Chapter Text
Merlin
They woke the next morning to Arthur throwing the curtains open and shouting a cheery “rise and shine!” Merlin knew it was revenge for all the mornings he had done the same thing to him, but unlike their king, he was a morning person, at least, after nights when he actually got to sleep.
“Good morning princess” Gwaine grumbles, sounding only faintly annoyed, and still half asleep. Merlin snickers and turns to give him and then Lancelot each a good morning kiss before deftly dodging their searching arms to leap out of bed and give one to Arthur as well, who, having been awake longer, and prepared for the gesture, wastes no time wrapping his arms around Merlin’s waist and deepening the kiss, only relenting when Merlin was fairly dizzy and panting.
“Someone’s in a good mood this morning,” Lancelot observes.
“Yeah but which one?” Gwaine asks, scrubbing the sleep from his eyes with a groan.
“Both I guess, come on best to join them before we miss out on all the fun,” Lance teases, leaving Gwaine with a quick peck on the cheek and moving to locate his discarded clothes. Merlin, realizing he was also naked, attempted to pull away from Arthur, but the man did not release his iron grip.
“You alright?” He asks, voice low, eye searching Merlin’s. When he doesn’t answer Arthur tries again, “I’m sorry I could not get away fast enough yesterday, you were all asleep by the time I came to check on you, but I hoped that meant that everything was okay,” Merlin, at a loss for words and overwhelmed by their concern, stopped his rambling with a kiss he hoped conveyed all of the things he did not not have words to express.
“Yes, Arthur, I’m alright,” he pants, “thank you.”
Arthur relaxes against him, “good, get dressed, we have places to be.”
“What? Where?” Merlin reels, he had the day off! The next challenge was not until tomorrow! But Arthur only smirks and shoves him toward his wardrobe.
Arthur
He had worked hard to craft his surprise, Prince Liam was more than happy to help him set everything up and find the perfect spot. Merlin had been surprised to see all of the Camelot knights waiting for them in the courtyard with enough horses for all of them, but he gave up asking questions and just followed along, enjoying the breath of fresh air and the ride through the forest.
Arthur kept his eye on Merlin as they got close, curious how much attention he was paying and was gratified when Merlin nearly fell off his horse bolting upright in surprise. His wide eyes turned to Arthur’s in question and Arthur could only laugh and speed up in response.
As they burst into a clearing and saw all the other horses already here Merlin laughed too. “What do you have planned, Sire?” He accused.
“A bit of fun that is all,” Arthur teased, dismounting and leading the party into the woods and down a narrow trail that opened up a few yards away at a large waterfall spilling sparkling water into a natural pool, where all their new friends were waiting.
Liam
The Camelot King had sought him out late last night asking to plan a mini adventure out in the Monian wilderness for their rest day. It took very little convincing to get all the challengers on board, even Darian was here, though he was sitting under the shade of a tree away from the water. Commander Geoffry grumbled and complained the whole way about spending his rest day ‘galavanting through the woods he just left’ but even he smiled at the look of shock and excitement on the Lord Emrys’s face as he entered the clearing. Liam knew he had to have known they were there, his magic had reached them some time ago, Liam had been sitting with his brother under the tree when a look of bliss crossed his face and his eyes had closed. He had a moment of panic, thinking the spirits had finally taken his brother before his eyes opened again and he had told Liam his pain was gone, so the young lord must be near.
His magic was so strange, so wild and free and yet so gentle and sweet, how a man with his past could cultivate such magic was beyond reason. “Welcome mighty knights of Camelot,” Liam shouted, “to the not-so-secret pool of the moon!” Everyone cheered around them, laughing because every sorcerer in the kingdom knew of the pool where young magicians came to cause a ruckus under the guise of connecting to nature. It was tradition, so their masters and parents all pretended to believe they really were there to further their studies and did not chastise them for their late return.
“A ruckus,” Emrys gasps, feigning shock, “why Prince Liam, I was told we were here to rest before tomorrow’s trial. I do hope you have nothing nefarious planned.” He continues, in a voice that tells Liam he very much hopes he does in fact have schemes to mind.
Liam winks at the Lord, noticing the eye roll their antics evoke from the young King. Flashes of yesterday’s trial spring to his mind, of an even younger, more brutal Prince, claiming magic and all who practice it his enemy. Holding a sword to his father’s throat in his own throne room. Facing down a questing beast and a dragon with nothing but his sword and his knights.
They had seen much yesterday, but this King, the King who organized a picnic in the forest with no less than twenty sorcerers surrounding him, already talking and laughing with some of the knight-mages in the tournament like they were old friends. He had come far and learned much, with Emrys at his side he was sure to continue learning and growing.
