A Different Destiny / Merthur

Reuknighted

Merlin had lost track of what day it was.  It hardly seemed to matter anymore.  The sun rose and set, and in between the days seemed to blur together.  It felt like he was waiting for something.  It felt—

"Merlin."

The warlock snapped back to reality. 

"If you stopped zoning out every five minutes, we could get this over with faster."

"This," Merlin sighed, stepping over a particularly large bramble, "was your idea."

"It was not."

Merlin stopped walking.

"What now?"

"Ooohhhhhh, I'm Arthur, and I just have to explore the forest today.  Come on, Merlin, you have to come too.  Don't worry it's just a short walk.  We won't get lost or covered in brambles or—"

"Hey, you chose the path!  It's not my fault you're awful at making decisions.  Besides, can't you just, you know—" he waved his hands around aimlessly.

"Unless you want me to set the brambles alight, then no, I can't get rid of them with magic."

"Alright, alright."  The Prince turned and looked ahead, they were almost back on the main forest path, a few more steps and they'd be clear of the undergrowth that seemed to reach for them with sharpened claws.  "You know," Arthur grinned, "I could always carry you, if you're so incapable of walking."

"Very funny."

"Who says I'm joking?"

Merlin rolled his eyes.

"Your hand then, at least."

Merlin couldn't resist. He reached forward and clasped Arthur's hand, using it to keep balance as he picked his way through the last of the overgrown pathway. He was glad when he finally set foot on a soft pile of leaves.

"Better now?"

"Bett—"

Arthur had stilled.

"What is it?" Merlin whispered.

The Prince held up a hand and continued to listen. The silence seemed to stretch out before them. It went on for so long that he began to think he was imagining things. Not even a second later, a branch snapped: loudly, and close by.

And then several things happened at once.

Arthur's hand flew to the hilt of his sword at the same time as he jumped forward, almost instinctively, to stand in front of Merlin.  The warlock, having none of it, planted himself firmly beside him, giving Arthur only a second to throw him a pleading sort of glance before three people sprang onto the path ahead. 

The reaction was immediate.

Four swords were drawn, shooting a high-pitched hum through the surrounding trees, in the same instant that Merlin's eyes changed from blue to gold— and back again. And then he laughed. The sound was sudden.  It escaped his lips with such an urgency that he didn't even bother to stifle it.  He just let it happen.

Arthur stared at him.  And then, looking between Merlin and the advancing men, he felt himself starting to grin too — how could he not?  He was looking at three Knights of Camelot.

Gwaine reached them first.  Or rather, he reached Merlin first, dropping his sword and yanking him into a hug that almost swept the warlock off his feet.  He only pulled back when Arthur cleared his throat.  Then, though Gwaine at least considered a formal greeting — something proper, from a Knight to a Prince — he quickly tossed the idea.  He hugged Arthur instead.  "It's been a little dull without you."