More Than A Feeling [Part 5]
stay_magicalTitle: More Than A Feeling [Part 5]
Rating: PG-13
Pairing/s: Merlin/Arthur
Character/s: Merlin
Summary: The auction is about to begin
Warnings: forced bonding, mentions of selling people/familiars, black market stuff, again, same as usual
Word Count: 819
Prompt: 339: attack
Author's Notes: Finally was able to join in on this one! Wahooooooo
[Part 1] / [Part 2] / [Part 3] / [Part 4]
Much to his relief, Merlin didn’t see hide nor tail of Jarl for most of the following day. Granted he only ventured out of the nest in search of food and to escape the attic when it got too crowded, but Jarl never came searching for him. Nimueh and Gustavo came and went, their witches being sent out on scouting and retrieval runs, and the newest addition to the nest, a large brown rat scurried beneath his claimed crate on the far wall a little after four in the afternoon. Merlin didn’t even know the familiar’s name, only that he was Carl’s newest after he drained his previous one last week. The rat looked a little worse for wear, shrouded in exhaustion and matted fur. Merlin pitied him. He wouldn’t last long, none of Carl’s ever did.
And there was nothing Merlin could do about it. About any of it. He was just as caught as they were, though a few seemed to enjoy their lot in life. Nimueh especially. She was one of the few familiars that graced these halls who was bonded by choice.
The lot of them gave Merlin a wide berth and he them. With the speed of turnaround for familiars amongst Jarl’s men, it was best not to get attached. He had learned that the hard way.
Merlin scaled across the top of the exposed air vents and pipes that made up the high ceilings of the lounge, his tail swishing behind him for balance as he limped along. Everything ached and throbbed, most notably knee and shoulder where he had collided with the wall. This morning, when he’d shifted, he’d caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. A large dark deep bruise was splattered across his pale jaw where one of Jarl’s kicks had caught him. It was the only visible sign of their altercation, if he could even call it that. But anything closer to the truth would be shining a light upon his sorry situation.
No, he was fine. He was surviving.
Within the shadows, Merlin crept further along, making his way to where the duct ended in a three-way vent. Up here, he was invisible, able to watch the clientele below without detection. Able to gauge the atmosphere of the day. And of his witch.
Jarl though, was mysteriously absent.
It wasn’t unusual to say the least, he had clients to entertain, deals to close, and a whole hoard of witches to boss around. There were hauls coming and going through the many private entrances, auctions, meetings, pleasures. Several times Merlin had felt a drain to his magic as his witch called upon it. Nothing too extreme, and certainly nothing close to burning him out, but it meant Jarl was active. Active on both the attack and the defensive.
Business as usual.
Which only added to Merlin’s anxiety. Jarl’s parting words last night had put Merlin on edge all day, expecting to be sought out or summoned at any moment. He almost wished Jarl would do it already just to get it over with and stop his nerves from fraying at the edges. Whatever he might have in store for him.
A bell sounded from the side of the lounge, carrying over the din of conversation and laughter, the sunk-in arena thankfully empty and quiet at this time. Merlin jerked his head up, the noise in the lounge falling as attention was drawn to the far side of the room and the thrown open double doors.
“The auction will be starting in three minutes,” Cedric announced to the room, standing alert at his usual post by the doors.
Right. The bear.
In all that had happened the past day, Merlin had nearly forgotten about the familiar auction. It was highly anticipated, sparking great interest and greed amongst the clientele. Merlin could make out the balding head of Alined amongst the herd filing into the auction room, his coyote familiar Trickster slinking along behind him. The man was at every auction, big or small. Him and a few other notable witches. And Vivan, Merlin noted, spying the human woman’s distinctive blonde form poised regally arm in arm with her father. One of the few humans permitted to enter the lounge. Thanks to her father and their high status amongst the magical community.
Merlin leaned further over the edge of the vent, eyes narrowed as he caught sight of the dark slicked hair of Cenred just before he disappeared into the auction room. A shiver ran down his spine, fur raising. If Cenred was here, there was something more going on. Something bigger than just a bear familiar.
Merlin cursed. If he hadn’t angered his one source of information—and pain—he wouldn’t be so in the dark. Lack of knowledge meant lack of preparation. And lack of preparation in Merlin’s world could spell his death.
He had to get into that room.