Chapter Text
I. Merlin buried his head further into his pillow, too tired to even contemplate what he needed to do today. He could smell the breakfast Gaius was cooking through his door which was his only motivation to force himself to get out of bed.
He stretched his arms, his midnight wings expanding to their full span, before splashing some water on his face from the basin in his room. He sighed, and with a deep breath, he contracted his wings to be hidden underneath his clothes—with a little help of his magic, of course.
Rubbing his eyes, he managed to stumble down the three steps into Gaius’s workroom.
“Good morning, my boy,” Gaius’s way too cheerful voice rang through the air. Merlin simply grunted, plopping down onto the bench.
Gaius tsked. “You do remember what today is, right?”
Merlin hummed in answer, it was the reason he slept so badly last night.
Today was the official start of his job. The one task he had been trained for since birth.
Today had to be perfect—Uther would have it no other way, especially as this day had been planned for years.
Gaius gave him a sympathetic smile. “You’ll be fine, Merlin. You have had eighteen summers to master your skills, there is no one more suited for this task and you know it.”
Merlin doubted that was true but he smiled anyway. He always has to play his part after all. It did not matter that he hated being an assassin, or that it almost brought him to his knees when he realized he was slowly forgetting what his mother sounded like. He has no choice, no free will. And, well? If he wanted to survive, he had to play his role.
At least for now.
Gaius gave him his bowl. “Merlin,” he said, his voice soft, “I can still see the tips of your wings. Remember only those of royal blood have wings, so you must be careful when you are in town today. Keep them hidden.”
Merlin blushed a little, I thought I did have them hidden, he thought sullenly, concentrating a bit more on the spell he is using to conceal them.
Gaius smiled as he sat down across from him. “There you go. Are you ready for today?”
Do I get to choose? He thought as he threw on his best exaggerated grin. “Of course. How hard can it be, keeping one man alive?”
Gaius chuckled. “Hmm, I’m sure it’s no easy task. I know the man you are taking over for is eternally grateful—he wasn’t quite suited for his royal highness.”
Merlin remembered watching the man move in the dark, barely a sound to his footsteps as he maneuvered his way through the forest. They called him The Viper in the Assassin's Keep, though Merlin has barely said more than three words to the fellow. That was the man who found him and brought him to Uther, so Merlin never wanted much to do with him. He tried to cover his shudder at that memory, shaking his head to try to clear it.
No good dwelling on the past.
Merlin turned to Gaius. “You have spoken to him?” he asked.
Gaius shook his head. “No, no, of course not. King Uther informed me that The Viper had wanted to leave the king's service for quite a while, though I cannot imagine why.”
Merlin hummed, barely paying attention now. The Viper means very little to him, but his resignation was curious. Merlin knew that the plan today was created from The Viper’s failures, that the one in charge of protecting the young prince needed to be at his side at all times. The mistake the first time through was the hidden nature of the assassin—he could not protect the prince at a distance with the amount of quests the royal takes.
Prince Arthur needed a shield at all times, so that was where Merlin came in.
Hopefully.
Merlin looked up to see that Gaius was still talking, but his nerves were too rattled to focus. He pushed his food around in the bowl before standing up abruptly, startling the old physician. “I should get going.”
Gaius nodded solemnly. “Good luck.”
Merlin gave him a quick hug before darting out the room. Maybe some fresh air would help settle his nerves.
Once he reached the shadows of the court yard, he slumped against the cold stone wall. He is going to be in the public eye soon, and that was the scariest part. He knew he was a decent assassin, but a servant? It might just be a cover, but he knew it was a job that required a modicum of social skill. A skill, quite frankly, he wasn’t sure he had.
Give him a weapon and a target and he would be happier than at a banquet with a bunch of stuck up nobles. His friends at the Keep would probably disagree, but Gwaine and Lancelot weren’t here now to comfort him.
He let a smile quickly show on his face remembering his friends yesterday—Lancelot was lecturing him, again, about Uther’s plan for him to meet the princeling, while Gwaine was making obscene gestures and comments behind the noble assassin. Merlin laughed softly at the oxymoron of ‘noble assassin,’ but if there ever was a chivalrous killer, it was Lancelot. He would make a good Knight, Merlin pondered not for the first time.
Gwaine and Lance made this life bearable, and he didn’t know who he would have become without those two by his side. Merlin was about to trudge to said friends when he heard a commotion in the courtyard, piquing his interest.
Not one for missing a fight, Merlin silently jogged to the edge of the shadows at the small crowd forming around what seemed to be a group of knights.
