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Things had been going well for a while. There were no magical attacks from sorcerers or magical creatures, and no nobles plotting Arthur’s death. The love potions had taken a backseat for once and trolls were only mentioned in the hushed giggles when Arthur wasn’t around. Even bandits seemed to be taking a nap.
All in all, things were going really well. They were so well that Merlin knew something big was brewing. And he suspected everything and everyone.
“Merlin, stop glaring at Lord Aemund,” Arthur whispered, glaring at him from the corner of his eyes. Merlin huffed and leaned down to pour his King some more wine, allowing him to say treasonous things in Arthur’s ear.
“He’s up to something, Arthur. If you weren’t such a blind clotpole, maybe you could’ve seen it too,” he hissed, and moved away, not giving Arthur the opportunity to threaten him. It was no use anyway. It had been years since Merlin had been sent to the stocks and the dungeons. He knew Arthur wouldn’t harm a single dark hair on his head.
Merlin stood next to the pillar, still watching Lord Aemund’s every move. The old noble was sneering at some joke that was going around, his wine dripping down his beard. Merlin wrinkled his nose in disgust. Eventually, Gwen passed by him and jabbed at him with her elbow. He winced, rubbing his ribs. He often forgot that his friend was the daughter of a blacksmith, and was probably, definitely, stronger than he was.
His suspicions were confirmed when Lord Aemund left the room quietly, and no one seemed to notice his absence. Everybody was too drunk to notice one missing noble. Everyone except Merlin, that is.
He walked to Arthur, who was in the middle of what looked like a very boring conversation anyway. The king had his eyes half-closed, while the Lady next to him took no notice of the uninterested man sitting beside her. So Merlin walked to him and put his hand on Arthur’s shoulder.
Arthur jumped and then noticed Merlin standing behind him, with what looked like a cold expression hidden behind a tight smile. A smile that was reserved for trouble.
Merlin gave him a small nod, and walked away, towards the doors where Lord Aemund had departed from. He sneaked a look behind and saw Arthur following him. Good.
Once they were out the doors, Arthur came to walk beside him, hands wringing in anticipation.
“You better be right about this, Merlin.”
Merlin looked at him from the corner of his eye. The torches in the hallway lit Arthur’s profile like the sun, and his magic only made him glow in his eyes. How this beautiful man had survived until now, Merlin didn’t know.
“Of course I’m right, sire. You should know better than to doubt my funny feelings.”
Arthur cracked a smile at that, his posture finally relaxing. Merlin’s heart stuttered at the sight before he reeled his emotions. He did not have time for feelings right now. His King’s life was in danger.
They turned a corner to go to the East Wing of the castle and finally found Lord Aemund holding a sword, his eyes glowing yellow.
“I told you so!” Merlin said, jabbing a finger at Arthur who winced, before regaining his composure.
He sneered, his voice almost childlike, “Well, good for you!”
“Real mature, sire,” Merlin sighed, and cracked his knuckles, preparing to save his prat’s life. Again.
Arthur drew his own sword, pointing it at Aemund, who swung his now glowing sword wildly between Arthur and Merlin.
“You can’t address me like that,” Arthur sighed, sounding almost tired. He kept his eyes trained on the Lord, however. The lord was now looking confused at the scene playing before him.
“I think I can address you however I like now, love.”
“Shut up, Merlin.” Arthur had the nerve to blush, despite the dire situation. Merlin suppressed a snicker. He loved riling Arthur up, especially during moments when he least expected it.
“Why don’t you make me?”
“You just can’t do what you’re told, can you?”
“I don’t think so.”
Lord Aemund now looked properly confused, his sword dipping just a little lower. That was the moment Merlin was waiting for, as he sent a fireball towards the noble. The said noble ducked out of the way and Arthur brought his sword down on him.
Somehow, the lord blocked it, his own sword burning against Arthur’s.
“You will pay with your life-” Aemund snarled, and Merlin cut him off by tripping him over his feet. He could’ve ended the fight with a single thought, but he was too bored. So he decided to have some fun.
Until he was thrown against a pillar, his head hitting the stone hard, as a person came into view. The stranger had magic, obviously. He looked young, almost as young as Merlin. His yellow eyes glowed with apprehension, even though his stance was rigid and confident.
“Merlin!” Arthur yelled, but before he could do anything stupid, Aemund had raised his sword to strike Arthur. The king blocked him, of course, and soon they were engaged in a fight of clashing silver, the pure, royal magic of Excalibur versus whatever dark magic Aemund had drenched his sword in.
The warlock got up and faced the new sorcerer. The air crackled around them, as his magic thrummed in his fingers.
