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.”
Notes:
Leon: we can’t afford to get into whatever’s going on over the border in Essetir, we have enough to deal with already.
*two seconds later*
Leon: this boy is mine and if anything happens to him I will kill everyone in Camelot and then myself.
Chapter Text
Leon’s eyes catch on a woman in a faded green kirtle entering the courtyard. She pauses in the centre, eyes sweeping the buildings, looking a little overwhelmed. He’s about to go and ask whether she needs any help when a small boy barrels into her, sending her staggering backwards.
“Ma!”
The woman blinks and then puts her arms around him, holding him close. “My Merlin.” She strokes his hair gently.
“I thought I wouldn’t see you again!” Merlin’s cries are muffled by his mother’s dress, but still just about audible from Leon’s distance. “I thought I would die and be torn apart and then I’d never see you again and–”
“Shh. It’s alright, little bird, I’m here now.”
Once Merlin’s pulled his head out of Hunith’s dress, wobbling slightly on his not-yet-healed leg, Leon approaches, grinning.
“Aren’t you still supposed to be resting, little falcon?”
Merlin pouts. “You’re not my ma.”
“I am, however.” She stretches the hand that’s not holding her son towards him. “Hunith. What’s this about my son needing to rest?”
“Leon. He hurt his leg, and it’s still healing. And it won’t heal properly, Merlin, if you keep running on it.”
“I wanted to see my ma!”
“Let’s sit down at least,” Hunith compromises. “Where would you suggest?”
“The steps are closest, but if you want to talk about what happened Gaius’s chambers are more private.”
“Gaius’s chambers it is then.”
Merlin holds his arms up and Leon chuckles, lifting the boy onto his shoulders. “If you insist, since you’re still injured. But no bouncing.”
“Promise!”
Leon starts walking, ignoring the small tugs on his hair as Merlin plays with it. As soon as Hunith sits down in Gaius’s chambers, Leon sets Merlin down and he runs over to her, jumping onto her lap. She pulls him close.
“Oh Merlin. My Merlin.” Hunith looks up, addressing Leon as she strokes her son’s hair. “What happened?”
“Did Gaius tell you anything?”
“Just that Merlin was safe and well in Camelot, and wanted to see me. The last I saw of him he was being chased by Cenred’s men. And their dogs.” Her eyes are shining and Merlin lets out a terrified whimper, burrowing into her chest. “Hush, little bird, you’re safe.”
Leon watches them for a minute, then continues addressing Hunith when she turns her attention to him. “He was shot in the leg by Cenred’s men.” She gasps. “Fell down right in front of me. There was just enough time to hide him before the knights came looking for him. It’s a good thing you live so close to the border.”
“I’ll say.” She narrows her eyes slightly. “Why were you there anyway, on your own?”
“I wasn’t on my own. Arthur and I were delivering supplies to the Druids.”
“Prince Arthur?”
Leon nods. “He’s nothing like his father.”
“He’s a prat though.” Hunith swats Merlin lightly in reprove. “He is! And he’s rubbish at cutting hair!”
“Merlin,” she says sternly, “how many times did you grow it back?”
He pouts. “Three.”
Hunith shakes her head. “What happened after you found him, Leon?”
“I carried him back to our camp, and we treated his leg and brought him here. But he’s not meant to be running yet. You hear me Merlin? If you want it to heal properly, you need to stop running.”
“’s not going to heal properly anyway,” he mutters.
“But you can give it a fighting chance. Hunith, you must be hungry after your journey, I can send for something if you like.”
Merlin perks up at this. “They have loads of food here ma! You can eat three times a day! And the cook makes amazing strawberry tarts, but she says I have to stop growing more when they run out so people aren’t suspicious so there might be none left but there’s other fruit as well! And they have so many stairs! It’s so high! You can see the whole city from my window!”
“Can you now?” asks Hunith, biting back a laugh. “Yes, Leon, that would be lovely.”
Leon steps out for a second to flag down a servant, and when he returns Merlin’s climbed off his mother’s lap and is showing her some of the drawings he’s done over the past few days.
“They’re very good, aren’t they?” Leon says, looking over her shoulder.
“They are. Who’s this, Merlin?”
“That’s Gwen. She’s one of my best friends. And that’s Elyan and he’s also my best friend. He’s a blacksmith!”
“He’s an apprentice,” corrects Leon, and Hunith makes a sound of understanding.
“What else can you tell me about your friends then?”
Merlin beams even wider, and by the time the food arrives he’s detailing Gwen’s many virtues. He moves on to Leon next.
“Leon saved my life! He’s great at hugs and he gives the best shoulder rides! And he’s really nice!”
“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” chides Hunith gently. She’s eating in a more dignified manner than Merlin, but still with that same hungry look in her eye. “Leon, you’re blushing.”
“I’m not!”
“Yes, you are!” says Merlin. “You’re bright red!”
“Well. You shouldn’t give me so many compliments if you don’t want me to blush.”
“But they’re true!”
“Eat your dinner, then you can go back to embarrassing Leon.”
“Yes, ma.” He takes another bite of his pie.
“I’m so glad you made it here, little bird.”
“You told me to, so I did.”
Leon frowns. “You told Merlin to come to Camelot?”
“Yes. I drilled it into him, as soon as he was able to understand,” she says. “If Cenred’s knights ever came, he was to run for the border and not look back. He had a better chance in Camelot in that case. And you did, little falcon.” She kisses the top of his head. “I’m so proud of you.”
Hunith watches Leon curiously as they finish eating. He’s entirely at ease with her son, teasing Merlin gently. And he’s very protective of him too. It’s enough to almost make her regret not moving to Camelot sooner. They could’ve avoided Cenred’s men, and clearly there’s more tolerance for magic here than she thought.
But then, there’s no guarantee Leon would’ve helped earlier, or even met him. The same goes for the prince. Moving to Camelot when Merlin was younger and couldn’t control his magic might’ve been a death sentence.
“I need to go now, I’ve got training. But I’ll be back later, and I’m sure Gaius will be back soon.”
“And Arthur?” asks Merlin.
“Once I tell him your mother’s arrived, I imagine he’ll be straight up. Probably leave me to take over training and everything.” He looks at Hunith. “You’ll be all right here?”
“I’ll be fine, Leon. I’m sure Merlin has plenty of things to show me.”
“All right.” He stands and ruffles Merlin’s hair. “Back soon, little falcon.”
“Bye!”
Once Leon’s gone, taking the plates with him, Merlin hops out of his seat and tugs at Hunith’s hand. “Come on! I want to show you the view!”
“I’m coming, little bird, give me a second.” Merlin lets go and bounces impatiently on his heels as she gets to her feet. “All right, what’s this view you want to show me?”
Merlin limps enthusiastically up the stairs to a small room which she thinks might’ve been a store room once. “This is my room, and yours now too, Gaius says. If you’re staying. You are staying, right?”
“Of course I am, little bird.” The worry on his face melts away, and she wonders why he doubted it. He always has been a bit of a worrier, though.
“Yay! Uncle Gaius said I shouldn’t worry. But look! You can see the whole city from here!” He points to the window. “Have a look!”
Hunith obligingly climbs up onto a crate to look out, and gasps. She really can see everything from here.
“See? It’s amazing!”
“It is,” she agrees, climbing down. Something that she’s been letting slip from her mind all day falls back in, and she can’t afford to get rid of it. “There’s something we need to do, before anything else.” She leads the way back into the main chamber and sits down at the table, Merlin beside her.
“What is it, ma?”
“I need to cut your hair, little bird,” she says gently. She hates doing this because it makes Merlin so upset, but it’s necessary now that they’re in Camelot. “I can’t risk you being arrested as a Druid.”
“But everyone cuts it wonky! And I don’t like short hair!”
“How about this. I won’t cut your hair completely short this time.”
“How short?”
She puts a hand about the level of his chin. “This short.” Merlin bites his lip seriously for a few minutes before nodding. “Thank you.”
Hunith picks up the knife and Merlin holds still as she cuts off his locks. There’s so much of it.
“There we go. It’s not wonky this time, I promise. And if it is you have my permission to grow it straight. But please, keep it this length this time, alright?”
Her son nods solemnly. “I promise.” Then he sees the hair on the floor and his eyes start watering, lip wobbling. She pulls him into a hug and he scrambles into her arms.
“I’m sorry, little bird. I’m so sorry.”
Leon’s almost late to training that day and Arthur frowns at him.
“Are you all right? You’re usually the first one here.”
“Sorry, sire. Merlin’s mother’s arrived.”
“She’s here?” He glances in the direction of Gaius’s tower as if he’ll be able to see her through the stone, and Leon gives him a knowing smile.
“Go. I’ll take over training for today.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. Go.”
“Thank you.” Arthur strides off, stomach fluttering with nerves. What if Hunith doesn’t like him? What if she blames him for her son being shot? She could hate him after what he did to the Druids, she should really. He’s the son of the King of Camelot, a man who hates magic above all else, and her son practically is magic. She’d be well within her rights to hate him.
He hopes she doesn’t though.
Arthur knocks on Gaius’s door and enters. A woman with dark brown hair and a faded green kirtle is sitting at the table, drawing with Merlin (whose hair is now short, and he blinks, trying to take in the sight. It’s weird. He wonders if it’ll last).
“You knocked! Why’d you knock? You never knock!”
“And all my efforts to be polite go out the window,” he bemoans. Then he turns to the woman he assumes is Hunith, who’s now chuckling, and extends his hand. “You must be Hunith, Merlin’s mother. I’m Arthur Pendragon. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
“And yours. I must thank you for looking after my son.”
“It was mostly Gaius and Leon who did that.”
“No, it wasn’t!” pipes in Merlin. “You helped me as well! I wouldn’t have made it here without you!”
“From what Merlin’s told me, he’s right. He also says you’re a prat.”
“Why thank you, Merlin.”
“ But, you’re a good person,” she continues, and he shakes his head.
“I don’t think so, my lady.”
“Stop that ‘my lady’ business. It’s just Hunith. And I can make up my own mind about that. Now, come and sit down. I want to hear all about you.”
Arthur frowns as he sits opposite her. “You already know about me. Prince of Camelot, son of Uther and Ygraine Pendragon – you lived on the border, you must know. What else is there to say?”
“Arthur,” she says, sad but firm, “I know nothing about your personality besides what Merlin’s told me, and I certainly haven’t heard about it from you. So tell me.”
Arthur’s taken aback by this. Not many people want to know about him as a person.
“Oh, erm, I don’t really know what to say–”
He’s interrupted by the door opening, and he’s not sure if that’s a good or a bad thing.
“Gwen! Come meet my ma!”
Gwen beams. “Hi Merlin. Arthur.”
“Hello, Gwen,” says Arthur. He doesn’t know Gwen all that well, having only really spoken in passing before, but she’s a good kid. “Come and sit down.”
Gwen sits down next to him. “Thank you. Hi, Merlin’s ma!”
“Hello, dear. You can call me Hunith if you like. Merlin’s told me all about you.”
“He has?”
“You’re my best friend, of course I have!”
“Oh. Your hair’s much shorter.”
Merlin pouts. “Ma cut it. I don’t like it.”
“It’s safer short,” Hunith explains sadly.
“And are you going to keep it short this time, Mer lin?”
“I already promised I would,” he says sulkily, folding his arms.
“Anyway,” says Gwen, “I need to fetch Morgana’s sleeping draught. I’m her maid,” she adds proudly. Merlin scrambles up to fetch it.
“That’s good,” says Hunith uncertainly. “And do you enjoy it?”
“Of course I do! Morgana’s my friend!”
“Well. That’s all right then. You’ll visit again later?”