Darrian
Lord Emrys came to him almost as soon as he entered the clearing, making a show of collapsing on the grass next to him with an exaggerated sigh. Everyone pretended not to be watching him, watching King Arthur too, while they all worked hard to look engaged in their swimming and chatting.
“How are you healing?” He asks, genuine concern in his voice.
“Better, now that you are here, though the healers say I will be fine in a few weeks time.” The prince smiles, “how long do you think it will be before we are swarmed by your admiring fans?”
Emrys groans, “after yesterday I had hoped to hide away in my room and hope everyone forgets.”
Darrian startles then huffs out a laugh, “my lord, if you will forgive my saying so, there is no chance we will be forgetting anything about these weeks you are with us.” He humms in thought a moment before continuing, “Mona is rich in culture, magic, and resources. We have a long and colorful history, and a bloody past, as with all kingdoms. Yet even the purge did not reach us on our island, not for real, nothing like what you have seen. I had thought I knew struggle, thought I at least understood war. I was born a prince, educated in politics and history, trained to fight, bread and groomed to lead, but I can honestly say I have never feared for my life, even a few days ago, in the clearing, I was so sure I would be fine, even lying broken on the grass, because I was always fine. Yesterday I saw what fear looked like, what pain and loss really looked like. What it meant to be broken down over and over and stand back up, and keep going.” He looked to Emrys then, “please do not hope for us to forget such a vital lesson.”
Merlin
He did not know what to say, how was someone supposed to respond to such a statement? “I was always stubborn, even as a child, giving up never occurred to me.” He shrugs, thinking over his life, it had been rough, sure, but not bad. He had wanted to give up, wanted it all to end, had spent the few hours each night he slept dreaming of a time of peace in Camelot, but he had never truly thought of giving up. Not even when his magic was stripped from him in the mists of a bloody war.
“I hope you never have to experience it.” He finally settles on, “I hope and wish for all of your remaining days to be happy and carefree, however much they can be.”
Darrian studies him a moment before nodding, “I wish the same for you and your knights.”
“Thank you.”
“Now - I believe you have rounds to make and more important people to entertain-” he laughs, “and you really must swim in the pool, it is rich with life and magic.”
Merlin smiles, but only says “all of Mona is,” as he rises and goes over to his own teammates first, who were huddled together plotting something. “What are you up to over here?” He asks, curious what mischief he could get up to himself to avoid all these deep conversations.
Well apparently mischief was exactly what they had planned for him as he was unceremoniously hoisted up by Percival on one side and Gwaine on the other and thrown quite deftly into the pool of freezing water with a splash.
He surfaced sputtering at the indignity of it all and glared at his laughing knights. “Think you can challenge me, do you?” He teased.
Gwaine winked at him, and in a voice far too dramatic declared “the great and benevolent Emrys is above such notions as revenge.”
“Want to bet?” He growled, circling the water all around him until it leapt from the pool in the form of a serpent with massive jaws, heading straight for the laughing knights, who yelped and tried to run. Too bad for them Merlin was faster, as the snake tangled around their legs and dragged them back into the pool with him. Now it was their turn to sputter at the surface of the water in soaking clothes.
As soon as he has his breath back Gwaine pouts “that was cheating!”
Around them everyone laughs.
Liam
“For all his body looks like a rag doll about to fall apart at the seams,” a voice murmurs next to him, Lord Sionn and Sir Lark, old friends and fellow competitors join him at the edge of the clearing. Sionn continues his thought, “he sure does not act like a man who has been through hell and back.”
Lord Sionn is a magical prodigy as famous in Mona for his command of weather magic, as he is for his icy disposition. Beside him Sir Lark, one of the only free knights in Mona, a master of elemental sword magic, and a scholar for the royal academy from which they all graduated only a few years ago. Next to Liam, these two were most likely to win the tournament, though they had been beaten out by Sir Pryce and Lady Dai in the first round due mostly to the highly specialized magic they wield.
“He is full of contradictions,” Liam admits with a smile, “would you like me to introduce you?”
Lark gives a curt nod, eyes never leaving the pond, where the man in question is treading to shore in sopping wet clothing. With a huff he lets his magic envelope not only himself, but the two knights whom he had dragged into the water with him, drying them all off so completely it was as if the whole ordeal had never happened.
“Wind magic? Or heat? Both?” Sionn mumbles, not to either of them but to himself, as if puzzling out the spell they had just witnessed, though once again the Lord had not uttered an incantation.
Laughing as he is once again grabbed by one of the same knights in a playful manner Liam reaches out, my Lord.
Emrys looks up, eyes locking with Liams and he smiles in greeting, roughly disentangling himself from the knight and saying something to both of them before heading towards the trio.
