Title: Chasing Trouble
Author: Astiza
Genre: Adventure/Friendship/Intrigue
Rating: T
Warnings/Spoilers: takes place during series 2ish, but pretty AU and slightly historically-based
Summary: Merlin doesn't like ships. He likes them even less when they're bringing him to foreign kingdoms on king's business. War is stirring in the Saxon lands and Camelot needs all the allies it can get. Morgana finds herself married off in exchange for an army, and Arthur and Merlin are left to negotiate an alliance with the Franks - if they can make it there and back in time.

Author's Notes: Ah, well I'm back with another fic, guys. I was inspired by the Merlin marathon on BBC America. Summer is upon us, so hopefully that means more frequent updates. I'll be x-posting this to some lj comms and mine own lj at chaine_maille, if you prefer to read it there. / This will be a POV fic.

MERLIN

His stomach rolled right along with the ship, rising and falling with the crest of each wave. Stretching away toward the horizon, white caps dotted the sea like a sparse snowfall. Merlin wondered how something so violent and beautiful could make him want to vomit over the rail, repeatedly.

He'd never been on a ship before. Camelot wasn't very far from the sea, but it was far enough that having a royal fleet was impractical. He clutched the rail with shaking fingers, felt the smooth, worn wood beneath his hands, and wondered how many others had emptied their meager breakfasts into the sea from where he stood. It was not such a pleasant thought. Merlin wiped his mouth on his sleeve, the blue of the tunic already starting to fade from the briny, salt air and stains of his own sick. Disgusting, he thought, but there wasn't really anything he could do.

He squinted at the sails, unfurled halfway to make the most of the wind at their backs while keeping control on the pitching sea. Crewmen scaled the ropes like squirrels, hurrying to bring in the canvas on the second mast. The sky was thick with gray clouds. Occasionally Merlin could see a bit of blue squeezing through, but then it was gone, covered up by the dreary, wind-swept clouds.

On legs as unsteady as a newborn calf, Merlin stumbled his way across the ship to the steps that led below decks. The waves echoed loudly in his ears, slapping against the hull of the ship as if they were trying to dash it to pieces. He heard their captain bellow something, but then he descended a ladder and the sounds from above were drowned out by the creak and groan of the wood and the water.

Merlin made his way towards his hammock. After the first night on board the ship, he'd discovered that the little cot in the passenger cabin he'd been given to share with his prince was hard as stale bread and twice as likely to fling him to the ground in a single night. The hammock didn't resist the natural motion of the ship and Merlin found he didn't mind the swaying so much when he was trying to sleep. The cabin he was supposed to share with Arthur was just across the deck and around a few support posts, a goodly way from the rest of the crew as befitted a prince. But Merlin decided he didn't really care if he slept in the royally appointed cabin or not. Arthur snored at sea, right through the thin cabin walls. Merlin realized it would keep him awake at night unless he used a little magic to silence it (and a bit on the crew as well). He figured it wasn't hurting anyone.

Merlin closed his eyes, held his stomach until it settled, and let the hammock lull him into sleep. He dreamed of land: fields of grain and green forests, the sunlight stroking the leaves with golden fingers.

He woke some time during the night to the damp wood of the ship pressed to his face.

"Oh," he groaned, turning onto his back. His hammock swam into view, a little twisted with half his leg still tangled up in it. A stampede of feet, bare and booted alike, made the deck vibrate, and then it was quiet. The little cabin door opened.

"What's going on?" Arthur peered around the door at the empty lower level and immediately spied Merlin tangled up in his hammock, half on the floor, half up in the air.

"All hands on deck?" Merlin offered. He yanked his foot away from the canvas and the hammock spun itself back into shape. Merlin got to his feet with much arm-swinging and near-tripping and crossed the deck to stand beside Arthur.

"There's a storm or something," Arthur said, making for the ladder. "You saw how rough it was in the afternoon, it's probably on us now." He glanced at Merlin to see if he'd follow. Merlin reluctantly padded after him.

"How much longer 'til we get there?"

