Chapter Text
Arthur’s still uncharacteristically subdued as he sets the hunting traps, and Leon sighs inwardly. Sometimes he just wants to hit King Uther around the head until he sees reason. What kind of father puts a fifteen year old in charge of a massacre? What kind of king slaughters his own people for the crime of living? If it wasn’t for Arthur he’d have given up on Camelot years ago, but he’s not his father. The fact that he’s taking this trip is proof enough.
“Just two more days and we’ll be there, sire.”
Arthur flinches. “Don’t call me that. I’m not worthy of that title. Princes don’t stand around helplessly while their own men slaughter innocents!” He kicks a tree trunk. “Fuck!”
“It wasn’t your fault. They were your father’s men, under his orders. They would never have listened to you over him.” Arthur snorts contemptuously. “Besides. That’s why you’re coming with me now, to help. Having the prince on their side will give them hope.”
“It shouldn’t. I can’t even stop one settlement from being destroyed. They were Druids, Leon. Innocent Druids.”
“Arthur. That’s enough.” Arthur snaps his mouth shut, glaring mutinously. “You’re helping now, and you are not your father. I wouldn’t have let you come with me if you were anything like him. Clear?” Arthur nods, but Leon can tell he doesn’t believe him. That’s... well, it’s not alright, but they’ve got time. “Now. I’m going to collect firewood. Will you stay here and look after the camp? We can’t afford for the supplies to be stolen.”
“Fine.”
He heads into the trees, angling towards the border. It’s still far enough away that they can’t be accused of crossing it, but the sounds of the village beyond carry. It’s louder than normal. He shakes his head. They can’t afford to get involved with whatever’s going on. It’s not their kingdom and they have enough to do.
Suddenly the noises increase, crashes and yells and dogs baying, and there’s a harsh cry of pain. Leon drops the branches just as something comes crashing through the trees, landing with a pained grunt at his feet.
No. Not something. Some one.
A boy looks up at him, taking in his red cloak with wide, pleading eyes. “Help me.”
Leon makes a split-second decision. “Get behind me.” The boy crawls behind him, panting unsteadily, just as three of Cenred’s knights, accompanied by snarling hunting dogs, push through the trees.
“Have you seen a boy pass through here?”
Leon bristles. Something about Cenred’s knights always rubs him the wrong way, and today’s no exception. “Why? This is Camelot’s territory, in case you’ve forgotten.”
“No need to get all antsy, we were just asking. He’s our prisoner.”
He thinks of the young boy crouching behind him. “Well I haven’t seen anyone.”
“Pity. Ah well. You’ll have to find someone else to feed to your dogs, Cador.”
There’s a terrified whimper from behind Leon and he coughs to cover it up.
“Cenred won’t be happy we let him live,” replies another knight gruffly.
“It’s not like he’ll survive long anyway.” He smirks at Leon. “He’ll be dead before the day’s out.”
Leon puts a hand on his sword hilt in warning. “Leave. Now. This isn’t your kingdom.”
“Alright, alright. Come on men.” One of the knights whistles, calling the dogs to him, and they melt back into the trees. He can hear grumbling beyond as, presumably, the message is passed on. Gods almighty, how many men did they bring to capture one boy?
Once he’s sure they’re completely gone, Leon turns, crouching down in front of the huddled figure. “They’re gone.” The boy breathes out shakily, sniffling as he peeks his head out, peering at Leon. “That’s it. I have a camp nearby, we can tend to your injuries, get you some food. Will you come?” The boy doesn’t say anything. “You can’t stay here.”
“You’re not– you’re not going to hurt me?”
“No. I promise. I wouldn’t have hidden you from those knights if I was.” He holds out a hand. “Come with me?”
The boy stares into his eyes, and Leon holds his gaze, hoping he finds what he’s looking for. Then, eventually, the boy stretches out his arm, placing his small hand in Leon’s.
Leon smiles gently and pulls him to his feet. The boy stumbles, leg collapsing beneath him, and he falls to the ground with a yelp.
“I– I can’t walk.”
“Alright.” Leon lifts the boy’s arms around his neck. “Hold on tight.”
He grips Leon tightly, one leg hanging limp at his side, as the knight carries him towards his and Arthur’s camp.
“I’m Leon. What’s your name?”
“Merlin.”
He rests his head on Leon’s shoulder, whimpering whenever his leg’s jostled. Goddess, he’s light.
Arthur looks up when they enter the camp, eyes widening. “That’s not firewood.”
Merlin flinches in surprise. “Easy, Merlin.” Leon raises his voice slightly. “This is Merlin. He’s injured, Cenred’s knights are after him. Merlin, this is Arthur, my friend.”
Arthur shakes himself. “Pleased to meet you, Merlin.”
Merlin waves.
Leon lies him down on his side, running an eye over his body. Merlin had been too curled up for him to notice before, but now...
“God’s mercy,” mutters Arthur, horrified. Leon silently agrees. There’s an arrow sticking out of the back of his left thigh, blood running down his bare leg where the breeches have torn away. The rest of his clothes are tattered and torn, presumably as a result of running through the woods, and he’s covered in blood and grime. Nothing as bad as that arrow wound though.
“Right. Merlin, I know it’s not ideal but I’m going to need to pull the arrow out, all right? I don’t have any pain relief unfortunately. Bite down on this.” Merlin nods, clenching the stick between his teeth, and Leon grasps the arrow shaft close to where it pierces his leg. “On three. One–” he yanks the arrow out and Merlin screams, partially muffled by the stick. Then he presses a clean bandage hard on the wound as Arthur balls up his cloak, using it to elevate the boy’s leg. They both know what to do, and when the bleeding doesn’t stop Leon holds out his hand for the needle and thread. Merlin holds Arthur’s hand in a white-knuckled grip as Leon sews the skin back together, gasping in ragged breaths.
“Easy, Merlin, it’s done now. You can rest.”
The boy turns onto his back, spits out the splintered remains of the stick and sags back against the bedroll, closing his eyes briefly. Arthur gets up, shaking out his hand. “I’m going to check on the traps.”
Leon nods, stroking Merlin’s tangled, waist-length hair gently, pulling out small twigs as he does so. The boy’s so small. “Go to sleep for a bit.”
“Can’t,” he says weakly, “it hurts too much.”
“I’m sorry. There’s nothing I can do but let it heal, I’m afraid.”
Merlin sits up. He shakes his head, rolling up his sleeves and holding them out, eyes wary. “No, it– it hurts , Leon.”
Leon takes his arm gently, examining the heavy metal cuffs previously hidden beneath his clothes. “Cold iron?” Merlin nods, shivering. “Is this why they said you wouldn’t last the day?” He nods again, and Leon reaches into his pocket, pulling out a thin strip of metal. He fiddles with the lock on the cuff, breaking it open, and it falls to the ground. Merlin watches wide-eyed as he removes the other one. “Better?”