“Yes! Bye Merlin, bye Arthur! Bye Hunith!”
“Goodbye, dear.”
The door shuts and Hunith frowns after her.
“Isn’t she a bit young to be a servant?”
Arthur snorts. “Morgana insisted. She is a bit young, but she can do the job, and my father’s terrible at saying no to Morgana.”
“How did they meet?”
“Morgana was dressed as a peasant and exploring the lower town. Don’t ask me why. There was a young man who didn’t recognise her and wouldn’t take no for an answer. Gwen hit him over the head with a newly-forged shovel.”
“I approve thoroughly,” says Hunith.
“So did my father. Morgana and Gwen became instant friends, and Tom was made the royal swordsmith once our old one retired. Partly as a thank you, mostly because he really is the best blacksmith in Camelot.”
“I’ll have to visit him at some point. You were about to tell me about yourself?”
Gaius returns late in the afternoon to see his sister sitting at the table with Arthur and his nephew.
“Hunith! I didn’t know you’d arrived! I’d have been here earlier!”
“It’s fine, I’ve just been catching up with my son. And cutting his hair, which he’s promised to keep short this time.”
“Well, that’s good.” Gaius walks over to the fire and lights it, setting a pot of water over it. “I’m going to cook us some dinner. Are you staying, sire?”
Arthur shakes his head. “I can’t. Father wants to have dinner with me and it’s the first time he’s properly spoken to me since the massacre, so–”
“What massacre?” asks Hunith. Gaius hears the steely undertone but Arthur, only having met her a few hours ago, doesn’t, plowing on heedless of the danger.
“A few days before I met Merlin, the King ordered me to lead an attack on a Druid encampment. I froze, I couldn’t stop it... I’m sorry.” Arthur’s gaze drops to his feet, face flushed pink with shame, and he flinches as Hunith reaches out towards him. She frowns in concern.
“How old are you, Arthur?”
“Fifteen.” It’s almost a question – he’s not sure where she’s taking this.
“And your father thought it appropriate for you to lead an assault that he obviously wanted to become a massacre, and then ignore you for over a week because you... what? Reacted wrong?”
“Yes? It’s unbecoming of a future king to react in that way to his duty.” Arthur looks up. “Should he not have?”
“No,” bites out Hunith, “no, dear, he really shouldn’t. Excuse me.” She marches out the door.
“Where’s she going?” wonders Arthur under his breath.
“She can’t hit the King on the head with a frying pan!” cries Merlin. “She’ll be killed!”
“She won’t,” says Gaius tiredly, “maybe arrested, but not executed. Not if Uther wants to keep his court physician, which he knows.”
“You promise?”
“Promise.”
Uther looks up from the papers he’s signing as the throne room doors burst open and a woman storms in.
“Uther Pendragon. How dare you send your son to lead a massacre? He’s only fifteen!”
He gets over his shock quickly and takes the woman in. Fairly short, black hair mostly tucked into a faded green kirtle. Definitely a peasant.
“Who are you to speak to me like that?”
The woman draws herself up. “Hunith. Gaius’s sister.”
Another member of Gaius’ family. Fantastic. Sometimes he wishes he never spared the old physician, if only to avoid the constant aggravation of his relatives.
“That doesn’t mean you can burst into the throne room and demand my attention.”
“No. You listen to me. Arthur’s still a boy. You shouldn’t be putting him in situations where he will be traumatised for life. It’s not fair on him and it’s not fair on everyone who’s being led by someone so inexperienced. And if you ordered him to lead it because you knew he’d win then perhaps you should consider who you’re killing.”
Uther’s temper reaches boiling point. How dare this woman question him?
“Guards! Take her to the dungeons. And make sure you don’t let her in here again.”
Two guards come forward and take her arms, leading her out of the room. Uther seethes. The gall of that family...
Maybe he can admit though, if only to himself, that the boy (Marvin? Martin?) is rather cute.
Merlin accompanies Arthur to release Hunith the next morning, throwing his arms around her as soon as the cell door opens. She strokes his hair.
“I’m all right, little bird.”
“Please don’t get arrested again, ma.”
“I’ll try my best,” she promises.
“Have the guards treated you well?” asks Arthur, concerned.
“Yes, they’ve been very good to me. Don’t worry, Arthur.”
“Yes. Well. Please do try not to get arrested again, though. Merlin’s been very worried.”
Hunith presses a kiss to Merlin’s head. “Let’s get out of here. Have you eaten breakfast yet? You’re still in your nightshirt.”
“I wanted to see you first.”
The three of them head upstairs to Gaius’s chambers, where Gwen and Gaius are waiting for them.
“We’re just making breakfast,” says Gaius, “It’ll be ready soon.”
“Thank you. Merlin, why don’t you get dressed? I’ve brought your clothes from home. Including your favourite jacket.”
“You found it?” asks Merlin excitedly. “I thought I wouldn’t see that again!” He grabs Hunith’s hand and drags her up the stairs.
Arthur chuckles as they go. “He really has missed her, hasn’t he?”
“Of course. Merlin’s very close to his mother, always has been.”
Arthur frowns. “I thought you’d only met Merlin once before now?”
“I have. But Hunith writes regularly. I received a letter about Merlin being hunted the other day.”
“She must’ve sent it before she received yours,” says Arthur quietly. He can’t imagine thinking someone he loved was dead for several days. It’s awful, and he hates Cenred all the more for it.
“Indeed. Hunith, Will and Will’s mother were all Merlin really had in Ealdor. He didn’t make friends easily.”
“But he’s so friendly,” says Gwen, confused.
“He also doesn’t have a father,” says Gaius heavily, “and Hunith never married.”
Gwen lets out a soft, “Oh,” and Arthur sighs in understanding. Of course the villagers wouldn’t want to befriend a bastard child.
“But– Merlin said he was happy there?” asks Gwen.
“I imagine he was, on the whole. That doesn’t mean life’s been easy for him.” Gaius hands them both a handful of cutlery. “Now do me a favour and set the table.”
They do so, and once all five of them have eaten their fill of porridge, Hunith picks up a comb and turns to Merlin. “Let me do your hair. It looks like a bird’s nest.”
“Birds’ nests are neat,” protests Merlin, but he sits back and lets her at him.
“Not a pigeon’s. You said your hair was itchy, right?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“I’ll be careful then.” Hunith starts combing, stopping almost immediately when the comb snags on something. “That’s odd, let’s see... ah.”
“What is it?”
“Here, see for yourself.” She brushes Merlin’s hair aside with her fingers as Arthur approaches and peers at it.
Ah.
“You’re growing flowers,” Arthur comments, lifting Merlin’s hair to see if he can see where they’re coming from. Merlin squirms. “That might be a little inconvenient.”
Hunith frowns. “I thought he only did that when he had long hair. And stop fiddling with my son’s hair.”
Arthur drops his hand immediately at her Look. He’s not convinced she doesn’t have some magic of her own. “What are we going to do about it? I mean, it’ll be obvious he has magic if someone sees flowers growing out of his head.”
“I’m right here !” cries Merlin indignantly. “And you’re not doing anything else to me!”
Gwen bounces on the balls of her feet. “Ooh! Ooh! I have an idea! I’ll be right back!” She runs out the door.
“What is she up to this time?” wonders Hunith. They don’t have to wait long to find out because before long she’s back, carrying a basket of flowers that she sets down on the table, deftly weaving stems together until they form a circle. She perches it atop Merlin’s head, so the flowers he’s growing mix with those in the crown, making them look like they’re part of it.
“There! An extra flowery flower crown!”
Merlin grins, hugging her tightly. “Can we make crowns for everyone?”
Gwen looks at Arthur, who shrugs. “I don’t see why not.”
Merlin’s grin widens and he digs into the basket, pulling out some flowers and starting to weave.
“Try not to move too much little bird, I still need to do your hair.”
Merlin sits as still as he can while Hunith combs his hair carefully with her fingers. Once she’s finished, Merlin gets faster in his flower crown making, and soon enough the basket of flowers is empty and there’s a large pile of flower crowns on the table.
Merlin picks one up thoughtfully and stands on tiptoes to put it on Gwen’s head. “This is for you.”
Gwen beams at it, then picks one out and hands it to Gaius. “This is yours.”
Merlin picks one out each for Hunith and Arthur, and Arthur turns his over in his hands, admiring it. It’s made of simple orange and white flowers, and he’s very touched.
“Thank you, Merlin.”
“That’s all right.” Merlin frowns at the rest of the crowns in the basket. “Is that enough, d’you think?”
“It’s enough for now,” replies Gwen. “Come on, let’s go and give them out.”
Merlin glances at his mother, who smiles. “Go on, little bird. Just be careful.”
“I will. Thanks, ma!”
The flower crowns are an instant success.
Merlin and Gwen head down to Gwen’s house first to give Tom and Elyan their crowns, then circle the lower town for a bit, giving out flower crowns to everyone they pass. And people really like them. They all leave Merlin and Gwen with smiles on their faces (obviously, because how could you not like a flower crown?).
When the basket’s half-empty they head back up towards the castle, handing out crowns as they go. They need to give one each to Leon and Morgana before they run out.
Merlin spots Leon heading towards the training ground and waves at him. “Leon!”
Leon turns, face brightening when he spots them, and walks over. “Hello, you two. What are you doing? I heard your mother was arrested, Merlin?”
“She was but she’s out now. We’re giving out flower crowns!”
“Yes, I saw.”
“Do you want to choose one?” asks Gwen, holding out the basket.
“Might as well. They’re very pretty.” Leon chooses a crown made out of daisies and buttercups, and places it on his head carefully. “Thank you both.”
“You’re welcome,” says Gwen.
“I should get to training. Where are you two going now?”
“We’re going to give one to Morgana,” replies Merlin.
“I need to fetch Morgana’s sleeping draught as well,” says Gwen, “so I’ll meet you there.”
“Okay! Bye, Leon!” Merlin takes the basket off of Gwen and heads to Morgana’s chambers, remembering to knock before he enters in case she’s not the only one in there. She’s brushing her hair at her dressing table, dressed in a loose white dress.
“Hello, Merlin.”
“Hi, Gana!”
“What are you doing here?”
“I’ve come to give you a flower crown!” Then he pauses, cocking his head at her, an idea coming to him. “Unless you want to make your own.”
Morgana peers into his basket with a frown. “You don’t have any loose flowers.”
Merlin hops up onto Morgana’s desk, setting it beside him, and watches her brushing her hair. Everything here’s so big.
“No. But you have magic.”
Morgana startles, dropping her brush. “What?”
“You have magic. So do you want to make your own flower crown or do you still want one of mine?”
“Can we go back to me having magic for a minute?”
Merlin blinks. Does she not know? How does she not know? “I can sense it. It’s obvious. Do you not know?”
“Yes, but... no-one else does.”
“Oh. Do you want one of our flower crowns or not?”
“Sure.” Merlin picks one out carefully and hands it to her. “Thank you, Merlin.”
“It’s from Gwen as well.”
“Well, I’ll be sure to thank her when she comes up. Merlin, can I ask you something? About your magic.”
“Yep. What is it?”
“How do you do magic without spells? I’ve tried but I can’t use my magic without spells. At least, not deliberately.”
“I dunno. It just happens. I didn’t know most people even needed spells. I can show you though.”
Morgana grins. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
Merlin raises a hand and conjures a small flame on his palm. “Now you try. Picture it in your head and then push your magic into it.”
Morgana holds out her hand and narrows her eyes at it, trying for several minutes before she growls in frustration.
“It’s not working. I don’t think my magic works like yours, Merlin.”
“Oh. Maybe we could find you some spell books! Do you have any?”