They all have varying shades of wing colors—from dark red, to mucky orange, to a light pale gray—indicating their noble heritage. Merlin frowned, spotting a small servant on the ground at their feet. He could see the servant’s trembling hands from here, and Merlin saw red.
Without taking a second to think it through, Merlin easily pushed his way in between the bystanders. Once seeing the stormy look on his face, the crowd began to part for him, and Merlin stopped dead, reaching the front of the group.
There, in all his glory, was Prince Arthur. There were rumors about how magnificent his wings were, but they truly did not do it justice. Merlin’s eyes widened at the brilliant white feathers tipped with flecks of gold and red, and right then Merlin could have been convinced that angels were real: there was one standing among them. Merlin marveled at the Prince’s golden hair that glowed like a halo and his blue eyes that were as clear as a cloudless sky. But as Merlin realized who this was, and how much trouble he will probably be in later for this, he noticed the shit-eating smirk on the princeling’s face.
All thoughts of how beautiful this man was flew straight out of Merlin’s head, and Merlin’s frown deepened.
Merlin looked into those azure eyes, “That’s enough, my friend.”
The servant who was struggling underneath Arthur’s foot stilled at the deadly calm of Merlin’s voice. The foot did not move away from the servant’s neck as the Prince tilted his head in bemusement.
“I’m sorry, do I know you?”
The arrogance in his tone alone made Merlin’s jaw clench. However, he faked a smile, remembering the years preparing him for a moment akin to this. “I’m Merlin.”
The Prince’s smirk returned. “So I don’t know you.”
Merlin was tempted to just shove the dumb prince off the servant at this point, but Lancelot’s future disappointment was already swirling in his mind from this interaction alone and that was enough for him to place placating hands in the air. “It would seem like you do not. Would you like to get acquainted away from this spectacular performance of bullying?”
Prince Arthur gaped at him, and quickly covered the surprise with mock hurt. “Oh? Who is getting bullied?”
Merlin barely restrained the urge to roll his eyes, “Hmm, I don’t know...The servant who can barely breathe with your foot on their neck?”
The Prince beamed. “Oh. Him,” he answered, and then he looked down at his feet with concealed disgust, “He is my practice dummy for today. Isn’t that right?”
The servant nodded quickly, looking away from Merlin for the first time since this started, and stammered, “Y-yes sire, of course.”
This time Merlin didn’t stop his eye roll. “How wonderful. Let him go.”
The princeling cocked his head again, a predator assessing his prey. “Why would I do that? We were having so much fun.”
Merlin almost growled at the laughter coming from behind him. “So we can fight instead.”
Prince Arthur’s smile grew once more. “Really? You want to fight me?”
Merlin sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “That is what I said. I’ll even let you pick the place and the weapons.”
The prince hummed, contemplative, before nodding and lifting his foot off the servant’s neck. Merlin immediately bent down and helped the poor lad to his feet, the other’s legs shaking all the while.
Merlin whispered quickly into the servant’s ear, “Go to Gaius. Tell him Merlin sent you. You need to get your neck looked at.”
The servant barely had time to squeak out a thank you before the cheering arose once more from the crowd. Merlin rolled his shoulders back and slowly turned around to what the princeling had planned.
The prince has two maces in hand, an instrument Merlin knew how to wield—he was proficient with just about all weapons, if he was being honest, but quarterstaffs and daggers were his favorites.
Smiling his smug little smile, Prince Arthur tossed one his way.
Merlin caught it easily enough. So smoothly, in fact, that the prince blinked a few times, letting only a small amount of confusion show before he concealed it with his excessive laugh.
Merlin debated how he should go about kicking the prince’s ass. Either way, he was in deep shit for messing up the original plan of meeting the king’s son, so why not just keep digging his own grave deeper?
With determination alighting in his blood, Merlin lifted his chin to look directly into the eyes of the man he was destined to protect. Then he flashed his most wicked grin.
“Time to dance,” Merlin purred, watching the prince’s jaw clench at his words. Merlin knew he wasn’t used to anyone calling him out, especially not a lowborn like himself, and he couldn’t help but beam at the thrill for challenge coursing through his blood.
This was going to end so, so horribly.
The Prince looked at him, calculating Merlin’s battle stance. “This isn’t your first fight, then?”
Merlin let out a surprised laugh. “Oh no, princeling. It is not.”
Said prince narrowed his eyes at the nickname. “So you know who I am and continue to oppose me. Are purposely daft, or should I explain to you how the world works?”
