Fic: Hunter's Blood (Arthur/Merlin) 4/4
They’d been riding all day, sending out small groups to search disused trails and pathways. Arthur called for a stop in the late afternoon, ordering his men to eat and rest. He’d decided to keep half of the group out searching with him that night, sending the other half back to protect the town. He was both hoping and dreading that the vampyre would be drawn to Merlin and they could finally end this nightmare. The sun was just above the horizon, fading from the searing yellow to a dark and blazing orange; spreading the colour over the land in smears. Arthur leaned on a fallen log, scanning the surrounding area as he ate. He was blatantly refusing to stare at Merlin as he did so, who was returning the favour by equally blatantly trying to ignore him and carry on a conversation with Leon. A frown creased Arthur’s brow; Leon seemed to be enjoying the mundane chatter a little too much for Arthur’s liking.
Nothing had been said as the prince and his manservant had arrived at the stables and mounted, but Leon’s hasty appraisal of Merlin showed the concern he’d obviously felt. Seeing nothing wrong, Leon had been content to leave the question unasked. Leon had taken notice of the quick glances and blushes that had passed between the two men, as well as the discomfited shifting in their saddles that would accompany each incident. He’d also noticed that they were purposefully avoiding each other during the day; aside from badly concealed eye-groping – if there was such a term. If not, Leon thought there should be one, since that’s obviously what was being done between the two. He admitted to a fondness for Merlin – something that had surprised him when he’d realised the type of fondness, since he hadn’t previously had an attraction to scrawny men – but his love and loyalty to his prince set his needs and desire above Leon’s own. And it was obvious what the prince currently needed and desired. Leon wasn’t above subtle – or not-so-subtle – nudges to ensure their happiness. Which would explain why he was currently paying an undue amount of attention to Merlin; even if he was rather nice to talk to and easy to lightly flirt with – especially when he blushed.
Arthur, of course, was absolutely in no way paying attention to the laughter between Leon and Merlin or the blushes that spread on Merlin’s face or the way Leon’s hand reached out and gently pulled a stray leaf from Merlin’s shoulder. He was most certainly not entertaining any fantasies involving a rabid wolf jumping from the trees and mauling Leon. Or maybe a hive of bees dropping on his head; his big, fat, charming head. Arthur noticed Sir Gawain giving him a wary look from the corner of his eye and realised his face was set in a deep and disapproving scowl. He quickly erased it and got up to head into the dense cluster of trees, needing a few minutes to relieve body and mind.
The sun had set during their rest, the reds and violets bursting vividly over the landscape before fading to blend in with the lengthening shadows of the oncoming night. The thicket Arthur had headed for was not far from their make-shift camp, no more than thirty yards –add to that his mental and physical frustration and he could somewhat explain away letting his guard down. A man should be entitled to empty his bladder in private, even if he is alone in the dark hunting for monsters. Just as he was tucking himself back into his breeches, he felt a body slam into his from the side, knocking him and his attacker to the ground. He shouted as he turned, one hand reaching for his silver dagger, the other attempting to hold off the gaping mouth straining for his throat. The hand trying to reach the dagger was grabbed by the wrist and heaved above his head. Arthur was able to feel a moment of panic as the creature’s other hand made to pull away the one keeping those vicious teeth at bay.
The pounding of his pulse in his ears had covered the sound of his knights coming to aid him, which meant the sweeping boot that kicked the creature off him was as much of a surprise to him as it was to the creature. Hector stood over Arthur, cross held out to ward off another attack. Leon and Gawain had moved towards it; Leon armed with a flask of holy water and a small ornamental silver dagger, Gawain with a cross and a blazing torch. As the light fell on the huddled and hissing form, Arthur heard a gasp from behind him. “That’s not the vampyre. That’s... it’s Isla. One of the girls taken from town,” said Tristan.