Morgana snorts. “Where would I get them from? It’s not like I can just ask Uther.”
The door opens and they both jump, Merlin smothering his flame, heart pounding. Luckily it’s just Arthur and Gwen. Gwen sets the sleeping draught down on Morgana’s dresser, looking anxious.
“We could hear you outside, the door wasn’t shut properly. You are very lucky it was just us,” says Arthur, sitting down. “So. You have magic too?”
“Er– yes. You’re not– you’re okay with it?”
“I’m fine with Merlin’s, aren’t I? You’re my sister, of course I’m okay with it.”
Morgana lets out a sob and covers her mouth. “I’m sorry, I just wouldn’t have expected you to–”
Arthur pulls Morgana into a tight hug. “I’m so sorry, Gana. I should’ve made it clearer earlier. You’re my sister. I’d never do anything to hurt you. I’m so sorry.”
Gwen taps Merlin on the leg and they creep out of the room. As Merlin leaves he hears Arthur say, “I’ll see if I can find you any spell books. I bet Geoffrey hasn’t thrown everything out from before the purge.”
“You don’t seem surprised,” says Merlin. Gwen shakes her head.
“I already knew. She didn’t tell me but she’s often shattering vases in her sleep.”
“Oh. Shall we give a crown to Uther now?”
“I mean, he could do with one. It might make him nicer.”
A few days later, Gaius decides that Merlin’s leg’s healed properly. He can run on it now. And Merlin, predictably, is overjoyed by the announcement. He decides to take Leon on a picnic to celebrate, Leon unfortunately being the only one free today.
Well. He’s not really free, he’s supposed to be training. But Arthur won’t begrudge him spending time with Merlin.
They head out to a small clearing in the woods, and Leon lays out the picnic blanket, watching as Merlin chases a squirrel.
A squirrel which, if Leon isn’t mistaken, seems to be rather enjoying itself.
“Come and get something to eat, then you can go back to chasing the squirrel.”
Merlin sits down, leg jiggling as he nibbles on some bread. “His name’s Barnaby, and he lives over there. He keeps calling me Emrys, even though I told him my name is Merlin.”
“You were talking to it?”
“Of course I was! In my head!” He says it as if it should be obvious, and Leon ruffles his hair.
“You never cease to amaze me, little falcon.”
After they’ve finished eating, Leon persuades Merlin to help him pick herbs for Gaius, since Barnaby’s gotten bored and scampered off anyway. And Leon did promise Gaius those herbs.
They spend the next few candlemarks collecting them, filling the basket up with feverfew and comfrey. Once they’re finished, Merlin climbs a tree.
“Merlin, what are you doing up there?”
“I haven’t climbed a tree for ages!”
“All right. Just don’t get stuck, I’m not rescuing you!”
“I won’t!”
And, true to Merlin’s word, he doesn’t, even though he climbs high enough that Leon can’t see him anymore, just hears the leaves rustling.
Merlin spends several candlemarks scrambling around the trees before Leon calls him down.
“We need to go, little falcon, it’s getting late.”
Merlin pouts. “Fine.” He jumps down and takes the basket of herbs, while Leon carries the picnic basket. As they reach the citadel gates Merlin starts to run.
“Be careful!” Leon calls, watching amused as the boy runs through the lower town with his basket of herbs, the people he doesn’t manage to swerve stepping aside quickly to avoid being trampled. He strides after the boy. It doesn’t really matter if he catches up to him or not, given that he’s only heading to Gaius’s, but he’d like to keep him in sight.
Leon almost catches up to Merlin when he has to pause to let a group of people pass by the drawbridge, and it’s lucky he does because when Merlin enters the courtyard he collapses.
Leon runs forward, catching him just before he hits the ground. Merlin whimpers.
“Merlin? What’s wrong?”
“My leg.” Leon tries to help him stand but he just falls back down. “Can’t walk.”
Leon scans the area quickly but doesn’t see anything that can be used as a walking stick. “Alright, I’m going to have to carry you.” Merlin flushes slightly but nods, and Leon settles him against his chest, heading for Gaius’s chambers.
Gaius and Hunith are both there when they enter, and as Leon sits Merlin down on the bed his mother hurries over.
“Oh, little bird, what happened?”
“My leg collapsed.”
Gaius frowns. “Do you know what caused it?”
Merlin shakes his head. “I was just running and then it collapsed and now I can’t walk and it really hurts. I didn’t trip or anything.”
Gaius examines it carefully. “Well there’s no bruising or new injuries. Where does it hurt?”
“Same place I got shot.”
“It’s probably to do with that then.”
Merlin frowns. “But that was weeks ago! You said it was healed!”
“It appears I was wrong. I’m not entirely surprised that it caused long-term damage. Have you been running around all day?” The boy nods solemnly. “I see. And I’m guessing this is the longest you’ve been on it since it healed?” He nods again, and Gaius heaves a heavy sigh.
“’m not gonna be able to walk on it?” asks Merlin quietly. Hunith strokes his head soothingly.
“You will, my boy. You just have to be careful. No running around all day on it or this will happen again.”
“Oh.” He snuggles against his mother, looking upset. “But I like running!”
“You can still run, little falcon,” says Leon, “right Gaius?”
“Indeed.”
“But I thought you said I couldn’t?” asks Merlin, confused.
“You can’t run all day,” explains Gaius. “You have to rest it more frequently than you’re used to, and pay attention to when it starts hurting. That doesn’t mean you can’t use it at all. You just have to be careful, all right, my boy?”
“Yes, Uncle Gaius,” replies Merlin sullenly.
The next day, Merlin can’t walk.
He’s clearly upset about it. Leon stays with him as much as he can, and they race the multicoloured snails and butterflies Merlin creates for several hours, which cheers him up a bit. He’s also clearly very bored.
“You’ll be able to walk again soon,” reassures Leon while they’re eating lunch at Gaius’s table; the old physician himself is out on his rounds. “You just have to be patient.”
“But I’m bored!” cries Merlin. “And what if I can’t? What if it was just temporary that I could and now I can’t ever again?”
“Remember what Gaius said. You just have to let your leg build up strength again. It tires far easier now it’s been shot, and takes longer to recover.”
“But what if he’s wrong? He was wrong before!”
“That’s true,” agrees Leon, abandoning his food and pulling his teary-eyed friend into a tight hug, “but even if he is, it’s only one leg. We’ll find you a walking stick and you’ll still be able to walk. Alright?”
“Mm-hm.”
The door creaks open to reveal Elyan carrying a bundle wrapped in cloth. “Hello, Merlin, Leon.”
“Hello, Elyan.”
“Hey, Elyan,” sniffs Merlin.
“How are you?” Elyan asks.
“’m all right.”
“Well, your mother was visiting my father and she mentioned that your leg’s hurting a lot. So I made you something. I hope it’s the right height.”
Elyan crosses the room and hands the package to Merlin, who frowns and unwraps it.
“A walking stick. Thank you, Elyan!”
“That’s okay. It’s not that good, I’m a blacksmith not a carpenter, but a guy called Balinor visited Leon’s house while my mother still worked there and he taught me some. I hope it’s– mmph!” Merlin throws his arms around Elyan, muffling him.
“Thank you thank you thank you! I love it!”
Merlin takes his time adjusting to his bad leg.
He doesn’t mind using a cane. He loves the stick Elyan made for him, it’s smooth and cool and strong, and although it does get in the way sometimes when he wants to carry things with two hands, he doesn’t actually have to use it all the time, only on bad days. But he can’t get used to having to rest so often. He keeps forgetting and tiring himself out, and then Leon or someone else has to help him back because he can’t walk, and then he has to take a pain tonic.
It’s very frustrating.
One day, when Merlin’s tired himself out again and is crushing some herbs, Uncle Gaius sits down opposite him.
“Merlin, my boy, you can count to ten, can’t you?”
“Of course I can!” he says indignantly. Uncle Gaius smiles.
“Good. Well then, on a scale of one to ten, how much does your leg hurt just before you can’t walk anymore?”
“What?” He doesn’t understand. How’s he supposed to know?
“If ten’s the worst pain you’ve ever felt. Just a rough estimate, my boy.”
That would be against him being shot, then. “I dunno. Um, eight?”
“Right. Do you think you could work out when it is you’re at about a six or a seven? And take a rest then until the pain goes down. That way, your leg might not give out for an entire day. Do you think you can do that?”
“Dunno. I can try.”
“Thank you, my boy. Let me know if it doesn’t work, and I’ll try to come up with something different.”
Merlin nods.
Just then, Hunith comes in. “Feeling any better, little bird?”
“A bit.”
“Well, I was talking to the cook and she gave me some cinnamon rolls for you.”
Merlin perks up. He loves the cook’s cinnamon rolls. “Thanks, ma!”
She kisses him on the forehead. “Gaius, have you told Merlin of the pain scale idea yet?”
“I have.”
“I’m not sure I can do it,” worries Merlin, “it’s hard.”
“Just give it a try, little bird. No harm done if it doesn’t work.”
“Yes, ma.”
In the end, Uncle Gaius’s idea does make it easier to tell when he needs to rest (even if it doesn’t work all the time). And over time, things do get easier. Merlin gets used to it. And it’s not actually all that bad.
Chapter Text
The start of autumn arrives, and with it a banquet to celebrate the start of the harvest. Arthur decides to bring Merlin. After all, he’s entitled to bring a guest, and Merlin’s never experienced a banquet before.
Also, Gaius is already taking Hunith.
Arthur has to get his father deep in his cups to agree but, to his amazement, he says yes. And he can’t take it back now he’s agreed.
The next step is to find Merlin some clothes. Begrudgingly, he ropes Morgana and Gwen into helping him, because they’re far better at fashion than he is. This does come with the unfortunate side effect of Morgana discovering how short he was at the age of eight.
“Seriously. You were Merlin’s height? That’s titchy!”
“Hey! I’ve grown now!”
“So small! So cute!”
The day of the banquet comes around fast, and soon, it’s time for them to get ready.
Merlin takes a while to change into the clothes Arthur’s brought him, but eventually he steps back around the front of the screen, fidgeting with his sleeves.
“These are too fancy!” he declares, not for the first time. “I don’t need clothes this fancy.
“You’re my guest at the banquet, Mer lin, yes you do. The King won’t be happy if you’re scruffy. Besides, the outfit suits you.”
“It does?”
Arthur smiles. Merlin’s wearing a pair of dark brown breeches paired with a simple red tunic, and his own blue neckerchief on top. It’s not Arthur’s fanciest outfit from when he was eight, because he’s fairly certain Uther would murder him for allowing a peasant to dress like a prince, but it’s good quality clothing. Good enough for the banquet at least. Hunith wipes her eyes and bends down in front of Merlin, unfolding the deep blue bundle of fabric in her arms. Merlin gasps.
“Wow. It’s so pretty! Where’d you get it?”
“The castle seamstress,” says a voice from the doorway. “She’s very fond of you, little falcon. I did try to pay but she wouldn’t let me.” Arthur looks round at Leon questioningly and he winks, holding up a basket.
“And nor would I,” says Hunith, draping the cloak around Merlin’s shoulders and tying it. “There you go, little bird. And I believe Leon has a finishing touch.”
“Something else ?” asks Merlin, eyes wide, bobbing up and down in excitement.
“That was meant to be a surprise , Hunith!” exclaims Leon, fond smile belying the indignance in his tone. He turns to Merlin. “It’s from Gwen and Morgana. They wanted to bring it themselves but they’re busy getting ready for the feast as well.” He hands over the flower crown. “Apparently, you’d understand the significance of the zinnias.”
