To Escape A Time Loop, The Witch Demands Virgin Blood. And Well, Everyone Thinks They Know Who The Virgin

To escape a time loop, the witch demands virgin blood. And well, everyone thinks they know who the virgin of the group is. And they're wrong – or are they?

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“Are you completely sure they are to be trusted, Merlin? What if the witch goes back on their word!” Arthur exclaimed.

He was frustrated. But so too were the knights and Merlin. They had been wandering a neverending woodland path for what had felt like hours. After all, why would they give in to a witch’s demands before exhausting every option?

“No, Arthur!” Merlin snapped. “I am not sure we can trust them at all, but what other option do we have at this point?”

Merlin was the first to notice that they’d been looping the same path several times over, before any of the knights. This sort of magic was something he had seen before, and he knew it was the type of curse that was near impossible to break from inside the incantation area. In his mind, the witch’s words repeated endlessly.

When the knights had come across the witch, they were simply sitting by a humble campfire, watching a pot of water with herbs and leaves boil over. Of course, Gwaine had been desperate enough to accept a drink from this total stranger. And after just one sip, the witch had risen to their feet and laughed – a sound so shrill and chilling.

“And thus, thou, King of Camelot and thyne beloved knights of the round table are cursed to wander these woods for the rest of time. The world shall continue on without thee as thy kingdom crumbles. But do not despair, men of the sword. Lest you bring me 9 drops of a virgin’s blood, I shall grant thee freedom once more.”

“Alright, bickering will get us nowhere!” Leon interrupted. “Even if we were to do what the witch asks, where are we going to find a virgin in these woods if it simply keeps repeating itself?”

Percival quickly quipped, “Well, what about one of us?”

An abrupt silence descended upon the men as they exchanged glances.

“I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’ve never seen a woman within five feet of Merlin,” Elyan spoke.

The rest of the knights turned their faces towards Merlin.

Arthur smirked.

“Well go on then, Merlin. If you really think we can trust the witch, then go ahead. 8 drops of blood is barely much of a sacrifice.”

Merlin grit his teeth. It was true that he had never been… intimate with any of the ladies he had admired. But he had a feeling deep down that something was wrong. Was it because he had the blood of a sorcerer? Would it potentially backfire – put them in danger?

As he racked his brain, he heard the familiar metallic rush of a sword being drawn.

“Gwaine, what do you think you’re doing?” Arthur said firmly, as Gwaine drew his sword.

“What, he needs a blade if he’s gonna bleed, right?”

“And you think a sword is a good idea? What if he accidentally impaled himself?” Arthur barked.

The king quickly drew his dagger and handed it very carefully into the hands of his servant. Gwaine rolled his eyes and put his sword away.

“Here, Merlin,” Arthur spoke. His words were ever so slightly more gentle than his usual biting tone.

Merlin raced through his thoughts to try and come up with an excuse. The creeping feeling that this was wrong refused to subside.

Finally he blurted, “I can’t. I can’t do it.”

“Oh come on, Merlin,” scoffed Gwaine. “It’s not like we’re asking you to cut off your entire arm.”

Before Merlin could think of a good excuse, the words slipped from his lips:

“I can’t be the one to do it… because I’m not a virgin.”

There was a beat.

Then, before anyone could react, Gwaine had swiftly taken Arthur’s dagger and lightly swiped Merlin’s arm.

“Ow, Gwaine!” Merlin huffed, but it was too late.

Small red beads of blood dripped quickly from the sorcerer's arm to the forest floor. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight. Nine. The sky above them whirled and hissed, darkening in only a few seconds.

And then, the witch’s voice boomed from all sides.

“This is not the virgin blood I seek. Do not deceive me again, lest thou art willing to suffer the consequence.”

“Huh, guess he wasn’t lying,” Gwaine shrugged.

If anyone had seen Arthur’s face as the witch had spoken, they may have noticed the slight snarl of his lips, the quick flush of his face. But it soon was gone and replaced with raging concern. Tearing some cloth from his cape, the King skillfully wrapped the wound on Merlin’s arm.

“Are you alright?” he asked quickly. A little too quickly.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine,” Merlin quivered.

Perhaps if it were any other situation, he may have had his suspicions about Arthur’s tender touches. The way his king so swiftly and gently cleaned up the wound as best he could. But his mind was worrying about something else.

He was close to connecting the dots, he was sure. Virgin blood. He was a virgin, but obviously it hadn't worked. What did the witch mean by virgin if not a person who had not had sex? Virgin - what did that word mean? Pure? Untainted?

As Merlin fretted in silence and Arthur tended to him, Leon had quietly taken the dagger. And without warning—

“Ow! Okay, that actually really hurt!” Gwaine yelped.

The others turned quickly to him and watched as blood rolled down his palm and rolled off onto the forest floor.

And then, for Merlin, it clicked. Virgin blood – he had read about it before. Dark magic required ritual blood. And the most powerful of spells required blood that had never been used in magic before. And after so many escapades with numerous magic users, of course, Merlin’s blood had been used in magic before!

Once more, the sky hissed and darkened and the witch’s voice filled the forest.

“The deal is fulfilled, oh King of Camelot. Thou and thy company may leave this place freely.”

“Holy shit, Gwaine’s a vir–”

But before Elyan could finish his exclamation, the forest fell away and the men found themselves stirring awake by the witch’s camp fire.

Arthur was the first to scramble to his feet and brandish his sword at the woods surrounding them, his knights quick behind.

“Show yourself!” he demanded.

“It's too late,” Merlin said, simply, checking his arm – still wrapped up in Arthur's makeshift cloth bandage. “The witch would be long gone by now. That sort of spell is one you cast to get as far as you can from the people you're trapping. I've read about these spells plenty of times.”

Tired, Arthur resheathed his sword and collapsed onto the floor next to Merlin. The knights also sat themselves down, exhausted.

“Does it hurt?” Arthur whispered quickly.

“Not anymore,” Merlin answered, also in a hurried, hushed tone. “Thanks for the bandage.”

Arthur felt the words claw at his throat. He so desperately wanted to know. Who was it that Merlin had let into his heart to share a bed with? Who had this servant boy met that he did not know about? Merlin told him everything. Or at least, Merlin was such an open book that Arthur knew it all. Or at least he thought he did.

His heart beat heavy in his chest. And the question never made it into the air.

Finally, Leon broke the solemn silence that hung above all their heads.

“Look, Gwaine, you really don't need to lie about being a lady-killer. We'll love you either way.”

The knights burst into a much needed uproarious laughter and even a chuckle escaped from Merlin and Arthur.

“But I've been with loads of women!” Gwaine protested. “The witch was mistaken!”

“Sure, sure,” Percival spoke dismissively. “We definitely believe you and not some super scary witchy curse, Gwaine.”

And with that the knights rose to their feet and continued on with their journey. Arthur’s eyes lingering on Merlin's arm just a fraction of a second too long.