Chapter Text
Arthur was fuming, dusting himself off and regaining as much dignity as a King who’d just been thrown on his ass could. This was the third time this week, this week, that this has happened! And the worst part was that Arthur had no clue who this Emrys fellow was… which was probably a good thing for Emrys - but a very bad thing for the knights Arthur was prone to ‘train’ with when angry - and the training dummies that Arthur was prone to hack to bits in the absence of said knights (usually due to Arthur-based injury).
Arthur growled at the fact that he – of current – actually did not have either of mentioned objects to beat. Rather, he, and his knights, and Merlin, were in the middle of a godforsaken ‘haunted’ forest, after meeting with a godforsaken Ogre, who just so happened to pardon them passage, because of some bugger sorcerer called Emrys (who had apparently put a property stamp on said fuming king).
Not to say that this was getting to Arthur… but this was getting to Arthur.
Angrily, Arthur stabbed his sword into the ground, yelling to nobody in particular, “Who the bleeding hell is Emrys?!”
The king of Camelot then promptly tugged off and threw his gauntlets across the clearing he and the knights were in. Percival and Gwaine shared a glance, standing to the side as Arthur promptly had a man-tantrum.
Merlin, who had been staying at the edge of the clearing, looking a bit pale and impassive, crossed the muggy summer meadow to grab the King’s (rudely) discarded objects.
After about five more minutes of playing a very creative, very rage-fueled game of catch with his manservant (who was now loaded down with various metal objects meant to be worn, not thrown), Arthur finally grumbled out a gruff command to set up camp.
“There is no use going on, and since we have so kindly been given passage into this land, we might as well not risk wandering off to somewhere less hospitable.”
Gwaine had raised his eyebrows as the dripping sarcasm, but wisely kept his mouth shut. Elyan sniggered at the way Arthur’s face was turning a bit red, and Percival was self-assigning himself to retrieve fire wood. Leon had ignored the outburst all together, and instead was setting about helping Merlin unpack the horses… with somewhat ulterior motives.
“Merlin,” Leon said, hefting off a particularly heavy bag containing what could only be described from the weight of it as rocks, “have you happened to have heard of this Emrys?”
Merlin promptly managed to drop two bags, dislodge a saddle, and pulverize their last loaf of quality bread in one fell swoop, all with a very unmanly squeak. “Eh heh, what? Emrys? Who?” The manservant’s face contorted into a very interesting cross between a grimace and face of pain, while he suddenly was very jumpy.
“Emrys.” Leon said, looking quite unamused. “You were there as much as I was when the Ogre spoke of him.”
“Ahhh,” Merlin said, with a nervous laugh, “Yes, that Emrys.”
Leon gave him an encouraging glazed look.
“Nope,” said Merlin, looking contemplative with an armful of what should’ve been provisions, though was now dirt-covered and probably un-ingestible, “Don’t think I’ve ever heard of him. Not me, anyway.” Then he got uncomfortably close to Leon, making the knight flinch back, and said in a low, serious tone, “Why would you ask…?”
“Umm, because you’re oft around Gaius?” Leon replied, trying to distance himself from the too-close manservant (it didn’t really work, though, because Merlin only seemed to lean closer as the somewhat concerned knight leaned back). “He knows much lore, and I would only suspect that even you have managed to retain some of his knowledge.”
“Oh.” Merlin said, backing up from the second in command, then plastering a cheery grin onto his face. “Well, that’s quite considerate of you to think me so knowledgeable, but nope, no clue. Never heard of this Emrys, but he must be pretty impressive, yknow, since all these magical creatures look up to him and whatnot. Probably a pretty great guy-“ Leon sighed, rolling his eyes as Merlin went on a rant about impressive magic and whatnot. Of course he wouldn’t know anything that actually mattered.
***
You see, Arthur wasn’t really concerned the first time it happened. It seemed like a fluke, as though the particularly nasty sorceress they were facing was just mistaken.
He had gone in, sword ablaze, intent on destroying her as she held a particularly sour-looking Gwaine against the ceiling.
“In the name of Camelot, let the knight go!”
“Hah!” The sorceress had crowed, leering at him from the back of the cave from whence she’d entered, “He would be a pig of Camelot, what with his disrespect for such a sacred place as the Cave of Moreth!” Her eyes then flared a dangerous golden as she incanted, sending a very offended Gwaine (he was many things.. a pig, though?) crashing into that which is opposite the ceiling – i.e., the ground.
Arthur’s frown deepened as he raised his sword and spoke in his most commanding, kingly voice. “I command you at once, as the king of Camelot, to go back to where you came else my knights and I use deadly force!”
