Chapter Text
Arthur clutches the sheets and bites back a groan at the feel of Merlin pounding into him from behind, sweat covering both of their bodies as they share in the feeling of being together for such a short time. His eyes closed in bliss, he presses back, meeting the thrusts without shame.
Merlin pulls out of him and he feels hands urging him to turn over, and he can’t resist looking upwards, seeing Merlin’s face above him as he slides inside once again. Closing his eyes, this time he lets the moan go. A snap of those slim hips, and he curses as the thrill runs through him as Merlin hits the just right spot inside of him, and then continues to do so. He feels a hand holding up one leg, settling it over one pale shoulder, and the other hand moving along his chest as he writhes in pleasure so intense that it’s nearly painful, before his world whites out. Coming with intensity he’d never felt before with any partner, he’s barely aware of Merlin following him afterwards.
He wakes to Merlin wrapped around in the quiet of the night; watching the wiry frame of the man as he sleeps. The intense blue eyes closed to him, with long arms around his neck. Their legs tangled underneath the sheets that still smell of them both. He runs a hand through Merlin’s hair, wondering what will happen in the next few days.
They’d had a bare fortnight to enjoy this thing between them. Exploring every chance they had, when they weren’t required for their duties. Even Merlin’s chores as a man servant had to be tended to, and Arthur himself been called more than once to strategy sessions regarding information about the movements of the Caledonii to the north of them. He’d been told yesterday that they were to move out immediately; that scouts had spotted them massing near the old roman wall far to the north of Albion. That had been enough for his father to set marching orders immediately.
The two of them were to leave soon, oh too soon, and that lent the urgency to their lovemaking bare hours ago. They would have a few days march towards Wessex to pick up a regiment of longbow men, before making their way towards the old Wall, and setting up their camp half a league behind it. For now, he watched Merlin sleep, wondering if they had a little more time, before they had to wake to begin their trek northward.
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Three days later, the camp had been setup. Longbow men gathered, and they were fletching their arrows as the morning began. The scouts were on their rounds, as Merlin’s hands were all over him once more. Placing his armor on with great care, and the hands and eyes downright possessive as they brushed over him; adjusting the chain mail and the plate armor.
Arthur kept an eye towards the opening of his Pavilion, and pulled Merlin to him for one last kiss before battle, more gentle than anything else, as they explored each other’s mouths.
“Guard my back, Merlin?” the prince’s voice a little hoarse in the silence around them.
“Always.” The spell caster’s voice softer yet, and his dark blue eyes fierce. Long fingers resting on his shoulders. “Go! I’ll meet you at the fields.” Merlin’s eyes flashing gold for a moment before it fades.
Arthur smiles softly and pulls away, pulling the mien of the commander he’s known to be around him. Nodding to his troops and mounting Tyr, the old ugly warhorse he’d grown fond of since he’d taken to these forays into the field. His nerves tight as he inspects their fortifications; calling up everyone to take their places before they begin their bloody task. Ice blue eyes taking in the line of chariots not far from them on the field of engagement, the opposing warriors all tattooed in blue woad down to the last man.
Taking his place behind the pike men, he nods to his sub commanders as everyone takes their positions. A murmur goes over the field as the cry of a raptor falls over the sound of the horses and the movements of the men around him. The standard bearer by his side looks up in awe as a merlin falcon descents and lands easily on Arthur’s mailed shoulder.
The prince looks out among his men without pause, nodding to them all as the bird cries defiance at their enemy. Arthur nods and the troops let out a cry of their own as he continues to eye the men across them.
The clash of swords against steel answers their guttural yells as their enemy greets them. Swords raised and a name called out. The Prince barely catches it as it drifts across the space between the two small armies. “Nemain Nemain!” He holds his hand up, readying his own troops for the right moment. Tyr restless beneath him, grey withers bunched and ready for the charge.
He lets his arm fall, and the pike men stand fast.
“Ready!” and the sub commanders echo his shout down the line.
“Archers, fire at will!” His voice rings out and a hail of arrows meets their enemy. The little falcon waiting patiently on his left shoulder. A few of the men whispering behind their shields on their own mounts and then turning their eyes to see the woad covered men duck behind their buckler shields to no avail. The arrows bringing about a quick death.
The prince’s hand goes up once more, and he signals one last battery of arrows. The death cries sound as he gives Tyr just a bit more slack on the reigns while the silent storm falls on the Caledonii.
“NOW!” Arthur bellows, and kicks the grey warhorse into action, and the pike men charge beside him. He feels Merlin alight off his shoulder in the split second they begin to move, taking to the air and screaming his defiance once more in tandem with him.
The world narrows to the sounds of steel clashing around him, and the bunching of Tyr’s muscles below him. Hacking and slashing, charging one of the oblong chariots of their foes and beheading the man before he has a chance to ready his weapon. He turns Tyr quickly and lays into the surrounding warriors, wary of the smaller battles around him.
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Merlin’s eyes scan the battle below him, keeping himself out of the fray aside from when he’s most needed. A movement catches his eye far to the side of the field, something far from even Arthur’s line of sight but not to the eyes of his falcon form. A crossbowman lets the bolt fly and Merlin dives without thought. His eyes flashing gold, he slows the pace of the bolt and takes to the air with it clutched in his talons. Dropping the bolt on the crossbowman’s head and stooping towards him before he can take another shot, shrieking madly in anger, his power lifts the helm off the assassin’s head and he’s able to target the face. Raking his claws across the eyes and taking to the air for a short stoop, the crossbowman falls after his strike. If the short blade the man carries happens to be the thing the he falls onto, no one notices as the battle rages on below the falcon.