Merlin beams at it, placing it carefully atop his messy black hair (messy despite the multiple attempts to tidy it up). “It was the first flower I ever grew for them! So, what d’you think?”
“You look lovely, little bird,” says Hunith, and Arthur’s glad she spoke first – all he can think of is ‘adorable’, and he’s not sure how well Merlin would take that. He does look adorable though, red and orange flower crown nestled snugly in his messy black hair, the deep blue cloak making him look almost noble.
Almost. Noble children don’t tend to bounce so much.
He coughs. “You don’t look like a street urchin anymore.” Hunith swats him on the arm reprovingly. “Anyway, we should get to my chambers before Morris starts fretting.”
Merlin frowns. “But you’re dressed!”
“I still need to put on my circlet though.”
“Oh.”
When Arthur and Merlin arrive at the banquet a few candlemarks later, Uther’s eyes narrow and his face turns slightly red. Arthur worries briefly that he might have a fit.
Thankfully, he doesn’t object audibly, but his eyes say that they’ll be having words later. Arthur ignores him for now, gesturing Merlin towards the seat beside him.
“Go on, sit down.”
Merlin does so, fiddling nervously with his sleeves. “There’s so many people! And they’re all staring at me.”
“It’s because you’re new. It won’t last long, don’t worry about it.”
When the food’s brought out, Merlin seems to forget about people staring, his eyes widening so much Arthur thinks they might pop out of their sockets. Arthur chuckles.
“Something wrong?”
“There’s so much food! And I don’t even recognise most of it! How do you have so much food? I’ve never seen this much before!”
Arthur elbows him into silence as his father stands up.
“Welcome to this banquet to celebrate the end of summer and the start of the harvest. Let the feasting begin!”
Arthur blinks. That was a short speech.
Hunith bites into some deer, looking hesitant. Merlin’s much more obvious, looking slightly panicked at all the food he’s never eaten.
“What do I eat?” he whispers. Arthur piles a small bit of herb-crusted capon onto his plate.
“Try this. Herb-crusted capon.”
He takes a bite. “’s good. What’s capon?”
“Chicken.”
“Oh.” He eats some more and then his eyes light up upon seeing the centrepiece. “What’s that ?”
“A peacock.”
“But– all the feathers ! Are you sure it’s actually an animal? It’s so bright!”
Merlin’s voice carries and one of the servants brings over a slice with feathers on the plate, smiling at him. He picks up a feather, fascinated.
“Is that an eye? And it’s so blue!”
“Go ahead, eat it.”
Merlin takes a large bite, chewing it thoughtfully. “’s not bad.” He pauses while he eats some more, and then says, “What happens to all the leftovers? There’s so much food, how do you eat it all?”
“The servants usually eat them, and the scraps go to the pigs.”
“Oh. They’re still edible though.” He shrugs, as if Camelot is baffling, and continues eating.
Merlin’s comments keep everyone amused throughout the banquet, and when he gets to the sugared almonds his eyes, impossibly, widen even further.
“They’re so sweet ! How come you have so much sweet stuff here?”
Arthur chuckles. “Because we can afford it.”
“What’s that say?”
“Chamomile.”
“What about that one?”
“Wild garlic. And could you please be quiet for a minute so I can concentrate?”
Merlin quiets for a few moments before perking up again. “What’s that word?”
Morgana stifles a snort at Gaius’s long-suffering expression. She’s in his chambers, keeping Merlin company and getting the nerve up to ask him to do something with him, and she certainly doesn’t regret coming here, even if she thinks the old physician may have his brief moments of regret over letting Merlin stay in his chambers while he works. Hunith’s out collecting herbs though in her new role as Gaius’s apprentice, so she can’t take care of him. “Do you want me to teach you how to read and write?” Merlin looks at her and nods enthusiastically. “Come on then.”
Merlin hops off the stool and follows her out of the room, waving goodbye to Gaius a little too enthusiastically, judging by the sounds of breaking glass. They set off towards the library. Merlin slows down as they approach, frowning worriedly.
“I just need to collect something,” she explains. She hadn’t realised he had problems with the library (or, more likely, Geoffrey) or she’d have taken him to her chambers first. “We won’t be long.”
He nods and they enter.
Geoffrey looks up from his books as they approach the desk, eyeing Merlin suspiciously. “What can I do for you, my lady?”
“I need to borrow any books you have that the prince learned to read with.”
“Of course. If you could just wait here.” He disappears into the furthest corners of the library and Morgana turns to Merlin, speaking quietly.
”What did you do?”
“It was an accident!” he says defensively, clearly trying not to bounce. “I was trying to find something and I knocked a big pile of books over!”
She chuckles lowly. No wonder he’s nervous around Geoffrey.
Just then, the old librarian comes back out with a small stack of books. “Here you are, my lady.”
“Thank you.” Merlin takes the books and they head to her chambers, where he sets them down on the desk.
“So, do you want to start with reading or writing?”
Merlin bites his lip in consideration and then says, “Can you teach me how to write my name? And ma?”
Morgana smiles. “Of course I can. Sit down and I’ll show you.” Merlin perches on a chair, legs swinging under the desk, and she sits down beside him, pulling a piece of parchment towards them. “So. Let’s start with ma, that’s easier. This is the letter m , and a . Put them together like this, and you spell ma. Here, have a go.” She passes Merlin the quill and he copies her writing, letters large and choppy but readable, then looks up at her. She ruffles his hair. “Perfect. Want me to show you Merlin now?” Merlin nods. “So, it’s written like this. M , e , r , l , i , n . Try it.”
Merlin copies it out. The e is backwards, but otherwise it’s very good.
“Well done. Now, we can either practice some more, and I can teach you the alphabet, or we can take a look at this.” She takes a book out of her desk drawer and places it in front of them. Merlin frowns.
“What is it?”
“A spell book. Arthur found it for me but I haven’t had a chance to look at it yet.”
Merlin’s eyes light up in excitement. “Ooh! Can we have a look? I’ve never seen any spells before!”
Morgana grins. “I was hoping you’d say that.” She flips open the book and scans the contents. “I have no idea where to start though.”
“Gwen said you keep breaking stuff in your sleep,” says Merlin, “so maybe we should start with a spell so you can break stuff deliberately.”
“Or fix it, hmm?” she replies. “That might be better.”
“S’pose so.”
“Okay...” She flicks through the book until she finds the right page, and her heart sinks. It’s not in English. Of course it wouldn’t be, spells aren’t said in English, but... that means she can’t read it. Can’t use the book, because no-one would admit to Uther’s ward that they know the language of magic.
“Bētaþ,” says Merlin, then frowns. “How come I can read this? I’ve never even seen it before.”
Morgana’s stunned, but recovers quickly. “Maybe it’s because of your magic. It works differently than mine. Maybe that’s why you can understand it instinctively and I can’t. Do you want to break something so we can try out the spell?”
Merlin grins and picks up a jug, letting it fall and shatter on the floor.
“I meant more cleanly but... that’ll do, I guess.”
Arthur knocks on Morgana’s door after lunch. There’s a crash and a giggle, and suddenly it makes sense why Morgana’s lost track of time. She doesn’t usually ask Gwen to prepare her for council meetings, and no-one’s bothered to force the issue because she always makes it on time. But she’s running late today, and that, apparently, is down to Merlin’s presence. After a moment he strides in.
“You’re running late for the council meeting.” Morgana curses, hurriedly arranging her hair neatly around her shoulders. “What are you doing?”
“We’re practicing with that magic book you gave me. Merlin can understand the spells instinctively.”
“Huh.” Arthur didn’t know that was possible. “Well, we need to get going. Father’s still annoyed about the banquet.”
Morgana snorts. “All the guests loved Merlin, I’m not sure what he’s worried about.”
“Apparently my behaviour was ‘unbecoming of a prince’. Like anyone cared. Anyway, won’t Guinevere be waiting for you?”
“True.”
“Can I come?” asks Merlin hopefully. Arthur sighs, exchanging a look with Morgana.
“I’m afraid not, little menace.”
“But why?”
“Arthur’s father won’t allow it,” says Morgana, throwing Uther straight in at the deep end. Not that Arthur really minds at the moment.
“Oh.” Merlin pauses, chewing his lip thoughtfully. “Is it ’cos I’m a bastard?”
There’s a resounding silence, before Arthur recovers himself enough to say, “God, no. Don’t ever call yourself that.”
“But why? Old Man Simmons did, and some of the older boys. They called me other stuff too but ma hit them with a pan and shouted rude words at them. Then she told me not to listen to what they were saying ’cos it’s not true and not to ever repeat anything they said or she said. But I did now. Is that a bad thing?”
He looks at Arthur with wide, blue eyes, and Arthur crouches down to his level, stroking his hair. “You were just telling us what they said. That’s not bad. But bastard’s a very insulting word for someone whose parents weren’t married when they were born, and I’m sure the rest of what they said was insulting too. So don’t use them on anyone else and certainly don’t use them to describe yourself. They’re not true.”
“How d’you know they’re not true?”
“Because I know you, Merlin. And you’re a good person. Promise me you won’t use them?”
“Promise,” says Merlin solemnly.
“Good.” Arthur turns away for a moment to collect himself. God. Merlin’s just... so casual about being insulted like that. His heart aches for the boy. He sees his own feelings reflected in Morgana’s glistening eyes.
When he turns back, Merlin’s watching curiously and he says, “The reason you can’t come is because I can’t take small peasant boys into council meetings.”
He frowns. “But Gwen’s going!”
“That’s because she’s Morgana’s maid.”
“Why can’t I be yours then?”
“My father would never sanction hiring a second servant. You don’t want to attend council meetings anyway, trust me. They’re boring. But you can always help out at other times if you like. If you’re tall enough to.”
Merlin nods, then scowls. “Hey!”
Morgana snorts. “Go on, go and find Leon or Gaius. We’ll see you in a few hours.”
A short while after his first writing lesson, Merlin crouches down in front of a little plant outside the entrance to the kitchens, staring at it intently. There should be strawberries. Why aren't there strawberries?
As if on cue, small blobs of red start to form, growing bigger and bigger, green seeds popping into existence on the outside. He grins. Perfect.
There’s a clink of chainmail and he darts inside the door, peeking out to watch as two guards appear around the corner. His heart pounds as they approach the strawberry plant. He was just there! They almost discovered him doing magic!
“Bit late for strawberries, isn’t it?” asks one of the guards. The other shrugs.
“So? We get a late crop sometimes.” He picks one and puts it in his mouth. “Besides, they’re delicious. Try one.”
“I’ll pass, thanks.”
The guards move on, but Merlin’s heart’s still hammering. He was nearly discovered. They nearly found out about his magic. And if they had he’d have been taken to Uther and locked up and burned or beheaded or hanged or–
He takes a breath. He needs Leon. He turns around and starts running through the castle, taking turns out of habit, and slams open the doors to the knights’ dormitories. They’re empty and he dashes through them, throwing himself on Leon’s bed, not noticing the whirlwind he’s leaving behind in his panic.
No-one can find Merlin.
Leon hurries through the castle, worried. Merlin was supposed to be having reading lessons with Morgana, but he never arrived. There’s only one place left for him to look before Merlin’s officially missing, and he enters the near-empty knights’ dormitories, heart in his throat.
He looks around. The room looks like a whirlwind’s gone through it. And in the centre, curled up tight on his bed, sobs wracking his body, is Merlin.
“There you are,” murmurs Leon, sitting down on the bed by his head. He strokes the boy’s hair gently, slowly easing his sobs. “That’s it. Now uncurl yourself, nice and easy, you’ll get cramped up lying like that.” After a bit Merlin does so, and as soon as it’s physically possible Leon takes his hand, pulling him onto his lap and into a hug. Merlin buries his head in Leon’s chest.