Merlin
“I will see you guys in a bit,” he tells Gwaine, before jogging over to where Prince Liam is standing next to two men who he recognises from the competition but whose names he am not sure of.
“Greetings your highness,” he says, just to hear him laugh.
“Greetings my lord,” he replies with a full bow, though his shaking shoulders tell me he is also joking, he fakes exasperation before turning to his companions.
“I’m Merlin,” he offers, “please do not feel the need to be formal.” Liam snickers behind his hand but neither of the other men show any emotion on their carefully blank faces. They look like noble lords from distinguished families, but neither of them give the impression that their behavior has bothered them so he assumes they are not all that stiff, maybe just naturally stoic.
“Lord Emrys,” Liam begins, to which he does sigh, “allow me to present Lord Sionn, heir to the Duke of Lieil, and Sir Lark, a free knight of Mona, and professor at the royal academy. We grew up together and I can vouch they are not as boring as they appear.”
Liam is clearly teasing but Lord Sionn gives an annoyed sigh anyway which makes Melin smile. Do you tease all of your friends so? He asks.
Yes.
Then I shall take your constant teasing as a sign of our close relationship.
Liam laughs and shoots Merlin a wink.
Lark
Liam and the Lord Emrys laugh and joke as we talk, it is not a surprise, not really, everyone likes Liam, and it has been clear from the beginning that the Camelot party is not a group of typical uptight nobles. Lark finds himself more and more curious about him.
“So what do you teach Sir Lark?” Emrys asked.
“I teach magic sword fighting,” he offers, “as a free knight I had even less to do with my time than most of the knights in Mona. As a country that never fights wars and has little to no enemies, our biggest threat is from magical beasts but even that is a minor inconvenience. So I have dedicated myself to bettering my skill and the skills of those around me.”
Essentially he is bored, and just distracting himself by diving into his chosen discipline, but to his surprise Emerys’s eyes light up, “I cannot say I understand most of that, we do not have free knights in Camelot, what is the difference between a free knight and a normal knight?”
“Free knights are not sworn to the crown,” Sionn answers, “they have been knighted for deeds or skill but have been granted permission to choose their own master. Generally speaking they go into the service of a noble house, but there is so little need in Mona, that Lark has chosen not to take a master.”
Emrys looked to be contemplating that but when he turned back to me he had a new quarry, “and what is magic sword fighting?”
They blink at him in silence for a moment.
Sionn
Liam and Lark spend the next half hour or so explaining the various fascists of magical vs traditional sword fighting, which unsurprisingly leads down several rabbit holes of questions from Emrys. It is strange to think of him as so powerful and yet so uneducated, though it should not be a surprise given all they knew about Camelot, and all they had seen yesterday.
Sionn himself has so many questions for him, and yet he thinks it will be difficult to get the answers he wants from him, it might be easier just to continue to want him and have him demonstrate rather than explain.
Just as he has this thought he hears Emrys ask; “like this?” and they all have to jump back as he ignites a sword made of flames out of nowhere. The whole clearing goes silent in shock, technically yes, what he just summoned was an elemental sword, however the flames were so large and hot it was mostly a flaming pillar… much too long to be practical for sword use. “Ow,” he hisses, extinguishing the sword with a shake of his mildly singed hand.
Liam laughs so loud the whole clearing relaxes, and Emrys blushes, “that was maybe too much magic” he admits.
Lark smirks, then walks around Emrys to stand behind him, the professor in him taking over, he adjusts Emrys’s stance and holds onto his sword arm, a bit further from his hand than he normally would and says, “okay, now start small, imagine drawing a sword out of a proverbial sheath in the sky, slowly pore magic in, concentrating on the shape and structure of an actual sword.”
The young dragon lord nods and looks to be concentrating, then he closes his eyes, which from experience Sionn can say is the wrong move, it is easy to trick yourself into thinking you know what the right amount of power feels like but without looking it is easy to misjudge. None of them say anything however, because his magic is so different from theirs that honestly, he wants to see what happens. Liam and Sionn do take a step away though, just in case.
They need not have worried, the flames that ignites in his hand is steady and controlled this time, just as Lark had instructed, he starts small, shaping the hilt in his hand before slowly allowing the blade to form from the hilt up. The final product is dense, as if all the flames from before have been somehow condensed into this new confined shape. The heat is much reduced and while it is still quite long for a sword, it is undoubtedly a sword.
Lark
“Well done,” Liam praises while all of us stare in shock. Lark releases his hold on the Lord and moves to examine the sword. He can almost touch it before the heat reaches his skin, but the instant he gets close it is just like before, all that uncontrolled heat, now condensed and swirling just outside the range of the flames but no further.