The boy nods vigorously. “Thank you.” He looks down at his forearms, turning them over in amazement. The veins are dark, ill-looking, but even as Leon watches they start to lighten. “Why?”
“I don’t care if you’re a sorcerer, you’re a person, first and foremost, and you don’t deserve this. No-one does.”
Merlin’s eyes are filled with tears again, but he doesn’t look scared, or pained, at least not predominantly, it’s... there’s something else there.
“Merlin?”
“’m just...” he trails off. “I just didn’t expect anyone to help me. I thought... if I was caught that would be it.” He gulps. “No-one can stand up to Cenred’s men.”
Leon strokes his hair back, seeing Arthur enter the clearing out of the corner of his eye. “What happened? Why were they after you?”
“It’s hunting season.”
“Hunting season?”
“Camelot kills us, Essetir hunts us. They use us as target practice. Or feed us to the dogs.” He ducks his head, fists clenched, breathing heavy. “They’d have torn me apart.”
Leon puts an arm around his shoulder. “Breathe, Merlin, breathe.” The boy takes a deep breath, and then another, hand creeping out to clutch Leon’s tightly. He leans back against the knight, breathing out slowly.
“How old are you?” asks Arthur, looking nauseous as he skins and spits the three rabbits he returned with.
“Eight.”
Leon feels ill. He’s barely old enough to be a page. The same age as Gwen.
Merlin’s gaze flicks between the fire pit Arthur cleared earlier and the rabbits in his hand. He stretches out a hand and his eyes flash golden, a fire springing up inside the pit.
Arthur jumps back, stiffening, and Leon freezes momentarily before tightening his grip on the boy’s shoulders. Merlin shies away. “I’m sorry!”
“No, Merlin,” says Arthur firmly, “thank you.” He sets the rabbits over the fire as Merlin watches on, wary and curious in equal measure. The boy watches quietly for a while, eventually becoming more confident again as it becomes clear that neither of them will harm him.
A cold gust of wind blows through the clearing and Merlin shivers. “Come on. Let’s find you some proper clothes.” Leon claps a hand on Merlin’s shoulder, and the boy watches as he heads over to the saddlebag, digging out Arthur’s spare outfit.
Merlin changes quickly, white tunic nearly falling off his shoulders, a length of rope tied tight around his waist, hands and feet just visible at the end of his rolled-up sleeves and breeches. He looks even smaller in those clothes.
Leon ruffles the boy’s hair. “That’s better. Come on. Let’s see if Arthur’s burnt the rabbits yet.”
“Hey!” Arthur interjects, dividing the rabbits into three bowls.
Merlin takes his portion, digging into it like a man starved. Leon remembers how light the boy was earlier and exchanges a glance with Arthur. Harvests have been poor for the last couple of years, it’s no wonder he hasn’t been getting enough to eat.
Once he’s finished, Merlin asks quietly, “What happens now?”
“Where are you from?”
“Ealdor. But someone reported me and if I go back–”
“Then the same thing will happen all over again,” finishes Leon with a sigh. Merlin nods. “Do you have anywhere else you can go?”
“I’ve got an uncle in Camelot.”
“What’s his name?” asks Arthur thoughtfully. “Maybe we know him.”
“Gaius.”
“Gaius? Are you sure?” he inquires, surprised. Merlin nods. “He’s our court physician, Merlin. He’ll take you in. And if not, I’ve got space.” His look dares Leon to say anything about the king not allowing it. “What do you say? Will you come with us?”
The boy gives them a considering look, then nods.
“Good,” says Leon. “Now that that’s sorted, I’m going to clean the dishes.”
“Ooh! I can help!” Merlin exclaims cheerfully.
“You can’t walk.”
“Don’t need to, it’s easy .” His eyes flash gold and suddenly the bowls are sparkling clean.
Leon’s amazed at how easily these spells seem to come to him. He always thought sorcerers had to speak to use magic, but apparently Merlin doesn’t.
“Ma’s old ,” he explains, “and the river’s freezing so I clean them so she doesn’t get all cold.”
“That’s kind of you,” says Leon.
“I can do all sorts! Look!” His eyes flash gold again and Arthur’s hair turns blackberry purple. Leon bursts out laughing.
“What?” asks Arthur indignantly. “What did he do?”
“Your hair’s like a blackberry got squished in it!” Merlin says happily.
“Mer lin. If I have purple hair people will get suspicious.”
“But it just looks like you fell into some berries! I did that once and I got all red and purple and Will laughed and laughed.”
Arthur smiles faintly. “I don’t generally fall into blackberry bushes though.”
Merlin scowls fiercely. “Spoilsport.”
“Menace.”
❖
The next morning Arthur and Leon divide up the bags, strapping the majority of the supplies to Leon’s horse. There’s less than there was, but it should still be enough for the Druids. Hopefully.
Then Leon leaves. They need to get Merlin back to Camelot, but the Druids desperately need the supplies, so Leon’s going to join them in a few days. Hopefully they’ll be well on their way to Camelot by then.
Merlin’s rather subdued as he eats his breakfast. Arthur supposes it must be a lot, being forced to leave behind his friends and family and move to a different kingdom. He’s no good at cheering people up though. So he goes for the tactic that usually works on Morgana: annoying people until they stop sulking.
He pokes Merlin. “You’re small for eight.”
Merlin scowls at him. “Am not.”
“Yes, you are.” And he is. He barely reaches Leon’s elbow standing up (which, granted, he’s only managed once, for a few seconds). “Are you sure you’re eight?”
“Prat.” Arthur smirks, feeling a bit better himself. No-one else talks to him like that. “It doesn’t matter anyway, because I’m going to be as tall as Leon when I grow up.”
“Are you now?”
“Yep.” He takes a big bite of bread, thoroughly distracted. “Don’t we need to save some of this?”
“No, we’ve got more for later. And we can always hunt if we need to.”
Merlin’s eyes go wide. “ More food?”
“Yes,” says Arthur slowly, confused. “Do you... not usually have more food?”
“Not this much in one meal!”
“How much do you usually have then?”
“Dunno. Maybe this much for the whole day. Or less. Depends.”
They have less than this a day? Arthur can’t imagine that. He often has more than this in one meal, and tells the boy so. His eyes, impossibly, go even wider.
“But what about winter? And bad harvests? And bandits?”
“The first two are less common in the city, and we don’t get bandits. There’s more of a problem in the lower town sometimes, but Morgana and I make sure they get fed. Sometimes we have food shortages, but not often.”
“Oh.” It takes a few minutes for Merlin to absorb this. “Who’s Morgana?”
“My sister. Well, step-sister. She’s slightly under a year older than me and is a pain in the a– a real menace.”
