Bare to me Your Soul • A Merlin Fanfiction

Part One • Ill Intent

The leaves rustled with wild fervor, and heavy steps muffled by grass permeated the silence in the forest. A group of men on horseback, all but one clad in light armor and blood-red capes, flew from the trees in pursuit of a doe. Hounds tore through the grass and, lagging just behind, nipped at the deer.

A blond man riding at the head of the group leveled a crossbow and fired a bolt. The wooden bolt sank into the doe's flank and the creature keeled over into the dirt without a sound, blood pooling beneath it. A whoop sounded across the clearing as the man lowered the crossbow. "As much as I insult you, princess, that was quite the shot." A man with long brown hair and stubble gave a smirk of a smile.

The blond man, Arthur, grinned and eyed him sarcastically. "Yes, thank you, Sir Gwaine. Your vote of confidence is most appreciated." Gwaine gave a sly smile in Arthur's direction and dipped his head dramatically, hair bobbing along with his head.

The group slowed their horses as the dogs returned to Arthur's side, padding between the horses he and his servant, Merlin, rode. Merlin looked at Arthur with a wry smile. "I am loathe to admit, for fear your head might swell even more, but that was a very good shot. Although, I don't see why you people hunt and kill what you're not going to eat." He finished and shook his head in mild disapproval.

Arthur punched him lightly in the arm. "It's called sport, Merlin, and it happens to be something called fun. I can't expect you to understand; you wouldn't know what fun is."

Merlin snorted. "Please, sire. I have fun all the time. For instance: washing your socks, polishing your armor, and-" he continued after a pause and a slight grimace, as though remembering something unpleasant. "-mucking out your stables. As for you on the subject of fun, you've probably never worked a day in your life, so 'fun,' as you put it, is likely all you know." He sniped back at Arthur.

As Gwaine's horse pulled up alongside Merlin's, he laughed uproariously. "You-" he gestured to Merlin, "-Are learning the fine art of sarcasm and wit. Use it wisely." He wiggled his eyebrows.

Leon, who rode beside Percival, spoke up from the back of the group, "Great, Gwaine's rubbing off on Merlin. Just what we need, two drunkards."

Gwaine looked back to Leon. "I resemble that! A man needs his whiskey, right, Merlin? Never mind, it seems you wouldn't...every time I try to take you to the tavern you never go. That's one thing you dig your heels in the dirt for, eh?"
Merlin laughed nervously and stole a glance at Arthur. "I...wouldn't say that I never, uh, go." He muttered.

The group stopped and Percival dismounted, walked over to the felled doe, and slung it over his shoulder as if it weighed nothing but a feather. Percival surveyed the clearing they were in, before looking at the sun that was low in the sky. "We should set up camp." He said quietly, but loud enough for everyone else to hear.

Merlin was the first to move. He slung himself off his horse with surprising speed and agility, feet landing without a sound on the crushed grass and dirt of the forest floor. "I'll...tie the horses." He said awkwardly through the silence.
Everyone else dismounted and undid the packs and blankets from their horses' saddles, and Percival walked to the very midst of the clearing before gently lowering the doe to the ground.

Merlin appeared next to Percival, two armfuls of wood tucked at his sides. A campfire was soon made and set alight, and by then day had turned to night. Each man sat on their individual blankets, stars glittering brightly above, and the fire reflected in everyone's eyes, turning brown and blue to gold.

A dog from Arthur's pack trotted over to the doe, and sniffed it cautiously. Merlin moved to get the dog away from the dead animal, but Arthur made a motion that said "sit down." Arthur put two fingers to his lips and whistled. The hound came bounding over and lay at his feet. He turned to Merlin and finally said something. "Comes when called. This dog would make a better servant than you, Merlin." On the other side of the campfire, Gwaine choked on his whiskey, spitting it into Leon's disgusted face. The knight dragged a hand heavily across his features, muttering his revulsion.

The sound of wood snapping pierced the night. Everyone's head swiveled to the direction from which the noise came. "I'm wondering what that was, but I'm willing to bet all the whiskey in the world that it isn't friendly." Gwaine spoke softly. All the knights had their hands resting at the hilts of their swords, ready to pull them from their scabbards, and Merlin was uncharacteristically alert. His arms were raised, hands were open, fingers stiff and spread wide at his sides in a defensive position.

The noise was heard again, this time much closer. Arthur stood, and Merlin rose with him, glaring at the darkness. Finally, someone stepped into the wide ring of light surrounding the fire. Arthur's breath caught in his throat, and Merlin stiffened. They'd know that face anywhere. Tangled black hair, green eyes glittering with malice, alabaster skin that seemed as though the blood that flowed beneath it wasn't really there. Frayed and twisted robes adorned the person, and ragged fingernails swayed sideways in a small wave. A dangerous smile quirked pale lips. "Hello, brother."
Leon spoke through the silence and brought forth a name that he knew everyone beside him was thinking. "Morgana."

How do you like so far? I'm sure you appreciate the cliffhanger. I stayed true to my word (for once.) and actually published something on time. This entire work is dedicated to every fan of Merlin on Wattpad. Cheers, my friends. Especially dedicated to DollopheadedMerlin . Keep writing and being awesome, girl.

See you later,
~Kay