Merlin shrugged, twirling the mace in his hands absentmindedly. “I like to believe my idiocy is a charming aspect of my personality.”
At that the prince laughed. “I see. Well, at least you are aware of it.”
Merlin widened his eyes in mock innocence, “Is there a reason you're stalling? Are you planning on boring me to death with idle chit chat? Because I must admit, I didn’t plan on doing this today and I have things to accomplish.”
That wiped the smile off the prince’s face, and then he lunged at Merlin with practiced speed.
Going on the defensive was Merlin’s plan, of course, expecting that the Prince’s pride would lead him to strike first in anger, and, well, pissing people off was Merlin’s specialty. Merlin blocked, hitting the prince’s mace to the side and parried for a bit more. Merlin wouldn’t call it toying, per se, but Lance would probably disagree.
Merlin watched as the prince tired, leaning more on his left leg than at the beginning. He smirked as Prince Arthur began to scowl at him, fury fueling the other’s movements more than he would ever admit.
Merlin almost felt bad as he contemplated just ending it now, but out of the corner of his vision he saw Gaius’s face—warring emotions of disappointment and fear expressed. That made Merlin foolishly hesitate, leading to Arthur’s mace hitting his back and his hidden wings. Merlin gasped at the unexpected hit and Arthur landed another blow on the same spot, bringing him to his knees.
He could still win, but with Gaius’s face in mind, he decided with much reluctance to let the princeling have this fight.
Merlin was sure they would have a rematch soon enough anyways.
When two knights dragged him up by his armpits, the one with pure golden feathers asked, “Shall we throw him in a dungeon cell, Your Highness?”
Prince Arthur stalked forwards and grabbed Merlin’s chin, not too gently, forcing their eyes to meet.
“No,” he said softly, surprising even Merlin who thought a night in a cell was a given from the start. “There is something about you, Merlin. I can’t quite put my finger on it.”
Merlin smiled and whispered back, “Is this where I’m meant to apologize, sire?”
Arthur hummed. “Would you mean it?”
Merlin laughed. “Do you care?”
At that, Arthur nodded to his knights to drop him. Merlin landed unsteadily on his feet, and Arthur patted him on the shoulder as he leaned in to say, “I’m sure I’ll be seeing you around.”
Merlin grimaced as he watched the prince walk away with his entourage of knights. They looked beautiful and deadly as a murder. Merlin’s musings were cut short when hands quickly pulled him into an alleyway.
Merlin knew better than to yell or fight until he knew his enemy, so he just went limp until the attacker said, “Merlin! That was one of your better stunts. I’m happy I was able to witness it.”
Grinning, Merlin turned around to face a smiling Gwaine and a terrified-looking Lancelot.
“You liked the entertainment?” Merlin asked.
Gwaine laughed. “Boy, did I. Honestly, watching Lance almost shit himself watching how you ruined Uther’s plans was just as fun.”
Lancelot wouldn’t stop staring at him in horror, so Merlin apologized, a little guilty. “I know, Lance. It was dumb of m—“
“Dumb?!” Lance furiously whispered, “Merlin, Uther could kill you for this! Your only job today was to save the prince tonight at the feast from the singing sorceress, and instead you—what? Felt like antagonizing your future charge today just for the hell of it? What were you thinking?!”
Merlin rubbed the back of his neck, abashed. “I wasn’t. Thinking, that is. It’s just...He was hurting a servant! Was I supposed to just let him continue?”
Lance slumped against the wall. “No, I’m not saying that. I am only saying that Uther and Morgause will be furious with you.”
Merlin threw his arms around both of his friends, moving them towards the Keep. “Well, we don’t want to keep them waiting any longer from throwing me into the pyre, do we?”
Lance frowned as Gwaine barked out a laugh, and Merlin knew that no matter what happened, he could count on them to be on his side, and that was enough.
Once they reached the deceptively normal looking house with its bright blue door they called the Assassin’s Keep, Merlin forced his friends to enter first without him. They hated it, and refused the entire walk, but Merlin wouldn’t have it any other way. If he was to be lashed for this, he wasn’t bringing his friends down with him.
Steeling himself, he stepped through the doors with his chin held high. He wasn’t going to cower for doing what he believed was right.
Morgause was there with her arms crossed at the end of the hall.
She lifted one eyebrow when he came up to her. “Are you ready for the big event?”
Merlin paused and thought, does she not know?
“Oh, yes. Of course,” he blurted out, and not knowing what else she wanted him to say, he quickly fled before she could open her mouth again. He went up the stairs, three doors down, and escaped into Gwaine’s room without much fanfare.