“Like me?”
Arthur ruffles his hair. “Exactly like you.” The boy beams. “Have you ever ridden a horse before?”
Merlin shakes his head. “I’ve seen them. Cenred’s men had some. They’re huge! ”
“I’ll help you then. You’re sharing with me anyway, we only have one horse. And then when we’re back in Camelot I can teach you to ride properly. How’s that?” Merlin nods enthusiastically. “Just let me pack up and then we’ll go.”
Merlin jumps to his feet and tries to help Arthur reload the bedrolls onto Hengroen, making it take twice as long, then bounces on his toes next to the horse. Arthur smiles.
“Lift your arms.” He does so, arms stretched completely, and Arthur lifts him onto Hen, climbing up behind. “You alright?”
“It’s so high!”
Arthur chuckles. “Just wait until we reach Camelot.” He pauses. “How could you walk just now? I thought your leg meant you couldn’t?”
“Dunno. I really really wanted to so I could. But it hurts now.”
“Well it would do. You stood on it when it’s only just starting to heal.”
“Oh. ’s that bad? Ma says it is but I can so I dunno why I shouldn’t.”
“You should listen to her. It’ll heal much quicker and better if you stay off it for now. Alright?” The boy nods firmly. “Next time we stop I’ll find you a walking stick. Then you can hop a bit. So long as you don’t step on the wounded leg.”
“I won’t!”
“You better not, little menace.” He clucks at Hengroen and he starts walking sedately. It’s going to take some time to get back to Camelot at this rate but Arthur doesn’t mind. He’s not sure he can look his father in the eye just yet anyway.
“You all right, Merlin?”
“Yep!” He almost bounces out of the saddle but Arthur catches him just in time. “He’s so wobbly!”
“He’s a horse, Merlin, that’s what they’re like.”
“Oh. I’ve never ridden an animal before. I tried to ride Ethel once but ma stopped me.”
“Ethel?”
“The village cow.”
Arthur snorts. He can’t help himself. He imagines an even smaller Merlin trying to mount a cow. Once he’s started laughing he can’t stop, even as Merlin squirms and elbows him indignantly.
“Hey! It’s not that funny!”
“Yes,” he chokes out, “it is.”
They carry on riding for a few hours before Merlin starts growing tired, his excited babbling slowing and becoming quieter. Finally, he sags against Arthur.
“Let’s take a break.” Merlin nods and Arthur pulls Hengroen to a halt, dismounting. Merlin slides off easily. “How do you feel?”
“’m fine.” Arthur pauses in his search for a suitable stick to look at him disbelievingly, and he shuffles slightly as he sits down. ”My bottom’s sore.”
“You’ll be alright. Here.” He throws a long, straight-ish looking stick in Merlin’s direction, and Merlin fumbles to catch it, frowning when he does.
“What’s this?”
“A walking stick. Should be about your size. Why don’t you try it out?”
Merlin grins, levering himself to his feet. “I can walk again?”
“Yep. So long as you keep your weight off your bad leg. You might have to hop.”
“I will, I promise!” He hops around for a bit before plopping himself down next to Arthur. “It’s tiring .”
“You’re not used to it, that’s all.”
“I miss ma.”
“You’ll see her again soon enough. We can write to her as soon as we arrive in Camelot. You might not be able to go back to Ealdor, but she can visit you.” Merlin nods, and Arthur suddenly notices that Merlin’s hair still has leaves and twigs stuck in it. He pulls out a twig and tosses it away.
“What are you doing?”
“Your hair’s messy. Let me sort it out?”
“Okay.” Merlin fidgets as Arthur removes what seems like an entire bush from his hair, piece by piece. “How d’you know how to do this?”
“Morgana. She used to make me help her.” He pulls a leaf from the boy’s hair. “I’m probably better than her now.”
Merlin doesn’t say anything, letting Arthur remove the rest of the bush and untangle his hair. He runs his hand through Merlin’s long black locks. There’s so much of it. Most boys in Camelot don’t have hair that long, and he knows why. He knows what they need to do.
Merlin pokes him. “Why’re you looking all sad?”
Arthur looks him in the eye. “You look like a Druid with your hair long like that. And that’s not a bad thing, but it’s a Druidic tradition, even if a lot of them don’t partake in it right now. You’ll either be arrested outright for being a Druid, or you’ll be under suspicion, and we don’t want you to get caught. You know what the king does to Druids.”
Merlin looks a little fearful. “What do we do then?”
“We need to cut your hair. We can wait for Leon to join us if you like, but it needs to be done before we reach Camelot.”
The boy chews his lip in thought. “Will you do it?”
“You’d trust me with a blade to your neck?” Merlin nods and Arthur smiles. “Alright, hang on.” He pulls a dagger out of his boot and manoeuvres the boy in front of him. “Stay still.”
Unfortunately, Arthur isn’t an expert at cutting hair. Even that’s something of an understatement, he thinks as he cuts Merlin’s hair, the soft black locks curling on the ground below. He sits back to examine it once he’s done.
Ah.
“It’s... a bit wonky.” That’s also an understatement. It looks a bit like badly built battlements. Arthur didn’t even know hair could be cut like that. “Let me try and straighten it.”
Once he’s finished (read: given up), Merlin runs his hand through it. “You’re rubbish at cutting hair,” he says bluntly.
“I’ve never had to.” Merlin scowls. “Ready to keep going?”
Merlin nods, and Arthur lifts him up onto Hengroen, climbing on behind. He’s not paying as much attention as he should be to the boy in front of him, and that’s the only explanation he has for why it takes him so long to notice.
“Merlin... is your hair growing?”
“No,” he says determinedly, not looking round. Arthur groans, flopping forward so his head rests atop Merlin’s.
“You’re going to be the death of me one day.”
That evening, once they’ve set up camp, Arthur cuts Merlin’s hair again. It looks even worse than last time, and he frowns, unsure as to where he keeps going wrong.
“You are not better at this than Morgana,” argues Merlin sleepily.
“I said I was better at detangling hair, not cutting it, little menace.”
Merlin manages to stay awake for long enough to scarf down his dinner, looking astonished that there’s more food, before his eyes droop shut and Arthur catches him before he can fall into the fire. He’s fast asleep, turning into Arthur’s arm with a whimper as Arthur scoops him up and carries him over to a bedroll, spreading a blanket over him. He’s so small .
“How can you be the great evil my father warned me about?” murmurs Arthur, stroking the boy’s hair. “You weigh even less than my armour.”
Merlin whimpers as Arthur pulls away, starting to thrash. Arthur settles his hand on the boy’s hair and he settles, nudging into it. Well. It doesn’t seem like Arthur’s moving from this spot for a while.
How on earth could anyone want a boy like this dead?