“Leave, and I might let you live,” Merlin said, his voice surprisingly calm, even though rage simmered within him.
Arthur hissed somewhere from behind him, “Merlin, shut up, and get rid of him!”
“I’m giving him a choice, you prat.”
“Now is not the time to be an idiot, you dollophead!” Arthur yelled, his voice strained as he countered every hit of Aemund, giving back with ten times more force.
“Still my word!” Merin snarled back. His eyes didn’t leave the sorcerer’s, as they stood there in a stand-off, both seemingly unwilling to make the first move. At least, Merlin was unwilling to make the first move. He would not attack someone of his kin, not unless it were absolutely necessary.
“That’s what you take away right now?!”
Merlin ignored his king and the sorcerer raised his hand, pulling in arrows from thin air, and sent them flying towards Merlin. The warlock simply cast them aside with a single thought.
Arthur had seemed to come to stand right behind him. They now stood back to back, shoulders drawn in, ready for the fight. Merlin felt Arthur’s warmth from behind him and his anxiety. He sent a bit of his magic the King’s way, immediately feeling the relieved response. His magic seemed to like the reply and swirled around his hands now.
“It’s rude to ignore your King, Merlin,” Arthur said between deep breaths, panting from the excursion. They both took a minute to compose themselves before Arthur was swinging at Aemund again, and Merlin and the sorcerer locked themselves in a fight of magic.
Merlin sent a wave of power, knocking the sorcerer on his feet.
“Oh, so when you ignore me, it’s alright?” he panted, hands on his hips now, glaring at Arthur’s back. Behind him, the sorcerer struggled to his feet, pulling his sleeves back as he readied for another attack.
Merlin was definitely impressed. Not many could withstand his power, and not many dared to continue fighting him after sensing his magic. This young man was truly powerful.
The sorcerer muttered an ancient, forgotten spell, and vines grew around the stone pillars in the castle.
Meanwhile, Arthur struck a landing blow at Aemund, successfully knocking him out, and turned to Merlin, who was now defending against poisonous barbs.
“Oh for Triple Goddesses sake, it was one time!” Arthur said, standing next to his lover, who sent a scowl his way.
“You ignored me on my birthday!”
Merlin slammed his hand on the floor, his magic shooting out of his palm in golden tendrils, creeping against every crevice and forcing the plants back inside the stones. The strands then wrapped themselves around the flailing sorcerer, binding him to the floor. Merlin stood, wiping the sweat off his forehead. It was fun while it lasted, but they were making a lot of noise, and he suspected that would alert the guards.
“You don’t have a birthday, Merlin.” Arthur sighed from next to him, pinching the bridge of his nose. Merlin glared at him some more as he waved his hand, clearing that part of the castle of all evidence that a fight had occurred there. With another twist of his wrist, he transported the sorcerer and Lord Aemund to the dungeons.
It was only after doing so that Merlin faced Arthur, eyebrows pinched together in loving annoyance. His king was bleeding a little on his cheek, where no doubt he had been grazed by Aemund’s sword. Even so, with all the blood and dirt, and the infuriatingly distracting smirk on his face, Arthur looked gorgeous. Merlin hated him so much.
He placed his palm on Arthur’s cheek, who leaned into his touch with his eyes closing. Merlin muttered a quick spell, and when he took his hand away, the cut was a mere memory in his mind.
“I do have a birthday, you prat. I told you very specifically that it was my birthday and you laughed it off,” Merlin snarled as he poked Arthur’s shoulder with each word. Arthur had the audacity to look sheepish for a moment, but that look was quickly replaced with a mocking glare.
Arthur swung an arm around his lover’s shoulder, steering him towards the banquet room again.
“If I laughed, that means I didn’t ignore you.”
“You pushed me out of bed and gave me chores for the entire day!”
“I thought you’d magic your way through them and get back into bed, not be a grumpy idiot about it.”
“Your face is a grumpy idiot, sire.”
“Wow, real mature,” Arthur mocked Merlin’s words from earlier, receiving another scowl in return.
“Shut up, you cabbage head.”
“Why don’t you make me?”
“No, I don’t think I will. I’m going to sleep in Gaius’s chambers tonight.”
“Merlin, come on! Don’t be like that!”
Arthur poked Merlin’s side, making the warlock flail. Merlin did not like being tickled, even if it was his beloved doing it. He pushed Arthur, who only pushed back. This resulted in another shouting match, and a very messy, albeit satisfactory, hand job in the alcoves.
It’s needless to say that Merlin did not spend his night at Gaius’s.