“Are you particularly skilled with fire magic?” He asks, thinking back to the elemental stage of the first challenge, he had called them all so quickly and so skillfully he cannot think that any of them were stronger or weaker than each other, except maybe water, as he had made it pour rain rather than just filling the bowl.
“I do not think so,” he answers, when Lark turns to him he looks thoughtful, then in the next instant he releases his hold on the flaming sword, causing them all to jump a little as it remains where it is in the air. Then he spreads out his hands in front of him and three additional swords start to take shape.
Merlin
Merlin closes his eyes and thinks, he has never been particularly good with fire, he studied it in earnest because it was Morgana’s element. He also knew that when he wanted, his fire became that of a dragon’s through his bond with Kilgaraha, so he had to be able to control it.
Mentally he held the fire sword where it was and spoke the words for water, earth, and wind in his mind. It was simple to replicate the shape, especially while he was holding that spell already, he just copied it for the other three elements. What he was focusing on was how easy or difficult each was to form, hold, or control. All sorcerers had at least a tendency to lean on one element more than others, most of them really only became proficient in one… so Merlin was curious, did he have one?
The swords formed at the same rate, and were basically identical in strength and power, at least from what he could tell. Once they were all formed, he pictured swinging them. He was not a sword fighter, not really, but these were weightless and not actually in his hand, and he had spent the last decade following the best swordsmen in Camelot around. So he had them swing in one of Arthur’s signature combos. The wind one did feel a little sluggish, and it was hard to wrap his brain around swinging air through air.
He let them all drop to stab into the ground in front of them, and opened his eyes. The four swords looked strange striking out of the ground, but they were all pretty much identical in shape. Curious, Merlin walks a slow circle around them, studying them from various angles. He waves the wind one away, pretty sure his element is not wind. Then he extinguished the fire one, knowing that is not his element, his control over it was simply the result of necessity.
Staring at the other two he has a thought, he made the earth one out of dirt, but that was not all earth was made of… closing his eyes again he rested his hand on the ground and sent out a question, letting his magic swirl with the magic of the land, asking for help crafting a sword.
The magic around him thrummed in excitement, eager to answer, and before he knew it several swords sprouted from the earth around him.
Lancelot
After the first sword most of the Camelot knights had came over to see what Merlin was getting up to now, and whether or not to put a stop to it before he burned down the whole forest, but it was clear that Prince Liam and his companions were attempting to teach him something, and none of them seemed particularly concerned, so they held back. However Arthur’s patience apparently drew the line at growing swords from the earth.
“Merlin, I know you are not particularly daunted by things like logic, but you are a physician for gods sake, you were raised on a farm, even you know you should know swords are not plants.” He groans, walking up to our crouching warlock.
Merlin perks up instantly, turning to face him, “I am not growing them!” he complains, to which Arthur only raises a brow. “Okay I can see where you are coming from,” he admits, surveying his handy work. Around him are various types of strange swords. The dirt, wood, and iron ones are all simple enough to understand, except that each was made wholly of one substance, hilt and all, but there were several that were much stranger. Like one made of vines, or the one that sparkled like gems, one was even clear.
“Let me guess,” Lance sighs, walking over to join them, “you asked the earth for help?” He beams up at him and Lance cannot help but smile back, “I know we are new to the whole magic thing,” he admits, “but even I can tell that that is not a normal approach.”
He shrugs, “it was happy to help,” he turns and surveys the sword selection as he had done before, “I wanted to know if there was a better material than dirt to make earth elemental swords.” Around them more than a few sorcerers had gathered to watch the spectacle that was Merlin with a magic question.
“Did you consider asking an elemental swordsman?” Arthur asks from behind him in exasperation.
In response Merlin blushes, “well - in my defense it was not the original question I had…”
“Alright,” Leon offers, joining them with the rest of the knights, “so what was the original question?”
“I want to know what my element is. Morgana’s is fire, so naturally we practice with that a lot, but I do not think my element is fire. And the wind sword felt sluggish and hard to control, so I crossed that out, but between earth and water I am not sure, I use them both a lot. Then I wondered if the type of earth mattered…”
Leon, ever the supportive logical one, nodded along with the whole explanation, then did a lap around the sword selection before stopping at one and picking it up. It was the clear one from before, it shines where the light hits it, and appears to be quite thin, after examining it he hands it to Merlin, who takes it in surprise. “Pore magic into it,” he instructs.
Merlin did as he was told and the whole thing lit up with a rainbow of colors and bursts of light. He looked just as bewildered as everyone else watching him. “Do you think maybe the fact that your first instinct was to literally ask the earth for advice might have been a clue?”