“I didn’t mean to use magic,” mumbles Merlin, voice muffled by Leon’s tunic. “I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry, and now Uther’s going to find out and he’ll behead me or maybe he’ll burn me and–”
“Breathe, Merlin. Just breathe. Nice and easy, in and out. That’s it. Now look at me.” He waits until the boy meets his gaze, eyes watery and scared. “He won’t find out. And if he does, he won’t hurt you. I would die before I let that happen.”
“But I don’t want you to die,” says Merlin quietly.
“I won’t. Anyway, you gave me a better flower crown than Uther, so clearly he can’t kill me.” Merlin doesn’t look much happier, and he sighs. “Merlin. Uther isn’t going to kill his son or his ward, is he?” The boy shakes his head. “So, he won’t kill you. He couldn’t kill you without getting through Arthur and Morgana first. Alright?” Merlin bites his lip and nods. “Now, come on. Let’s get you some food. You’ve been missing for hours, you must be starving.” The boy smiles weakly.
Morgana finds them soon after they’ve returned to Gaius’s chambers.
“Oh thank the gods, you’re safe. Leon, you were supposed to tell me if you found Merlin.”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. But, well, I had to stay with Merlin.” He gestures to the boy, who’s nibbling at his food half-heartedly, face tear-stained. Morgana rushes over.
“Are you all right?”
Merlin nods. “The guards almost discovered my magic! And then– and then I would’ve been burned or beheaded or– or–” The boy bursts into tears, and Morgana pulls him into her arms.
“Shh. Nobody with a heart could do anything to you, Merlin. And if they tried we wouldn’t let them.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
Over the next month or so, Hunith gets arrested several times for antagonising knights and nobles. Merlin visits her every time, and on his third visit he gets a surprise.
“Hey, Merlin,” greets the guard, Aglovale, with a smile, as he arrives down in the dungeons, “come to visit your mother?”
“Yep. Is she all right?”
“She’s fine. Come on, her cell’s this way.”
Merlin follows him to one of the larger cells. His ma’s reading a book on a pile of pillows and blankets, a candle burning low beside her. She sets the book down with a smile when Aglovale unlocks the cell. “Go on then. I’ll call you if someone comes.”
Merlin nods, rushing inside and throwing his arms around his ma. “Ma!”
“Hello, little bird.”
“How are you? Why did you have to get arrested again? And why do you have so many pillows and blankets?”
“I’m fine. The guards have been very kind to me, as you can see. Gwen brought down a very tasty meal, courtesy of Morgana and the royal kitchens. I’m fine, little bird. I couldn’t just ignore that you’d been insulted.”
“But I miss you!”
“I’ll be back in the morning.” She kisses him on the forehead. “Do you want to stay here and I’ll read to you until you have to leave?”
Merlin nods. He doesn’t care that it’s in a cell, it’s still warm and comfy and his ma’s here. He doesn’t want to leave her.
“Okay. Come on, little bird, sit down.” His ma sits down on the pillows, and Merlin snuggles up against her, peering at the book. It still looks mostly like squiggles, but he thinks he recognises a few letters now.
“Once upon a time...”
They stay there until the candle’s almost burnt out and there’s footsteps outside. Aglovale pokes his head in.
“Sorry, Merlin, you’ll have to go now. Come on. I’ll bring you another candle, Hunith.” Merlin stands and gives his ma one last hug before following Aglovale out of the cell. He passes Sir Geraint on his way out of the dungeons, who gives him a nasty look, and is sort of glad that Aglovale got him to leave.
Late in the autumn, Uther announces a tournament.
Merlin doesn’t understand what that is. Even after Leon and Arthur explain, he doesn’t understand why . He understands playing knights, he likes playing knights with Gwen and Elyan, but he doesn’t understand why you’d pretend with real, sharpened swords. It’s not like the contestants are defending themselves or anything.
Still. Leon, Arthur, Elyan and Morgana are looking forward to it, which makes Merlin excited. Surely it’s bound to be fun.
Despite all the explanations he’s been given about the tournament, there’s still things Merlin doesn’t understand about it. Like favours.
He meets Gwen in the corridor one day, as she’s delivering a green ribbon to Leon.
“What’s that?”
“It’s a favour for Leon from Morgana.”
“What’s a favour?” asks Merlin interestedly, eyeing the ribbon. There’s so many things he’s never heard of before in Camelot.
“It’s a piece of fabric you give to someone you love for them to wear during tournaments. Except Morgana doesn’t love Leon, she just really likes him.”
Merlin frowns. “Huh.” This place is confusing sometimes. “Does Arthur have any favours?”
“I don’t know. He doesn’t usually accept them, I don’t think. Why? Do you have an idea?”
Merlin smiles. “Maybe.”
Merlin insists on helping Arthur prepare for the tournament on the first morning. Arthur’s not sure why, given that he doesn’t know how to put on armour and is too short to reach for most of it anyway, but he’s not complaining. Merlin’s bouncy presence is helping relieve his anxiety about the tournament, and about whether or not he’s capable of making his father proud this time.
As soon as Morris has finished buckling on Arthur’s armour he leaves the tent, and Merlin drags Arthur over to a chair, climbing onto it.
“Close your eyes!”
“What are you up to?” Arthur asks suspiciously as he feels Merlin tug at his arm.
“Just keep your eyes shut!”
“All right, all right.”
Arthur keeps his eyes shut until Merlin jumps off the chair.
“You can look now!”
He opens his eyes and looks at the arm Merlin was pulling at. It has Merlin’s red neckerchief tied around it.
“You gave me your favour?” he asks, confused. Merlin just nods, beaming proudly. “Why?”
“Gwen said Morgana gave her favour to Leon because she really likes him, and I really really like you.” He bites his lip, smile wavering slightly. “Don’t you like it? Did I do something wrong?”
Arthur smiles, heart full, blinking back tears. “Of course not Merlin. I’m proud to wear your favour. You’re my favourite person too.” Merlin beams again, crushing Arthur in a hug.
After a minute or so Arthur removes him gently. “But now, I really do need to get out there before I’m late.”
The tournament lasts several days before it’s time for the final.
Merlin watches the fights that Arthur and Leon are in intently – the others not so much, although he does stay, sitting next to Gwen and cheering them on. It’s exciting, even if he can’t follow the swords half the time.
Eventually, the contestants are whittled down until it’s just Leon and Arthur in the final. The citadel is buzzing with excitement, and Merlin joins in the chatter enthusiastically, changing sides between Leon and Arthur winning depending on his mood.
Interestingly, even though Arthur wears Merlin’s favour every day, barely anyone guesses it’s his.
Gaius smiles indulgently as he accompanies Merlin out to the final, the boy chatting incessantly. He seems to have thoroughly enjoyed the tournament, and is intending to watch the final from the edge of the grounds with him. Gaius is glad, if a little nervous. It’s the best way to watch these contests, really.
“So, my boy, who do you think is going to win?”
“I dunno! Arthur’s really good but so is Leon! I can’t even tell the fighters’ swords apart sometimes, they’re so fast! I dunno who to support!”
“I’m sure you’ll decide. Come on, let’s watch the match.”
The fight between Arthur and Leon goes on for a long time. They’re fairly evenly matched (although Gaius thinks Leon might be holding back just a little), so it’s not an easy battle. Merlin whoops and cheers, bouncing the whole time – Gaius is glad they thought to bring his walking stick.
Eventually there’s a breakthrough. Merlin bounces on the balls of his feet, cheering and whooping as Leon sweeps Arthur off his feet, and then as Arthur disarms Leon in a quick, barely-visible movement. Gaius chuckles. It doesn’t seem like Merlin’s quite got the idea of cheering for one opponent yet.
Arthur presses his sword to Leon’s neck and Merlin bites his lip, then cheers louder than anyone else as he’s announced the winner of the tournament. Arthur catches Merlin’s eye and comes over, sweeping the small boy up and onto his shoulders. Merlin beams, waving at the crowd enthusiastically, some of whom have started laughing or whose eyes have melted at the sight of him. Gaius sees Hunith laughing from the stands, waving back when Merlin gives her an enthusiastic greeting.
Merlin’s spent several weeks in the armoury with Leon on and off, learning about crossbows and other weapons, and he knows more than a lot of the squires do at this point, because he actually listens (and Leon loves that, eyes shining as he talks. Merlin feels sad at the thought that people might not listen to Leon much.)
He’s sitting against the shield rack one day, polishing a spare sword (he’s bored, all right? There’s barely anyone around, with the hunt and all), when two bored-looking squires enter the armoury. They barely glance around before grabbing a crossbow, mentioning bringing it to Leon.
And Merlin should stay quiet, really, but he knows these two. They’re obnoxious and loud and are obviously wrong, and he desperately needs to correct them.
“That’s the wrong crossbow,” says Merlin, glancing at the two squires out of the corner of his eye. They give him a dirty look.
“Oh yeah? And what would you know, peasant?”
Merlin drops the polishing cloth. “I know that the one Leon wants is over there.”
One of the squires snickers. “Think you know everything, boy? You’re younger than us. Grubby little peasant, thinking you’re something you’re not.”
He shrugs, turning back to the sword balanced on his leg. He knows he’s right. And he wants to see their faces when Leon tells them off.
Just then, the knight in question walks in and they snap to attention, holding the crossbow out. “Sir.”
“That’s not what I asked for. Merlin?”
“By the door.”
“Perfect.” He gives the two squires a stern look. “This is what happens when you discuss executions instead of paying attention. I’ll have to demonstrate the trigger mechanism to you again. You can go on the next hunt. Prince Arthur doesn’t take kindly to his knights not taking their training seriously.”
They give identical glowers. “Yes, sir.”
“Good. Merlin, want to help?”
He nods, grinning, and Leon extends a hand, pulling him up. “Come on then.” Merlin leads the way out of the armoury until Leon grabs him and pulls him back, ruffling his hair. “Didn’t listen to you again, huh?”
“Nope,” Merlin says cheerfully. “How angry d’you think they are?”
Leon looks back over his shoulder. “Well, they’re not at the stage where they complain to Arthur yet. But they are looking pretty red-faced. Let’s see how much we can rile them up, huh?”
Merlin nods. He very much enjoys watching Leon train.
One evening, Leon enters Gaius’s chambers and gives Merlin a forced smile. Merlin frowns.
“Leon? What’s wrong?”
“I have to go on patrol tomorrow. I’m going to be away for a little while.”
“You’re going away?” asks Merlin, distressed. “But–”
“Only for two weeks, little falcon. Part of my duties as a knight is to go on patrols.”
“But that’s ages !”
“You’ll still have the rest of us,” says Arthur, “and you can meet him as soon as he gets back.”
“But–”
“There’s a lot of favouritism going on here. Should I be worried that Leon’s your favourite?” asks Arthur, only half joking. Merlin shakes his head fiercely.
“I’ll just miss him,” he mutters sadly.
“How about I teach you how to ride while he’s gone? Then you can impress him on his return.”
At this Merlin brightens, nodding eagerly. Arthur ruffles his hair. He already knew about the patrol, of course, but Leon wanted to tell Merlin himself. Merlin still looks a little upset but he’s a lot happier than when he first heard the news.
It hits Arthur then just how much of a big brother Leon is to Merlin. Merlin doesn’t have any siblings, and it seems that Leon has taken that spot with ease.
Leon leaves early the next morning. Merlin pulls him into a tearful hug before he goes, clutching Arthur’s hand tightly as Leon rides out of the city.
“He’ll be all right, Merlin,” promises Arthur, “It’s not an especially dangerous patrol.” Merlin nods sadly. “Tell you what, do you want to learn to ride now?”
