《Flyleaf》Trollhunters/Merlin

《 Chapter Three 》

"Patience is a skill learnt through the presence of idiots."

The raven-haired boy strides through the streets, making an effort to not catch the eyes of any knights that pass him. He certainly appears to shrunk down to size a bit, taking on the look of a child who's been scolded by a parent.

Esmerion's lips quirk a bit as the lad strolls past the group, keeping his head down as he spots the prince. It's almost cute how hard he tries to avoid the inevitable trouble. Nevertheless, the youth keeps a careful eye on him.

Arthur chuckles, turning to face him with arrogance, "How's your knee-walking coming along?"

The youth sighs silently beside the prince, crossing his arms as he rocks on his feet. He remains in the background, silent as ever with an expression of neutral standing. 

When Merlin says nothing, Arthur glances to his buddies with mocking smirk, "Oh, don't run away!"

"From you?"

He sighs in false relief, "Oh, thank God. I thought you were deaf as well as dumb."

"Look, I've told you you're an ass," the boy shakes his head as he turns to him with a quip of sass in his tone, "I just didn't realise you were a royal one."

Esmerion makes a noncommittal noise, side-eyeing Arthur to see his bemused expression. The prince in question knocks his elbow to silence him--this just earns an amused huff.

"Oh, what you gonna do?" Merlin taunts, cheekily sizing up the men around his foe, "Get your daddy's men to protect you?"

Arthur laughs in disbelief of his behaviour, "I could take you apart with one blow."

The raven-like lad eyes him carefully, confidence and cockiness in his eyes, "I could take you apart with less than that."

"You sure?" He raises a brow with amusement and bewilderment, hands on his hips as he judges the significance of this lower-class boy.

Esmerion smirks, shaking his head as the silence stretches. While he has no doubt that he could easily take on Arthur, there is still the matter of outlawed magic and the promise of an un-trialed execution. But this is the reckless warlock that he's watched grow up, and it comes as no surprise when he starts taking off his jacket.

The blokes in the group start laughing, making a big fuss as they reach for the weapons meant for practice work. As they get a little too excited, the youth shoots a dangerous glare at them, urging them to sheath the swords on their belts. Instead, he hands Arthur a simpler weapon; a flail. Significantly easier to use without training and therefore, more fair. However, he does acknowledge the possibility of painful injury.

"Here you go, big man," the prince tosses Merlin the one in his hand, giving him no warning and results in him dropping the weapon.

Esmerion smacks his shoulder, giving the young prince a scornful gaze as unbuckles his weapons belt. It unfortunately has no effect on him and just makes him laugh, cockier than usual with an audience. Not much cockier, but still more than how he typically acts.

"Come on, then," Arthur spins his flail in his hand as he watches Merlin fumble to collect himself, "I warn you, I've been training to kill since birth."

"Wow," he comments snarkily, "And how long have you been training to be a prat?"

 The prince blinks at him, unable to quite comprehend the fact the he's being sassed by someone below him, "You can't address me like that."

"I'm sorry," Merlin replies without a flicker of truth in his eyes, "How long have you been training to be a prat, my lord?" He bows in mocking compliance, a cheeky grin on his lips.

With disbelief, Arthur glances over to the youth, only mildly disappointed to find that he receives the usual blank look. He had been hoping to get some kind of reaction out of the stoic lad. Oh well.

There's no warning at all for the raven-haired boy, and Arthur violently swings his flail at him. He stumbles backward with a shout and takes off into the market.

Esmerion follows the toil from a safe distance, pleased as he catches the occasional glimmer of gold in the warlock's eyes. He wants his self-appointed charge safe, but using his gifts for casual mischief can be classed as acceptable. At least, in his eyes.

Then, as Arthur trips over a stray coil of rope, the tides of battle change and Merlin suddenly has the advantage. The flail becomes a serious concern as the boy corners him, having nothing on hand to defend himself with.

"Do you want to give up?" Merlin calls, giving the prince one last chance to back out before his pride is wounded, "Do you?"

Arthur stumbles over a bucket and falls against the stone wall, flattening himself in attempt to put more distance between himself and the weapon. But with a glance up at his opponent, he finds him distracted by someone in the gathered crowd. Although mildly curious to whom it might be, he takes the opportunity as presented and grabs the nearest item.

Esmerion steps forward just as the prince beats Merlin with a broom, disapproving of his unnecessary use of violence. Just one hit is enough to teach a lesson if used as he had done, any more is just a display of cruel dominance.

"That's enough," he commands, voice silencing the jeers of the crowd. 

The prince reluctantly drops the broom, glaring at his partner as the accompanying knights lift Merlin from the ground. He raises a hand to them, ordering that they stop as he addresses the boy, "He may be an idiot, but he's a brave one."

Using the moment as he can, Esmerion helps support him, slinging his arm around his own shoulders. Merlin tries resisting but finds that the youth is very adamant in assisting.

"There's something about you, Merlin," Arthur says, eyeing the warlock carefully. "I can't quite put my finger on it."

The youth frowns at the prince, watching him as he struts off with his group again. With him goes the crowd and the Court Physician comes over in a huff.

"It's quite all right, Gaius," Esmerion says, helping Merlin walk back to the castle, "Arthur 'ad no business in doin' what 'e did."

The boy looks at him in confused bewilderment, opening his mouth to ask something, only for it to die in his throat. He smirks to himself while he receives an expression of realisation from Merlin and one of unmasked confusion from Gaius.

"A gold coin," he eventually says as they arrive at the physician's chambers. 

Esmerion winks at him, carefully releasing him so he leans against the wall, "Ye did yerself well, warlock. Now just keep yerself alive."

Gaius tries to intervene in the youth's path, but blinks as he raises a blazing finger to his lips. And then he's gone as quick as the wind, not a trace of the flames that once decorated him.