Arthur’s eyes widened as he stared at the girl; because indeed, it was a girl. Or had been. Arthur couldn’t remember ever seeing her before, but he was certain that in life, she hadn’t been as cadaverously thin as she was now. It was as if, as well as taking her life, the vampyre had sucked all her substance out as well. Her skin looked to be painted onto her bones, the clothes she wore hanging like draperies from her frame. Hair tangled and fell in straggled clumps from her head, the colour almost indistinguishable due to the filth embedded in it. Her fangs glistened as she hissed, red-on-black eyes glaring from over hollowed cheeks. She was a mockery of the probably vivacious girl she’d been in life. She was a thrall. The knights hesitated; Arthur could understand. It was one thing to slay something that barely resembled a human and was most definitely dangerous; quite another to kill what they still thought of as ‘one of their own’. Arthur made to get to his feet, accepting a bracing arm from Hector. Quickly tying his breeches, he pulled his dagger and joined Leon and Gawain. Gawain stood, unable to move to kill what used to be a girl. “Give me the torch, Gawain.”
Gawain looked over at Arthur, a protest on his lips. He looked back at the thrall, fully seeing her for the first time. Shaking his head, he visibly straightened his spine. “I’ll do it, my lord.”
“Then do it. We have a full night ahead of us.” Arthur stepped to Gawain’s other side, he and Leon ready at his back.
Gawain swallowed once before he held the cross out and directed it at the thrall. When she cringed back and hid her eyes, Gawain rushed in and set fire to her with the torch. It reacted as though she were made of oil; quickly covering her head-to-foot in flames. Her mouth opened and instead of hisses, screams poured from it, her body writhing on the ground as she tried ineffectively to put out the fire. The knights circled her, weapons drawn in case she made to leave, but she was too weak and too hurt to do so. After a few horrifying moments, her screams stopped, her body only twitching spastically as the bones and tendons popped and crackled in the dying fire. When her body was consumed, the fire went out; leaving a greasy stain of oily ash on the ground. Gavin stepped forward to collect the ash in a container to later be spread over the ocean.
Arthur turned and headed back to camp, the knights that had come to his aid falling in behind him. Half had stayed at camp, eyes trained on the surrounding foliage for further attacks. Merlin met them just before the perimeter, gaze wide and worried. Reaching for Arthur, he ran his hands over his chest and neck, fingers gentle in their examination. “Are you alright...” he flicked his gaze to the side quickly, “sire?”
“I’m fine.” He gently squeezed Merlin’s hand before turning to his knights. “I want the group going to town to do so now. Keep a wary eye for attacks and guard the town. The children of the vampyre are attacking as well, now. The rest, break into two groups, one stays here with the horses and acts as a back-up group if we fail. If the thrall is here so close to nightfall, we may be close to the vampyre’s nest.” He went over and clapped Gawain on the shoulder. “Take heart, men. They can be killed. And we will do our best to save the souls of our people.” He saw the knights consider this and accept that as a more pleasant and noble alternative to desecrating the bodies of the people they had sworn to protect. He motioned for Merlin to join him at his horse as he sorted through supplies to carry with him as they hunted on foot.
“Sire?” Merlin looked at him with dark eyes. “Are you sure you’re alright? I heard you shout and then saw that thing... Why the bloody hell did you go off by yourself in the dark?”
Arthur grabbed Merlin’s wrist, rubbing circles on the inside with his thumb. “Because it was go off and relieve myself or go over and punch Leon in the nose, you idiot. I was distracted and angry and not paying attention. Are you happy now?”
Merlin blinked. “Are you... are you jealous? Jealous of Leon?” The corner of Merlin’s mouth quirked up in a grin.
“No, I am not jealous, you grinning buffoon.” Arthur folded his arms over his chest.
Merlin giggled, then covered his mouth and looked over the horse’s back at the still-packing knights. “Yes you are! You’re jealous.”
“I may be a little annoyed that you were flirting with him in public, but I most certainly am not jealous.” Arthur opened his saddle-bag and began sorting through it.
“I wasn’t flirting with him. We were talking, you git.” Merlin leaned in and placed a hand on Arthur’s back.
Arthur grunted and continued to pack. “If you say so. I certainly have no claims on you.”
It was Merlin’s turn to frown as he grabbed Arthur’s arm and turned him towards him. “Don’t say that. You have...,” Merlin traced Arthur’s jaw with his other hand, “you have me. All of me, Arthur.”
Arthur closed his eyes and suppressed a desire to crush his mouth to Merlin’s. Instead, he touched a finger gently to Merlin’s bottom lip and smiled a sad smile. “You’re not obligated to me, Merlin. If you want to be with Leon...”
