Chapter Text
The Kingdom of Caerleon was a wetland of slow brooks and stagnant ponds, fermenting a foamy yellow film that piled high among the cattails. The foam clumped at the edges of the streams, and its mouldy egg stench seeped across this side of the kingdom. Unfortunately for Merlin, not even the noblemen were spared the reek. Yet the odour offered one grim benefit: it masked the smell of death.
A mile outside a small village, a white horse strained at its rope, stamping the hard-packed dirt road still slick from yesterday’s rain. Its rider lay crumpled nearby, one arm and leg twisted at unnatural angles. Merlin didn’t enjoy killing, but as a familiar, he obeyed. And obeying Ragnall meant killing often. He didn’t know this man’s name; the kill had been quick — a violent shove of magic and the crack of a spine against a tree. On the other side of the road, Ragnall cackled, her glee as sharp as the breaking bones.
Merlin had been with this master for seven years, and he had killed nameless men like this often. These days, he simply threw them with his magic and hoped they died on the first crack of their spine against a tree trunk. His master, Ragnall, cackled on the other side of the road, as she always had. Merlin had wondered before if she had enjoyed strictly the killing or the sound of men's bones snapping to make herself so giddy.
He thought the man might have been a knight, but it was hard to distinguish a nobleman from a commoner of good standing in Caerleon. His beard was scruffy, and his chainmail vest had a few loose hooks, but he wore polished leather boots.
The corpse reminded Merlin of the fish he would see in town markets, the ones hanging dead off the iron hooks. The man’s head hung loosely off the edge of the dirt road. His grey eyes had no wet twinkle to them and stared into nothing across the marshes.
“Birdy, take his chainmail. I think I shall melt it into something useful,” his master, Ragnall, croaked.
She stood on the other side of the road. She had wiry, snow white hair that sat like a rat’s nest atop her head and a jaw that protruded outward. She gave a mouthy, snaggle-tooth smile at him. He was thankful she didn’t command it. Even though she didn’t, Merlin still felt their bond, his leash, tight at his back, ready to heel to Ragnall.
Merlin turned away and undressed the corpse. As he lifted the chainmail, he noticed the dagger tucked between the waistband of his trousers. He looked up to his master to see if she was watching. Once she looked away, Merlin quickly fumbled to grab the dagger and put it in his waistband. He looked up again at Ragnall and let out a breath; thankfully, she was still looking off down the road.
He grabbed the ankles and dragged the body off the road toward the still pond. The head bumped up against every uprooted root and rock along the way toward the muddy edge. With Ragnall’s permission, he pushed the dead body toward the centre. Wordlessly, he cast a large rock to sit on his chest, and both of them sank towards the murky bottom.
A cool breeze touched his neck. Merlin pulled back his sleeve and hissed. The man had bitten him—right where his shoulder met his neck. The pain had bolted Merlin to use his magic, to Ragnall’s delight and Merlin’s relief, it killed the man instantly.
“We need to go back towards town.”
Merlin looked over his shoulder and stared her in the eye, with a raised eyebrow.
“I sense good–no,” she cackled, “excellent company coming this way. They will need a good distraction. I want something large to attract them.”
“They? Will there be more than one?” Merlin asked quietly.
“There’s no mistaking it. They are knights of Camelot,” she smiled.
Merlin hid a gasp but could not will away his fingers from trembling against his thighs.
During his travels between Éire and Albion, Merlin had often heard tales of the Knights of Camelot. Revered as some of the most skilled fighters in Albion, their reputation carried both admiration and fear. Their unyielding hatred of sorcery was spoken of in whispers, even in lands far from King Uther’s reach. To set foot in Camelot as a sorcerer was to accept death, swift and certain. Merlin was grateful to have never faced the sharp end of their swords.
“I know you don’t often share the same joy as I do– ridding the world of such evil, but” she came closer and clasped Merlin’s shoulder with her long, bony fingers. Merlin felt a tight, heavy feeling coil in his chest and swallowed. The magical fibres of their bond buzzed and prickled, like rattling rose thorns at his tailbone. “This time, may you relish in slaying Uther’s men.”
***
The day had been dreadfully hot, and Prince Arthur thanked the gods above for the wind that swept through the underbrush. He felt like his skin was practically melting into his armour for most of the day. Though he hadn’t expressed it, Sir Leon seemed quietly thankful for it too, with a few contented sighs. Leon walked quietly beside him, holding the bandage closer to the skin of his hip.
