Work Text:
The chosen battlefield lay barren under the silent sky, shrouded in the darkness of the night and flanked on either side by the sleeping men of two opposing armies. Tomorrow, the field would paint an entirely different picture, strewn with the fallen and soaked with blood. A pointless battle with no side truly winning, regardless of the outcome.
So many lives were about to be lost, and for what? It was King Arthur alone who had made the ill-fated decision to strike down Caerleon; to leave a kingdom without its King and a Queen without her husband. He wasn’t prepared to risk any of his men’s lives to pay for his mistake.
And so, as he stood in front of Queen Annis, surrounded by her guards, agreeing to her terms, he finally felt deep in his heart that he was doing the right thing. Single combat. One warrior from each side. A fight to the death. No hoard of needless sacrifices, just one man paying for his own crime.
And it was all going so well, until a certain bumbling idiot was brought before the Queen by the scruff of his neck after being found lurking just outside.
If looks could kill, then Merlin would most certainly be a pile of ash right now. And clearly Arthur’s glare hadn’t gone unnoticed.
“You know him?” Annis demanded with a snarl.
If Merlin had just dashed the minuscule amount of trust he had managed to garner with the Queen, Arthur was going to kill him. He immediately tried to placate her. “He’s my servant. He must have followed me here. I knew nothing about this.”
Annis barely allowed a second glance in Merlin’s direction before passing judgement. “Kill him.”
Arthur’s heart jolted in his chest at how swiftly her guards moved to fulfil their orders and he raised his voice for the first time since entering the tent. “Wait!” He took a breath, choosing his next words carefully. He was all too aware in that moment that he wasn’t simply a man trying to strike a bargain, he was also a King. All eyes were on him and he needed to behave accordingly; with composure, with dignity, with no overly-apparent special treatment for a servant of all people.
“Please. Let him go. He’s just…” He glanced down at Merlin, making it clear to the boy that he was directing his next words straight to him, “…a simple-minded fool.”
Annis regarded him warily for any sign of guile or trickery and seemingly found neither. She wasn’t best pleased by his request though. “That is two favours you have asked of me, Arthur Pendragon.” She turned away from him to take a seat and allowed an uneasy silence to fill the space between them, her eyes raking over the length of his servant with a hint of disdain. “The fool stays here.”
Arthur’s breath caught in the back of his throat and in his periphery he caught Merlin’s head whip round to look at him in alarm. “Your Highness—”
“That is my compromise.” She interrupted firmly. “And if my champion wins tomorrow, he stays with me. If you win, he is free to return to you.”
He had allowed her the upper hand during this accord and she was certainly taking advantage of it.
Damn Merlin for following him here and for putting him in such a difficult position and for refusing to follow orders and for being a terrible servant and for looking up at Arthur with such apologetic understanding in his eyes.
Before Arthur could argue, Annis’ men had hauled Merlin to his feet and dragged him out of the tent. He forced himself to swallow down the sudden fear fluttering in his stomach.
“He will remain unharmed?”
Annis tipped her head after a moment’s consideration. “You have my word.”
Arthur was awake long before the sun had announced its arrival. Laying on his makeshift bed, his eyes traced the seams of the tent above as his mind wandered back to the previous evening.
He had made the trek back to the camp alone, passing no-one and saying nothing about the deal he had struck with Caerleon’s Queen. His men were not going to be happy and his uncle was likely to have a few choice words about his decision, but he had no regrets. Each tent that he passed on the way to his own was filled with men that would now get to return home alive and unscathed. He alone took Carleon’s life, in an act so unjustly that it made his skin crawl with shame. It was only right that he alone paid the price.
Now, all he had to do was win the fight. For if he failed today, not only would he lose his life; he would be leaving Camelot with no King. He would also be leaving his servant in the hands of another, condemned to a life of captivity; of being forever separated from his friends and family.
It was a horrible thought.
And also one that infuriated Arthur. Trust his own servant to make an already difficult situation so much worse. He should be preparing himself for the fight, not worrying about the welfare of another. If Arthur did die, it would serve Merlin right for eavesdropping in the first place. Was he not allowed to make his own choices and leave his own campsite whenever he so pleased?
