Archive of Our Own ^beta

At first, Arthur hadn’t noticed it. He had spent all his time in Ealdor playing with Merlin or helping Hunith work around the house and their small garden. He had briefly talked to other villagers, but truth be told, he hadn’t paid too much attention to those interactions. And so, when Hunith sent Merlin to bring eggs, turnips, and a few vials of her famous pain-relieving balm to one of the villagers in exchange for wool and milk, Arthur didn’t think much of it. He saw the look of concern on Hunith’s face, he heard her warning to be careful. He even listened intently to Hunith asking him to take care of her son and to fetch her or Leon if anything happened. But he didn’t really understand.

Ealdor was nothing like Camelot. The village was tiny, made of houses with thatched roofs and almost no windows. At the centre of the village, there was a small square where people met around the well. It was still early in the morning; most adults were out in the fields and their children either came to help them or took care of other tasks around the village. As always, Arthur was excited to explore this new place, especially with Merlin. Thus far, their playground had mostly been the forest that sprawled west of Ealdor. Arthur had walked through the village a handful of times with Leon, but never with his new best friend. Strangely, Merlin seemed to avoid it.

“Here comes the bastard!” A loud, snarky voice called.

Merlin tensed, gripping the basket Hunith had given him so tight that his knuckles whitened. He kept walking at a brisk pace, as if he could evade confrontation if he just hastened through the village. Arthur sent him a confused look but followed Merlin without a word.

“Hey Blondie!” the same voice called again, “Shouldn’t hang out with the bastard too much or he’ll steal your soul.”

Now, Merlin’s lips formed a tight line on his face. “Just keep walking, ignore him,” Merlin advised him in a low murmur.

Arthur saw Merlin’s chin quiver before he bit on his bottom lip. So, this was why he didn’t go to the village. Arthur wasn’t sure what a bastard was, but he knew it was an insult. His father had never used that word in front of him, but Arthur had eavesdropped many times on Uther’s private meetings with Lords and he remembered the word being uttered a few times. His father always sounded disdainful and disgusted, spitting the word like it left a foul taste in his mouth. To hear someone call Merlin a bastard made anger rise in Arthur’s chest. Arthur turned to see the boy the voice belonged to. He was taller than both Arthur and Merlin and looked much stronger too.

“That’s bullshit,” Arthur replied, fixing the boy with an unimpressed stare. “Mind your own business.”

With his head high and his back straight, Arthur grabbed Merlin’s hand and pulled him in the direction they were supposed to go. Merlin held his hand as if his life depended on it. The tight grip hurt a bit, but Arthur was glad he could provide some comfort for his friend. He smiled reassuringly at Merlin, earning a watery half-grin in return. The moment was short-lived though. Two more boys and three girls emerged from the street right in front of Arthur and Merlin. At first, they looked surprised, and Arthur thought they would be fine. But a vicious glint soon appeared in their eyes and wicked grins spread on their faces. Merlin whimpered in the back of his throat, holding Arthur’s hand even tighter as his shoulders slumped and he held his basket protectively to his chest.

“Look who’s strutting about. Looking for another beating?” The tallest girl said, taking a step forward.

Arthur took a step forward, placing himself protectively between Merlin and the hostile newcomers. He was vastly outnumbered, but he had started his training last year to one day become a knight, and knights weren’t deterred by such things. He would fight with valour to protect Merlin and defend his honour. It was Arthur’s first real fight, and he was determined to win it.

“Just let us pass through, a fight isn’t necessary!” Arthur called. He knew the knight’s code required it. Only if the enemies didn’t take that opportunity to leave, should a knight start fighting.

Arthur’s warning was met with derisive scoffs and mocking huffs. He gritted his teeth, balling his free hand in a tight fist as the fingers of his other hand tightened around Merlin’s smaller hand. He was the prince of Camelot, no one had ever dared treat him with so little respect. Although Arthur supposed that in Ealdor, he was just Arthur, not a prince. He couldn’t be a prince here, for his own safety.