“Hah!” The sorceress gave a shrill laugh, her yellow curls tossing behind her head as she raised an arm – intent crystal clear. “Like your mortal blades can defeat me! I am a priestess of the Old Religion, and guardian of the Caverns of Moreth!” And with a shriek, the sorceress let loose a line of words in the Old Religion… Straight towards Arthur.
Only…
She frowned, her eyes flaring as she tried to incant at Arthur once more. Then the sorceress let out a little gasp, her eyes darting across the figure of Arthur.
Really, it made him feel a bit uncomfortable to be so thoroughly looked at in such a manner.
Then she gasped again , louder, and dropped her arm (and a forgotten Gwaine, who had for some reason floated about halfway up the cave’s height and was desperately clinging to a stalactite in order to stay somewhat grounded). Taking a step back, the sorceress looked at Arthur with not humor and spite, but rather horror.
That was a much more respectable response, Arthur thought, putting on a bit of a sterner face in accordance.
“It would appear, my King,” eh? Arthur’s stern look quickly turned into one of befuddlement, “that I have overstepped my bounds.” The sorceress reluctantly kneeled down on her perch at the back of the cave. “I only hope that Emrys can receive my most sincere of apologies for attempting to harm what is rightfully his.” Eh?? “If you may let me leave with my life..?” The sorceress looked up across the cave, addressing not only Arthur but his somewhat forgotten band of knights (besides for Gwaine. Gwaine was a bit out of action at the moment).
Ehhh???
Arthur was so befuddled that he just kinda stood there, his mouth slightly agape, until Merlin (of all people) stepped forward into the path of the dangerous sorceress and – with all the nobleness in the world – bid her to take her leave.
Everyone else was a bit too shocked to really register as the woman (with a graceful flutter of her dress) left the cavern.
***
When the merry (and by ‘merry’, we mean absolutely unpleasant and disagreeable) band of Camelot’s finest finally arrived back at Camelot, Arthur took it upon himself to call a private council of Gaius and Geoffrey in his chambers, over a matter of great importance: Emrys.
Merlin frowned a bit as Arthur made a vague motion in his direction as he walked away from the courtyard, horse left forgotten next to one still-mounted manservant. The warlock supposed that his floppy hand motion meant something along the lines of ‘take the horses back to the stables, unpack and take care of my supplies, and then come to my chambers once you’re done’. Though of course, it could also mean ‘off with ye’, which Merlin personally preferred more… But Merlin knew Arthur, and also knew that there had been an abundant potato harvest, and knew that potatoes had a tendency to gravitate towards his head whenever he was in the stocks…
So to the stables it was.
***
“I’m sorry, Sire, but I do not understand your question.”
Geoffrey and Gaius stood in front of the table at which Arthur was seated, the latter having just spoken, his Eyebrows of Doom raised quizzically.
“It is quite simple, Gaius. Who. Is. Emrys?” Arthur ground out. He was in a particularly sour mood, and furthermore, Merlin was taking his sweet old time with the horses. Idiot.
“If I may, Sire,” Geoffrey began, “I believe that, if given time, I could probably find reference within the tomes of the library to this man… if he is of legend.”
Arthur frowned. “I don’t know if he is of legend… All I know is that he is a bloody pain in the arse!” His face darkened into what he would like to consider a kingly scowl, but really looked closer to a childish frown.
Gaius coughed conspicuously into his hand... Looking for all in the world as though he were hiding a laugh.
“Gaius? Anything you wish to add to the conversation?” Arthur raised an eyebrow. Yes, he was achieving a very kingly scowl.
“No, no sire. I was just thinking… I might’ve heard of the name before.” Arthur raised his other eyebrow.
“….and?” He was using a voice that was usually saved specifically for when Merlin was acting particularly dense.
“And I would have to consult my sources to make certain.”
Arthur frowned, but then nodded. “Alright, then. You are dismissed… but come back as soon as information is discovered. This Emrys must be dealt with as soon as possible.”
***
That night, when Merlin was finally released from the particularly sadistic grasps of one King Arthur, covered in manure and bits of vegetables (and, yes, potatoes) he trudged into Gaius’ chambers to find a very Doom-ful set of Eyebrows greeting him.
A grin that looked more like a grimace spread across the young warlock’s face.
“…Surprise?”
“Merlin…” Gaius said warningly. “What have you done? How many times have I had to tell you…”
“Yes, yes Gaius, I know, I know. It was an honest mistake, really.”
Gaius relented his intensely burning gaze, taking in Merlin’s full state. “I was going to punish you, but I believe Arthur has inadvertently done so already.”
Merlin groaned. “Don’t even ask.”
“I wasn’t going to.”
Merlin glared as Gaius, moving over to the wash-bin in the corner, fully intent on scrubbing some of the filth from his persons.