Merlin perks up at that, looking up at Arthur hopefully. “Can I?”
“I don’t see why not.” He leads Merlin to the royal stables, letting him have a good look around. The horses are all very intrigued by Merlin, moving forward to greet him. He strokes their noses, letting out a small giggle as one licks his hand.
“Nothing tasty. Sorry.”
“This is Aster,” Arthur tells Merlin, who’s currently stroking the dappled grey mare. She’s the smallest horse in the royal stables, and very mild-tempered even with the most annoying small children, so hopefully she should be suitable for Merlin to learn to ride on.
“She’s beautiful.” He looks up at Arthur, grinning. “Can I ride her now?”
“Once we get into the courtyard. Come on.” He takes Aster’s and Llamrei’s reins and leads them out into the courtyard, Merlin following excitedly, to be confronted with Morgana sitting on the castle steps.
“Morgana? What are you doing here?”
“Just came to make sure you teach Merlin to ride properly,” she replies with a smirk. “After all, we all remember what happened when you tried to teach Gwen how to ride.”
“That wasn’t my fault, Morgana. That was the horse.”
“Ah yes, how I could forget. Merlin, don’t forget to be careful that your horse isn’t too busy watching the knights to pay attention to what’s going on.” Merlin giggles.
“Shut up, Morgana.” He notices that she’s already fetched a mounting block and leads Aster up to it. “So, Merlin, the first thing you need to know about riding a horse is that you mount from the left – this side – and dismount on the right. Like this.” Arthur swings his right leg over Llamrei, pushing himself up. “Now you try. You’ll need to mount Aster from the mounting block.” Merlin hops onto the block and tries to sling his leg over Aster, but he can’t reach.
“I’m not tall enough!” he cries, dismayed. Morgana rolls her eyes at Arthur and lifts Merlin onto the horse.
“There you go. You need a bigger mounting block, that’s all.”
“Thank you.”
“No problem.”
“Right. When you’re holding the reins, Merlin, hold your hand upright like this and loop the rein around it. That’s it. Now, when you want Aster to move, squeeze your legs. But don’t–” Aster trots off, and Merlin, surprised, loses his balance, toppling off her back. Morgana rushes to catch him as Arthur dismounts swiftly and a member of the public catches Aster’s reins, pulling her to a halt.
“Merlin, are you all right?” asks Morgana.
“’m fine. Can we try again?”
A few days later, Merlin’s in the armoury when Robert, one of the younger pages, slightly taller than Merlin with short brown hair, enters and heads towards the shield rack. Merlin frowns as he watches him struggle.
“What are you trying to do?”
“There’s a sword behind here and I need to get it out. But I can’t move these shields.”
“I’ll help. I’m bored anyway.” Merlin hops to his feet and joins Robert by the shields, bending down to help lift one.
“Thank you.”
Together they manage to move three of the shields out of the way, and are just about to lift a fourth when Sir Geraint walks in. Well, struts, really – he’s pompous, brash and arrogant, and doesn’t acknowledge the existence of anyone he believes is below him, expecting them to bend out of his way like he’s the most important person in existence. Today is no different, as he ignores Robert and Merlin, collecting his weaponry, while they continue working.
Unfortunately, just as they’re carrying the shield across to the wall, Geraint pushes past Merlin. The unexpected contact causes him to stumble forwards, dropping his end of the shield. He watches, frozen, as the shield bounces along the floor, running straight over Geraint’s foot until it hits the wall with a bang.
“You clumsy oafs!” Geraint roars, face turning puce as he advances on them. “How dare you assault a knight!”
“It was an accident!” shouts Merlin, panicking. “And it was my fault, not Robert’s, so–”
Merlin has the knight’s full attention on him now and Robert takes the opportunity to run. Merlin hopes he’s going for help.
“It was an accident, sir , you disrespectful brat.” Merlin backs away until he hits the wall, closing his eyes against Geraint’s fist.
There’s a knock on Arthur’s door and he sighs, dropping his quill. “Come in.”
The door opens and a young page enters, looking almost scared. “Sorry to interrupt, sire, but you’re needed in the armoury. Merlin–”
Arthur jumps to his feet, hurrying towards the door. He’s not sure what’s happened with Merlin but knowing him it could be anything. He stops just before reaching it, pivoting towards the worried page.
“Listen– Robert, isn’t it?”
Robert blinks, like he’s surprised Arthur knows who he is (which is just insulting really, Arthur knows the names of all the pages, even if he doesn’t speak to them often). “Yes, sire.”
“Alright. Listen Robert. Merlin will be fine. You go about your day normally and I’ll send Merlin to you later to prove that.”
“Yes, sire.”
Arthur claps him on the shoulder and sets off down the corridor towards the armoury. Despite what he said to Robert, he’s not so sure it’s true. Not with his friend’s penchant for causing trouble. Why is he needed here? What’s happened with Merlin that left the young page so nervous? He hears raised voices and quickens his step.
“...teach you a lesson, boy,” someone’s saying, and then there’s a crack and a whimper as he enters. He takes in the scene – Merlin hunched against the wall, a knight standing over him.
“Out. Now.”
The knight scowls – he’s one of the newer ones, brash, pompous and thinking he’s above everyone – and exits. Arthur hurries over, sliding down to his knees in front of Merlin.
“Hey, Merlin. Can you stand?” Merlin looks at him, eyes slightly glazed, and attempts to stand, holding onto Arthur for balance. He whimpers as his bad leg collapses under him and shakes his head. “Alright. I’m going to have to carry you. Hold on tight.” He lifts Merlin up and the boy loops one arm around his neck, pressing his head against his chest and breathing tremulously, and they start off towards Gaius’s chambers at a brisk pace.
Arthur bursts through the door, sitting Merlin down on the cot as the old man comes hurrying over. “What happened?”
“A knight. I was helping one of the pages and we dropped a shield on his foot by mistake. I covered for Robert so he decided to beat me up.”
“And Robert fetched me to stop it,” surmises Arthur. Merlin nods.
“Alright my boy, let’s have a look at you. What hurts?”
“My arm. And my ribs.”
“And your leg.”
Merlin shrugs. “That’s cos he kicked it. ’s only a bruise, my leg just does that sometimes.”
Arthur nods. “I know. I just wanted to make sure it wasn’t anything worse.” The boy smiles slightly, a smile which quickly fades as Gaius feels his arm and he whimpers. Then Gaius checks his ribs with practiced ease.
“Broken arm and a cracked rib. Let me fetch a sling for the arm.” Just then, the door opens and Hunith enters carrying a basket of herbs.
“Feverfew, comfrey... Merlin! What happened to you, love?” She sets the basket on the table and hurries over to her son.
“’m not a herb.” She just looks at him and he sighs. “A knight beat me up.”
Hunith’s eyes narrow. “Which knight?”
“Ma...”
“Which knight, Merlin?”
He holds firm until she raises her eyebrow. “Sir Geraint.”
“Right.” Her voice is sharp, at odds with the gentleness with which she strokes her son’s head. “I’ll be back soon, little bird.”
“Don’t get yourself arrested again,” warns Gaius. Hunith ignores him, marching out the room and slamming the door.
“She’s going to get arrested again, isn’t she?” asks Merlin in a small voice. Arthur rubs his back comfortingly.
“Yes. But she’ll be alright.”
Hunith marches down the corridor towards the knights’ quarters. She’s seething. How dare that knight hurt her son. The guards take one look at her face and jump aside.
“Sir Geraint.” A scowling young knight (who she knows has an abominable superiority complex) turns towards her and she marches up to him, her palm making contact with his cheek with a resounding slap . “How dare you hurt my son.”
Geraint overcomes his shock quickly. “Do you know who I am?”
“You’re the bully who broke my son’s arm.”
He raises a cocky eyebrow. “So? He’s a peasant, he needed to be taught a lesson.”
She slaps him again. “He’s only a boy. And even if he wasn’t, no-one makes a mistake bad enough that they need their bones broken for it. Knights are supposed to be honourable, not abuse those below them in station just because they can. You’re meant to protect the people, not attack them.” His cocky smirk hasn’t changed and she makes to hit him again but someone catches her wrists and pulls her arms behind her back.
“Hunith, please,” murmurs Aglovale in her ear, “stop struggling. I have to arrest you, you know that.”
And unfortunately she does. Because Uther is a bigoted old fool. She scowls as she allows herself to be led away.
People aren’t happy with Sir Geraint.
Even before Hunith’s released the next morning, word’s spread around the castle that he beat up Merlin, the most adorable kid in the castle and only a boy besides. It takes a few more hours for the news to reach the lower town.
Although Arthur manages to talk people out of the more violent planned acts of revenge, they really are cleverer than he took them for. Buckets of dirty water in his path, laundry coming back wrinkled and the wrong colour, meals and baths almost frozen... Sir Geraint’s having a terrible time. Arthur watches with satisfaction as he gets more tired and more unkempt, as he becomes unable to enjoy even a drink in the Rising Sun. He thoroughly deserves it, and Arthur vows that once he becomes king, there’ll be no place for men like him in the knighthood. Maybe even in Camelot as a whole, if he can make it so.
Merlin...
Merlin sits up, frowning. He definitely wasn’t imagining that voice. It was very deep and old and rumbling and magical.
And coming from somewhere in the castle.
Merlin...
“Merlin?” asks a sleepy voice.
“I can hear a voice,” whispers Merlin excitedly, “it’s all magical and it’s in the castle and it’s saying my name!”
“Are you sure you’re not imagining things, little bird?”
“Of course I’m not!” he replies indignantly. Why would he imagine it? That would be silly. “I’m going to investigate.”
His ma brushes a hand over his leg. “Just be careful, cariad. And don’t wake Uncle Gaius.” Merlin nods, putting on his boots clumsily and tiptoeing out of their chambers.
Merlin...
He follows the voice through the castle, down corridors and stairs until he’s in the dungeons. He sneaks past the guards and goes down even further, down a flight of stairs he didn’t even notice was there before, and reaches a damp cavern.
A damp, empty-looking cavern.
“Hello?”
He yells as loudly as he can but his voice is swallowed up by the dark, shadowy depths. Then there’s a sound like something leathery cutting through the air and he jumps backwards, eyes wide, as a massive dragon lands in front of him.
“You’re a dragon .”
“Indeed I am, young warlock,” says the dragon, sounding amused. Merlin feels his eyes widen further in astonishment. The dragon talks .
“Wow.”
“How small you are, for such a great destiny.”
Merlin frowns. “What d’you mean?”
“Arthur is the Once and Future King who will unite the land of Albion, but he will face many threats from friend and foe alike. Without you, he will not succeed and there will be no Albion.”
Merlin doesn’t understand a word the dragon is saying and tells him as much. The dragon chuckles.
“Your destiny, Merlin, is to protect Arthur.”
“Of course I will, he’s my friend!” Merlin cries indignantly, annoyed that anyone would suggest he wouldn’t. “What’s Albion?”
“That, young warlock, I shall leave for you to find out for yourself.”
Merlin scowls. What’s the point of telling him that he has to help create Albion if he won’t explain it? He’s distracted almost immediately though by the reminder that it’s an actual, real-life dragon in front of him.
“Can I ride you?”
The dragon huffs indignantly. “I am not a horse, Merlin!”
“Spoilsport.” He peers up at the dragon. “What are you doing under the castle anyway? And how come you can talk? I didn’t know dragons could talk! Are there more of you? You’re huge ! Are all dragons as big as you?”
“Patience, young warlock,” interrupts the dragon. “I will answer your questions in time. I am sadly the last dragon, although there used to be many more. Not all were as big as I. Dragons can all talk if they so choose. My name is Kilgharrah.”
