Summary: Escanor is a traveller trying to find a place to call his own. Merlin is a sorceress in need of some help. They strike a bargain that for Escanor will be one last job before being able to settle into the solitary life he craves. However, the mage is hiding as many secrets as he, and together they are drawn into a quest for the fate of Britannia itself.

A/N: New story! Yay! This is my first long piece for Escanor and Merlin, a ship that has become something that I have found so delightful and fun to explore. This story is based completely on a fantasy AU created by the fabulously talented Bertazsleepyhead. Her art work on Tumblr and Twitter is some of the fandom's best, and once I heard some of her ideas for this AU I begged and pleaded and was eventually granted her blessing to turn this into a fic. Thank you my dear friend for being so gracious and generous with your ideas, your time, and trusting me with the characters you love.

I'll be trying to update about weekly on this, so please follow if you want to know when this will be updated! Also, a huge thanks as always to Galfridus for her fabulous beta talents, and to the gang at the creators' server for helping with titles. Please enjoy, and I welcome all comments. Cover art used by permission by Bertazsleepyhead.

Chapter One: Trouble With A Boar

Escanor pulls his fur collar tighter as he approaches the town ahead. A sign on the road had announced the name of the town, Leir, in bright yellow paint. He hopes it is a good sign, of friendly people and rich, amber ale, although by now he knows not to hope too strongly.

The road is typical of this part of northern Britannia: a bit overrun, the rivets from the wagons deep, the walkway little more than packed dirt from travelers' boots. His own make a soft padding noise as he begins to pass the first buildings. The typical road leads into a typical town, and he recognizes the usual structures: homes connected to stores, stalls for horses, some flowers planted in front of one dusty white chapel. The sounds of flags whipping in the harsh wind and soft animal calls and the churn of the mill in the distance mix with the smells of baked bread and iron and, very far off, the sea.

The moon is out although the sky still has shades of lavender, darkness preparing to settle in for the night. The town does not have street lamps, not that Escanor is too surprised; usually places this far north do not have such luxuries. The cities around Liones and southward past Danafor are the ones who can afford such technology. In towns like this, lives are much simpler.

He turns at the center square and heads towards the only bit of clear noise. As he had suspected, a tavern comes into view, its glowing windows warm and inviting. He picks up his pace a bit as the scent of food greets him, taking the steps two at a time to the front door and stomping the mud from his boots before entering.

It is a typical tavern, as nondescript as the rest of the town. A few eyes lift and look away from the scattered patrons as he walks through the room. Escanor chooses a stool at the end of the bar, dropping his pack under his feet and leaning forward on his elbows as the barkeep comes over. "Aye, stranger. What do ye ken?" he asks, and Escanor laughs to himself at the accent.

"Just an ale," he replies. "Do you serve food?"

The man nods. "Rabbit and onion tonight."

"Fine. Bread too if you have it." The barkeep moves away to send the order to the kitchen, and Escanor reaches into the pocket of his vest to fish out his remaining coins. Only two silvers and three coppers left, but it should be enough for a week at least.

When the man returns with a mug, Escanor holds up his money. "Do you have a room?"

He plucks two of the coppers and a silver. "Oughta cover the night and thy meals. How long are ye staying?"

"Depends." Escanor takes a long draught of the ale. It is cool and rich, not bad for a nowhere little place like this. "Is there work?"

The barkeep considers for a minute. "Not that I ken. There are some farms a bit east might take on a hand. Notta tick happens around here." He peers curiously at Escanor. "Ye don't look like a farmer."

With a smile Escanor takes another sip. "I'm not. But I'll do what needs doing."

"Ye don't speak like ye belong here." His eyes flicker up to the man still regarding him closely. "Is it a knight or something? Ye sound like the south."

"Something like that." He gives a little chuckle, his mustache twitching with the twist of his lips.

"Well if ye good at killing, there is a job ye could do."