They had been walking for hours along the border between Caerleon and Camelot. Hopefully, they would find the rest of their knights soon before Caerleon’s patrols find them first.
The mud was an awful mess; it was cakey on top from the heat of the day, but sloppy just underneath. Their boots sank into the mud with a “splurp” sound with every step. Leon dragged a half step behind, leaning more heavily on his left side.
The day before, his group of knights were just cresting a steep hill when the rain had begun to pour down in sheets. At least then they were on horseback instead of kneeing through the mud. Then suddenly the horses reared up their front legs at the quake, a mighty roar. It wasn’t the shouts of Caerleon’s patrol like Arthur had first thought, but instead, they were ambushed by some rather rotten-smelling bandits. They came from the tree line from the hilltop, swinging their swords and clubs. Some of the knights tumbled off their horses and rolled further down the hill, the cape of Camelot following them down in a swirling red wave.
Quickly, his forces were separated. Arthur had fallen from his horse, but quickly sprang back on his feet and was quick to unsheathe his sword. One by one, scruffy and jockey-looking bandits swung their swords at him. Their swordsmanship was sloppy; the brute’s swings were wild, and his strikes were unfocused. Arthur quickly dodged and sliced through his opponents.
Arthur pierced through his last opponent when he heard a loud, painful hiss from behind him. Arthur spun around to find Leon. His curls wetly clung to his forehead and looked up at Arthur while catching his breath. That’s when Arthur noticed the ribbons of blood spilling over the hand clenched to Leon’s right side.
“I will be fine, sire, the sword only grazed me. I promise,” he breathed.
The hairs on Arthur’s spine were still standing at attention. The buzzing of battle still coursed through him. He surveyed the area around them. Thankfully, he found none of his knights' bodies littering the forest floor. All of their horses had run off, and a trail of sloppy wet footprints followed down the other side of the hill.
Arthur shook his head. Shaking the memory away. He looked at Leon, his eyes dropping to the hand on his hip. The sun was peeking through the forest in a rich amber at their backs.
“How is your side fairing?”
“It is fine sire. I will be fine with some rest.”
“Ah, rest,” Arthur sighed. “Once we have reached this shanty little village, I would like to find somewhere to sleep for the night.”
“As you wish sire,” Leon agreed. Arthur had known Leon since he was a young boy. They had spared as squires and even long before that. He knew Leon unspokenly also said, “I would like that also.”
At the end of summer, King Uther had sent Arthur to search for the Cup of Life. It was written down as legend, a cup that could cure any injury and grant a man immortality. A frightened bookkeeper from one of the outlying villages pleaded to King Uther that he had heard such a rumour come through his tavern. The beefy man had shaken like a leaf in the autumn wind at the very suspicion that he may have overheard this information from a sorceress who had entered his tavern.
Arthur and Leon continued to walk in silence. As the sun hid further behind the red-leaved trees, a shiver went up his spine.
Arthur broke the silence by saying, “Leon, I would like to tell me honestly...”
With that, Leon looked over at him, eyeing him respectfully to continue.
“...Do you feel as though this hunt for the Cup of Life is nothing more than a fool’s errand? I know my father commands it, but I question if it really does exist. I feel as though it’s the druids who have spun the tale to make such a cup so famous. It is just another one of their fantasies. Can we really trust that the Cup of Life is real?” Arthur let out a small laugh.
Sir Leon spoke slowly, picking his words carefully. “I am not quite sure. King Uther made countless enemies during the Great Purge. I think of all the children seeking revenge. He is not mad to fear it.”
Arthur raised his eyebrows at Leon.
“...and I think he just wants some insurance, cushion, if things were to go awry in Camelot. If the Cup of Life grants such powers as they say,” Leon said.
Arthur sighed. “I understand that, but Camelot is strong. If we could come out of the Purge stronger than before, then whatever may stir my father shouldn’t put him at any ill ease. This Cup of Life doesn’t seem to exist. There are only whispers of it. It has been two months of searching, yet we are no further than where we started.”
Arthur would never say such thoughts to any of his other knights. But Leon was more than just a knight or a brother, but quite possibly a friend.
“Maybe after this journey, he will see it as a waste of resources. I suspect it so, with the tourney coming up.”