A younger boy with a round face and pale blond curls stepped forward. “Perhaps you don’t know this because you’ve been here for a short time only, but you really shouldn’t protect the bastard. Bastards bring bad luck.”

Arthur was about to retort when another girl said, “Yeah, he made our crops whither last spring when he walked along our fields.”

“And he poisoned the well when he came to draw water from it earlier this year!” Sounds of assent echoed in the small group that surrounded them now.

“This is ridiculous!” Arthur yelled. “Merlin is nice; he’s my friend. I won’t let you disparage him in such a way!”

The circle of people surrounding Arthur and Merlin tightened around them, menacing faces and threatening fists directed at them from all direction. Arthur wouldn’t admit it, but he was terrified. Right behind him, Merlin was trembling, sniffling with his eyes clenched shut. He was the smallest of all the children gathered there; he had no chance of winning a fight against any of them. The entitled prince in Arthur wanted to chastise his friend for being so prone to give up and cry, but he pushed that voice aside. It sounded suspiciously like his father’s and Arthur knew better than to listen to it. Instead, he vowed to listen to the knightly voice that told him to protect the weaker boy with all he had.

The first punch hit Arthur square in the jaw. Without waiting, Arthur responded with a knee to the girl’s stomach. From there, Arthur was lost in a whirl of punches and kicks. He was barely aware of his own movements. He knew he gave back as good as he got, knocking out one boy with a well-place punch to the temple. Beside him, Merlin was curl protectively around the basket containing his mother’s wares. Arthur saw two kids deliver vicious kicks to Merlin’s flanks, but the boy didn’t budge, he just took the hits and remained in position. With a roar, Arthur lunged at the two boys kicking Merlin, hitting one in the jaw and pushing the other away with enough strength to make him fall backwards.

“If you want to protect the bastard, you’re making yourself our enemy, do you understand?” the tallest boy said.

He was looming over Arthur, looking down at the blond prince. They were a few feet apart, and Arthur fell into the fighting stance he had learned from his father’s knights as he watched the taller kid approach. However, he was so focused on the approaching threat that he didn’t see the other one coming from behind him. By the time he heard the girl’s footsteps she was already raising a stick she had picked up, ready to strike Arthur. Arthur barely had time to raise a hand to protect his head from the hit.

The taller boy took this opportunity to punch Arthur’s now unguarded side. The pain stole Arthur’s breath, forcing him to bend in half. That’s when the girl managed to strike him on the back of his skull with her stick. Arthur’s vision blurred as he saw the ground getting closer. A weak groan escaped his lips as he fell.

The last thing Arthur heard before he fell unconscious were Merlin’s desperate cries and the children’s chants of “drown the bastard!”

“Stop, please!” Merlin cried as he was dragged away from Arthur.

He felt panic seize him at the sight of Arthur falling unconscious. Two of the bigger boys had a bruising grip on his arms. His magic thrashed right under his skin, but Merlin kept a tight leash on it. It would only bring more trouble for everyone if he lost control now. He didn’t fight his tears though. He knew it only fed the other kids’ thirst for violence, but Merlin couldn’t help it. He was scared. Terrified.

The other kids cheered around him. Merlin only heard them distantly. Even the pain from their hits felt dulled. Merlin felt as if he was somewhere far away from his body. He needed to focus, or he would lose control of his magic. That thought was the only thing that kept him tethered.

Before he knew it, the small crowd had reached the centre of the village. When the boys pulled him towards the well, Merlin finally started resisting. He planted his feet to the ground, but the older kids were too strong. Merlin only stumbled. The boys never let go of his arms and Merlin felt a sharp pain in his shoulders as he was pulled back up to his feet. The girl from before struck him on the back with her stick. Merlin whined, biting his lower lip.