His friends were waiting there with identical looks of apprehension, but Merlin just leaned back on the door, closing his eyes and sighing in relief.
Merlin heard Gwaine walk over and ask, “So? What happened, Merls?”
“Nothing.” Merlin replied.
Lance came closer and plopped on Gwaine’s bed. “Nothing? How is that possible? You once stole a cookie and got ten lashes.”
Merlin winced at the memory. He was only eight when that happened. “I don’t think she knows it happened. At least, it didn’t seem like she did. Maybe the princeling kept it quiet for some reason?”
Gwaine’s eyes widened at the nickname, but Lance beat him to speak, “From what we know of his character, that seems highly unlikely.”
Merlin was inclined to agree, but he recalled the soft words Arthur spoke and he had not thrown him in jail. Maybe they were all wrong about him. But Merlin doesn’t say any of this, instead he shakes his head and smiles, “Whatever. Hopefully she never finds out. How about we get a few rounds in before I become a Servant of the High House?”
Gwaine punched him in the shoulder as he ran out the room yelling back, “I’ll beat you there, little one!”
Merlin gasped at the name and ran after him, yelling, “Hey! I’m only three years younger than you, old man!”
Merlin let himself get lost in the practice, letting his magic ebb and flow from his fists as he punched, dodged, and jabbed his friends. This was his favorite part of the day: fighting. He honed his skill a little more each day, and each day he improved greatly. He was the only one at the Keep with magic, besides Morgause, so he did have a small advantage on his side.
It wasn’t that magic was illegal, it just wasn’t really talked about. Ever since the Queen died all those years ago, the King made it taboo to mention magic. Uther knows about Morgause, and even about Merlin, and he just uses their powers to his will. In the beginning, Morgause had signed up to get closer to her blood sister, the King’s Ward, Morgana, but eventually she took over as headmaster of the Keep around the time Merlin came to them. She was skilled with wielding most weapons and arcane magic, and this opportunity brought her closer to the inner circle of the Kingdom, right to Morgana.
Morgause never told anyone this, but being a spy and assassin comes with the benefit of knowing things no one else does. And Merlin is quite good at being both.
He rubbed his right shoulder, glaring playfully at a smug looking Lance who managed a hit.
“That was a good fight,” Merlin said as he put out his hand to shake Lance’s, and with Lance smiling like that it was rather hard not to grin right back.
Gwaine was lounging on the ground with a wineskin in hand by the time the sun began to set. “Merls,” he called out, “you should probably go get cleaned up. The banquet is starting soon.”
Merlin groaned, wiping the sweat off his face. “If I must.”
His friends tousled his hair as he walked back in the house glumly. It was going to be a long night.
He bathed in his old room, which he was forced to leave once this plan was set into motion a week ago, and was grateful for whoever brought up all the water for him. With his magic, he was able to heat up the water perfectly and fill it with the scent of flowers. It was quite enjoyable, if he was being honest.
Stepping out, he looked into his mirror with a frown. He seemed years older somehow, like this new assignment has already aged him. He sighed, grabbing the clean clothes nearest to him. They might force him into being a servant for the prat, but they would never make him get rid of his neckerchiefs. It was the only thing he truly remembered of his mother: her delighted smile when she gave him a new knitted scarf. So, everyday he would throw one on and wear it with pride, hoping that the day he saw his mother again, she would recognize him by the neckerchief alone.
Looking into the mirror once more, Merlin straightened his shirt and tried to finger comb his curly dark hair. It was fruitless, of course. It had gotten too long and too unmanageable, but Gwaine swore it suited him. Merlin smiled dimly at that conversation before he wiped all expression off his face, turned abruptly around, and walked out the door.
There was no turning back now.
He strode into the lounge brightly lit by candles to see Lance and Gwaine waiting for him. He smiled and did a little spin for them. “So? How do I look? Dashing as always?”
Gwaine laughed. “You are the most handsome, Lord Merlin.”
Merlin grinned and bowed. “What a lovely compliment, Sir Gwaine.”
Lance rolled his eyes, walking forwards to place a hand on Merlin’s shoulder. “Are you ready?”
Merlin sobered up instantly. “As ready as I’ll ever be. Either I get through today, or end up on the chopping block. No pressure there.” Merlin tried to laugh at his own words, but it fell desperately short.
Gwaine came up to his other side. “We will be right here the whole time. The minute you return, you tell us everything. Lance and I have a plan ready in case anything goes wrong.”