In the morning, Merlin’s hair is long again. Arthur groans in defeat.
They continue through the forest for another day. It’s interesting at first, and Hengroen is so high, but Merlin’s bored, and his chest aches. He misses ma and Will, and even Old Man Simmons. He likes Arthur and Leon, but Leon’s not here, and he wants his home.
It’s the morning after that when Arthur slows Hengroen just before they reach the top of a hill. Merlin frowns.
“What are you doing?”
“You can see Camelot from just over this rise. I’m slowing so you get a better look.”
They crest the hill and Merlin’s jaw drops, his hands going slack on Hengroen’s reins. Behind him Arthur chuckles, but he barely notices, his mind occupied by the sight ahead of him.
Rising out of the trees on the horizon is a gleaming white castle, towers stretching towards the sky. They go up and up, until they almost seem to touch the clouds. And it’s so big .
“Wow,” he breathes.
“Good, huh?”
“It’s huge! You could fit five of ma’s house in that tower!”
“Oh, at least. Could probably fit the whole of Ealdor in there.”
“Is it really all one castle? You said there was a lower town, where is it?” Merlin bounces up and down on Hengroen, trying to spot it, but all he can see is the shining castle. It doesn’t help that he can’t look away. He’s never seen anything so big and shiny.
“You can’t see too well through the trees, but if you look down to the right you can see some smoke rising from the houses there.” Merlin follows his gaze to the area in the front side of the castle, behind the walls, and he can just make out wooden houses peeking out, smoke from cooking rising into the sky.
“I see it! I see it!”
Merlin hears a horse approach and a different low chuckle that makes his heart skip a beat in delight.
“Leon! You’re back!”
“I am.” He pulls his horse to a halt beside them and ruffles Merlin’s hair. “What do you think of Camelot then, little falcon?”
“It’s enormous !” Merlin tears his gaze away long enough to see Leon’s fond smile. “It’s so white and shiny and Arthur says you could fit the whole of Ealdor inside one tower! You must have so many stairs!”
“We do,” says Arthur, a smile in his voice.
“Wow.” He’s never seen stairs before. It’s like something out of one of the trader’s storybooks. Maybe it even has a dragon . A gold-hoarding dragon with riddles.
“Come on. We’ll see it up close soon enough.” Arthur clicks his tongue and Hengroen starts off again, accompanied by Gringoletthis time, and Merlin keeps his gaze on the castle as they approach, the people going in and out of Camelot giving them a wide berth. It’s even bigger up close.
Arthur pulls Hengroen to a halt when they reach the city walls and dismounts, holding up his arms for Merlin to slide down into. Then he unstraps Merlin’s walking stick and hands it to him.
“Let me find out what’s happening. There should be more people around than this.”
Merlin frowns. “But there’s loads of people!” More than he’s ever seen in his life.
“Not for Camelot.”
“Wow.”
Arthur takes both Hengroen and Gringolet’s reins and leads them over to the guards, speaking quietly.
“What’s happening?”
“I’m not sure. Nothing good, judging by the look on Arthur’s face.”
“No-one’s gonna arrest me are they?” asks Merlin, suddenly worried. Arthur and Leon won’t, he knows that, but they say in Ealdor that you can recognise a sorcerer on sight and Cenred’s knights did and people are staring and–
His racing thoughts are interrupted by Leon squeezing his shoulder. “No. I promise, little falcon. Come on. Arthur’s calling us, let’s go inside.”
Merlin’s immediately distracted again as they reach Arthur, standing by the open gates to the citadel. Merlin stares at the carved wood and stone above him.
“Everything’s so huge here! Even Matthew’s ladder couldn’t reach up there!”
One of the guards smiles. “Wait until you see the castle itself, kid. You’re going to Gaius, right? Make sure you look out of his window.”
“I will!”
“Let’s go,” says Arthur curtly, “we need to get to Gaius.” Leon frowns at his expression. He’s not just impatient.
“What’s wrong?” he asks quietly as they start walking.
“My father’s–” Arthur’s interrupted by drums banging out a low heartbeat. “...well, doing that.”
“What’s happening?” Merlin pipes up, tearing his eyes away from the citadel to look at Leon curiously. Leon’s heart clenches.
“You don’t want to know, little falcon.” Arthur’s still walking determinedly towards the courtyard, head down, and Leon stops him with a hand on his shoulder. “Arthur. We’re not taking him through the courtyard.”
“Why not? It’s the quickest route to Gaius.”
Leon pinches the bridge of his nose. “Look at the crowd. You can hear the drums. Do you really want him to see that?”
“See what ?”
They both ignore him. “Maybe it would be best to scare him a bit. You know what he’s like, how instinctive it is for him. It might stop him from getting killed.”
“Not like this, Arthur. He’s eight, for the gods’ sakes.” Just then, the little weight in his palm slips away and he looks down, grabbing Merlin before he can limp any further. “No. You’re not going through the courtyard.”
The boy squirms in his grasp. “Why? What’s going on? Why can’t I go to the courtyard?”
Leon glances at Arthur, unsure how to answer, but before he can do so an old woman butts in.
“They’re executing a sorcerer, child. Rotten filth. Good riddance to the lot of them, I say.” Merlin flinches, stilling in Leon’s grip. The old woman nods her approval at his reaction. “I see you already know how dangerous sorcerers are. Good men.”
“If you’ll excuse us, ma’am,” Leon says stiffly, taking Merlin’s hand and heading towards the outer walls. Once there, he lifts the boy onto his shoulders. He fiddles with Leon’s curls absently, his mind leagues away.
“Does Gaius know you?”
“Dunno,” he says dejectedly, “he only visited once.”
Leon sighs inwardly. He’d really hoped they could get Merlin to Gaius without his mood falling again, but it’s too late for that. That damn woman.
He sets Merlin down when they reach the bottom of the stairwell, unwilling to risk bashing his head on the low doorway. The boy scrambles up slowly, one hand clutching Leon’s as he walks ahead of him.
Arthur pushes open the door to Gaius’s chambers, calling his name as he goes. The old physician looks up from his potion-making as they enter.
“Prince Arthur. Sir Leon.” He squints at Merlin, a strange expression on his face. “And who’s this boy?”
“’m not a boy, ’m eight,” Merlin mutters petulantly, scuffing at the stone floor. Then louder, “I’m Merlin. Hunith’s son?”
Gaius’s eyes widen. “ Merlin? What are you doing here? Did something happen to your mother?”
Merlin shakes his head. “It’s hunting season.”
Gaius takes in his overlarge clothes, walking stick and pained expression. “Oh, my boy. Sit down on the cot. Where are you injured?”