“So what have you – Emrys – done to anger Arthur so?”
“I… it was a protection spell gone wrong…” Merlin grimaced as a chunk of manure crumbled off his face. “Well, it didn’t really go wrong, per say, it actually worked quite well, it just… had side effects that I wasn’t expecting…”
Raised Eyebrow.
Merlin continued at the sight of the obvious threat. “It appears as though I have – ah – marked Arthur. Or, well, Emrys has… And creatures of magic can, well, see it.” Merlin grimaced again, trying to identify the green chunk of something that had been lodged in his hair. Realizing the quest would be in vain, he instead moved to pick more miscellaneous items from his black locks.
“Oh, Merlin. What have you done?” Gaius bemoaned. “You do realize that I have to divulge some of who Emrys is to Arthur, don’t you?”
Merlin kinda half-froze, a clump of shit in his hand. Evidently he did not favor the idea. “Umm… Yeah. How about you leave out the bit about the Once and Future King, yeah?”
“Of course.”
“And the bit about destiny.”
“Obviously so.”
“Oh and the part about being a warlock.”
“I agree.”
“And the whole being powerful bit…”
“Ye-es…”
“And the whole Druid thing!”
“Merlin.” Gaius huffed, exasperated. “Geoffrey has been requested to also search into the history of Emrys. I cannot leave out all of the information surrounding him -you, else it appears suspicious!”
Merlin sighed, running fingers through his now somewhat clean hair. “Fine, Gaius. I trust you to tell Arthur only that which is necessary.”
Gaius nodded, turning to bed for the night.
“Oh, but do leave out the Once and Future bit, yeah?”
Gaius rolled his eyes. Warlocks.
***
The quest on which Arthur and his most trusted knights were on was one of great peril and required much fortitude. Their goal: to retrieve the chalice of Elkerban. It was said to hold mystical powers over the living and dead alike, and rumor had it that Morgana was searching for it.
They had, indeed, found it – after the incident with the Ogre, but before the visit from the woodland Elves. (Arthur was still fuming, for those creatures had had the audacity to ask knights of Camelot to their midsummer festivities! And furthermore, Gwaine had agreed -! For apparently, “a friend of Emrys will always be a friend of the Elves”, and Gwaine had been “waiting his whole life for a chance to get drunk with ethereal beings”, whatever the hell that meant! Why that ungrateful drunkard of a knight-)
– Arthur scowled. Calm breaths. Calm breaths.
Anyway. Needless to say, Gwaine did not accompany any ageless magical beings to fantastical forest parties to get fabulously drunk. No, he got drunk enough with merely the mead in his waterskin. (Yes Arthur knew about that! What type of imbecile did he take his King for?)
So the Knights of the Round Table had retrieved the chalice, which Merlin proclaimed - and indeed it ended up to ring true – that it was a worthless hunk of metal. Evidently, the magic had drained from its being.
But still, Arthur quite fancied it to be a quality parchment weight...
The success of finding the famed chalice was dampened, though, by the second magical encounter. It had been a pack of Druids, traveling to gods know where. It had been eerily similar to their previous encounter with the sorceress, save this time the leader of the sorcerers had bowed to Arthur, saying something about destiny and a future king - though Arthur felt as though it was his duty to correct the Druid, for surprisingly enough, the crowning ceremony had actually been over a year past! He wasn’t a future king, but rather a current one. News really must travel slowly around those parts… But Arthur never did get to reeducate his technical subjects, for Merlin had cut him off with a frantic wave of the hand and some estranged noises that were surprisingly attractive. (Maybe it was because Arthur had been feeling particularly sexually repressed lately. There was no way in Heaven, Hell or the Veil in between that Arthur, in his right mind, would find Merlin attractive!)
Nevertheless, it had all been fine and dandy (after all, the Druids and Arthur had a bit of a peace agreement) up until that damned Emrys was brought up.
It really was a surprise that Arthur didn’t blow a gasket, according to Gwaine.
Arthur frowned, thinking that comment over. Gwaine would pay for that one.
Just then, Arthur was drawn from is reveries (which was probably for the better, given that he was planning a new, special training regime for his knights… specifically his gruff, tavern-type knights…) by a knock on the door.
“Come in.”
It was Gaius. “Ah,” Arthur said, standing from where he had been sitting, twirling a knife. “Am I to assume that you have discovered something of interest?”
The old physician’s eyes flashed with something unidentifiable as he answered, “Yes, sire. As a matter of fact, I believe you will find this to be a very interesting turn of events.”
Arthur gave a curt, kingly nod. “Very well. Have a seat.” And just like that, Arthur was sitting again, Gaius across from him.
The physician took a deep breath, and then began.
“Now the sorcerer Emrys is actually quite a formidable man…”
***