Arthur grunted in a reply, resting his hand over the hilt of his sword. Finally, through the trees, he saw the thatched rooftops of the village. The village seemed to be made of one main street, with houses and shops lined on either side of it. The light from the lit fireplaces glowed from the windows. Few people mucked about, retreating inside as the fiery orange sun filled the sky.
Arthur’s eyes drew to a two-story building to the right. It looks much sturdier than the other buildings, with strong oak pillars and a large porch at the entryway. Thick red curtains covered every window, illuminating in a warm glow from inside.
Just in front of one of the windows was a boy. No, Arthur thought, he was a man. Give it a very gangly one at that, but a man nonetheless. He had skin as pale as milk, an oblong face and ears that peaked out widely from either side of his head. He leaned up against the railing in front of the building with his arms crossed out in front of him. He had a glint in his blue eyes, and he smirked at Arthur.
“Knights of Camelot, I have not seen King Uther’s men in these parts before.”
“It is official business of the King, nothing to fret,” said Arthur.
Merlin glanced down at their muddy boots, then raised his eyes and said, “Fret? I do not. It looks like you two have had quite a journey. May I tempt you with lodgings here? I have two rooms left.” He raised his arms up to display the building before them.
Arthur felt his toes curl in his wet socks and the twisting ache in his calves, and let back a groan.
“Rest would be adequate, but would your inn satisfy the standards of a knight?
“We can provide much more than just simple satisfaction, if you require it,” he smirked.
At his words, Arthur took notice of his dress. His thin muslin shirt had a large collar, which sat lopsided. His collarbone lay bare. The skin looked smooth yet strong, like polished marble. For a second, he thought he saw the man’s skin glisten like gold. Breaking the canvas where his neck met his shoulder was a love bite, blushing red. His eyes had a knowing glint to them, and Arthur’s tongue dried under their gaze.
Arthur turned and looked at Leon, who was looking down the rest of the main street.
“It looks to be the only inn in town, sire,” Leon said quietly enough for Arthur to hear.
“We’ll make it one night. I’m sure the rest of the knights are not far.”
“We thank you for your invitation and would be grateful for the lodgings here. What do they call you?” Leon asked, walking towards the steps.
“Oh,” Merlin laughed. Arthur thought it sounded almost like he was not expecting to hear that question.
For the first time this evening, Merlin’s smirk quavered.
“I prefer Merlin,” he said in a hushed voice. He inhaled a sharp breath and spoke with another smirk, “But you may call me whatever you like.”
With that, Merlin turned towards the inn and opened the door. He looked over his shoulder and eyed the men to follow. Merlin’s hips seemed to sway with each step. Arthur felt a tug on his chest to do exactly that.
Inside the inn, it was quaint and comfortable. The architecture was simpler inside. The entrance was sparse with furniture, with just a few hardwood benches. A mismatched stone fireplace roared near the back of the inn. Merlin stopped by a room and gestured to one of the doors.
“This is one of the rooms available; the other one is on the second floor.”
Leon looked at Arthur. He didn’t like splitting up with his knight in case they needed to leave quickly. The pull of exhaustion weighed heavily on Arthur's shoulders, and he craved to sit.
“I will take this one. Get settled, and we will sort out food after.”
Leon nodded and followed Merlin up the creaking stairs. Arthur’s room was small and had one small window, reminding Arthur of a porthole. The glass was foggy and scratched, but Arthur could see the tail end of the pink sunset trinkling through it. With the door closed, he set his sword at the end of the bed. Arthur sat on the hay mattress bed and sighed, suddenly feeling the ache of every step he took that day pull him down. He pulled off his sweaty leather gloves and threw them to the floor, and rubbed his neck.
“Don’t get too comfortable,” was spoken from the doorway.
Arthur whipped his head around and found Merlin in the doorway. The fireplace glowed amber behind him. He hadn’t even heard him open the door, and Arthur’s heart beat heavily in his chest.
“Why are you in my room?” Arthur spoke firmly, squaring his shoulders.
Merlin smiled to his feet.
“I saw the way you were looking at me.”
Arthur felt a heat hit his cheeks and his chest. As Arthur reeled in his blush, Merlin softly shut the door behind him and walked closer. Arthur smiled awkwardly and raised his hands up, open-palmed.
“You are mistaken about what you saw. I am–”
“I have given to men who have given me less of a stare than that,” Merlin said, standing in front of Arthur.