Merlin limps over, sitting down with a sigh of relief. “My thigh. And I had cold iron on. It wasn’t for long, but ma said–”
“She said it was dangerous. Alright, show me your wrists.” Merlin rolls his sleeves up, holding them out, and Gaius examines them closely. “Well, there doesn’t seem to be any lasting damage. Stroke of luck you found someone to take the shackles off when you did. And your hair should be back to normal soon.” He looks at Leon and Arthur defensively. “I take it this means that the pair of you aren’t going to turn him in?”
“We’d hardly have saved his life if we were going to do that,” replies Arthur indignantly.
“Good. Now, Merlin, sit down, and while I’m examining your leg the three of you can tell me everything that happened.”
Merlin takes off his breeches and sits down on the cot, wincing as Gaius removes the bandage. “Cenred’s men came for me. They’ve come hunting near Ealdor before but they knew who I was this time and I couldn’t get away. They had dogs and everything. And after they put cold iron on I ran.” He gasps in pain, hastily gulping down the tonic Gaius hands him. “They hit me in the leg and I collapsed in front of Leon and he protected me.”
“Like a damsel,” remarks Arthur, seemingly desperate to get that expression off his face. Merlin sticks his tongue out.
“What happened then?” asks Gaius, dabbing at the stitching with a foul-smelling liquid.
“Leon and Arthur patched me up and removed the cold iron and we came here.”
“Well, I have to thank you two for saving my nephew,” says Gaius. “You didn’t have to.”
“Of course we did,” Arthur says firmly. “He was being hunted. We couldn’t just leave him there for Cenred’s men.”
Merlin shudders. “How’s my leg?” he asks quietly.
“You might have a slight limp, but I daresay it won’t stop you from doing anything. Arthur and Leon did a good job. No putting any weight on it again for a couple of weeks though, until it’s healed better.”
The boy gives a small smile, which quickly falls. “When can I see my ma?”
“I’ll send a letter today. But you can’t go home, you realise that?” Merlin nods sadly, and Gaius squeezes his hand.
“Can I stay with you? Please?”
Gaius smiles genially. “Of course you can, my boy.” Merlin beams. “Do you have any other injuries that need seeing to?”
Merlin shakes his head, worrying at the ends of his overlong sleeves. Gaius places a gentle hand on his arm.
“We’ll get you some clothes that fit soon.”
“But–” The boy bites his lip, looking at Gaius worriedly.
“Don’t worry, you won’t need to pay. You don’t need to get rid of these clothes either... that is, if it’s alright by you, sire?”
“Of course,” says Arthur immediately. Leon blinks. Arthur... never agrees to give people his things, certainly not so quickly.
Merlin nods, quiet for a time. Then he says hesitantly, “Does everyone in Camelot think that sorcerers are filthy and dangerous and need to die?”
Gaius waits until Merlin looks him in the eye. “No. They don’t. Granted, a lot do, but not everyone. Leon and Arthur don’t, as well as some of the knights. There’re more, too, but I won’t say their names where just anyone can hear.” Merlin nods, understanding the need for caution probably better than either of the nobles do. “And Arthur’s the prince, so...” he trails off at Merlin’s wide eyed stare.
“He’s the prince?” Merlin’s gaze snaps to Arthur. “You’re the prince?”
Arthur flinches, a tiny movement anyone else would’ve missed. “Ah– yes.”
“Oh.” Merlin chews his lip as they wait with baited breath for his reaction. Then he says, “Never knew a prince could be such a prat.”
Arthur barks a relieved laugh, going over and rubbing the boy’s head. “Menace.” Then he backs away, wafting at the air with an exaggerated grimace. “You really need a wash.”
“Hey!” cries Merlin indignantly. “I’m no worse than you! I don’t need a wash!”
Gaius chuckles. “It’ll be a warm bath, if that changes anything.”
Merlin’s eyes widen. “You have warm baths here?”
“Don’t you?” asks Leon curiously. He knows peasants don’t have much but still. To have a cold wash everyday seems like a lot.
“We don’t have a bathtub! We’re not rich! We wash in the river, like everybody else.”
“To people as poor as Merlin and his mother, Sir Leon, collecting water and heating it just for a bath is an extravagance they can’t afford.”
“Oh.”
Gaius rolls his eyes. “Yes, oh . Now go on, both of you. You need to report to your father, sire, and you both need washes of your own. Merlin will be fine here.”
Leon looks at Merlin, who’s biting his lip nervously. “I’ll visit this evening, Merlin, all right?”
Merlin nods, and then limps forward as fast as he can, throwing his arms around Leon. “Thank you!”
“I couldn’t just let you die, little falcon. Be good for Gaius now.”
“Promise!” Merlin darts over to give Arthur a hug too, and then the two knights turn to leave. As they’re exiting Gaius’ chambers he hears Merlin say, “Ooh! Ooh! Can I look out of your window? The guard said I should!”
“Yes, just– Merlin, be careful! Don’t forget your stick!”
Arthur chuckles, shaking his head slightly. “I hope Gaius enjoyed the peace while it lasted. He’s never getting any again.”
Merlin climbs onto the boxes and stands on tiptoe to look out of the window in Uncle Gaius’s storeroom. His breath catches in his throat.
He’s so high up! It’s like he can see the whole of Camelot from here. It’s so big and full of gleaming white stone and wooden houses and people. So many people. In fact, he can see all the way outside of the city.
“Merlin, your bath’s ready,” calls Uncle Gaius after a little while, and Merlin hops down, limping back into the main chamber where a bathtub’s waiting.
“You can see everything from up there!” Merlin proclaims, as Uncle Gaius helps him with his trousers. “It’s so big !”
Uncle Gaius chuckles. “Go on, get in the bath.”
Merlin does and Uncle Gaius draws a screen around him. “When can I see it for myself? Properly?”
“Once your leg’s healed enough.”
“Oh. How long’s that?”
“A few days, provided you keep your weight off your leg. You still heal fast,
I take it?”
“Yep.” Merlin listens to Uncle Gaius bustle around the room. “What’re you doing?”
“Finding you some clean clothes. You can keep the ones Arthur gave you but you need something clean to wear.”
“Oh.” Merlin clutches the cloth he’s using to wash himself tightly. He doesn’t want new clothes. “Arthur said you’re the court physician. What’s that mean?”
“I treat the maladies of the people of Camelot. And sometimes those outside the city, at the King’s behest.”
“Huh?” Merlin doesn’t understand half of those words.
“I treat people’s injuries and illnesses.”
“Oh.”
“Once you’re finished, you can help me write a letter to your mother. I know you can’t write, but you can draw something. I think she’d like to see that you’re alive.”
Merlin grins and hurries to get out of the bath, almost slipping on his way out. Uncle Gaius comes around the screen just in time to catch him.
“Careful, Merlin. I said when you were finished, not immediately. But, since you’re out now, we may as well get started.”