Merlin kept stumbling as he was dragged closer and closer to the well. Surely, they wouldn’t throw him down the well. Merlin held tight to that thought, to that hope. That would be too far, even if those kids all hated him, right? Beating him up was one thing, but they wouldn’t go as far as trying to kill him. Merlin could hardly breathe. He sniffled and sobbed, choking on his tears and snot.

Cruel laughter rang around Merlin as he was hefted up, just high enough for the boys to push him forward over the wall. And down Merlin fell. He screamed, shrill and loud. Merlin hit his head against the damp stones, right before he landed in the frigid water.

In his panic, Merlin inhaled water. He didn’t know which way was up or down. It was so dark down here. He moved his arms and legs frantically. Finally, his head breached the water. Merlin coughed and took ragged breaths. He tried to keep his head out of the water, but Merlin didn’t really know how to swim. Ealdor wasn’t near the sea or any lake. The streams in the forest were either too shallow or the currents were too strong to swim in.

“Help me! Please!” Merlin yelled.

Mocking laughter and taunts were his only answers.

Soon, Merlin’s head was submerged again. His lungs burned. His head was spinning. Merlin wanted to throw up, but he clenched his jaw tight. With clumsy movements, he managed to get his head out of the water again for a few quick gasps of air. When his hand hit the wall of the well, Merlin tried to find a grip on the jagged stones. His fingers found a small gap, just wide enough for his tiny hand. He clung to it, searching for another one with his other hand. The stones were slippery, covered in wet moss in some places. In others, they were sharp as a knife, cutting into the flesh of his fingertips.

The cold water numbed his body. His wet clothes were heavy on his shivering frame. His fingers slipped on the stone, and Merlin fell back under the water. He scrabbled desperately at the wall, swallowing water when he couldn’t fight the reflex to inhale. When he found a hold, he clutched at it, biting on his lip even as the stones dug into his bleeding fingers. He couldn’t let go.

Merlin greedily gulped in air. There weren’t any sounds above him. It seemed like the kids had gotten bored of the spectacle of the drowning bastard. Merlin was all alone. He started yelling again. Begging for help. But if anyone heard him, they didn’t answer his pleas. Merlin started crying, shouting louder. He was growing weaker as the cold seeped into him, down to his bones. His whole body ached. His throat and lungs burned. Even as exhaustion enveloped him, Merlin’s legs kept moving. Merlin wasn’t sure anymore whether he was clumsily attempting to swim or if his feet were trying to find purchase on the wall.

When his foot caught on a shallow gap, Merlin felt hope ignite in his chest. In his burst of relief, he loosened his finger’s grip on their hold. He scraped his palms on the wall as he fell back into the icy depths. By now, Merlin should have known that hope was a vile thing. He didn’t even have the strength to struggle anymore. No one was coming anyway.

Arthur woke up with a gasp, Merlin’s name immediately on his lips. He looked around frantically but found no trace of his friend. The basket Hunith had entrusted them with lay discarded on the ground. Arthur heard a commotion in the direction of the centre of the village. He debated following the noise. But then, he thought back about how useless he had been before. He was too weak and vastly outnumbered. Arthur needed to find Leon. He knew he needed to be fast, but he preferred avoiding the square at the centre of Ealdor. It meant taking a detour, but ultimately, it would be faster than being held back by the other children.

Arthur ran as fast as he could. He ignored the pain from his injuries. He ignored the way his muscles strained at the effort or how his lungs burned. He ran around the village until he made his way back to Hunith’s house. He burst through the door, falling to his knees as soon as he was inside.

“What happened? Are you hurt?” Hunith asked, running to kneel by Arthur’s side. “Where’s Merlin?”

“The other kids, they attacked us. I tried to protect him, I swear!” Arthur said between panting breaths.

Hunith laid a reassuring hand on Arthur’s back, speaking soothingly. “I know, sweetheart. Do you know where Merlin is now?”