Merlin smacked Arthur’s hand away and glared. “Sod Leon. I want you, you pig-headed prat. Although, sometimes it escapes me as to why.” Merlin leaned in and pressed his mouth to Arthur’s, nipping none-too-gently at his lip. “You, Arthur Pendragon.”
Arthur flicked his tongue out, tasting Merlin. He pulled back and searched Merlin’s face. “I don’t know why the idea of you with anyone else makes me want to commit rash acts of violence.”
Merlin smirked against Arthur’s mouth. “Because you’re jealous,” he taunted before drawing back.
Arthur rolled his eyes and hid his smile. “And you’re obviously daft. Now here,” Arthur lifted a packed satchel for Merlin to carry, “keep the cross out and in front of you. You’ll be behind me.”
Merlin’s grin turned wicked. “Really?”
Arthur snorted. “How you managed to stay a virgin this long with that libido is beyond me.”
The smile smoothed out into something softer. “Maybe I was just waiting for the right person.”
“And you wound up with me.” Arthur slung his own satchel over his shoulder.
Merlin’s answering smile almost blinded him. “Yes, I did.”
They had all died and gone to hell. At least, that’s what it felt like to Merlin; currently flattened against the craggy wall of the cave, bits of what may have been an ex-townswoman splattered over his body. He’d had the misfortune to not move when told to; the smoking thrall smashing into the rock face beside him and bursting open. “Oh, that is so not right.” Merlin flicked a clump of skin off his chest.
They’d gone on foot, following the trail the thrall had left; her passage much more easy to find than the creature that made her, even in the darkening night. The moon rose, half full and bright. The stars crowded the sky, each sparkle like the glint in a watching eye. The haphazard trail had led to a crevice in a wall of stone that seemed to be a passageway, barely. The knights had gone single-file into the crack; Broderick at the front with a torch and a flask of holy-water, a silver letter-opener stuck through his belt. All of the knights were armed with a silver weapon, even a sharpened ornamental blade was better than their regular swords; although it was obvious that most of them would have preferred their own blades.
The crack had widened into a tunnel, which had widened even further into a cavern; a cavern with five hungry thralls and one very annoyed vampyre. The party divided and began to attack the thralls, who were forming a protective wall before their maker. The vampyre slunk into the shadows, letting its children fight alone; its eyes found Merlin through the melee of bodies and attempted to force his gaze up. It hissed in distaste as it scented the change in its chosen prey. Merlin gave a silent and grateful prayer to Gaius. Then he joined Kay and Tristan as they fought to corner one of the hissing thralls.
After that, it all got a bit hazy. He heard the shrieks of pain coming from the mouths of thralls and knights alike. Blood flowed and dripped to the floor, making the footing more treacherous than it already was. Merlin cried out in horror as Sir Donovan viciously had his throat torn out; blue eyes wide and staring as his life poured down his front. He gurgled in surprise, blood bubbling from his mouth, before falling to the ground. Merlin had let out a scream of rage as he charged the thrall that had done the deed; taking a small bit of pleasure from the wail of pain as he sprayed holy water on her. She struck out at him, cuffing him in the head before she ran blindly into the back of Kay, who had turned and thrust his dagger into her stomach. She’d spat in his face at that, then screamed again as he dumped the contents of his own flask over her head. Then he’d grabbed her as she flailed – her skin blistering and smoke rising from her – and propelled her at the nearest wall of the cavern; which just so happened to be right beside a dazed Merlin.
Which brought him to now; him standing there with a wrinkled nose as he shuddered and picked pieces of her out of his hair. His eyes searched the fracas for the shimmer of gold he was used to, heart fluttering when he saw Arthur well and whole, finishing another thrall with a swing that seared through her flesh; decapitating her. Apparently Arthur had figured out that silver worked best if dipped in holy water before slicing. Merlin was somewhat impressed. Leon and Hector had finished another one off; that left two. Both thralls were now huddled back to back, flicking furtive glances at the vampyre who was still refusing to save its children. It growled at them and they flinched before turning back towards the advancing knights, preparing to engage in a losing battle.