Arthur felt himself gulp. The Prince of Camelot had been desired and enamoured by several ladies of the court. He could weasel around him without even a skip of a heartbeat. Arthur cursed himself in his head, wondering how the man was affecting him so.
“What is your name?” he whispered.
Without caution, he answered, “Arthur.”
“How long have you been on the road, Arthur?” Merlin grazed his fingers along Arthur’s jaw. “I should think you deserve what you desire,” he whispered.
Merlin leaned in, and Arthur felt his soft, plump lips meet his own. Without a thought, Arthur wrapped an arm around his waist and felt his cool skin. He still had his gardbrace on and heard it clang softly as it pressed between them. Merlin cupped his hands around Arthur’s jaw and climbed up onto the bed, with his knees on either side of him. His tongue explored and tasted him, lost in the feeling.
When they broke apart, out of breath, Merlin leaned closer into Arthur’s ear. Suddenly, he gripped Arthur’s shoulders and dug his nails in.
“Sir Arthur, you are in grave danger,” he whispered.
Arthur jumped to move Merlin off him, but the man pressed tightly to hold on.
“Do not make it obvious. She is likely to be watching us.”
“Who is she?” Arthur whispered back, his eyes searched around the room.
“My master. She’s enslaved me, and she wishes to kill you and your fellow knight.”
Thoughts raced through his head. Was this somehow something to do with Caerlon’s men? Had they found him and wished to trap him? It didn’t make sense for him to reach for such methods.
“She is a witch. I know you are strong enough, knight of Camelot. Please defeat her, or none of us will walk freely.”
Suddenly, Merlin pulled him down toward the bed and kissed him again. Merlin’s chest pressed against Arthur’s, and their legs tangled gently together. Arthur felt a knot in his throat and didn’t kiss back. Merlin leaned into his ear again, panting.
“Where is she?”
“I suspect she is on the second floor, near the other fireplace.”
Arthur felt more panic reside in him. Leon was on the second floor.
“You must act quickly. She will not give you mercy and will take joy in killing you.”
“Oh, how charming,” Arthur huffed, nearly laughing.
“And…” Merlin raised his head and looked Arthur in the eye, “When she attacks you, I won’t be able to control myself. She controls my will, and I must do what she commands.”
Arthur stared into his eyes and felt the pools of sadness beneath them. He swallowed the anxiety in his chest and nodded to him.
“Now, pretend to reject me and go to your friend's aid. Room 5.”
Arthur furrowed his brows at him for a moment and then suddenly understood. Arthur shoved Merlin off of him. Merlin tumbled off the bed in a whirl of limbs and hit the floor.
“I do not require your services, now leave me,” Arthur snarled.
Merlin scrambled back with his mouth hanging open. He clumsily sprang up and ran out of the room. Arthur shoved his hands back into his leather gloves and took his sword. Though he felt stiff with tension, he made his footsteps quiet up the stairs. As Arthur made his way to Room 5, he took notice of how utterly unnaturally quiet it was in the inn. He didn’t even hear the birds or crickets chirp outside. This inn wasn’t full; it was a trap, and they were to be the only ones inside.
He knocked on Leon’s door and walked in. The man was in the middle of taking off his chestplate when he walked in.
“Leon, put that back on. I think,” he thought of how the witch was probably watching them. “We need to get back to Camelot.”
“Sire, what is the matter?” he said as he tried to tighten the straps firmly in place once again. Leon saw Arthur’s sword in his hand and picked up his own. His jaw was square, looking over Arthur's shoulders.
“Arthur!”
Suddenly, the old, greying wooden walls of the room had been blown down. A plank hit him in the jaw, and he put a hand down on the ground so as not to fall on his feet. In an instant, the second story had been destroyed into a completely open floor.
Across the room was the witch. Her dark blue robes flared out in the whirlwind, and she brought her palms out to them. Arthur and Leon ran out of the remnants of the room, and the planks whirled in a small tornado. Dust prickled at his eyes and blocked part of his vision. He could barely see the witch, but he most certainly heard her cackle.
Leon ran up to her and swung his sword at her. The witch commanded a plank of wood to block his attack. Leon swung again, and the plank continued to counter his attack in a duel. The witch focused on Leon, and the tornado fell in a heap on the floor. Arthur followed up behind her and reared his sword up to strike her, and she cackled even louder.
“Attack,” she laughed.