Leon returns to Merlin and Gaius that evening with a tray of food from the kitchens. Gaius might cook but Leon doubts he’s paid enough to look after Merlin as well. It’s only good manners to bring extra.
Merlin’s sitting at the table, wearing one of Gaius’s nightshirts with the sleeves rolled up. He’s concentrating hard on a piece of parchment he’s drawing on, tongue between his teeth, and he looks up as Leon enters.
“Leon!”
“Hello, little falcon. I brought food.”
Gaius turns from where he’s finding a book on one of the higher shelves. “Ah, Sir Leon. Set the tray on the table please.”
Leon does so, and then circles the table, peering over Merlin’s shoulder at the parchment. “What are you drawing?”
“It’s a letter for ma! Gaius wrote it and he said we can send it in the morning so I’m adding some drawings! That’s you and that’s me and Arthur on Hengroen and I’m just drawing Camelot. And then I’m gonna do Gaius.”
“And once you’ve done that, we’ll let the ink dry and put it in the envelope,” says Gaius.
“Mm-hm.”
“They’re very good drawings,” says Leon truthfully, sitting opposite. “Why don’t you have some food first and then go back to them?” Merlin bites his lip. “You’ve got plenty of time.”
“All right.”
Gaius joins them with two plates, which he places with the extra two Leon brought. “Are–”
Gaius is interrupted by the door opening. “I’ve brought you some clothes. They’re mine, from when I was younger. I know your mother will probably bring your spare clothes with her but you can’t wear Gaius’s nightshirts until she arrives.” Arthur sets the bundle of clothes down on the patient’s cot and joins them. “Also, my father thinks you were hit by a stray arrow from hunters. I didn’t mention Cenred, and you shouldn’t either, if you ever meet him.”
“I wouldn’t!” protests Merlin. “D’you want to see my drawings?”
“Sure.”
“Good evening, sire,” says Gaius dryly.
Arthur looks up at him sheepishly. “Oh. Sorry. Hello, Gaius. Leon.”
Gaius smiles. “Have some food. You too, Merlin, you can show Arthur your drawings after dinner.” He starts doling out stew as Leon places Merlin’s parchment on the windowsill, away from stray dollops of stew. “So, Arthur. How was your father?”
Arthur sighs and stirs his food. “Not happy. He’s still angry that I couldn’t do what he ordered with the Druids. And we didn’t bring back anything from the hunt that would’ve appeased him. I’m worried he’s getting suspicious.”
“Of what?” asks Gaius warily. Arthur glances at Merlin, whose stew is disappearing fast.
“That I’m not entirely unsympathetic towards sorcerers.”
“Fuck,” murmurs Leon. Gaius hums worriedly.
“You’ll have to be careful, sire,” he warns. “I don’t believe your father would have you killed, but–”
“But it’s not just my life at stake,” Arthur finishes. “And if he gets too suspicious he might look into Merlin.”
Merlin looks up. “I’ll be fine,” he says through a mouthful of stew. “I know how to be careful.”
“So long as you are, little falcon,” says Leon.
“Uther knows about Merlin then?” asks Gaius. Arthur nods.
“I had to tell him, he’s living in the castle. And besides, my father needed a reason why we arrived back so late.”
“What did you tell him?”
“That we found Merlin injured in the woods, and brought him here for you to treat. And that he’s your nephew. I’m not sure he would’ve let him stay otherwise.”
“Hmm. Well, as long as we’re careful, Merlin should be safe.”
The next few days are weird.
Uncle Gaius has forbidden Merlin from walking outside of their chambers until his leg’s healed more so he thought he’d be bored, but he’s not. Leon and Arthur both visit him at least once a day, Leon sometimes staying for ages (because, as Arthur explained, he’s not going to tell Leon off for missing the end of training occasionally. Not when it’s to visit Merlin). He meets so many new people, too, who come to Uncle Gaius for treatment.
And Uncle Gaius’s work is fascinating .
Merlin isn’t sure what he’s doing half the time, and his explanations don’t always make sense, but it’s so interesting.
The food here is unlike anything Merlin’s ever had. It’s so full of flavour, and even when he fills up on breakfast there’s still lunch and dinner. He can’t always eat it all, there’s so much.
He misses Ealdor though. He misses his ma and Will, and Ethel, and even Old Man Simmons. He misses the quiet – Camelot’s always noisy, there’s always chatter and sound, even at night. It’s like an ever-present ache inside. Gaius says his ma will be here before too long; that their letter has to reach her and it’s quite a way to travel here, and Merlin knows that but he still misses her.
A few days after Merlin’s arrival in Camelot, his leg heals enough for him to walk on it, and that’s when he really starts to have fun here.
Gaius rewraps Merlin’s leg, a task made harder by the fact that the boy won’t stop moving.
“Merlin, can you please stay still while I do this?”
“But I’m bored ! When can I walk around?”
“Once I’ve finished wrapping this. You’re healed enough to walk now, provided you just walk. No running or jumping, or you’ll end up straight back here, alright, Merlin?” The boy nods, brighter now he knows he can walk again.
The door opens up a crack and a girl with brown curly hair enters. “Hi, Gaius. I’ve come for Morgana’s sleeping draught.” She looks at Merlin and frowns. “Who are you?”
“I’m Merlin. Who are you?”
“I’m Gwen. What happened?”
“I hurt my leg,” he says, stilling and shrinking slightly. “So I’m staying here now.”
“Oh.” She watches Gaius tie off Merlin’s bandage. “Do you want me to show you around?”
Merlin nods enthusiastically, then looks up at Gaius pleadingly. “Can I? Please? I won’t run, I promise!”
Gaius sighs for effect, although he’s not really bothered. It’ll be good for Merlin to make a friend here. “Alright.”
Merlin grins. “Thanks Gaius!”
Gaius smiles, fetching Morgana’s sleeping draught and handing it to Gwen. “Here you go, my dear. And be careful. I want you back in one piece, Merlin.”
He nods, hopping off the bed and, picking up his stick on the way, hobbling as fast as he can towards Gwen.
“Thank you Gaius!” replies Gwen, putting the sleeping draught in her basket. Together they walk out the door.
Gaius shakes his head. He hopes the rest of the castle’s ready for his nephew.
“This place is huge ,” says Merlin, amazed. He hasn’t really seen much of the castle yet beyond the route they took to Gaius’ chambers when he first arrived and he hadn’t realised there were so many corridors. They turn down another one.
“Have you never been in a castle before?” asks Gwen curiously.
“Nope. I’m from Ealdor, we don’t have any castles.”
“Oh. What’s it like there?”
Merlin grins. “It’s the best! It’s really small, much smaller than Camelot, there’s some animals and lots of crops and not much else. And when it’s my birthday, ma makes a honey cake and me and Will collect the honey and try not to get stung and it’s fun. It lasts ages .” Last year it lasted three weeks.