Escanor's brows go up in interest, but the barkeep surprises him by shouting, "Aye Bondar! It's a knight come to kill thy pig. Come here and see it."

He turns to see a table with three men in matching red coats look up, and one with a large hat stands, looking him over. "Aye," he says in response. "It a knight, hm?" As Bondar approaches, his large handlebar mustache twitches, the whiskers hanging well below his chin. "Do ye have a weapon?"

"I do," Escanor answers.

"Well ye can give thy name, stranger," he says.

With a respectful nod he answers, "My name is Escanor. But I'm not a knight. I know how to fight though, and I'm in need of work."

"Bondar, the sheriff of Leir and Beir," the man huffs. "Ye have any experience with monsters?"

Escanor raises his brows, giving a little snort. "Monsters, hm? What do you mean?"

"There is a monster running in the forest. It in the shape of a boar. Tearing up trees and making the hunt too hard for the tuppers. People say it belong to the witch but notta ken for certain, do ye see?"

"And you need someone to find it and kill it?" asks Escanor.

"Nay, ye daft! That witch will boil your baby-maker quick as look at ye if thy touch its pet." It is Bondar's turn to snort, and the other men in the tavern all laugh at the stranger's stupidity. "Just get rid of it. And try not to lose thy baby-maker."

Escanor chuckles. "I'll do my best."

In the morning the barkeep's wife gives him a little bag of cheese and bread. "If'n ye find the monster, ye get a free night," she tells him in an enticing tone, grinning to show off a missing front tooth.

Escanor places his hand on his heart. "I shall do my best, good lady."

She gives a whoop of laughter as he tucks the meal into his satchel. "Lady! Lady it says!" she screeches, giving his rear a smack as he heads to the door.

He laughs for a bit as he walks through the town, its residents coming out to take a look. Word must have gotten around about the knight come to slay the witch's boar, and many whisper to each other as he walks towards the forest. At the end of the road Bondar waits with his deputies, their coats looking fresher than the three men at such an early hour. "Good morning," Escanor calls with a sly smile.

The sheriff waves off his pleasant mood. "Aye," he grumbles. Then he gives Escanor a sharp look. "Ye ken the way? No pay for it if ye lose thy way back."

The deputies titter at their boss' joke but Escanor only nods. "I studied some maps last night," he assures. "I think I can track it."

With a nod Bondar puts his hands on his hips. "Get on then. Take heed of the witch."

Escanor gives a salute, which the deputies respond to with their own, much to the annoyance of the sheriff. This time he cannot stop his laughter as the deputies cower under the man's blustering wrath. With a shake of his head he starts towards the line of trees that signal the start of the forest.

Having been on his own since early adolescence, Escanor is well versed in tracking and hunting. It is barely mid-morning when he picks up the first set of tracks, finding deep rivets in the trees from tusks, but much too high to be from a buck. The sun continues to rise as he moves quietly through the forest, expecting to see the animal at any moment, but all is quiet, the animals responding to his presence by hiding.

His body begins to respond to the rising sun, and as an hour slips into two, then three and four, Escanor grows cautious. There may still be hunters out and about, and he keeps a firm grip on his mind as he travels deeper into the trees. Focusing on the animal tracks assists in this, thankfully, despite not coming upon any men in the woods.

When the time nears noon, Escanor pauses to consider his next step. Soon enough his other self will be in control, which could be beneficial in hunting the boar. But it could also make him careless, and if there are any humans in the way, it would prove dangerous. Boars are dangerous creatures by their very nature, and one the townspeople call monster could be downright deadly. Killing a boar is tricky as well, their dense structure and thick hide making it nearly impossible to wound one—basically, it is kill or be killed.

Humming to himself, Escanor shrugs off the fur he wears. His body is expanding with the climbing sun, and his skin is plenty warm from exertion. He takes a moment to stretch, the growing muscle burning as he pulls his shoulder and neck and making him grin. Despite the cold temperature he is fine without the coverings on his upper half, actually more comfortable without the heavy fabric draping on him.

