Title: A Person's True Nature is Revealed at Times of the Greatest Adversity

Word Count: 5076

Rating: T (to be safe)

Summary: "Bandits. Why does it always have to be bandits?" A typical patrol faces a typical threat with atypical results. Companion piece to The Trouble with Gossip. Merlin accidentally reveals his true nature to a very important knight. Title is a quote by Daisaku Ikeda.

A/N: Hey. It's me again. Plain to see again.

Yeah... I'm a geek. I went there. Bonus points for song and artist. (Come on, it's old school. You all know it.)

So, this story was not as fully fleshed out as I thought it would be by the time the poll was done, but it was the one wanted most. So I worked at it. A lot. Merlin's perspective can be difficult to capture, and I hope I did him justice. Once again this series follows an In Medias Res style, and this story takes place towards the beginning of my happy little AR/AU (although, I'm still following the show's plot fairly well, so maybe not), well before The Trouble with Gossip. I hope you all enjoy it!

Bandits. Why does it always have to be bandits? And why are we always in the Valley of the Fallen Kings?! Merlin stumbled and tripped his way across the worn path, the others just ahead of him. The sorcerer turned around as the group moved past a bend in the road so he could gauge the distance they made from those menacing thieves. Unfortunately, losing eye contact with the obstacles in front of him resulted in Merlin's poorly clad foot meeting with a hidden obstruction. He threw his arms forward to catch himself as he tumbled down, grunting when he felt the brunt of the impact in his left wrist. A sharp sensation shot up his forearm, causing him to let out a gasp. He lifted his head to see the prince and knights much farther along, ignoring the side path before them and charging straight ahead. Merlin rose to his feet as quickly as possible so he could catch up or hold his ground; he hadn't quite decided what would be the best course of action. Several bandits clambered down the natural walls of the path ahead and dashed towards the knights, making Merlin's mind up for him. With a whisper the rocks between him and the knights tumbled, crushing the brigands in front of him with an ease that would be disarming to the warlock if he weren't otherwise preoccupied. He spun around, cradling his injured wrist to his chest, trying to figure out where the other men would strike next. They were not right behind him as expected. Merlin stood still for a moment, unsure of what to do next. Finally he decided to follow the knights back to Camelot, taking the alternate path.

Merlin knew these woods incredibly well, even this valley—as much as he tried to avoid it. None of the others could possibly understand his trepidation. Even Lancelot had trouble moving beyond sympathy over Merlin's discomfort for the place, but how could the warlock put into the words the feeling of power and unrest that was here? There were whispers present that only Merlin heard, and the ominous feeling of regret for deeds left unfinished deeply unsettled the dark-haired man. As Merlin trotted down the path, he mentally consulted the layout, knowing a path ahead would put him in front of the rock slide and back behind the knights and Arthur. He ran about 100 yards, occasionally glancing behind him to look for any adversaries. Seeing none as he approached the gap in the wall, he heaved a sigh of relief, slowly letting his guard down. Hardly anyone knew of this passage back to the main path. Merlin slipped into the gap in the wall, gently easing his way through the fissure until the way widened in front of him. He resumed his jog, knowing that it would be a while before the path reconvened with the route the others chose. Merlin frowned a little. Most likely he would not see his friends until he made it to Camelot, with the rate he was moving. Upon the realization, he slowed to a walk to conserve his energy. He hoped no one worried too much over his absence, at least not enough to try to work their way through the rock to get back to him. It would seriously undo the hard work he put into defending that lot. His frown turned into a small scowl, as he wished once again that he could just show his friends who he was. He wanted them to know he wasn't some helpless weakling that needed protection. To be the most powerful sorcerer to walk the earth, living in secret took its toll, and while Merlin tried so often to be optimistic about it, he couldn't help the bitter taste it left in his mouth.