Part of him was impressed that Merlin had managed to tail him without being spotted. The other part was still furious at the lack of privacy his servant allowed him. He was the King for goodness sake!
A bustle of movement outside tore him away from his thoughts and gave him the encouragement he needed to start the day. With no servant to help him, he was forced to get dressed all by himself and by the time the knights had amassed for the morning’s briefing, he had only just managed to finish pulling up his boots and tightening the belt around his chainmail.
As predicted, his men strongly disagreed with what he’d had to say and they expressed their thoughts loudly; offering themselves up in his place, volunteering to lay down their lives for him. And while he was endlessly grateful to have their loyalty and devotion on his side, this was his fight. He wasn’t about to risk any of their lives for his mistake.
They were also just as disturbed to hear about the additional clause of the agreement.
“Hasn’t she got her own servants? Why would she want to keep him prisoner?” Gwaine asked brusquely as he positioned Arthur’s armour in place. He was the first notice that Merlin was nowhere to be seen and was instantly furious at the knowledge that his friend had become a bargaining chip.
Elyan didn’t look up from where he was helping to fasten Percival’s wrist guards. “I doubt she’s trying to expand her serving staff. She just wants to make a point.”
“Well, it’s a stupid point.” Gwaine muttered through gritted teeth. He fastened the first strap of the pauldron and pulled it taut, nearly taking Arthur’s arm off in the process, and while Arthur appreciated the assistance, he was starting to wish that anyone else had offered first.
He tried to grab another knight’s attention as his eyes screamed at them to save him, but they were each engrossed in their own preparations. Except Leon, who happily stayed on the sidelines, watching on with great joy and amusement. The traitor.
“What does she expect anyway? That we’re just going to leave him there? That we’re not going to go and get him back as soon as this is over?” Gwaine pulled the second strap even tighter in his frustration and Arthur couldn’t contain his grunt of surprise, sending a glower over his shoulder at Gwaine’s heavy-handedness.
He would never admit it aloud, but maybe Merlin did have his merits.
“Here, let me.” Elyan swatted Gwaine’s hands away, taking over the task and solidifying himself in Arthur’s top spot for favourite knight. He worked quickly to secure the remainder of his armour without further pain or mindless prattling. It was only once the others had left and Elyan was fastening up his own cloak did he voice a concern that had been weighing on him. “Sire, not to start sounding like Gwaine but do we have a plan for if the Queen doesn’t give Merlin up so easily.”
The thought had been weighing on Arthur’s mind too.
What if he won this fight and Annis refused to accept the loss, refused to believe that justice had been served accordingly for his actions. What if she was just furious enough to keep Merlin anyway? Just a little something to hurt Arthur in return.
Which was slightly ridiculous when he thought about. The Queen keeping his servant to get back at him. Not even a knight or favoured member of the court; his servant. Was his bond with Merlin really that obvious that Annis would believe that effective as a punishment?
“I’m sure the Queen will hold up her side of the accord.”
And if he lost the fight—
Well, as much as he loathed the idea of going against his agreement with Annis, even from beyond the grave, he need reassurances. The whole point of requesting a one-on-one fight was so that no one else suffered and he wasn’t about to let Merlin be collateral damage in all of this. Even if it was his own stupidity and disobedience that got him caught in the first place.
“Elyan.” Arthur called out, halting the knight as he was leaving the tent. “If this fight doesn’t go the way I hope it will—”
“Arthur, you’re going to win.” Elyan, the ever loyal, reassured him instantly with a tone that allowed no room for argument. Even after all this time, it still amazed him just how much faith his men laid at his feet. Men that had stood by his side since childhood and men that had grown up far from the discipline of aristocracy; those without nobility that he had only recently chosen to knight.
He had made that decision all on his own, against the tradition of Camelot. He just had to hope this latest decision would have the same success.
“But if I don’t... Get him back, will you?”