As he is rearranging his pack and begins sharpening his knife, Escanor pauses as a memory surfaces. He scrapes the blade over the stone, the sound reminding him of being a young boy, waiting in the woods with the other hunters. Boar hunting was one of the few activities he was invited along as the crown prince, as it is a sport only the nobles would undertake, given its level of danger. There was a team of skilled hunters, the finest weapons, a pack of highly trained dogs to help herd the prey. The excitement among the men for the hunt was so electric he could almost taste it, feeling so grown-up to be among them. His father, the king, actually looked him over and gave a nod, the small gesture making his chest swell and tighten.

Escanor's hands pause as the next part surfaces. He remembers watching them in a frozen sort of fear, their snarls and bared teeth so unlike the sweet dog he shared with his younger brother. Then the hunt, the sounds of the barking and the shouts of the men, the unearthly squeal of the boar, the cracking of trees as it fought. Then red, covering everything: the dogs, the men, the ground. Pieces of animals had been seemingly everywhere, and he was sick as the men cheered. Later, his nanny had told him that he had to learn to suffer such things. Men did not fear, and they did not get sick, no matter how awful things were.

He swallows tightly around the lump in his throat. Escanor recognizes now how foolish it had been to take a boy—was he even ten years old yet? perhaps eight?—on a deadly and dangerous errand, to witness the fight among the boar and the dogs. Many had been torn nearly to shreds on the tusks of the animal before it was finally speared by the king. The sight of such a thing, however horrible, had been nothing compared to the way his father had looked at him. That was something that gripped him longer than the blood and the heat ever had; even now, Escanor mutters under his breath as he shakes the feeling away to refocus on his work.

Besides, it was a long time ago. No need to linger on what cannot be changed.

So distracted he is by the memory that Escanor does not notice the giant boar at first. It is actually the smell that catches his attention: a mixture of blood and dirt, but tinged with a magic that does not belong. He raises his eyes to see the creature he had been hunting has found him at first; he remains still and silent, waiting, afraid to spook the animal.

It is huge indeed. The townspeople had not exaggerated; its pink color is dulled with dirt, its hide thick and covered in coarse hair. The boar stands shoulder high at least

His eyes do not leave the boar as he takes the knife in his hand. Escanor had intended to attach it to a stick or bough to make a spear, but that is impossible now; a quick flicker of his eyes upwards shows him noon is soon to arrive. It should be enough, and he grins to himself, the warmth of the sun burning like lava through his veins. "You should have stayed hidden, pig," he says, and if he did not know better Escanor would swear the boar looks at him in contempt.

"A fight is it then?" he calls. "How arrogant you are for a beast."

The boar snorts and takes a step forward. Escanor stands at full height, tightening his grip on the knife. He will have one shot at this; if he does not deal a killing blow with the first strike, then the boar is likely to deal him a possibly fatal amount of damage. The idea seems ludicrous to his noontime self; if anything, being challenged by a mere boar gives him the idea of purposefully toying with the animal first.

The idea evaporates as the boar charges. Its tusks are down and angled to spear him, but Escanor manages to evade being gored. It moves faster than he had presumed, quickly skidding on a turn to make another pass. Escanor spins with a laugh, tumbling back to his feet as the boar rushes forward. He tilts his weight forward to avoid the tusks, wanting to send it airborne. The crash to the ground should be enough to stun the beast, and all he needs is a moment to drive his blade into its neck.

With a roar he pitches forward, diving for the boar's legs. Escanor crashes into it, sending the animal toppling, and immediately rolls back up on his feet, still clutching the knife. The boar wastes no time at all scrambling back up, turning to make another charge. Once more Escanor is ready for him, and although he does not hit its neck the way he wants, he does manage to cause a gash down the side of the animal, jagged and deep.