At least Lancelot was back with them, and back to stay. Arthur's first act as regent was to knight the peasants who fought nobly beside him to take back the kingdom from Morgana. Merlin smiled, thinking of that day. Camelot was being rebuilt, but the spirits were with them, gracing them with a cloudless morning. Sunbeams had shone through the windows, giving the newly knighted men an almost ethereal glow as they rose together, the future knights of the round table. So far they had served Arthur with a faithfulness reminiscent of Merlin's, providing council when asked and protection when necessary, which the golden prince needed more and more as the king gradually descended into madness. The perceived weakness of Camelot drew a variety of new threats to its gates, both magical and mundane, and made many aspects of being the regent's manservant more complicated. Being chased by bandits while going on a hunt paled in comparison. In the grand scheme of things it was familiar—almost normal. Merlin's smile disappeared as he examined his own thoughts. When did he become so morose? No wonder Gaius was starting to worry.

The sun had crossed the sky as Merlin trudged along. The wizard had been checking it's progress as he got lost in his thoughts, and determined he had been wandering in the Valley for nearly two hours. As annoyed as he was at the loss of time, he was thankful to see he was nearing an exit, and after a brief review of the map in his head he surmised he would be back in Camelot by sundown. As he thought about the next turn he should make, a sudden snap drew his attention. He immediately stilled, halting in the middle of the path and craning his neck slowly, trying to catch any other disturbances. A muffled sound—the crunching of leaves and twigs under the foot of a cautious animal—reached the sorcerer and he pulled himself against the wall, holding out his uninjured hand. He held his breath, ready to cast when Percival appeared just around the curve in the road ahead. Merlin exhaled sharply, drawing Percival's attention to his placement beside the wall. The large man relaxed his shoulders, lowering his sword a fraction and grinning outright. Merlin grinned too, lowering his hand and moving towards the sandy-haired giant, willing his pulse to go down. He could imagine in great detail how much Percival would tease him if he knew how fast his heart was beating, never mind that the sight of him wasn't the cause of its acceleration—at least not initially. Merlin regarded the smile gracing the man's strong jaw, which now sported a shadow of a beard. Merlin felt something inside himself slipping and easing away, as if he were melting. It was becoming a more and more common occurrence around this gentle, kind man. Merlin would be frightened at the lack of control he had over his own self if it weren't so pleasant. It had been too long since he allowed himself to feel these things—not since Freya, if he was truly honest with himself—and he kept his heart so tightly bound he had almost forgotten how nice it was to let go around another person. Percival kept his blade in hand, but lowered it completely as the ebony-haired man stopped barely an arms-length away from him. "Hello," the warlock breathed, grinning outright.

Merlin didn't know it was possible, but Percival's smile got even wider as the giant closed the gap between them. He carefully brought a hand up to cradle Merlin's jaw, and leaned in for a kiss. Merlin sighed into it, relaxing as much as he could in this ominous place, feeling the other man's whiskers scrape against his skin. He shivered a little at the sensation and pulled back, gazing into the other's eyes. The depth of emotion this man displayed there was astonishing. Merlin could see mirth—he must have noticed his racing pulse after all—as well as relief, some lingering traces of fear and something else. Something huge and wonderful and unnameable that made his stomach twist in the most delightful way. "I'm glad you're alright," the knight replied quietly, dragging his fingertips from Merlin's face down towards his neck, resting them lightly against his pulse point. Merlin cleared his throat a little and stepped back, causing Percival's hand to fall against his side. He reached out and held Merlin's hand, not knowing of the injury. Merlin hissed a little and Percival looked at him in surprise and concern. He pulled Merlin's arm gently up. "May I?" he asked, touching the sleeve. Merlin nodded, and watched as Percival carefully slid the sleeve up his arm, frowning at the discoloration on Merlin's wrist. He gently felt the limb with his fingers, and after a brief examination, he offered to make a sling from his cloak. Merlin laughed and calmed the man's fears, begging off the need for a sling at this time. Nothing was broken as far as he could tell, and being able to use a sprained wrist in a fight was better than being bound, so he would make do for now.

"Are the others okay?" he asked as he pulled his sleeve down, immediately cursing his forgetfulness. If Arthur had them scouting for him—

"Yes. They're on their way back to Camelot now. Lancelot and Elyan had to drag the prince and Gwaine back, but they shouldn't be lingering. Which is good, because this place is a little sinister," Percival frowned a little as he said this, and Merlin noticed a small shiver go through the other man. It was nice though, to have someone else notice how dark this place felt. "I don't think anything good can come to anyone who walks these paths, so the sooner Prince Arthur is away from here, the better." Percival turned and started walking forward, and Merlin quickly fell into pace beside him. "I don't understand why the prince—"

"The prat," Merlin muttered, causing Percival to smile again.