Back above the fray once more, he surveys the grounds, this time taking a wider survey of the battlefield. Watching as a small palanquin approaches the field and the curtains open.
Nimueh!
The chants begin to rise again among the Caledonii, “Nemain, Nemain, Nemain!” Their battle frenzy intensifies as Merlin watches her raise her hands and hounds appear from the earth below her. Even in the day he can see the ethereal glow to the rangy creatures, all long hair and stealth.
He swoops down towards Arthur just barely reaching the one hound that had targeted his prince. The yelp of the dog is audible as he draws its blood with his talons, harrying it as he rises and strikes again. Finally gaining enough air to make the creature’s death inevitable with a last stoop from above, leaving its bloody corpse beneath him.
Merlin shrieks defiance at Nimueh, seeing her focus on the two of them, her eyes glowing darkly as she raises a single hand above her. Arthur finally notices her, and the snarl rips through his throat as he impales another of the Caledonii. Yet another falls to the hooves of Tyr, trampled by their old dance of blood and gore.
The earth itself begins to rise, forming odd creatures that are mud, thick arms and two feet. Three of them moving directly towards Arthur, and the small guard that has formed around him; while Merlin had fended off the more distant threats.
Merlin dives towards the one moving the fastest, the lumbering creature trampling the ones supposed to be its allies and the Camelot regiments alike in their pursuit of their target.
Merlin wracks his mind, finally settling on a counter spell that he focuses exclusively on the creature before him. Unable to call fire in this form, he takes it apart from the inside, exploding it into a million tiny pieces unable to form up again and dispelling the magic all at once.
He moves towards the second creature, dispatching it just as easily, to see the last nearly reaching Arthur. He races towards it, but is stopped suddenly by a strange creature that blocks his way.
A horse’s tail of gold on a scaled body of silver, with a single horn rising above its brow, cloven hooves flying as the creature’s call silence the battlefield around them. Four feet below it as it settles, the creature breathes in as the mud monster turns towards the unicorn with scales like a dragon. Fire pours from its mouth in a mighty breath, and the mud monster ceases to exist instantly. Nothing left of the malicious creature at all as the air clears.
Merlin circles above it, suspicious and curious all at once of this creature that is a unicorn and yet is also a dragon, which meets his eyes and nods.
Young sage, return to your domicile I await you there. The words simply appearing in his head without warning as the creature literally vanished from the battlefield as quickly as it appeared. Merlin falters in mid air for a second and regains his balance, soaring above the fields as the soldiers of both sides watch in stunned silence. Curses in several languages float down towards them from the direction of Nimueh’s palanquin as they all begin to stir out of the shock.
“FALL BACK!” Arthur bellows again, and they all begin to disengage and collect their wounded and dead. The sub commanders relaying the orders down the line, and the confusion sets in with the few close enough to have witnessed the incredible sight.
Merlin circles the area a few times, wings his way back to the Pavilion, and shifting back in an instant. Nervously he awaits Arthur’s return and the appearance of the strange animal that reminded him strongly of the Dragon imprisoned below Camelot. Moving around and readying it for his prince’s return, his hands moving of their own accord as he tries to remember what creature it was from Gaius’ old books.
“What was that creature?” Arthur asks as he enters, dried blood on his face marring his skin and making his blue eyes stand out even more to Merlin’s sight.
“I haven't the faintest idea! I don’t think it’s in Gaius’s Bestiary, and I would not want to be the one who angered it. More importantly, we know where Nimueh has been.” Standing straight, he moves towards his prince quickly, and begins to take off the plate armor piece by piece, starting to remove the crimson and gold surcoat as he feels the presence of powerful magic without warning, the hairs on the back of his neck rising as he turns.
“Wait, Arthur.” His arm blocking the prince’s charge towards the creature as it appears inside the pavilion. “It means us no harm.” He feels the prince fall back, but not more than arm’s reach away. He moves back as well, standing beside Arthur as they observe the creature standing before them.
Well met, young sage and young king.
The voice, a warm tenor with tones older than time itself, sounding in both their heads.
“What are you, why are you here?” Merlin speaks before his brain catches up with his thoughts. His fingers brushing Arthur’s hand for just a moment; he feels the prince tense just slightly. Coiled and ready to spring, regardless. His own instincts are still rattled by the creature even as he knows it is will not likely harm either of them.
I come to greet you Young Sage, and welcome you to this era. Your young king has own herald does he not?
Merlin nods, glancing at Arthur as he nods as well. Both of them meeting eyes before turning back to the source of the old and yet young voice. The playful tones belying the wisdom in the eyes that are so much like the Dragon’s.
Before they can say anything else, the creature bows low. The forelegs bending at the knee and the single deer’s antler brushing the ground.
I am QuiLin. I greet the great sages to be of the era to come. You, Merlin are that Sage. Your power called me from lands far to the east of this island and so I am here before you.
The QuiLin rises to its feet, cloven hooves leaving no disturbance on the grass below them.
Take care of him Young King, your paths are closely intertwined and the world watches you both.
It vanishes with barely a whisper of sound, with only a silver scale left on the ground before them. Merlin picks it up with a look of wonder and turns it over in his fingers. Still too stunned to speak as he meets Arthur’s eyes.