At that, Merlin paused. “Wait, what are—“
Lance shook his head and interrupted. “It doesn’t matter.”
Merlin cocked his head at his friends, disbelief coating his bones. They were prepared to run? For him?
“Guys, I would never make you two—“
Gwaine laughed, throwing himself onto Merlin and grabbed Lance into the hug. “Merls, we are your family. Now and always. Don’t you ever forget that.”
Merlin had to shove the emotion down his throat. His heart suddenly felt too big for his chest. He held onto his family tighter. “I won’t fail,” he whispered, more for himself than for them, but they nodded all the same.
“We are with you, Merlin. We know you got this. You are the very best of us,” Lance said softly, but before Merlin had a chance to refute that statement, Morgause pointedly coughed in the doorway.
They all broke apart and spun around.
“Time to go, Merlin.” There was no emotion on her face, but her eyes gave her away. She doesn’t show much compassion, but the sympathy shining in her dark turquoise eyes never betrayed him.
He swallowed hard and nodded. “Let’s get this over with, shall we?”
She grinned as she led him out. “Today, your world will change forever.” She whispered that, but Merlin heard it. He was terrified, but instead of letting his fear show, he straightened his back and brushed off invisible dust off his shirt.
She walked him to the front of the courtyard and faced him before she let him go in. “Remember everything I taught you. I know I am ruthless at times, but it was for this very purpose. To prepare you for everything and anything.”
It wasn’t as good as Lance and Gwaine’s pep talk, but he smiled at her anyways—knowing how little she likes to show this side of her. She grasped his forearm, and he returned the favor. “Good luck, Merlin.”
And without a glance behind her, she stalked off silently into the night. Merlin watched her go until she was just a speck. Taking a deep breath, he walked into the castle and beelined for Gaius.
Merlin was under the guise of being Gaius’s apprentice and grandson, so he had to play his part diligently. Well, as diligently as he could manage after staying in the shadows for the better part of two decades.
Gaius was standing near to the king, to Merlin’s displeasure, so he stayed in the dark observing for a few moments. The festivities were well under way—meaning Merlin was late, which wasn’t unusual for him. He watched as the other servants flowed around each other, through the crowds, never missing a beat, and he was impressed. It takes a lot of practice to get around unnoticed and invisible, and these servants have it mastered.
He made a mental note to ask them how they do it later on.
From his darkened corner, Merlin could see Arthur and Morgana bickering to one another in the center of the hall. There was a beautiful servant next to Morgana who seemed to be holding back laughter at their argument, and Merlin knew right there that he would try to befriend her: anyone who can laugh at royalty is a person someone ought to know. He knew Morgana from her scarlet red wings and her pitch-black hair. She made quite an intimidating picture, especially with her long gown of matching scarlet with a band of black glitter along the bottom. Arthur didn’t look too bad himself, even if Merlin wished otherwise. He was wearing a dark red doublet embroidered with golden stars with black slacks. Merlin looked down at himself and frowned at his thin-threaded blue shirt and brown pants, but he couldn’t dwell on the obvious difference in appearances for too long.
He saw Gaius slip away from the king, and Merlin immediately walked to his side.
Gaius gasped, a hand on his heart. “Merlin! What have I told you about sneaking up on me?”
Merlin grinned. “Sorry Gaius, won’t happen again.”
Gaius scoffed, rolling his eyes. “I’m sure.”
Merlin smiled sweetly, but Gaius just shook his head and walked to the side of the hall. Merlin walked closely behind the old physician, feeling the nerves acutely now. Merlin’s eyes darted around, and a feeling of being caged in started to suffocate him.
Gaius placed one hand on his arm. “Merlin, look at me.” Merlin obliged. “Take a deep breath for me now. That’s it, keep breathing. In and out.”
Merlin stared at Gaius’s eyes, everything unsaid passing between them. What if I’m not good enough? What if he hates me forever? What if Uther finds it easier to kill me instead? What if Arthur despises magic like his father? What if I fail?
Gaius shook his head, knowing exactly where Merlin’s thoughts flew. “Merlin. You are brilliant, resourceful, clever, and, most importantly, you are brave. I know you can do this. And if anything happens, I will be here. Always.”
Merlin nodded fast, quickly hugging his father figure with a whisper of “Thank you,” before he stepped back into the dark. Here, he could breathe. Here, he had the chance to remember that he has been trained for this. He could do this.