"—always thinks this route is the best to avoid whatever skirmish we come up against. Strategy wise, it would be better to face those kinds of adversaries in the open. Bandits and mercenaries are used to fighting in confined spaces, and often use the element of surprise in an area like this, where it is easier to hide." Percival continued on thoughtfully, only pausing when Merlin pointed the correct pathways to get back to the kingdom as quickly as possible. There were several gaps in the passage that could be used as shortcuts, and Percival had the good grace to recognize Merlin's experience here. "Also, this place is just... well, I don't know how the others don't notice it." Merlin felt a warmth in his chest as Percival echoed his own thoughts. Every once in a while his counterpart would say things like this, making Merlin feel a little less alone.

Merlin glanced at the knight as they approached the path that would take them out of the Valley and back on course to Camelot. "What? The morose atmosphere? The creeping sensation of being watched? The fact that there are times where all the animals are completely silent? No, why would they notice that?" he grumbled, glancing over his shoulder once again. Percival chuckled a little.

"Well I'm glad I'm not the only one who thinks the Valley is a bit daunting. This place makes my skin crawl."

"Mine too, Perce. Mine too," Merlin shook his head as they approached a steep embankment. "Although, that leads me to question why you're here with me and not with the others."

Percival looked at him in surprise and a trace of hurt, as if he couldn't understand why Merlin wouldn't know why he would look for the other man. Merlin flushed a little. "I couldn't let you wander out here, not with those bandits, Merlin." The servant rolled his eyes at this and Percival ruefully rubbed the back of his head. "I'm allowed to worry. Besides, it was a good way to convince the others to go on. As long as someone was searching for you, they could get the prince to safety. Two birds, if you will." Merlin chuckled as they came to a halt in front of the steep hill. He winced a little at the thought of climbing with an injured wrist, but he had dealt with worse. Percival went down on a knee to help Merlin up, putting his hands together to make a step for the dark-haired man. Merlin rolled his eyes. "Get up, Perce. I'm not completely helpless," he laughed as he faced the wall, trying to find the best hand and foot-holes before working his way up.

Suddenly, the wind was knocked out of him and the warlock tried to reorient himself. When did he end up laying on the ground? He heard the sound of blades clashing against each other, and he struggled to rise one-handed, gasping for air. Percival stood in front of him, fighting two bandits who had managed to sneak up on them. Merlin's eyes widened as he took in the scene, finally clambering to his feet and trying to see how he could help without giving himself away. He needn't have worried though. As quickly as it began, it ended with two very dead bandits in the dirt. Percival panted a little before turning back to Merlin, an apologetic look on his face. "I'm sorry I pulled you down like that. I thought that arrow would strike you dead," he said quietly, looking over his partner for injuries. Merlin looked back at the embankment, seeing an arrow embedded in the earthen wall where his head had been only minutes ago. He turned to Percival and opened his mouth to thank him, only to pause when he saw a third bandit taking aim and loosing a knife. The blade flew to Percival's back, unbeknownst to the knight in front of him; a man that Merlin did not have the physical strength to pull out of the way of the oncoming danger.

It came unbidden. A natural, instinctual response that had been ingrained in the sorcerer since birth. A haze of gold flashed at the edges of his vision, and the words of the old religion came out, more than a whisper, less than a murmur, "Culter, ic þe healte." Percival's eyes widened and he turned his head to see a blade halted in midair, a hand-span away from his back. "Culter; edcierr ic i befylle!" The knife flipped and sped back to the bandit with alarming speed and accuracy, striking the man in the throat. With a gurgle he fell, the thud of his body causing Merlin to wince. Percival seemed to be processing what he just witnessed before he spun around to face Merlin again, his hand gripping his blade tightly. Merlin glanced at the sword and stepped back, pressing his back against the wall. Belatedly he noticed his right hand was held out before him, still aimed at the bandit behind them. Percival glanced at his hand then back to his face, not moving. His expression was impassive. Merlin slowly lowered his hand. He didn't want his lover to feel threatened. Well, any more threatened.