Merlin almost felt a little sorry for them; at least until one of them hurled herself at Arthur. That made him pretty comfortable with the idea of killing them all. Tristan intercepted her, using his momentum to throw them both to the floor. Gawain moved over to assist him, leaving Arthur and the rest of the surviving knights to face the last thrall; the only obstacle between them and their main target. Leon held his left arm close to his side, evidence of the broken ribs he was likely bracing. Gavin had tied a strip of his cloak around a nasty looking gash down his leg, not letting the wound keep him from supporting his prince in battle. Merlin felt pride fill his chest at the willingness of the knights to stand and fight for Arthur, wounded or not.
Arthur stood with his weapon ready, water beading on its surface. The remaining thrall eyed him contemptuously before hissing and dodging to his right to attack Broderick; seeming to take everyone by surprise. Broderick threw his hands up, cross raising to ward her off. It was sent flying across the cavern by the force of her blow to his arm. She reached for his neck, claws scraping red lines over it. Her eyes widened in surprise as the tip of a dagger suddenly jutted out from her throat. Reaching hands up, she choked as she tried to pull it out, but Arthur knocked them away as he twisted the dagger and severed her spinal cord. The knife made a painful squeal as it scraped along bone. She dropped to the ground, blood beginning to pool from her head. Gavin came over and used a ceremonial scythe to sever the head from the body. Tristan and Gawain had already dispatched their thrall, the smouldering remains causing the shadows in the cave to flicker eerily.
The knights gathered and made a loose circle around the vampyre, not wanting to give it any exit; the tension of the climax of this whole debacle thick in the flickering dark. The vampyre growled in the back of its throat, the red of its eyes seeming to glow from the blackness it was shrouded in. Arthur made to move forward, but Hector stopped him. “We can’t afford to lose you, sire.” Lowering his head, he gave a tremendous bellow that echoed off the rock walls before he charged the creature.
In a blur of motion it had sprang over the heads of the assembled men, landing close to the exit; and Merlin. Merlin ground his teeth in frustration – what was with this thing and trying to kill him. He was beginning to feel like he had a magnetic draw to it. And maybe he did. Maybe the creature was willing to overlook the lost virginity in lieu of the amount of power Merlin had coursing in his veins. He imagined that a magic user must make a pretty decent snack to an undead creature that used to be one itself. Merlin held up his cross with one hand while blindly searching through his satchel for another weapon - any weapon. Preferably something pointy that would cause the vampyre to be struck down with a sudden case of death.
It advanced on him, gaze flicking between the cross and Merlin’s face. It had seemed to have forgotten the knights, which Merlin thought was not in the slightest bit conducive to a long after-life. Gavin came up behind it, scythe raised to strike; the vampyre flicked its arm out and Gavin was sent flying into Leon and Kay. Hector charged the creature again, furious that it had eluded him before. He was stopped in mid-run by a hand around his throat. Only the intervention of Tristan and Broderick kept him from a broken neck. The vampyre flung him absently aside as it prepared to face the two knights. Tristan glared as he made a flinging motion with his arm, sending a spray of water over the vampyre. It screeched as the droplets fell on its desiccated skin, the sizzling sounding obscenely loud in the cavern. It made its own charge at Tristan, still just a blur of motion to the human eyes watching it. Tristan let out a shout as he was slammed into a far wall, the creature reaching a hand down to claw through his armour. Broderick and Arthur moved to help; Broderick making an effort to stab it with his letter opener. The vampyre swivelled and used Tristan as a shield, the opener sinking into the meat of his shoulder. Continuing to utilise Tristan, it hauled him back and threw him at Broderick, both men sailing through the air to hit the rising forms of Leon and Kay; Gavin being quite unconscious at this point.
That left Arthur. Arthur, who stood tall in front of the creature as though daring it to move. Arthur, sweat dripping from his hair, turning it darker. Arthur, whose eyes widened in shock as the vampyre once again ignored him and leapt nimbly in the air to come down near Merlin. Quite frankly, Merlin was getting a little tired of this. He was sore, covered in bits of flesh and other unmentionables, it smelled rancid in here and he was tired. Tired of the constant state of fear he and Camelot had been in since this thing had arrived. Tired of running around in the middle of the night instead of being tucked warm and safe in his own bed. Tired of the pain and the blood; just plain tired. He bared his teeth at the creature as it hissed at him. It opened its mouth and displayed its fangs. Merlin raised the cross at it. He felt something push him in the middle of his chest and barely registered that he was airborne. His back hit the wall of the cave with enough force to knock the breath out of him. He collapsed to the ground, gasping as he tried to relearn how to breathe. The vampyre advanced, spittle dripping from glistening teeth.