“Who’s Will?”
“He’s my best friend.” Merlin pauses. “You can be my best friend too if you like.” Gwen beams and Merlin notices that there’s a delicious smell coming from just up ahead. “What’s that smell?”
“It’s a surprise.” She tugs him forward and they enter a large room filled with ovens and pots and pans and all sorts of people bustling about. “These are the kitchens. Audrey!”
A stern-looking woman turns towards them, eyes softening when she sees Gwen. “Hello, Gwen dear. And you are...”
“Merlin,” he pipes in.
“He’s staying with Gaius and I’m showing him around.”
Audrey eyes him contemplatively as he bobs up and down. “You need feeding up, boy. Stay here for a minute.” She disappears for a few minutes and returns with a plate of food he’s never seen before. “Strawberry tarts and cinnamon rolls. We’re running out of strawberries so make the most of these.”
Merlin’s eyes widen. He hasn’t had strawberries in ages. They have a strawberry plant at home but it never grows many strawberries. “I will, I promise! Thank you!”
She chuckles at his excitement. “Get out of here, the pair of you. I have food to cook.” Gwen piles the food into her basket and they head back out.
“Come on. I’ll show you the rest of the castle later, I want you to meet my brother. And then we can have a picnic. If you like picnics of course, I mean–”
“I’d love to have a picnic, Gwen,” he interrupts enthusiastically. “Sometimes me and ma have picnics in the woods in Ealdor and I love it.”
Gwen leads him out of the castle and into the town. There’s even more of Camelot – more than the castle itself – for Merlin to see. They stop at a small house next to which a man’s banging on something metal while a boy is working the bellows for him. The boy looks up at them.
“Dad! Dad! Can Elyan come for a picnic with us?” Gwen calls out.
The man stops his hammering and looks over at them. “Oh why not, it’s not a busy day. Just make sure you’re not too late back.”
“Thanks dad!” Elyan sets down his tools and runs to join them, and they set off again, towards the outskirts of the city. “Hi. I’m Elyan.”
“Merlin.”
“Nice to meet you.” He turns to his sister, darting over and pulling up the cloth covering her basket, peering inside. “Ooh! Those look nice, are they from the cook?”
“Yep.” She snatches the cloth back. “But you can’t eat them yet, they’re for our picnic.” Elyan scowls but drops the topic, turning back to Merlin.
“I don’t think I’ve seen you around before.”
Merlin shakes his head. “I’ve just moved in with Gaius. It’s so big here!”
They make their way out to a grassy spot just outside the city walls and sit down, Gwen unpacking the basket. “You need to try a strawberry tart, Merlin,” she says, handing one to him. He takes a large bite.
The taste of strawberries and pastry hits him, and his eyes widen. “It’s really tasty!”
Gwen grins, and Elyan bites into a cinnamon roll, spraying flakes of pastry everywhere. “So,” he asks around a mouthful of pastry, “where are you from? What’s it like there?”
“Ealdor. It’s much smaller than Camelot. We don’t have any castles or anything. There’s a cow called Ethel and some chickens and there aren’t many people at all. We grow things mostly, and ma makes the best honey cake on my birthday!” He takes another large bite of the tart. “Was that a blacksmith you were working at before? That’s so cool!”
“Dad’s a blacksmith. I’m his apprentice, officially.”
“Elyan’s going to be an amazing blacksmith,” says Gwen proudly. “And then he can make me my own sword! Dad says I'm too young for one yet but I don’t see why, the pages use them.”
“They don’t much, actually,” says Elyan, “they’re mostly blunted. And most of them are older than you anyway.”
Gwen sticks her tongue out at him.
“Ooh! Ooh!” cries Merlin, an idea hitting him. Ma told him never to tell anyone but Gwen and Elyan will be fine. They’re nice. “I can make you one!”
“How?” asks Gwen curiously. Merlin picks up a stick and grins.
“Like this!”
He thinks pointedly at the stick and it straightens out, turning silvery and sharp. The hilt still looks like a stick though. He thrusts it out towards her.
“Here!”
Gwen takes it, wide-eyed, and looks it over. “This isn’t an actual sword, is it? I mean, it’s still wood inside.”
“I dunno. It doesn’t feel any different to when it was a stick.”
“It’s still really cool though!” Gwen says enthusiastically. She points it at Elyan, narrowing her eyes dramatically. “I, Sir Guinevere, challenge you, Sir Elyan.”
“I don’t have a sword! Merlin, will you make me one?”
Merlin picks up another stick, turning the end pointy and silver. “Here is your weapon, Sir Elyan.”
Elyan grins, scrambling to his feet. “I accept your challenge, Sir Guinevere. Let the battle commence.”
Merlin stands back and watches the siblings fight, cheering them both on in turns. Then, once they’re finished and Sir Guinevere has claimed her prize of a bunch of daisies, Merlin makes himself a sword and fights Elyan.
He lasts about ten seconds, and he’s sure Elyan’s going easy on him.
“Again!”
Once they’re all bored of fighting they finish the remainder of the picnic and head back towards the citadel. They pause when they reach Gwen and Elyan’s house.
“I’ll see you again soon, right, Merlin?”
Merlin nods. “Yep! And I can show you some more–” He wiggles his hands in the air, making the shape that over the last few candlemarks has come to symbolise his magic. Elyan grins.
“I look forward to it.”
As Merlin and Gwen head back up to the castle Merlin can’t stop grinning. He’s made two more friends and they like his magic! That’s more friends than he’s ever had in his life!
“Will you show me the rest of the castle now?”
“Sure! What do you want to see first?”
“I don’t know, I’ve never been in a castle before.”
Gwen frowns. “I thought you’d been here nearly a week?”
“Yeah, but I haven’t been able to walk properly so I haven’t seen much yet.”
“Oh. Well, we’ll start with the library then. How did you hurt your leg anyway?”
“I got shot.” He doesn’t want to say anymore and luckily Gwen doesn’t make him, wincing in sympathy.
“Ouch.”
“So what’s that room?” Merlin points towards a wooden door that’s just opened far down the corridor, a couple of knights exiting and striding in the opposite direction.
“The armoury. It’s where they keep all the weapons and armour and stuff like that. I used to help dad deliver swords there.”
“Ooh. What do you do now, then?”
“I’m Lady Morgana’s maid,” she says proudly. “Come on. The library’s this way.”
It takes them most of the afternoon to look around the castle.
Merlin’s amazed. It’s so big! There’re so many stairs! And they haven’t even been able to go everywhere because some of it’s private. He didn’t know they built buildings so big.
A black-haired girl greets Gwen as they make their way back to his and Gaius’s chambers.
“Ah, Gwen. Did you fetch my sleeping draught?”