Silence reigned over them for seconds. Or minutes. Hell, it had possibly been hours. Merlin couldn't seem to keep track. If not for the hard, quick beat of his heart or the blood rushing in his ears he would have thought he managed to stop time altogether. It's not as if he hadn't done it before. Percival continued to stare at him, for once no emotion shining through his eyes. Merlin swallowed.

"What was that?" Percival's voice was quiet, but it was almost deafening in the silence around them. Merlin blinked and felt a prickle at the back of his eyes. He looked down.

"Perce..." he whispered, swallowing again. This was it. Percival knew what he was. He knew and now it would be over. At best he would keep Merlin's secret for him, but he couldn't trust him, not after he had been lied to for so long. Merlin was sure that this budding... thing between them was now at a close. His heart clenched painfully. Funny how that was his biggest worry, when he should be nervous about being dragged back for execution, or fear being run-through on the spot. The thoughts were unwanted, but now that they made themselves known, Merlin couldn't let them go. He wondered with no small amount of panic if this betrayal would be enough to kill him right here and now.

"What was that?" the knight repeated with more volume. Merlin winced at the aloofness of Percival's tone. Why should he have to say? Percival had just seen it. He had to know what magic looked like. Gods, Merlin could kick himself for tempting the fates with his own thoughts. How could he possibly think anyof the knights knowing about him could make his life remotely better? He drew his lips tight and shook his head a little, closing his eyes against the tears that were threatening to overcome him.

"Magic," he whispered. The scrap of sound was hoarse and choked as terror truly gripped him. He had to explain, but he couldn't get the words out. He had broken Camelot's most sacred law, and practiced the one thing every citizen of the kingdom feared above all others. He was suffocating. He couldn't quite remember how to breathe. Fear rooted him to the spot. One false move and who knew what kind of fate would befall him? Percival must have been continuing to observe him, gauging what kind of a threat he was. That's my Perce, always a strategist.

"Merlin?" his voice was almost gentle, and confused. Merlin knew he was just hoping he heard concern there. He knew that this was the end of everything he had been working on over the years. All the sacrifices he had made had been for nothing. Everything he had done in secret to protect his kingdom and king—a king he would die serving—had evaporated. The whole relationship he had built with Percival ended the moment he stopped that blade, but he could not bring himself to regret saving the man's life, no matter what came after. He kept his eyes tightly closed as he drew in a breath.

"I'm sorry. Please, Perce, please I'm so sorry. I can't help it, I was just born like this and I swear to the gods above I only use it for good, and to protect you all and Arthur and nothing else. Well, not nothing else, I use it for chores sometimes and I've done a few pranks but nothing life threatening, and honestly it's really just for whenever something is coming that threatens Camelot, which is all the time now that I think about it, so I suppose I actually use it all the time but I've never hurt anyone with it, unless you count bandits and mercenaries and villains," it was like Gwen had suddenly possessed him. He couldn't stop the babble that was bubbling out due to his anxiety, and Percival's silence only allowed the rambling to continue. "I swear magic isn't evil, and no more corruptible than any other kind of power, and it's my destiny to protect Camelot and Arthur with it so I don't think it would make me evil even if I tried and—oh gods Percival please don't hurt me," Merlin heard a thud and a crunch before he felt the knights strong, calloused hands cradling either side of his face. He tensed even more but couldn't pull away, already pressed as tightly to the embankment as he could be. The sudden touch brought his words to a halt and he gasped a little, trying to draw air into his lungs and failing miserably. He felt Percival's breath against his face as Percival tilted his head up gently. He still refused to open his eyes. He couldn't bear it if he saw his lover, his benevolent, tender knight, staring at him with contempt. He couldn't survive if those eyes looked into his and found him wanting.

"Merlin, breathe," Percival's voice was calm and his breathing slow. Merlin tried to let it ground him but he couldn't, not when he knew the agony that could be coming. He didn't realize it was possible, but his heart rate sped up, fear making him shake like a leaf in the wind.

"Please don't hate me," he almost whimpered. He knew the second he opened his eyes he wouldn't be able to control the tears, the tightness in his chest squeezed his ribs and lungs together as if he were in a vice. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't think. He couldn't do this, not with Percival. If any other knight had discovered his secret he could carry on, but not Percival. Not the one person who saw him for almost everything he was, and accepted all of him, virtues and flaws. Not the first person he trusted his heart to in years, who gave and trusted just as much, more so, considering the secrets Merlin still kept.