“I think,” he started, but his voice broke against fear and guilt and breathlessness. He cleared his throat and started again. “I think they took him towards the square at the centre of the village.”

Hunith and Leon exchanged a look above Arthur’s head. Leon placed a reassuring hand on Hunith’s shoulder, squeezing lightly.

“Take care of Arthur. I’ll bring your son back,” Leon said, voice tight with worry.

It seemed to take hours for Leon to come back. But Arthur knew it was only minutes. Hunith had barely finished patching him up with gentle, steady hands. He wondered distantly how Hunith could keep her hands from shaking even as concern gnawed at her entrails. She was stronger than most knights Arthur had known in that regard.

When the door opened, they both turned towards it fast enough to make their heads spin. Hunith steadied Arthur with a hand on his upper back. Hunith gasped as she saw her little boy cradled in Leon’s arms. Merlin was shivering, seemingly unconscious. Hunith rushed towards him, brushing his sodden hair off his forehead with a trembling hand.

“He passed out when I found him,” Leon explained.

Carefully, Leon transferred Merlin into his mother’s arms. She immediately clutched at him protectively, holding him to her chest. She had been so strong and collected while tending to Arthur’s superficial injuries, but now she seemed on the brink of shattering. It baffled Arthur a bit, although he understood the panic she felt. He felt the same helplessness gripping at him.

Arthur felt something stirring in him, thrashing under his skin. The very walls of the small house seemed to vibrate with the strength of his emotions. Merlin had been hurt because Arthur wasn’t strong enough to protect him. His little brother in all but blood could have died because Arthur was too weak. A sob ripped its way put of his throat. Arthur distantly heard the sound of metal clanging and ceramic shattering. Arthur felt so lost and useless.

Leon, as always, seemed to know exactly how to handle the situation.

“We need to warm him up. Hunith, can you get him out of his wet clothes and towel him dry, please? Arthur, get her dry clothes and blankets for Merlin,” Leon ordered with the same quiet authority he used to direct the knights under his command. “I’ll get a fire going in the meantime.”

The order soothed something inside Arthur. He could breathe easier, and while he was still shaky, he felt more grounded. Now that she had something to do, Hunith seemed to have calmed down as well. She had that look of quiet determination on her face that made her look as fierce as any warrior Arthur had met. It made him feel steadier, too. Arthur rummaged through the chest containing his and Merlin’s clothes and picked the warmest garments he could find. He brought them to Hunith just as the woman had finished drying Merlin’s still shivering body.

“Thank you, Arthur,” she said with a gentle smile as she took the clothes from his hands.

He came back with three blankets and helped Hunith wrap them around Merlin. She stood up with Merlin in one arm, offering her free hand to Arthur. Arthur gratefully grabbed it. The way Hunith’s callous palm engulfed his smaller hand made him feel safe and tethered.

They joined Leon by the fire. Hunith sat stiffly at first, still shaken. When Leon wrapped an arm around her shoulder, she stared at him for a few seconds before she deflated. He shuffled closer, until they were pressed side by side. Hunith reclined against him, resting her hand on his shoulder.

“Thank you,” Hunith murmured.

Leon only hummed and rested his head on hers.

The scene felt almost too intimate for Arthur. He turned away, facing the fire. He sat right in front of the adults, and it felt simultaneously like he was too far and too close to them. He wanted, needed, the reassuring contact of their bodies against his, but he was afraid of intruding. Arthur wasn’t used to indecisiveness, but in that moment, he didn’t know how to act.

Hunith made that decision for him. Her arm snaked around his torso and brought him close to her. He stiffened for a second, holding his breath. But when Leon’s hand ruffled his hair affectionately, he relaxed in her hold. He snuggled against the adults, with his back against Leon and his head resting on Hunith’s chest, beside Merlin’s head. He leaned in to press a quick kiss on Merlin’s forehead, smiling as Merlin let out a contented sigh.

Now that Merlin was safe, Arthur felt exhaustion pull his eyelids close.