Gwen digs the vial out of her basket and hands it over, blushing slightly. “Sorry, my lady, I got distracted.”
“No matter, I have it now.” She turns her gaze to Merlin, and he wonders if she’s royalty. She’s certainly intimidating enough to be. “And who’s this?”
“I’m Merlin.”
“He’s living with Gaius,” says Gwen quickly, “and I’m showing him around.”
“In that case, welcome to Camelot. I’m Lady Morgana. Would you like to have dinner with me?”
“Won’t Gaius wonder where I am?” Merlin asks, frowning.
“I’ll send someone to tell him. So?”
“Uh– yes, then.”
Morgana beams. “Excellent. Gwen, will you be joining us tonight?”
“Yes, my lady.”
“Great. Fetch food for three then, and in the meantime I have a few questions to ask Merlin here.”
Gwen bobs a curtsey and walks off in the direction of the kitchens, and Merlin gulps. It feels like he’s been cornered and he’s not sure what for. Morgana links her arm with his and they set off in the other direction.
“So, I take it you’re the Merlin my brother Arthur mentioned?”
“Arthur’s your brother?” Merlin yelps. That makes her a princess!
“Yes.” Her piercing eyes are twinkling with amusement. “He told me that he and Sir Leon saved a boy called Merlin from being shot by Cenred’s men in the woods.”
It’s a statement but Morgana looks like she wants confirmation, so Merlin says, “Uh– yes?”
She nods. “My brother might be ignorant, but I didn’t grow up here. I know there’s only one type of person Cenred hunts. So,” she ushers him into a set of chambers and checks that it’s empty, “do you have magic?”
And Merlin panics. So some people here know he has magic, but he doesn’t know Morgana, and she has the ear of the king, and what if she tells him?
“No! No, I don’t have magic, I don’t, I’m ordinary, please don’t tell the king!”
“Merlin, I won’t tell him. I promise. And either you are a magic user or Cenred mistook you for one, which is unlikely. I’d never tell Uther. I think his policies are barbaric.”
“You do?” asks Merlin hopefully. Maybe she won’t tell anyone. Maybe there’s someone else he can share his magic with. There’s definitely something about her. If only he was less worried he could figure out what it was.
“I do. And it seems my brother objects far more than he lets on.” She smiles and he returns it tentatively. “So. Show me something?”
Merlin grins. He stretches out a hand towards the fireplace and a dragon made out of flames appears in it, swooping out to perch on Morgana’s hand. She flinches slightly before it lands, and then frowns.
“It tickles. But it doesn’t burn?”
“That’s because I don’t want it to!”
Morgana cocks her head, looking at him curiously. “You can do that?”
“Yep!”
“Huh.”
There’s a knock on the door and Merlin snuffs the dragon out quickly.
“Who is it?” asks Morgana.
“Gwen.”
“Come in.”
Gwen enters carrying a tray with three plates on, and sets it down on the table. Once the door’s shut behind her Merlin conjures the dragon for Morgana again. Gwen gasps.
“It’s so pretty!”
“You can touch it if you like,” offers Morgana, holding out her hand. Gwen reaches out a finger and then hesitates.
“Won’t it hurt?”
“Nope!” chimes in Merlin. Gwen strokes its head.
“It feels weird. Like... there’s nothing there, but there is. It’s a bit warm.” She pulls her hand away and starts setting the table, and Merlin rushes to help her. Then the three of them sit down to eat.
“You don’t have to eat so fast, Merlin, it’s not going to vanish,” says Morgana, sounding amused. Merlin stops with the fork halfway to his mouth.
“It’s so good though!” he says through a mouthful of pie. “And I never had this much food in Ealdor!”
“I’m only kidding, carry on eating.” Merlin nods. Honestly. How do they always have so much food here?
“So,” says Morgana after they’ve eaten for a while, “who knows about your magic? Aside from Gwen and I.”
“Elyan, Leon, Arthur, and Gaius,” says Merlin. Morgana rolls her eyes.
“You do know the meaning of secrecy, don’t you?”
“Of course I do!” he replies indignantly. “I wouldn’t show anyone who’d tell . I know what happens to sorcerers in Camelot.”
“Good.”
The rest of the meal is eaten mostly in silence. Once they’re finished and the plates are stacked Morgana leans forward on the table, watching him eagerly.
“What else can you make?”
Merlin grins and cups his hands. His eyes flash gold and a small red and orange zinnia appears in them. Gwen gasps in awe.
“It’s beautiful.”
Merlin picks it up and tucks it carefully behind her ear. Then, thinking that Morgana looks a bit left out, he conjures another one for her hair.
He’s just scrambling back into his seat when the door to Morgana’s chambers opens and a man strides in. He’s tall, imposing, in rich clothes of red and dark blue, cape swirling around his shoulders. Merlin swallows. He might not know much about etiquette but he can guess that there aren’t many people who would enter Morgana’s chambers without knocking. He has a horrible feeling that this is the king.
The King of Camelot just almost discovered his magic.
“My lord!” exclaims Morgana, confirming his suspicions. “Can’t you see I’m busy?”
Uther’s eyes flicker to Gwen and Merlin in distaste. “ I thought I warned you about being friends with peasants.”
“Their names are Gwen and Merlin, and Gwen’s my maid, I can do as I wish.”
“Who’s the boy?”
“He’s Gaius’s nephew. He’s just moved here.”
“Ah yes, Gaius mentioned something about his relatives. There’s a sister too, I believe.” Merlin swallows as Uther looks down at him, expression somehow simultaneously bored and piercing.
“Yes”– he squints to catch Morgana’s mouthing behind Uther’s back –“sire. My ma. But she’s not here yet.”
“I see. Well, I need to speak to Lady Morgana. Alone.”
Merlin nods, jumping off his seat and hurrying out the room, Gwen following suit. Once the door’s shut behind them he says, “The king’s scary.”
“He is.”
They split up near the entrance to Uncle Gaius’s tower, Gwen promising to visit him again the next day. Uncle Gaius smiles when Merlin enters his chambers.
“Merlin, my boy. How was your day?”
“Great! I made friends with Gwen and Elyan and Morgana and they loved my magic and Gwen’s gonna visit again tomorrow.”
Uncle Gaius frowns. “You need to be careful with your magic, Merlin.”
“I know, Uncle Gaius. I am .” He feels a sudden pang of longing for Ealdor. His ma’s just as cautious but she’d love Gwen, and he wants to give her a strawberry tart and a cinnamon roll and show her around and everything. And he wants to show Will the castle too. “How long until ma gets here?”
“Well, assuming she left as soon as she got the letter and there were no hold-ups, about two more days.”
“That’s ages ! I miss her!”
Gaius pulls him into a hug. “The time will pass soon enough, my boy.”