“Of course, Sire.” Elyan nodded in agreement. “I know Gwaine talks nonsense most of the time, but he was right about one thing. Merlin’s one of us; we would never have left him there.”
The two armies stood on either side of the grassy battlefield as Arthur approached his chosen adversary. He could feel the hundreds of eyes surveying his every move, eager to see which man would prevail.
There was only one pair of eyes, however, that he instinctively searched for amidst the sea of bodies. The only one not in armour. The only one at Queen Annis’ side, restrained by two others. The only one with—
Was that a bruise on the side of his face?
Arthur felt his adrenaline turn to anger. That wasn’t part of the deal. His servant was supposed to remain unharmed!
And now he wished he’d never sought Merlin out amongst the crowd. This wasn’t the time for distractions, especially now that he’d gotten a proper look at his opponent. Arthur swallowed hard as he drew his sword from his belt, grip tightening around the hilt in preparation.
And then it began.
The fight was surprisingly swift. And with such a huge audience travelling far from both kingdoms, Arthur was almost disappointed to not have given them a longer show.
Annis’ champion towered over him with a ruthless snarl and brutish demeanour and, despite years of training at his fingertips, he was all too aware that this man wouldn’t go down easily. His fighting style was crude; almost animalistic, sword swinging through the air in forceful, unrefined strokes and the power behind his blows sent Arthur to the ground more than once.
Sweat broke out on Arthur’s forehead and his breaths came heavy from the exertion but he put all his strength into fighting back, forcing himself to his feet over and over, refusing to accept defeat so easily. He could feel the gaze of his knights weighing heavily on him. Their support, their belief, their encouragement. He was doing this for them. For Camelot.
And he was so close…
Until suddenly— the weight in his hand grew ten-fold – hundred-fold, even! It was so sudden, so unexpected, that the sword slipped straight from his grip before he could stop it, embedding itself firmly into the ground. He tried and tried to pull it free, all too aware of the man still charging towards him, but it just wouldn’t budge.
Was it him? Had something happened to make him lose all his strength?
Or— nope, his strength proved itself still intact as his solidly planted his fist into his opponent’s face instead, dazing him for just longer enough to move into a more advantageous position.
With no blade, Arthur focused on the only weapon available to him. He punched again and again and again until even that strategy failed him as he was knocked flat on his back.
The air was snatched clean from his lungs, and his ears were filled with an awful ringing, and the sun pierced through his vision for just a moment until it was blocked from his view by a looming giant, sword raised high above his head.
His gaze darted to the side, as if pulled there by an invisible force, and caught Merlin’s eye. Caught the fear on the boy’s face. The guard to Merlin’s left had his sword pressed high against the boy’s chest. A barrier of sorts to stop him from moving. Clearly it wasn’t just Arthur’s orders that Merlin refused to follow.
He should have ordered Merlin not to watch. His servant shouldn’t have to see this. None of his men should have to see this.
Their King, failing.
Arthur couldn’t move. Heart hammering in his chest, sweat dripping into his eyes. He watched on, waiting for the inevitable.
Until— his opponent’s own sword mirrored Arthur’s and dropped from his grasp. Arthur had never moved so quickly in his life. He was on his feet in a flash, grabbing the abandoned blade from where it had fallen to the ground and felling the man with a slash to the back of his legs, claiming his victory, all without another life taken.
Cheers erupted from his side of the crowd and his own heart beamed with pride as he allowed a simple nod in their direction. A civilised celebration, a recognition of his knights’ joy without rubbing his triumph in the Queen’s face.
Her expression was unreadable as she moved to approach him, navigating the bumps of the battlefield with only one guard by her side. She looked down at her champion with disappointment, ordering her guard to help him up with a wordless wave of her hand.
“Congratulations, Arthur Pendragon.” She paused, considering him for a moment before offering out her hand. “A deal is a deal, and you won fairly. This marks the end of our feud.”
“And my servant?” Arthur asked, half-acknowledging her concession and suddenly all too aware of the lack of Merlin in his periphery. Where had those men taken him?