Merlin tried to lift the cross again, frowning as he realised he’d lost it on his impromptu flight. The satchel lay just beyond his reach; the torch light glinting off the barb of a silver-tipped crossbow bolt. He felt dampness underneath him and looked down to see his water flask had split open. The only thing keeping Merlin from uttering a particularly nasty profanity was his lack of oxygen. He only hoped that his severe mangling would allow the other knights to rally and slay the creature. Merlin squinted up painfully to see the thing slowly approaching him; apparently relishing the fear it was eliciting. It stiffened suddenly, eyes wide and a shriek coming from its mouth. Merlin discovered the cause as it turned to face Arthur; Arthur’s dagger sticking from its back.
“Go back to the hell you came from, you bloody bastard!” Arthur stood there, defenceless, brazenly challenging the creature. He was rewarded with a backhanded slap across the face that had him crumpling to the ground. The vampyre hissed and lowered to complete its kill – and Merlin had had enough. No one tried to kill his prince and lived to see another day.
Eyes shining gold, he aimed his magic at the crossbow bolt he’d noticed; a blue fire enveloping the tip. He still had no breath for words, but the fear and love and vindictive rage that thrummed through him was old; primal and ancient and not needing a verbal language. The bolt lifted from the satchel and its aim was true. It pierced the creature through its heart, lodging firmly in place. The force of the blow had the vampyre back-peddling, arms as wide as its surprised eyes. The vampyre placed both hands over the end of the projectile protruding from its chest and roared as it tried to remove it. Merlin saw blue flames flitting within its open mouth. Spurts of blue shot out from around the wound, burning its hands. The roar became a shrieking wail, blue flames beginning to pour out its throat; blazing through its skin at random places. The flames were visible through the thin shell of its skin, glowing hotter and brighter as it began to consume the vampyre from the inside. A clawed hand reached for Merlin before the fire enveloped its entire form, creating a whirling firestorm with the vampyre as the kindling. The blaze circled and rose high enough to scorch the ceiling before the vampyre had been completely devoured by the flames. The fire went out as suddenly as it had started, leaving the cave in darkness but for a few scattered and dying torches.
Merlin blinked – trying to rid his vision of spots – when he was hauled to his feet. He felt rough hands skate over him as he was assessed for injuries, Arthur’s face coming into focus as the spots began to fade. A trickle of blood seeped from Arthur’s hairline and Merlin lifted a hand to rub it away. Arthur caught it at the wrist and held it, staring at him. “What did you do?”
Merlin hadn’t realised the small nudge of tiny magic he’d used would result in such an obvious show. “Um... I, uh, I threw a bolt at it?”
Arthur’s face was a stone mask. “You threw a bolt at it?”
Merlin nodded. “Yes. A silver-tipped one. That had been blessed by the priest.”
“A silver-tipped bolt that had been blessed by a priest? The thing burst into obviously magical flames because you threw a bolt at it?”
Merlin’s nodding slowed. “Well... I did get it in the heart.”
Arthur’s eyes narrowed. “Yes, I saw the placement. We both know you’re rubbish at archery and any other projectile weaponry. Care to explain?” A blond eyebrow lifted in challenge.
“It was complete luck.” Merlin took a deep breath and looked Arthur in the eye. “And I thought it was going to kill you. I might have thrown it harder and with better aim because of that.”
“You managed to hit it in the heart while you were half dazed because you were worried about me?” The tone was vaguely incredulous.
“I’ll have you know that there have been cases of mothers lifting full wagons off their children out of fear and love.” Merlin folded his arms and told himself that he was not beginning to sulk.
Arthur’s gaze softened. “Fear and love, hmm? Are you saying you had such miraculously brilliant aim because you love me?” A smile was twitching on the corner of his mouth.
Merlin sighed and threw up his hands. “Now you’re being a prat. A great, big, sodding prat.” Merlin turned and went to stalk off to anywhere but here; the arm yanking him around stopped that before he’d gone more than a step.
A mouth curved in a smile brushed his ear as Arthur whispered, “Admit it, Merlin. You love me.”
Merlin barely turned to whisper just as cheekily, “I might when you admit you’re jealous.” He felt a nip on his lobe before Arthur drew back with a grin on his face.