Although he couldn't really keep them anymore.

"Merlin, you're scaring me," Percival said quietly. Of course Merlin scared him. He was a sorcerer. Sorcerers were nothing but frightening. "I need you to look at me." No chance in hell was that going to happen. The second looked he would die from heartbreak. "I don't hate you, and I won't hurt you. Open your eyes, beloved, please," there was a desperation there that Merlin seldom heard from the blonde man, and he could never ignore his lover's pleas, even though right now he furiously wanted to. He managed to suck in a breath and opened his eyes, staring into irises that reminded him of the sea in summer. Eyes that were anxious and worried and so loving that Merlin felt his newly regained breath catch in his throat. Warm wetness dripped down his face despite how hard he was trying to hold himself together. Percival held his eyes with his own, touching his forehead to the warlock's in a soothing manner.

"I could never, ever hate you. Never, beloved. I swear this to you on my honor and my heart," he said with such warmth and compassion that Merlin was left with no doubt about the other man's sincerity. A sob tore through him, and he thrust his face into Percival's neck and shoulder as he cried. His increasing anxiety was met with such a profound sense of relief that he couldn't do much else. His arms wrapped themselves tightly around the knight's torso and Merlin doggedly ignored the sharp pain shooting through his left wrist, frightened of letting his companion go. Percival finally moved his hands away from Merlin's face, moving one to the back of the warlock's head and neck, and the other to wrap around his back. Merlin collapsed against him, only held up by Percival's strong arms. He shook and shuddered as he wept against his lover's skin. Percival murmured soothing sounds into his ear, smoothing his hair. The stress slowly left him until there was nothing but some sniffles and the occasional hiccup.

After Merlin finally calmed down, Percival stroked his back, chuckling suddenly. Merlin tensed a little, causing Percival to tither and fuss again, but with the occasional laugh. "What's funny?" he mumbled into Percival's shoulder, not quite ready to let go of him just yet. He didn't care if the chain mail was cold and dug into his skin. He still needed that physical contact. Percival sighed a little, kissing the side of his head.

"It just makes so much sense now."

"What?" Merlin asked, drawing back to take in the other's countenance. Percival stared back at him with good humor in his face as a small smile touched his lips.

"Everything," he breathed, leaning in to kiss Merlin's forehead, causing his eyes to flutter closed at the contact. "The branches mysteriously falling at exactly the right time," his lips touched Merlin's eyelids. "Or our adversaries suddenly dropping their weapons." Merlin tilted his head up, allowing the knight to brush their lips together. "When all of Gwaine's underclothes shrunk down during the last patrol, was that you?" Merlin blushed at the mention of that prank, pulling back a little. "It was! Oh that was such a good laugh!" he chortled outright, so amicable and wonderful, Merlin could scarcely believe it.

"He had it coming. He was the one who stole my neckerchiefs and somehow managed to tie them all to the highest points of the battlements. Turnabout's fair play," Merlin muttered a bit petulantly. Percival grinned at him in agreement. Merlin smiled tentatively, but was confused as the acceptance. "Aren't you angry with me?"

The knight's smile fell and a perplexed expression came over him. "Why?"

Merlin pulled out of the embrace entirely and held his injured arm to himself once more. "Why? Well to start I lied to you! I lied to you about who I am and what I am—"

"When did you lie about that?"

Merlin gaped at him like a fish out of water. "What?"

"When did you lie to me about who you are. Is your name not really Merlin? I mean, it's an interesting one to choose on your own. I'm not sure why you'd name yourself after a falcon but it's definitely unique," Percival said affectionately.

"No, no that's my name, my mum has an affinity for them."