“He shall be returned to you.” She replied, her tone a little bristly at having her honour questioned. “I uphold my bargains.”
Her hand was still held out, abandoned, between them and Arthur shook it before his absentmindedness was viewed as impudence. As he moved to let go, she held firm, clasping his hand between both of her palms.
“I do hope you’ve learnt a lesson from all this.” Her words were sharp. Her message clear. The feud may be over but her pain was not wiped away so easily, and if he ever thought to repeat the actions that had led them here, she would not be so lenient.
His knights were waiting for him with big smiles and congratulatory pats on the back as he returned to his tent. Instant chatter of we knew you could do it and that man was huge! filled the space and Arthur allowed himself to feel satisfied at what he had accomplished.
Not just for Camelot’s wellbeing but his own too.
It didn’t go unnoticed that his uncle stayed separate from their huddle, standing off to the side in silence as his face remained unreadable. There was no denying that the two of them had maintained very different opinions on how to handle this delicate situation and maybe his uncle was still harbouring disappointment at Arthur’s choices, but discussing matters with him could wait until they had returned home.
He had just brought victory to Camelot after a very difficult few days. He was allowed to revel in that for a while.
But of course, he wasn’t allowed to remain the centre of the celebration for long because as soon as his servant came swanning in, his loyal knights flocked to their new favourite, checking him over and commending him for surviving his time in the Queen’s camp.
“Oh yes.” Arthur crossed him arms as Merlin made it out of the cluster and stepped towards him. “Congratulations on—” He glanced up, pretending to think for a moment, “getting to stand and watch from the sidelines.”
Merlin smirked knowingly. “Well done on the fight.”
“Really?”
Merlin shrugged. “Never doubted you for a second.”
“Sure.” Arthur narrowed his eyes sceptically. He still believed that Merlin getting himself caught was his own fault, but he was glad to have him back.
He was less glad to see the state he had been returned in. In all fairness to the Queen’s men, sometimes a light swat around the head was the easiest way to silence Merlin’s nonsense, but Annis had given her word and he had trusted that she would uphold it. He took Merlin’s chin between his fingers, tilting the boy’s head to the side to inspect the damage.
Merlin tried to bat his hand away with a groan. “It’s nothing.”
And he wasn’t entirely wrong. The skin was unbroken and any swelling that had been there had already improved, but the light-purpling bruise that Arthur had spotted earlier was as plain as day, sitting prettily on Merlin’s face between his hairline and his cheekbone.
Arthur frowned. “Annis and I had an agreement.”
“That does look pretty nasty.” Gwaine stepped closer for another look, his own concern coming through with a grimace. Merlin batted his hand away too before it could poke at the bruise.
“It wasn’t the Queen. She wasn’t even there.” Merlin grumbled, his own fingers coming up to tap gently at his cheek as if reminding himself of whereabouts the damage was. “One of the guards stopped me when I tried to escape last night. Pushed me to the ground.”
Gwaine chortled, slapping Merlin on the back in delight. “You tried to escape?”
“I don’t know why we were ever worried.” Elyan joined in, his eyes meeting Arthur’s as they were both reminded of that morning’s conversation.
And honestly, Arthur couldn’t disagree. Maybe he still underestimated his servant after all these years, but he was actually impressed by Merlin’s (albeit failed) attempt at fleeing his captors. He didn’t think the boy had it in him.
Maybe he hadn’t needed a contingency plan after all.
Except—
“Wait…what happened to not doubting me?” Arthur demanded, enjoying the way Merlin’s mouth snapped shut. “You only had to last one night and then you’d be let free. Unless of course, you didn’t think I was going to win.”
Merlin glanced at the knights, hoping for some assistance, receiving only a grin from Gwaine and a pat on the shoulder from Percival in return. His gaze returned to Arthur, eyes wide and the corner of his lips tilting up in the perfect picture of innocence. “Just covering all…eventualities.”
And even Arthur couldn’t hold back a smile as the knights delighted in his answer.
Fair enough.
Maybe he wasn’t such a simple-minded fool after all.