entire forest! Do you have any idea how much energy that takes!” 

“Don’t destroy it in the first place then.” 

“Why did I ever agree to serve you?” 

“Admit it, Merlin, you love me.” 

“Never.”