Shaking his body out, Merlin’s eyes shot up to the sound of the doors opening again. And walking inside, with a beautiful purple dress, was the singing witch. He was told to kill her, but he knew he would not. She was put into this game of chess and Merlin refused to kill her for Uther’s horrendous plan.
So, plan B was to simply knock her unconscious. Merlin took a few steps towards Gaius once more. He gave the old physician a nod and a small smile that made Gaius’s shoulders loosen.
Merlin didn’t take his eyes off of the witch for a moment, watching as she curtsied and said her pleasantries to the royal household. He wished he could just knock her out here and be done with it, but Uther had direct orders to make a show of it.
So, a show it must be.
The witch took her place across the royals, high on a small dais made for her performance. She took a deep breath and started singing.
Merlin was fascinated with her magic. Her singing felt like it reached his bones, sending tingling sensations throughout his body. The beautiful opera song sounded like a mix of latin and gaelic, and he felt her magic trying to drown him to sleep. Not an endless slumber, no, but a deep nap of sorts. His magic easily deflected it, but it was interesting nonetheless. She began to walk forwards, her song still ringing in the air like the most beautiful lullaby.
Merlin felt his magic rise up at his command, and he couldn’t help but smile at it’s eagerness. He threw a rope out with his power, causing the witch to trip down to her hands and knees. He honestly felt bad for doing this. She was getting revenge on Uther who killed her son days earlier because the man was allegedly stealing some bread. But Merlin knows the truth: Uther killed her son for this moment, for Merlin’s heroic show to save Arthur. It left a bitter taste in his mouth.
With the song momentarily broken, the people woke up with startled gasps. The lady was scowling at him, and Merlin just waved at her with a smile.
She didn’t like that much.
She threw a knife quickly at Arthur, and everyone started screaming, but Merlin took a deep breath and slowed down time. Slowing down time came easy to him as he has been doing it for as long as he could remember.
As everything was moving at a minuscule speed, Merlin ran forwards and shoved Arthur out of the way. Even if this wasn’t planned out, he realized, Merlin would have always saved the prince. That thought made his heart a bit lighter.
Time started back to it’s normal speed and the knife sunk into the chair loudly where Arthur’s chest was previously located. The crowd gasped once more as Merlin stood up and knocked the witch out with a little urge from his magic. He found himself in the center of the hall, with all attention on him, and every feeling of triumph fled his body.
He watched as people pieced together that he saved the prince, that he had magic, that he was responsible for the witch being unconscious. He hated this.
He wanted to hide, to run away from the prying eyes, but he forced himself to turn around to Arthur. Arthur, who was just now getting up, who wouldn’t stop staring at him. Merlin couldn’t decipher the expression, but he figured that was the best “thank you” he would receive from the princeling.
Uther stood up, and the crowd grew silent. Uther does not have wings since he was an usurper, but the fear he drilled into the people of Camelot was almost a tangible thing everywhere he went.
Merlin watched as Uther walked steadily to him, his eyes alight with victory. “You just saved my son.”
Merlin shook his head, a motion that was not planned but he couldn’t stop it from happening. He couldn’t help but be scared of the man in front of him. Merlin wasn’t truly scared of many things: failure, his loved ones dying, and, honestly, this man. This man who claimed himself a king based on nothing and grew in power through his people’s terror.
Uther smiled, something Merlin never wanted to see again, as he proclaimed, “No, no! Of course you should have something. This is nothing less than wonderful, and you must be rewarded.”
Arthur started sputtering behind the king, and Morgana punched him in the side to shut up.
Uther ignored them as he stared and stared at Merlin, as if he could feel the palpable disdain coming from the young warlock. “I grant you a place in the royal household,” he paused to let small gasps occur and then he threw in the grand finale, “You are now Prince Arthur’s manservant.”
The crowd burst into applause, the noise almost deafening, but Merlin did not take his eyes from the king. This man stole him, used him, and now made him a servant into his home. The king grinned at him once more, and Merlin remembered to bow. Not as deeply as he would someone he actually respected, but deep enough to pass.
Hopefully tomorrow will be less eventful, Merlin hoped, walking towards the prince.
At his side, Merlin could see the disbelief still shining in Arthur’s eyes.
“What?”
Arthur shook his head. “Nothing. I just can’t believe I’m now stuck with you.”
Merlin grinned at him. “I think it will be fun, princeling.”
Arthur moved his eyes away from Merlin, staring out into the hall. “I think this will be anything but fun, witchling.”
Witchling, Merlin had to contain his laugh. Arthur was wrong: this was going to be devilishly entertaining.