In one moment, Arthur was mid-swing, and the next, he was knocked to the floor by an invisible force. He hit the pile of wood and looked up. Standing there was Merlin, whose blue eyes were woven with threads of golden magic. Arthur’s stomach lurched, and he felt the hair under his armour stand up. Arthur’s mind raced, wondering if this was the same man begging to be saved earlier?
Though he was one entity, the intensity of Merlin’s gaze felt like the hunting eyes of a pack of wolves. His hair bled like nightfall, and his skin glowed like moonlight. He looked so impossibly fae, it was obvious now.
Merlin didn’t raise a hand, like the witch did. Without a spell spoken, the wooden planks twisted into mossy tree roots and crawled up his armour. He flinched at the feeling of the roots trailing up his back. He felt his shoulder plate come off and clatter against the ground. He balled his fist and pulled with all his might to break the roots that wrapped around his arms and legs. He swung his sword and ran in the only direction he could go: towards the witch.
“Playing with your food, Birdy?” The witch laughed.
At that moment, Leon’s sword swung through a plank and broke through. The tip of his sword slashed across her face and down her bosom. The witch screamed out and sent Leon back with a flick of her wrist. Thankfully, Leon was only tossed a few feet away.
This was Arthur’s moment, and he seized it. He sprinted up to the woman as she clutched her bleeding face. As he swung, his sword was ripped from his hands, and the witch glared at him.
“Enough games! You scum, Uther’s men, you will die.”
Arthur spotted his sword across the other side of the room, stabbed into the wall. Defensively, Arthur stared the woman down, and behind her was Merlin. He made eye contact with him, and that’s when he spotted Merlin reaching something out of his waistband. It was a silver dagger, and quietly, he placed it on the floor.
Merlin nodded to Arthur before shrieking, “Ragnall!”
The witch turned around at the sound of her slave screaming, and at the same time, Merlin kicked the dagger at Arthur. Arthur ran and grabbed it mid-stride off the floor. He felt his forearms ache with his fierce grip as he plunged the dagger into the back of the witch. The witch wailed and clawed at the dagger in her back.
***
Merlin felt Rangall’s magic sputter through the bond. Stuck between one command and the next, the urge to attack left Merlin.
“You-you brat!” Blood pooled out of her mouth, her eyes boring through Merlin. She flexed a hand out to him. “Use the knife on yourself. Through your heart,” she spat.
Despite the flickering, flashing waves of the bond, Merlin grabbed the hilt of the dagger and he grimanced as he felt the dagger leave her. The blood trickled quickly into a heavy flow from the wound and down her robes. He tried to fight the command, and the dagger shook in his hands. Merlin clenched his jaw and looked away from his struggling hands. I can't die in front of the knights of Camelot, he thought. He closed his eyes and waited from his strength in his arms to give out against the bond.
Then suddenly, Merlin heard a groan, and the tight tension of the command twiddled away. A heavy breath left Merlin, he dropped the dagger and watched as it clanged against the ground.
In front of him, Ragnall was hunched over with a sword through her chest. At the other end of the sword was Leon, caked in sweat and with a bleeding cut across his hairline. Ragnall’s head dropped, her chin touching her chest as she collapsed onto her knees, and then face-first into the ground.
Merlin had felt this sizzling feeling in his chest before. The bond was dying, burning from the inside out. He clenched his chest and fell to his knees. He saw the fissures of magic behind his tightly shut eyes. He felt Ragnall’s magma hot magic wash away from her body and soak into the earth. To Merlin, it felt like finally letting go of a rope he was holding on to for far too long.
Merlin cried, and a tear rolled down his cheek. Tickling, calming relief filled his chest. The arm of his magic was freed from the cast that swallowed it for all these years. He was dizzy with this new, sensational feeling. He felt his blood buzz and his hearing go fuzzy with the warmth of it.
A hand gripped his shoulder, and he looked up. The man belonged to Arthur, and gripped tight in his other hand was the dagger. The hand was shaking in what Merlin could only guess was anticipation. With his magic, Merlin dragged Arthur and Leon far away across to the other side of the room and tied them to the wall with growing tree roots.
Merlin sharply pushed himself off his knees and stood up to face them. They both grunted as they struggled in their bindings.
“I’m sorry boys–”
“You tricked us. You damn sorcerer!” Arthur shouted.
Merlin made the branches and roots slither tighter around Arthur.