A groan from behind them brought them back to the here and now. There were things to do still. They had to see to their dead and wounded as well as burn the bodies of the thralls and collect the ashes for later dispersal. As they rounded up the bodies of the thralls to drag outside and burn, they discovered the half-buried body of the young boy taken the previous evening. He was obviously dead and there was nothing to be done to save him; until Arthur spoke up. “Take him outside and build a separate pyre for him.”
Tristan balked. “My lord, he’s a child. Shouldn’t we take his body home to his mother for a proper burial?”
“Unless you want his mother to have to deal with her son coming back as one of them,” Arthur pointed at the bodies of the women, “then I suggest cremating the boy. We can at least ensure his soul goes on and his body never rises. Collect the ashes to give to the mother, though. We can do that much.” Arthur’s eyes dropped from the pale and still-round features of the boy. Merlin felt the burden of this event weighing heavily on Arthur’s shoulders.
Merlin walked over and stood behind Arthur, close – but not touching. “You did the best you could, Arthur. You did better than anyone could have. The boy will go to rest...” Merlin took a breath. “I’m sorry.”
Arthur turned eyes that glistened with unshed tears. “It could have been you. That’s all that keeps running through my head. I’m sorry for the boy, I truly am, but a part of me is glad it wasn’t you; that I’m not standing here staring down at your body and ordering it to be burned.” A tear slid unnoticed down Arthur’s cheek.
Merlin made a low noise of comfort and wiped it away. “Fight against it all you want, but there are going to be people you care for more than others. If given the choice of saving that boy’s life and yours, I’ll choose yours every time. It doesn’t make you heartless, Arthur; it makes you human.”
“That’s not enough!” Arthur shouted, tears falling faster. The knights had felt the despondent mood the prince was sinking into and had left to do their duties, and to give him and his manservant the privacy to deal with it. “It’s not enough, Merlin.” Arthur sank to his knees. “I’m supposed to protect them. What kind of king will I be if I can’t even protect a child?” Arthur clutched Merlin’s tunic as he knelt, pulling him down to kneel with him. “What kind of king will I be if I can’t stand to lose you?” Arthur bent his head against Merlin’s chest, hand banding around him to hold him close as he wept.
Merlin made soothing noises and rubbed gentle circles on his back. “The best kind of king, Arthur. You’ll be one who cares. You won’t be locked behind a mask of indifference. You’ll hear the voices of your people and you’ll listen. Their pain will be yours, their triumphs yours as well. And they will love you for it.” Merlin laid a gentle kiss on the top of Arthur’s head. “As I do.”
Arthur lifted his head and met Merlin’s eyes. “Why?” His voice broke on the word.
“Because I can’t think of anyone in this entire world that has done more to earn my love than you. Because you think you hide your emotions so well, but anyone that bothers to pay attention knows exactly how you truly feel. Because you stand side-by-side with your men, not hiding behind them, like a coward. Because you’ll stand up to a vampyre with no weapon and tell it off. Because you make me feel things I can’t even begin to explain.” Merlin sighed and stroked his thumb over Arthur’s cheek. “Because even on your worst days, you’re still disgustingly honourable and gorgeous. Just because, Arthur. Because I love you and that’s all there is to it.” Merlin kissed Arthur; soft and full of everything he felt.
Arthur sobbed and reached up to cradle the back of Merlin’s head, fingers sliding through hair to dig at the scalp. He fused his mouth over Merlin’s, tongue delving in to take everything Merlin was offering. He broke from kissing his lips to dropping kisses all over his face, murmuring ‘thank you’ in between each one. Drawing back, he let Merlin wipe the traces of his tears away, laying a kiss on the palm of Merlin’s hand. “Merlin, I...” Arthur squeezed the hand in his.
Merlin silenced him with another press of his lips. “I know, Arthur.” He got up from his knees and helped Arthur to his feet, both men reluctant to return to the harsh reality of what lay ahead of them.
Arthur sighed heavily and stole another quick kiss before turning and bending to pick up the body of the boy. They made their way through the crevice, leaving behind the smell of death and blood. They exited the rock face, guided to the knights by the towering flames of the pyres cast into the night sky. There was a smaller unlit pyre that Arthur went and placed the boy on. Merlin stood back silently, nodding at Leon who came over and gave him a thankful clap on the back. Arthur took a torch and lit the fire himself, not willing to shirk from a distasteful duty. He said a small prayer for the boy and the souls of the women when he stepped back.