"We'll ask the captain." Arthur climbed to the next level and waited for Merlin to emerge. "I shouldn't think it would be much longer. A few more days? The sea isn't too wide."

"Good," Merlin gasped, clutching tight to Arthur's shirt as his stomach frolicked about. "I don't think green suits me."

Arthur laughed and it was a clean, pure sound like the icicles that hung from the eaves in the lower town where the smallfolk of Camelot dwelt. Merlin hazarded a smile that threatened to squirm off his face with the next crash of the waves.

"I'll be glad to get off this ship too," Arthur admitted. He put a hand on Merlin's back to guide him to the stairs that led to the upper deck. "Let's see how the captain's doing."

"Why couldn't the king have sent some envoys to the continent? Why you? Half the way's through hostile territory!"

"Because I'm his son and the only one he trusts not to completely mess up this alliance."

"Exactly," Merlin said when they reached the deck. He gulped, looking at the waves that must have been twice his height. "You're his only son. And this is dangerous."

Arthur shrugged. "It's no more dangerous than leading my father's vanguard."

The crew was aloft, bringing in the canvas sails as the ship rode over the crest of a wave. Merlin leapt out of the way as a barrel broke loose and went rolling down the deck. A cabin boy scrambled after it.

And then they were plunging down as the wave passed beneath them. It was a queer, smooth motion, but a motion nonetheless. Merlin clamped his mouth shut and doggedly followed Arthur through the rain and sea spray toward the helm.

Arthur cupped his hands around his mouth so his voice would carry. "When do we make land?"

The captain dashed the water from his eyes. "What!"

"When do we make land!"

"We'll ride out this little squall!" He gripped the wheel again, giving it a fierce turn. "Should reach the coast in another two days!"

"Another two days," Arthur repeated to a soaked Merlin. "You'll last. Doesn't the rain feel nice after all that time below deck?"

Merlin pouted. "No, it doesn't feel nice. But, you're the crown prince, so I suppose you're impervious to all this," he said, sweeping his hand around the ship. "Never mind Merlin who's all cold and wet and sea sick and doesn't have a cloak."

Arthur chuckled and laid a warm hand on his friend's soaked shoulder. "I'm sorry, Merlin, I forgot you're a girl. Care to go below, my lady?"

"If I were a girl, I wouldn't be on this ship. Girls are bad luck on boats."

Arthur snorted, but started walking back to the steps. "Is that some stupid peasant superstition?"

"Yes, it is!" Then, realizing what he'd just said: "You—hey!"

Arthur bundled Merlin safely into the little cabin and made him change into some dry clothing.

"Remind me to get you a water resistant cloak when we're home," he muttered, helping Merlin peel off his wet, clinging trousers and tunic. "Some felted cloth – blue I think. Blue suits you."

"Land suits me better," Merlin complained. "There's an entire pond in my boot!" He up-ended it; salt water sloughed onto the floor.

"Yeah, well there's an entire sea on the other side of this wall." He rapped his knuckles on the cabin wall for emphasis. "Get used to it."

"Two days, right. I can make it through two more days." Merlin straightened up and slid the clean shirt over himself. "This isn't one of mine."

"No"—Arthur got to his feet—"so you'd better not vomit all over it."

They sat in the little cabin for a moment longer. Merlin tapped his fingers idly against the wooden bed post and wished he could have suggested flying over the channel with a dragon. Except the dragon he had in mind was chained below Camelot.

"It's a little stuffy in here," Merlin said.

Arthur was sprawled on the bed, face down in the thin pillow.

"Um, do you have a bucket on hand?"

"Are you going to be sick?" Arthur asked into the pillow. The ship rocked.

"I have to pee."

Arthur sighed. "Under the bed. Go on then." Merlin knelt on the floor, nearly fell over with the next wave, and retrieved the pail from beneath the cot. There was sick in it.

"You're one to talk," he muttered. "And you say I'm a girl."

"Shut up, Merlin."

So that's the first chapter... We'll see how this fic progresses. Please review; tell me what you think!