He laughs in triumph, checking the howling animal over his shoulder. There is some pain of his own, and with a quick glance downwards he sees that the boar had struck him as well, an equally painful gash along the side of his abdomen. "Well played, beast," he says, eyeing the boar as it stomps on the ground. "But you've been too much of a nuisance of late. Now the hour draws near, and it is time for you to surrender."

The boar gives off an echoing cry before charging. Escanor sidesteps easily, pleased to see that the boar is slowly down—or rather, his reaction time is speeding up. As if in slow motion, he can see the way the boar's eyes glint as they land on him, can see the puff of dust kicked up under its hooves, the way its hair stands on end, the string of spittle that falls from its mouth. Looking up, Escanor sees why: the sun is now overhead, and the minute of his purest strength is at hand.

"Now you die," he says.

Again the boar charges, in complete slow-motion. What must be mere seconds feels like full minutes that tick by; he feels the air shift and the flutter of a nearby bumblebee and the way the plants on the forest floor are growing, each cell expanding as they reach for the sun. He stretches out his hand as the power within him surges forward, and with a muttered phrase it manifests into a ball of energy that he sends hurtling at the boar now halfway towards him.

Yet somehow, it misses. "Impossible!" Escanor shouts—no creature can withstand his Cruel Sun—his frustration at his miss distracting enough that he does not register the tusk that sinks into his thigh until he hears a thud and realizes he has dropped his knife.

He curses under his breath, pushing the boar off and knocking it away. The animal is clearly wounded badly, and Escanor winces as he assesses. He has been hurt, which means it is one minute past noon; he is no longer invincible, but strong enough still to handle this easily. He snatches his knife up from the ground and stalks forward, ignoring the jolting pain in his thigh and hip.

The boar is dazed, and this is his chance, so Escanor does not hesitate. Once close enough he grabs one set of tusks and yanks the beast to the side. His muscles groan with the effort, but he manages to get it on its side, avoiding the snapping jaws to expose the sensitive flesh of its neck.

The knife is raised, and as he stabs downwards a voice calls, "Stop!"

It is so unexpected that his head snaps up, his eyes widening in shock. Several feet away a figure stands among the trees, draped in a long dark cape, the hood pulled up to cover its features. But the voice was unmistakably female, and he frowns just as a spray of blood hits him.

"Stop!" the voice calls again.

Escanor ignores the intruder, cursing again to see he has missed the main artery. Instead of an instant death the boar is seizing, thrashing in his hold. The blood coats his hands and makes him lose his grip on the knife, and the boar manages to land a solid kick on his shin as it scurries sideways.

Landing hard on the ground, Escanor groans, the pain from his two wounds on fire. He watches as the boar crashes through the treeline, making him grit his teeth in frustration. He can hear the boar grunting and wheezing just out of eyesight, but killing him now will be a chore, as well as retrieving his knife. And if it decides to make a run for it, it could get away before Escanor can find it. But before he goes after the animal, he decides to deal with the one who dared to interrupt him.

Escanor staggers up, favoring his good leg, and whirls towards the figure. "What are you thinking?" he shouts. "That thing is a killer!"

"The only killer I see is you."

That voice gives him pause. It is feminine, but deep, filled with power and authority, but somehow still sweet. "I was hired to take that thing out," he says. "I'm not hunting for sport."

The figure moves in closer, nearly drifting over the grass, but still he cannot see their face. "You have no right to hunt here."

"Oh really?" Escanor folds his arms. "Is that thing your pet or something?"

"Something."

The figure lifts both arms. One holds a palm up towards him, while the other pulls back the hood. Escanor's brows lift but before he can get a good look the voice calls, "Absolute Cancel."

It is as if all the strength leaves his body at once. Immediately he feels the full pain of his wounds that his magic was keeping at bay, the sensation causing his head to swim and his stomach to flip. Escanor pitches over, crashing with a groan, and before he loses consciousness he sees two golden eyes laughing at him above, two full lips curled into a devilish smile.