“Oh. Hello, Kilgharrah. I still don’t understand what you’re doing here.”
Kilgharrah sighs. “Uther imprisoned me long ago. It is perhaps not a story for ears so young.”
“Spoilsport.”
“You will hear it one day. But not today. It’s time you were leaving, Merlin, before one of the guards grows suspicious of the noise.”
“Fine. But I’ll be back soon!”
Merlin waves Kilgharrah goodbye, before dashing up to his room and shaking his ma awake.
“Ma! Ma!”
His ma stirs and blinks, looking up at him. “Hello, cariad.”
“There’s a dragon in the dungeons!”
She sits up, wide awake now. “There’s a what?”
“A dragon! I was investigating the voice and I followed it and there was this huge dragon! He said it’s my destiny to help Arthur unite Albion, whatever that means, and protect him, and then he called him the Once and Future King. He’s huge and he talks but he won’t let me ride him,” he finishes with a pout. “It’s not fair.”
“Right. Give me a minute to get dressed and I’ll come and see.” Merlin bounces up and down impatiently until finally, his ma’s ready to go. He takes her hand and leads her through the castle, until they reach the top of the stairs to the dungeons, where she stops.
“I’m not sure we should be doing this.”
“He’s down there! And they didn’t see me before! Come onnn!”
His ma chuckles indulgently. “Alright, alright. Let’s just not get caught. And remember I can’t see in the dark, little bird.”
Merlin nods, resuming pulling her through the dungeons, not noticing the way the guards pointedly look away as they pass. She coughs when they reach the last dark, slippery staircase.
“Oh.” Merlin’s eyes flash gold and a small sphere of white-blue light appears. “There you go!”
“Thank you, cariad.”
Merlin grins, bouncing down the steps to land on the ledge. “Hey! Kilgharrah! Are you there?”
There’s a swoop of wings and the dragon lands on the rock in front of them. “Greetings, young warlock. I did not expect to see you again so soon. And who is this?”
“This is my ma!”
His ma raises an eyebrow. “So, you’re the dragon who told my son that he has to protect the prince and help unite Albion? You do realise he’s only eight?”
“That is plenty old enough to know one’s destiny. Dragons are near full-grown at eight.”
“But Merlin isn’t a dragon, Kilgharrah! He’s human. A human child. Don’t you dare thrust so much responsibility on him while he’s still so young.”
Merlin feels a little bit embarrassed. “Ma, it’s fine, Arthur’s my friend, I want to help!”
“If you’re sure you want to, little bird.” She turns back to the dragon. “After all, Balinor wouldn’t be happy if you forced his son to help Uther’s.” Kilgharrah shuffles slightly, looking uncomfortable, but Merlin barely noticing because that means–
“You know my pa? How do you know my pa?”
“It’s a long story,” interrupts his ma before Kilgharrah can speak, “and you’re old enough to know now if you like.”
Merlin bounces up and down excitedly. “Yes please!”
“Alright. Why don’t you go back up to Uncle Gaius’s chambers and wait for me? I need to speak to Kilgharrah alone for a minute.”
“Okay! Bye, Kilgharrah!” He bounds back up the stairs and heads into their chambers, slipping past Uncle Gaius and into his room, waiting impatiently. It feels like hours before his ma finally returns.
“Will you tell me about pa now?”
His ma sighs, removing her boots and coat before joining Merlin on the bed, putting her arm around him. “Your pa can talk to dragons. Command them, even. Before you were born, he used to work for Uther occasionally. This was before magic was banned, of course. But then one day, he was forced to leave Camelot and go into hiding.”
“Why?” asks Merlin curiously.
“Magic was banned, and men like your pa were banned with it. It was run or be killed. One day he arrived in Ealdor, and we fell in love. Then he had to run again before I knew I would have you soon. I’m not sure he even knows he has a child.”
“Oh. Maybe we can go searching for him one day,” says Merlin hopefully. “Then I can meet my pa!”
His ma kisses the top of his head. “Maybe one day, little bird.”
A little over a week later, Merlin’s arm is mostly healed, and Leon’s due back any minute. Merlin bounces up and down eagerly, looking for a head of ginger hair in the crowd. Realising he’s too short to see anything, he scrambles onto the wall behind him. That’s better. He can see now.
He can’t see Leon though. He cranes his neck to get a better look and nearly topples off the wall.
“Careful, Merlin,” says Arthur, pushing him back up with an amused smile, “you don’t want to fall off before Leon gets here.”
Merlin ignores him. “Where is he? He said he’d be here today!”
“It’s still early, and he’s bound to get accosted by people. Patience.”
Merlin’s there for what feels like hours before he spots ginger curls coming up from through the lower town and he takes off running, ignoring shouts from the crowd as he ploughs through them and crushes the knight in a hug.
There’s a low chuckle above him as big, strong arms wrap around him. “Hello, little falcon.”
“Leon!”
The knight picks him up gently, settling him on his horse. “Let’s get out of everyone’s way, hmm? Now, what have you been up to?”
“Arthur taught me how to ride a horse! And I found out about pa and I got some daggers and I broke my arm and I met a dragon !”
“Well, be careful of your arm if you broke it. And what do you mean, you met a dragon ? Where?”
“Under the castle! He says it’s my destiny to help Arthur unite Albion, whatever that is, but ma said not to listen because I can make my own choices and I’m only eight. His name’s Kilgharrah and he’s huge but he won’t let me ride him. I can show you!”
“Once I’ve changed into something clean, little falcon.” He sounds a bit stunned but ruffles Merlin’s hair all the same. “Now come on, let’s get Gringolet tethered.”
Merlin follows him, chattering all the way. Once Leon’s clean, Merlin drags him down to Kilgharrah’s cave.
“Are you sure it’s safe down here, this close to a dragon?”
Merlin opens his mouth to answer but he’s interrupted by a booming laugh from somewhere near the top of the cave. Kilgharrah flies down onto the large rock in front of them, and Leon gulps.
“Well well well. I never thought I’d see the day. A Knight of Camelot in my cave. To what do I owe this honour?”
The dragon’s slightly sarcastic, and Merlin scowls. “He’s my friend!”
“Is he indeed? A warlock, friends with a knight. How interesting.”
“My name is Leon. And you’re the Great Dragon, I assume.”
“My name is Kilgharrah.”
Merlin whirls around to face Leon. “You knew Uther had a dragon?”
“Yes, but I didn’t realise it was under the castle!”
Kilgharrah chuckles again. “Uther keeps many secrets, young knight. You do not know the half of them.”
It’s an ordinary night when everything goes wrong.
Semi-regularly, Leon takes Merlin out at night to burn off some steam because even his practice with Morgana isn’t enough for him to stop performing magic accidentally. It’s a clear sky tonight, the full moon visible among the stars, and they’ve been playing with coloured lights. Merlin somehow discovered (probably through Morgana, she can be just as much of a nuisance as Merlin at times) that Leon means lion, and has made him a lion out of orange and yellow lights. It only lasted a few seconds, but it made Leon very happy. As did the merlin. Both he and Merlin are beaming ear-to-ear when they return to the castle.
Maybe that’s why it happens. Leon’s not paying as much attention as usual, preoccupied with the memory of the lion, and Merlin, apparently, hasn’t used up all of his excess energy. Merlin jumps as a pigeon takes off noisily out of the shadows of a corridor, sparks bursting from him.
There’s a clink of chainmail and a shouted, “Hey!” as the guards patrolling the castle notice the sparks.
“Merlin, run !” Leon yells, drawing his sword and shoving Merlin down the corridor, away from the guards who come running at the burst of magic. He hears small footsteps retreat behind him and firms his stance. If this gets him killed then so be it. He won’t allow Merlin to be harmed. There’s a metallic ring as he parries a blow.
However, he’s only just managed to disarm the first guard when he hears heavy footsteps from behind and a small, high-pitched yell. He pushes the next guard away from himself and whirls around to see Merlin in a guard’s tight grip, a sword to his throat. He’s standing on his tip-toes to avoid it, wobbling slightly, and his eyes when they meet Leon’s are terrified. Leon drops his sword and puts his arms up. They’re wrenched behind his back, as are Merlin’s, and the pair of them are led towards the dungeons, the guards refusing to slow their steps for the boy.
Leon’s thrown into the first cell, and as they go to close it he realises Merlin’s going to be locked up alone.
“Put him in here.”
“But–”
“He’s only a child, does it really matter which cell he’s in? Put him in here.”
The guards deliberate for a minute, before nodding and opening Leon’s cell. As one of them guards against his escape the other pushes the boy in, where he lands on top of Leon. Then they retreat.
Leon turns to Merlin and murmurs quietly, “I’m going to move us somewhere marginally more comfortable, all right?” Merlin nods against him and Leon picks him up, walking over to sit on the straw mattress in the corner, leaning against the wall. The boy curls up in his lap, head pillowed on Leon’s stomach.
“’m I gonna die? I don’t want to die,” Merlin murmurs, voice quavering.
“You won’t die, Merlin. I promise. No-one is going to let you die.” Leon promises it with all his heart, and hopes with every fibre of his being that it’s true.
Chapter Text
Morning comes all too quickly.
Neither of them are asleep when footsteps sound on the dungeon steps and Leon scrambles to his feet, lifting Merlin off his chest and setting him down beside him. The boy whimpers slightly and Leon wishes they’d had Merlin’s cane out with them last night, but he hadn’t needed it then. If his whimpers now are any indication he definitely will later today.
The guards unlock the cell and lead them upstairs, almost dragging Merlin in their impatience. Leon tries to protest at their treatment – seriously, Merlin’s just a boy, and it’s not like he can run anywhere – but it doesn’t get them anywhere.
They’re both thrown to the ground at Uther’s feet. Merlin cries out as he hits the stone floor and Leon pulls the boy to him, glaring up at Uther.
“You two were witnessed by five guards performing dangerous magic last night. Do you have anything to say in your defense?”
Leon scoffs inwardly. ‘Dangerous magic’. It was coloured lights for God’s sake. “Merlin’s innocent. It was me who cast the spells. Do what you like to me, but let Merlin go. He has committed no crime.”
“How dare you try and tell me what is and is not a crime?” roars Uther, and Merlin flinches, huddling against Leon.
“My apologies, my lord, I only meant–”
“Enough! Even if it was you, the boy would still be guilty of harbouring a sorcerer. As it is, the guards quite clearly informed me that it was the boy who was performing magic. And your defence is somewhat lacking. Therefore I find you, Merlin of Ealdor, guilty of using enchantments and magic, and you, Sir Leon, guilty of aiding and abetting a sorcerer. You will both be burnt at the stake tomorrow at dawn.”
Merlin lets out a terrified whimper as the guards grasp them roughly and drag them back to the dungeons. People are starting to go about their business now and Leon’s satisfied to see the looks of horror on their faces. He’s not planning on letting Merlin die, but it’s gratifying to know that the people won’t forget what’s happening.
Merlin collapses as soon as the guards let him go and Leon grabs him before he can hit the ground. The boy huddles close to his chest, trembling.
“How’s your leg?” Merlin shakes his head and Leon feels a surge of anger. He’s only a kid. “We’ll get out of this, little falcon. I promise.”
Merlin doesn’t say anything for a while, holding onto Leon for dear life and sniffling. Eventually he asks quietly, tremulously, “Will you tell me a story?”
“Any preferences?” He shakes his head. “Alright. Once upon a time, there was a small boy and he had an enormous dragon...”
Arthur’s just finishing his breakfast when there’s a knock at the door. Morris answers it, revealing Hunith, hands intertwined nervously.
