Chapter Text
“I swear, he’s a walking disaster! I’ve saved his life three times today! And it isn’t just magic anymore, his guards are useless against assassins, and he’s the most accident-prone man I’ve ever met,” Merlin half-shouted as he paced the narrow stone ledge. “I had to magic his bloody saddle straps back together in front of half the knights so he wouldn’t fall off a cliff hunting because the prat decided I was taking too long and had the newest stableboy ready his horse and didn’t bother to check them over himself! It’s a wonder no one noticed!”
“Indeed,” Kilgarrah said absently. “Young Warlock, you said you needed advice.”
“I do!” Merlin snapped.
Kilgarrah huffed a great, smoke-filled sigh. “Then perhaps you should ask your questions instead of complaining.”
“I think I’ve every right to complain,” Merlin said. “Look, are you sure destiny can’t come up with a team of protectors?”
“You are the—”
“Other side of his coin, I know!” Merlin yelled. “But how am I meant to protect him and my secret at the same time? At this rate, I’m going to get caught and roasted before he has a chance to take the crown!”
“You will do so,” Kilgarrah rumbled, “by any means necessary.” Then he quickly took wing.
“One day I’ll find out how to turn you into an actual lizard, and then you’ll wish you hadn’t always flown off after being cryptic,” Merlin yelled after him, before grumbling and kicking a heavy stone and regretting it immediately. He swore and hopped on his uninjured foot for a moment, then he stopped and stared at the stone, and said almost idly, “By any means necessary…” before picking it up and carrying it back to his room.
* * *
Arthur did not typically indulge on feast-days; as pleasant as it might be to get as drunk as everyone else in Camelot seemed to, his father always did his best to give Arthur hell for a week or so after whenever he did. Tonight, though, his father had taken more wine than was his usual habit, so, really, Arthur couldn’t be blamed for doing the same. He wasn’t drunk, not really, but was feeling marvelously light, like he was floating about and spinning slightly in his own mind.
Perhaps that was why he froze when one of the entertainers drew a knife and turned to throw it at him, instead of leaping up and drawing his sword.
It could have been a disaster if Merlin, who had been standing behind him to fill his cup, hadn’t thrown a wineglass with astonishing accuracy at the man’s hand, knocking the knife away, before leaping over the High Table— upsetting several dishes in the process— and striking the man full in the face with the heavy wine jug, sending a spray of wine across several courtiers.
The man crumpled to the floor, and everyone froze, staring at Merlin, who was standing there frowning at the dented jug as though that was the biggest issue at present.
Finally, one of the guards stepped forward and poked at the would-be assassin, then grinned at Merlin and said, “Well done, lad! I think you broke his neck!” before dragging the corpse away.
Merlin shrugged, then turned his attention back to the High Table and said “M’sorry about the mess, milords,” gesturing to the drenched floor.
Uther cleared his throat and grimaced. “Under the circumstances, it can be excused, I should think. Perhaps you should take the rest of the night, and the morning, off, and return to your duties tomorrow afternoon. It appears that my son will be training with the guards tomorrow, since neither he nor they reacted as they should have to this threat. I doubt if you’ll be needed before the noon bell.”
Merlin bowed, politely, but his eyes sparkled when he glanced at Arthur, and Arthur was so frustrated he wanted to scream; he wouldn’t even be able to yell at the idiot for being amused at Arthur’s suffering, because he was right to be, dammit! And since when was Merlin strong enough to kill a man with a single blow, and dent a bronze jug doing it?
* * *
Merlin, alone in his room with the promise of an entire half-day off, and no need to rise with the dawn, grinned as he pulled the heavy stone out from under his bed and hefted it, lifting it up over his head before bringing it back down and doing it all over again.
“By any means necessary,” he whispered to himself as he raised the stone again and again, until his arms were trembling with exhaustion.