“I appreciate the help, boys. I’m free now, and I am thankful for that. But don’t think I would really trust a knight of Camelot,” he smirked, still giddy with the feeling of being free.
“Do you leave us here to die?” Leon spoke up.
Merlin shook his head. “Just because I've serviced a mad woman all these years doesn’t mean I’ve become one. You’ll be tied for a few hours. Don’t try to look for me or I will strike you down.”
With that, Merlin turned to leave with a skip in his step and laughed, “Goodbye, boys!”
Until suddenly, Merlin could not take a step further with his left foot. Merlin jerked his head down and tried his right foot, but the foot slid back. He felt a force pulling him backwards, as if a great wind could pull instead of push. He twisted and tried to rid himself of this force, but to no avail. Merlin felt himself falling horizontally, and he flew backwards towards the knights.
Merlin crashed into Arthur with a groan, thankful that he was only in his gambeson and not his armour.
Merlin pushed off Arthur with his hands on the knights and sputtered, “What was that?!”
“What was that? I’m the one tied up here!” Arthur yelled.
“No, you’re the one—“ and then Merlin felt it. A soft buzzing filled his chest, different from the feeling just moments ago. It felt like a dry lake filling up and the force of a current driving up the wall of a dam. His magic tingled at his fingertips and in throughout his ribcage. His head didn’t buzz anymore, but instead his heart felt like it was too big for his chest. It sounded like a drum, and its tempo filled his eardrums. It burned and felt calming at the same time.
He hadn’t realised he had been hyperventilating or that the branches his magic had been holding up at loosened around the knights. Taking advantage of Merlin’s distraction, Arthur gripped him hard by the shoulder and slammed him into the ground.
“You better tell me what the hell—“ Arthur began. Merlin felt a soft glow touch Merlin’s skin. It felt it brush and root into his own magic inside his chest.
Merlin bore his eyes into Arthur’s and gave a tight-lipped frown. “You have magic? A knight of Camelot?” And then he yelled, “Let go of me! You can’t have me!” He sluggishly fought and kicked at Arthur.
“I haven’t done anything!”
“So, you saw that I wanted freedom and wanted it for yourself? What could a knight of Camelot want a familiar for?” He spat.
Merlin heard the sound of the hissing metal against metal and abruptly felt the cool blade of the dagger against his throat.
“I don’t like this, but all I know is you’re a bloody sorcerer who's hell-bent on hurting me right now. Explain yourself,” he commanded.
A single tear rolled down Merlin’s face and slid past his ear.
“You have magic.”
“No, I do not,” Arthur rolled his eyes.
“Yes, you do.”
“No, I do no!”
Merlin paused and took at Arthur’s expression. His eyes went back and forth for a quiet moment.
“So, you don’t even know what you’ve just done?”
Arthur furrowed his brows at him.
“We’ve killed a witch?” He offered.
“Not the both of you, you!” Merlin pointed to Arthur with his eyes.
“Me? What did I do?”
Merlin threw his head and laughed with tears in his eyes. He whispered to himself, “I can’t believe this is happening to me.”
Arthur shook his shoulder and commanded him, “Do not play with me, sorcerer, I have a right to run you through. I know you know something. Now, explain why you are acting like this?”
Merlin felt the cold sweep of the command hit his chest and compel him to answer. He grimaced; his heart ached with the thought that he had to feel this feeling again.
“Because I’m a familiar and I’ve been enslaved all my life. I’ve been forced to follow the commands of the sorcerer who holds me. That witch over there was my master. But now, you are. You have to have magic to have a familiar as your companion.”
“You speak nonsense,” Arthur pulled the dagger back slightly from Merlin’s neck. His gaze swept across Merlin’s face. “Go. Go now before I change my mind about killing you.”
Merlin’s fingers dug into the floorboards, and he sat up.
“I can’t. This- this bond we have between us, it confines me. Ragnall, that witch, always kept me on a short leash. That has transferred to us now.” Merlin paused for a moment, in thought. “That… that must be why I flew across the room.”
Arthur huffed, his brows furrowing even further down.
“Then undo it. I don’t have time to waste on you.”
“Undo it? I would have already done so if I had the will to do it. A familiar can’t break a bond. That can only come from you.”
“You lie. I shouldn’t listen to a sorcerer.”
“Listen here, you clotpole. I truly can’t undo it, believe me.”