"Well then you certainly haven't given a false identity. As to what you are, Merlin, you're you. You're the servant of the crown prince as well as one of his greatest advisers. You're loyal to a fault, you're kind and generous, and you're one of the most amazing men I've had the good fortune to know." Merlin gawked a little as Percival pulled him back into his chest, brushing his fingers against the back of his head once more, Merlin's injured arm gently held between them. He wasn't expecting such easy acceptance. The last person without magic to readily embrace his abilities was Lancelot, and that was years ago. "Okay, so you're a warlock. It's not something you can help. Besides, you never actually lied about it. You just... left it unsaid. You can't be responsible for assumptions that others make about you. That's like saying it's my fault people think I'm a brute because of my size. You'd never think those people's thoughts are my responsibility, would you?" Merlin adamantly shook his head, opening his mouth to speak again, but Percival cut him off. "Then why should you be expected to be responsible for what other's assume about you from your looks? You don't happen to fit the picture of a sorcerer to most people, and you choose not to talk about it, for very good reason."

"Others would say a lie by omission is still a lie," Merlin responded quietly, gazing at his companion to determine his reaction.

Percival merely chuckled again. "I suppose you're right, but trying to avoid the pyre seems to excuse the behavior. At any rate, you seem to have forgotten I came from Mercia, not Camelot. The rules for magic are different there. In all honesty I'm still a little surprised at the zeal that is thrown into finding and destroying all things and people with magic by this kingdom. I hope that Prince Arthur will find it worthwhile to change that law someday." Percival pulled his hand away from Merlin's head to trace his fingers behind his ear and down his neck. "Does he know?"

Merlin shook his head again, frowning. "No, no I don't even think he suspects. He's got me pegged as too much of a dimwit to be a sorcerer," the man chuckled. Percival frowned hard at him and Merlin's eyes widened at the sight.

"Don't call yourself that," he said firmly. "I don't like it when you say things like that. You're wonderful, and I know you don't believe me half the time, but it's true." He pulled the sorcerer closer to kiss his brow, still mindful of his injury. Merlin sighed a the contact, standing still as the knight continued to murmur compliments against his skin. Finally, Merlin pulled away, grimacing as he realized his wrist's throbbing had intensified, now that the adrenaline wore off. Percival glanced down at him and stood against the embankment, bracing his hands together again. "Let me help you up this one time, okay? Then we'll make a sling for your arm and I won't say another word about it until we reach Camelot." Merlin smiled agreeably, and stepped onto the knight's hands. Percival pushed him up as he grabbed some handholds, and stayed right beneath him as he scrambled up the embankment as quickly as possible. Once he was over the edge, he reached his good arm down to help pull Percival up behind him.

After a bit more fussing on Percival's part, much to Merlin's amusement and embarrassment, the two resumed walking toward the kingdom as the sun continued to sink in the sky. Merlin's injured wrist was cradled in a sling of Camelot red, and his other hand was occupied with his companion's, both ignoring the torn cloak that billowed in the breeze. On the walk, his knights asked as many questions as he could about the magic. When he used it, how often had he saved Arthur, was he the one responsible for the goats in the visiting diplomat's room, "He deserved it, Perce. He was an absolute troll to the serving girls!" Soon they cleared the trees and saw the castle rising in the distance as the sun kissed the horizon. Merlin breathed a little easier once the castle was in sight, and thought on everything that had happened over the course of the afternoon. He was lost, injured, found, revealed, and still cared for by a man who meant more to him every day they knew each other. All because of a mundane, typical, run-of-the-mill attack by bandits. Bandits, of all things. He chuckled a little at the thought.

"What is it?" Percival asked, seemingly pleased at his lover's good humor.

Merlin turned and grinned at him. "It's just, haven't you ever wondered?"

"Wondered what?"

"Why is it always bandits?"

A/N: So there you have it. It was Percival. The reason? There just aren't enough out there and it's fun to play with. Really, Percival is great for a writer because the show kind of makes him blank slate, so it's fun to play with him as a character. You pick up a bit about his nature and a lot about his abilities, but beyond that? Wiki doesn't even know which kingdom he comes from (I'm assuming near Essetir, because Cenred's men raided his village, right? And at least one map puts Mercia and Essetir next to each other. Meh). Also, they're pretty together. So pretty. In the best of ways. ~sigh~

Anyway, hope you enjoyed it. I'm working on a couple of others in this nameless series, and I'll post another chapter here to let you know when the next one is up for those of you who follow stories instead of authors (I don't blame you. My stuff is all over the place. Don't read the things from 2005-2006. Or do at your own risk).

Thanks for reading and please review! :)