Merlin looked around at all the assembled. The dead had been wrapped and laid over the backs of their horses; the wounded had been field-dressed and stood beside their brothers-in-arms, solemn looks set on all the faces present. Yes, they had lost men – good men – but they had done so ridding their kingdom and its people of evil. No knight could think of a more honourable death. Each knight held a hand over his heart, head bowed in prayer as the fires blazed. Merlin felt out of place until Gawain came to his other side, a look of gratitude in his eyes as he squeezed his shoulder and turned back to the fire; head bowed and hand over heart. He noticed the nods being given to him from each of the men and felt something swell in his chest. They accepted him. He’d proven his love and loyalty for Arthur that night and it wouldn’t be forgotten. Merlin raised his hand to his heart and bowed his head, adding his own prayers for the souls of the departed. They stayed that way until the sky began to lighten and the fires had burned out. The ashes were collected, Arthur choosing to carry the remains of the boy. They mounted and headed back to Camelot; warring emotions of levity and grief in their hearts.
The next day passed in a blur. Arthur was exhausted from the day of searching and night of fighting; the report he gave to his father being somewhat hazy on details as he swayed on his feet. They’d found when they’d returned that one of the thralls had made it to town, but had been swiftly dispatched by the armed guards. No one else had died that night. This was all that Arthur could hold in his thoughts as he went through the motions of his duties disconnectedly. He’d finally been dismissed by his smiling and happy father; who had practically crowed at the news that the vampyre was dead. He wanted nothing more than to fall into his bed and sleep for a week, but duty forced him to be led to the house of the grieving mother. Arthur handed over the container with the ashes of her son and set the stone mask in place on his face as she accepted it with heaving sobs. Guilt gnawed painfully in his chest as he gave his condolences before he turned and marched back to the castle. Faces passed him blearily and still Arthur insisted on finishing his obligations. He went to the barracks, checking in on the wounded men himself. He was assured that all was well and that there would be no lasting damage. Leon tried to accompany him on his round, but Arthur insisted he rest so as not to injure himself further. “It won’t do if my finest knight is taken down by a pierced lung that could have been avoided, Leon.”
Leon had gone, grumbling, and Arthur had continued his day in his sleep-deprived fugue. He’d run into Morgana and had made to step past her, but she’d quickly moved back in his path and aimed a lethal finger at him. “Arthur Pendragon! You are practically dead on your feet. What do you think you’re doing, stumbling around the castle like a drunken fool?”
Arthur blinked a few times to allow his brain to process what may have been a question. “I have obligations, Morgana. Things need to be seen to, rounds need to be-“
“Yes, yes, I know all of that.” Morgana waved her hand dismissively. “This can all be seen by other people, Arthur. You’re only human, for God’s sake.” Arthur mused at the similarities in her speech and Merlin’s. Her face softened as she turned him in the direction of his room. “You’re no good to Camelot if you can’t take care of yourself.” She pushed him, then lifted her finger again. “And if I see you anywhere in this castle besides your room before tomorrow morning...” The threat hung in the air.
Defeated and too sluggish to think up a good argument, he sighed and went to his room. He was surprised to see a steaming bath and a plate of cold meats and cheese when he entered. He was more surprised to see a girl with long dark hair and a blue dress fussing with his bed. “Excuse me...?”
The girl gasped and whirled quickly, a blush staining his cheeks. His? Arthur gaped at the sight of Merlin, wearing the blue dress that had started this whole mess in the first place. His eyes almost popped out of his head when Merlin dropped him a low curtsy. “Sire,” he said with lowered eyes, “your bath is ready.” Merlin looked up at him from under dark lashes.
The meagre amount of blood Arthur had managed to steal from his tired body to fuel his brain was quickly stolen and sent to his cock. “What...? You...? Dress...? Merlin?”
“Who is this ‘Merlin’ you speak of, sire? I am Marie, your chamber maid.” Merlin’s voice was pitched an octave higher and he actually sashayed as he walked over to Arthur. “Would you like some help undressing, sire? I know you’ve had a dreadful day.” Merlin made a pouty moue with his mouth.
Arthur continued to gape. “Are you trying to kill me?”