“Clotpole? What the hell even is that?” Arthur seethed. “We wanted rest, and now we have had none of that, thanks to you.”
“I would leave if someone would let me. I would much rather spend my time with better company than you.”
Arthur brought the knife back up to Merlin’s throat. He felt his heart beating like a drum in his chest, and he began to breathe in quick succession.
“This is same stupid plot you’ve weaved in attempts to kill me. I gave you leave to go, and you did not take it.”
The dagger pressed closer into Merlin’s throat. He gulped and felt the sharp sting of the blade hit his adam’s apple. Merlin felt his whole body begin to shake, and he clasped Arthur’s wrist. I can’t die here, not like this, he thought. His magic unwillingly began to rattle the floorboards, and the walls groaned for him.
“Please, I beg you, do not do this. I would leave right now if I could. I promise you, I promise you.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Leon shift beside Arthur. His eyebrows were pinched, and he looked down on Merlin with what he thought was a twinge of sadness.
“Sire, maybe he speaks the truth. We could bring him to Giaus and have him observe him. He will know what to do. I have heard of a familiar before, they aid soressors, just as he swore. Giaus can confirm if it is true.”
Arthur turned his gaze and looked at Leon. An unspoken conversation swept between their gazes that Merlin could not interpret. Then Arthur looked at Merlin. His eyes stared deep into his own, and he felt a wave of emotion seem to sweep through Arthur’s eyes. Arthur huffed and then threw the dagger across the room.
“You will be spared… for now. If you do anything to harm us, you will be killed instantly.”
The building lay completely still and quiet. Merlin’s breath evened out as Arthur and Leon stood up.
“Where are we going?” Merlin’s voice shook slightly.
Arthur sheathed his sword and began to walk towards the stairs. Merlin scrambled up quickly from the ground to follow him. The bond only allowed ten feet of distance between himself and Arthur.
“We must make camp out now that he has no inn to sleep in. We must be quick before nightfall.”
Merlin’s head spun. He felt a nausea boil in his stomach as they made their way to the first floor. He would have to follow these men, and he could do nothing to stop it. He feared that killing Ragnall was the wrong choice to make after all.
As they walked through the first floor, Arthur spotted the chairmail laid out over one of the wooden benches. He picked it up and threw it to Merlin. The chainmail hit him squarely in the chest, and he scrambled, trying to keep the heavy chainmail from slipping out of his arms.
"Put that on. I don't travel with whores," Arthur said without looking back.
Merlin scoffed but did as he was told. Arthur and Leon began to walk out of the street and once again through the woods, when Merlin’s mind cleared for one moment.
“Wait,” Merlin called out to them.
The two knights turned around and gave questioning gazes.
“I must–” he choked briefly. He was going to have to do this in front of two knights of Camelot. “I have to clean up my mess.”
He turned his back on them and faced the inn. Merlin’s magic reached out and felt the concrete illusion that sat in front of him. It glowed silver behind his eyelids and tickled him coldly down his chest.
“What do you mean by–” Arthur began.
The inn began to creak, and suddenly, the inn was swept in a split-second tornado of wind. The beams, red curtains, and porch swirled through the air and seemingly blended into the wind. In one second, the inn stood in place, and the next, the entire lot was empty. Left in its place was a small field of tall, blooming grass and sporadically spaced patches of flowers.
He looked on and saw there, nestled in the hay grass where their trap once stood, bellflowers and welted thistle. The sight pulled him back to the foggy shores of Éire, where Ragnall would sit on the rocks and point out the different grasses. During her saner moments, Ragnall had a proclivity to teach him herbology. Though she always hesitated, as if naming the grasses recalled some chagrin from her past. In those moments, as she gushed over the purple flowers, Merlin could almost pretend she wasn't his master. He thought of the waves and the smell of the sea as the wind settled around them.
Merlin turned back around and found the knights staring at him with slightly gaping mouths; Arthur's face quickly twisted into a scowl. Merlin bristled at their stares and began to walk past them as they stood still. He walked forward and felt the bond pull him back.
“I thought we needed to make haste?” Merlin griped, waving his arm at the sky. The last twinges of sunlight had nearly disappeared from the sky.
Arthur coughed and continued, walking in awkward, uneven steps to avoid the mud. The entire time, the hairs on Merlin’s neck stood upright. He could feel Arthur’s glare the entire journey as the smell of the flowers faded from the air.