‘Marie’ giggled and covered his mouth with his hand. Arthur groaned. “I would never dream of such a thing, my lord.”
Arthur reached out and tugged the wig off; Merlin gave an ‘Oi’ in protest. “You may find this hard to believe, Merlin, but I find I prefer you the way you usually are.” He reached out and ruffled Merlin’s hair, lingering a caress to his ear. “How come you look so much more... rested than I am?” Arthur moved in to breathe in the scent of lemon that always came from Merlin after he’d had a bath.
Merlin combed his hair with his fingers. “Because unlike some royal gits, I happen to be smart enough to get some rest before I walk into walls.”
Arthur blinked and tried to focus on Merlin’s words instead of his mouth. “I never walked into a wall.”
Merlin rolled his eyes. “Only out of sheer stubbornness, I’m sure. Now let’s get you undressed and into a bath. You smell and you’re not getting into those clean sheets with this dirty body.” Merlin began to undo ties and buckles.
Arthur closed his eyes and barely noticed the fingers that played over him as they carefully removed his clothing. He let himself be directed over to the still-steaming water and sank gratefully into it. He leaned his head back against the side of the tub as Merlin rolled the sleeves of the dress up and set to washing him, the corner of his tongue sticking out of his mouth as he concentrated on his task. Arthur lifted a hand and let a drop of water fall on the blue fabric. “What’s with the dress?”
Merlin blushed and avoided Arthur’s eyes. “I just thought it’d be fun... or something,” he mumbled.
“The blue does suit you, Merlin.” Arthur let his hand trace over Merlin’s cheek. “It does amazing things to your eyes.”
The blush spread to the tips of his ears and sent an answering rush of blood to Arthur’s stiffened erection. “Shut up and move forward so I can do your back and hair.”
Arthur smiled and did as he was told, resting his head on Merlin’s chest; satisfied to listen to the rhythmic pounding of the heart behind it. Merlin thoroughly, but gently, cleaned Arthur’s body; the buckets of rinse water making him feel as though he was rinsing away the pain and grief of the night. Arthur felt more energised from the cleansing; evident from the quick steps out of the tub as he backed Merlin against one of the bedposts. Merlin’s eyes widened as Arthur pressed his still-wet self against him, soaking through the light material. “I think I’m beginning to see the ‘fun’ side of this...” Arthur nipped at Merlin’s neck.
Merlin tried not to groan or shiver from it and failed at both. “I thought you were tired. I was just going to tuck you in and – oooh –“
Arthur thought he would quite enjoy keeping a list of all the different exclamations he could pull from Merlin. “Mmm, I think I like the idea of you tucking me in.” A smirk followed that remark. “As for me being tired...” Arthur thrust himself against Merlin, whispering a moan into Merlin’s neck at the feel of the smooth fabric sliding over his cock.
Merlin thrust back, his hand reaching down to grab Arthur’s arse. “Alright. Fine. A quickie. But then you have to go to sleep,” Merlin admonished.
Arthur nodded as he bent down and grabbed onto the voluminous material, lifting it and bunching it until he could get a hand under to grip Merlin. “I can live with that.” He slid a thumb over an already leaking slit, making Merlin shudder against him.
Merlin bit his teeth into Arthur’s neck, nipping as he rolled against the hand holding him. “Bed...” he breathed out.
Arthur nodded again, moving to pull Merlin with him on the bed. Merlin grinned and shook his head. Arthur sat on the edge, lust clouding his thoughts. “What?”
“Get on the bed...” Merlin waited until Arthur had done so before jumping on the bed and straddling Arthur’s torso, lifting his skirts and settling them over Arthur’s chest and legs as he lowered himself.
Arthur laughed and pulled Merlin down to steal a kiss. “Bloody incorrigible.” Merlin smiled as he kissed him back.
And so it came to be that Prince Arthur and his loyal and loved manservant, Merlin, rid the land of Camelot of a darkness that had threatened to spread over it. Well, at least they rid it of this particular darkness that had threatened to spread over it. In a magical land such as this, there are many different types of darkness. But this darkness – well, it’s dead. And so, they went on to protect the land and its people, together. They fought werewolves and banshees and zombies, oh my, as well as many other dark and deadly creatures before Camelot was finally in the Age of Peace. But that’s another story for another time.