“I need to speak to the prince,” says Hunith.
“I’m afraid the prince is–”
“Hunith,” interrupts Arthur, “please come in. Morris, you’re dismissed.”
“But, sire–”
“I’ll see you when it’s time to prepare for training.”
“Yes, sire,” says Morris, looking like he’s swallowed something unpleasant, and exits the room. Arthur sighs and turns to Hunith. She’s come to see him many times but this doesn’t look like a social call.
“Please, take a seat. What can I do for you?”
“Merlin and Leon. Have you seen them this morning?”
Arthur straightens, fear prickling down his spine. “No. I know Leon was taking Merlin out to play with his magic last night. Did you check the knights’ dormitories?”
“Yes, I checked everywhere they’d usually go. I can’t find them. Merlin’s been out at night with Leon before but Leon always brings him back before the morning. They haven’t been near. What if Uther’s–”
She’s interrupted by a knock at the door and Arthur strides over and wrenches it open, almost sending the boy behind it falling over in his haste to bow.
“Yes?” Arthur asks, too worried to mitigate the harshness of his tone.
“Sorry to interrupt, sire, but I was informed that Hunith was here.”
“I am,” says Hunith with a frown, “What’s this about?”
“I’ve been sent to inform you both that Merlin and Sir Leon were arrested last night.”
“What do you mean, they’ve been arrested?” shouts Arthur, alarmed. “What for?”
The messenger boy takes a step back. “Sorcery, sire. I– I was told to inform you that they’ve been sentenced to death by burning.”
“What?!”
The boy flinches and Hunith steps forward, putting a hand on Arthur’s shoulder. He falls back reluctantly. “Erec, isn’t it?”
“Y–yes, my lady.”
“Calm down, Erec, no one’s blaming you. When’s the execution taking place?”
“Tomorrow at dawn, my lady.”
“Thank you. Fetch Lady Morgana and Gaius, will you?”
The boy bows and leaves. Hunith shuts the door. “You know, I’m fairly certain that he’s not supposed to address me like that.”
“How can you be so calm ?” demands Arthur, starting to pace. “Merlin and Leon are going to die in less than a day and you’re just... how ?”
“They’re not going to die. I will go through hell before I let that happen. I already failed to save Merlin from one bigoted king, I will not do so with another.” She’s firm, but Arthur’s not very reassured, and she takes him by the shoulders, pulling him to a halt. “Arthur. Merlin’s my son. Leon’s essentially his brother. Would I really be acting like this if I didn’t think I could save them?”
Arthur looks into her fierce, worried eyes. “No. No, I know. I just...”
Hunith smiles knowingly. “They’re your friends. There’s nothing wrong with worrying. But panicking won’t save their lives.”
Arthur nods, setting his jaw. He’s going to save his friends.
The door bursts open and Morgana strides in, closely followed by Gaius. Morgana barely waits until the door’s shut before she starts talking.
“Arthur? Hunith? What’s going on? Erec said you summoned us.”
“Did you find Merlin and Sir Leon?” asks Gaius.
“They’ve been arrested and sentenced to death,” says Arthur grimly.
“What?” yells Morgana. Gaius gasps.
“We need to work out a plan to save them,” says Hunith briskly. “Gwen has the day off today, right?”
“I– yes, yes she does. The same as every week,” Morgana answers, sounding a little disoriented.
“Good. Then her and her brother can be left out of this. They’re far too young to be involved. So are you two really, but–”
“You’re not leaving us out of this,” warns Arthur, “they’re our friends.”
“I can’t anyway. Uther will never listen to Gaius and I alone.”
“What will he listen to, though?” asks Morgana acidly. “He won’t listen to us regarding sorcery, believe me, I’ve tried.”
They fall silent. Arthur runs the past few months through his head, trying to think of something that might help. Merlin’s flower crowns, the banquet, helping Gaius. Him befriending nearly everyone in the castle. The arrow through his leg from–
Wait a moment.
“The day Leon and I met Merlin,” he says slowly, “Cenred’s men crossed the border. Father will hate that. And only Leon and Merlin can attest to that. Unless... Hunith, did you–”
“The border’s too far away from Ealdor. I can’t be certain of what I saw.”
“Excellent. In that case, I believe I know what we need to do to convince my father.”
Uther’s busy contemplating his annoyingly treasonous citizens in the throne room when the door opens and his son strides in, closely followed by Morgana, Gaius, and Gaius’s sister. Hunith, he thinks her name is.
“What is the meaning of this intrusion?”
“We’ve come to appeal Merlin and Sir Leon’s sentence,” says Arthur. “Leon doesn’t even have magic. It’s unjust to kill them for something Merlin had no choice in.”
Uther clenches his fists, temper rising as he hears the words Arthur isn’t saying. “You knew, didn’t you? You knew the boy was a sorcerer.”
“Yes, sire.”
“You know the law. You know how dangerous magic can be. How dare you keep this from me? All of you. I should have you all executed.”
He notices Morgana pale a little at that, before she says, “Merlin was born with his magic. You can’t believe a baby to be evil.”
“Magic is evil. And besides, the boy’s lying about that. It’s impossible to be born with magic.”
“He’s not lying,” says Hunith, her anger radiating off of her, “but if you won’t spare my son, at least pardon Sir Leon. He doesn’t even have magic.”
“The law is clear,” says Uther, becoming more impatient by the minute, “all those who aid sorcerers are to be executed.”
“Then execute me. Or are we not, in fact, equal before the law?” Arthur asks.
Uther sighs, looking around the room. His son’s looking at him defiantly, head held high, face set. This isn’t something he’s going to back down from. Beside him stand Morgana, Hunith and Gaius, whose eyebrow is raised.
Surely there must be someone in the room who agrees with him. He looks to the guards, but they’re studiously pretending not to see the scene unfolding in front of them.
“You can’t execute them, father. Merlin’s only a boy, he’s harmless. And Leon’s like a brother to him.”
For a moment he wavers, uncertain, but that fades as his anger rises. How dare these people tell him what to do. His own son consorting with sorcerers.
“I am the king !” He bellows. “You cannot tell me what to do! Leon and the boy are to be executed at dawn tomorrow, and you won’t stand in my way. Any of you. Or I’ll burn you right alongside them.”
“You can, if you want a riot,” says Morgana coolly. “Do you really want to find out the consequences of killing Camelot’s mascot? If you remember, my lord, even you admitted you were fond of him.”
“ That was before I found out he was a sorcerer. He probably enchanted me.”
“If he was going to enchant anyone it would’ve been the Essetirian soldiers who made him leave our home,” says Hunith, voice tight with anger, “Soldiers who did, in fact, cross Camelot’s border to get to him.”
Uther leans forward, incensed. First the boy and then this.
“Cenred’s troops have crossed the border?”
“Leon and Merlin are the only ones who know the details. If you want to know, you’ll have to pardon them first.”
Uther grinds his teeth. That... This was deliberate planning on the part of his son, because he knows Uther needs to know this. And neither of the condemned criminals will give up the information that’s keeping them alive. “Fine. Bring them to me.”
Hunith watches, worried and furious in equal measure, as the guards bring her son and Leon into the room. Merlin looks terrified, cheeks tear-stained, despite Leon’s obvious attempts to calm him. When the guards let them go Merlin falls down with a whimper, Leon catching him just before he hits the ground.
“I hear you have some information about Cenred crossing our borders. If you give me this information I may be able to see my way into giving you a pardon.”
“A full pardon?” asks Leon. “You won’t hurt Merlin?”
Uther grinds his teeth. “No.” Leon dips his head in acknowledgement. “Now tell me what you know.”
“Give my son a seat at least before you start, my lord, he can’t even stand!” Hunith exclaims. Uther scrutinises Merlin for a long moment before nodding to a guard, who brings over a hard-backed chair. Leon deposits him in it, keeping a gentle hand on his shoulder for reassurance. Her son hugs himself tightly. Hunith aches to go over to him, to comfort him, but for this to work Uther needs to be convinced that the words are true and Merlin and Leon’s alone.
“So. What happened? I have been informed that Cenred’s men crossed the border, and that you two are the only people who saw it.” That’s not quite true of course, Hunith saw it quite clearly from the other side of the border, but she has no qualms about lying to a murderous tyrant if it keeps her son alive.
“Yes, sire,” says Leon calmly, with a quick glance at Merlin. “They were after Merlin. Essetir hunts sorcerers. Whenever King Cenred gets wind of one, whether through a rumour or someone selling them out, he sends his knights out after them. And then...” He breaks off at a tiny whimper, looking at Merlin, who’s trembling and is so curled into himself he’s almost a ball. The knight kneels down and puts an arm around his shoulders, fingers entangled in his messy hair. “And then when they find the sorcerer, they put them in cold iron, give them a head start and hunt them, using dogs and bows and arrows and probably more that I didn’t see. It’s the reason they were in our lands, sire. Merlin ran across the border to try and escape, and they followed.” He pauses. “They knew they were in Camelot, sire. And I don’t think they would’ve left if I hadn’t threatened them. Not until they’d killed Merlin, at least.”
There’s a long silence while Uther digests this. He frowns at Merlin. Not in an angry way, but like he’s a scientific specimen he can’t quite figure out.
Eventually he mutters to himself, “What is it about this boy?” and Hunith feels her hopes rise. After all, not understanding is better than killing him, and surely Uther will want to understand him first.
“Very well. You are both pardoned. You will need some punishment, and as such, Merlin of Ealdor, you are sentenced to an afternoon in the stocks, once you’ve recovered enough to stand of course, and Sir Leon, you are demoted.”
Leon bows. “Thank you, sire.”
“Just get out of my sight. All of you.”
Leon lifts Merlin onto his shoulders and they leave the throne room.
Leon sets Merlin down next to Hunith when they all arrive at Gaius’s chambers, and only once he’s climbed onto her lap, burying his head in her chest, does the silence break.
“You’re safe now, little bird. You’re safe.” She looks at Leon. “Thank you for looking after my son.”
“You don’t need to thank me for that.”
“I do. Are you all right?”
Leon smiles weakly. “I’m fine, thanks, Hunith. It was only a night in the dungeons. But I’m worried about Merlin. His hair’s stopped growing flowers.”
“That happens when he’s very distressed. It’s not permanent, don’t worry.” She strokes Merlin’s hair. “Gaius, can we have– oh, thank you.” She takes the proffered cup and turns to Merlin. “Drink this, little bird.” Merlin lifts his head and drinks what Leon presumes is a pain tonic.
“What happens now?” Hunith asks after a short silence, filled only by Merlin’s sniffling.
“My father will write to Cenred, inviting him here for talks. He’ll have to accept the invitation if he doesn’t want a war. And my father will be busy working out the details of both Leon and Merlin’s punishments too. Given you’re one of my knights, Leon, I assume you’ll find out exactly how you’re being demoted through me. And Merlin won’t go in the stocks until he can actually stand, so it’ll be a few days.”
The door bursts open and Gwen and Elyan come bursting in. “We heard that Merlin and Leon had been arrested and were going to die!” cries Gwen.
“They were arrested,” says Gaius, “but they were pardoned. Come, sit down, both of you.”
“Is Merlin all right?” asks Elyan as Gwen runs over to Leon and pulls him into a tight hug. Merlin sits up, still clinging to Hunith, and nods.
“I– I still have to go in the stocks though.”
“For how long?”
“An afternoon.”
“It’s not right,” says Elyan, “putting a small child in the stocks. Can Merlin even reach them?”
“I’m not sure, but they’ll find him something to stand on, if he needs it,” says Arthur. Leon nods his agreement. It’s happened before, although Elyan’s probably too young to remember it.
Gwen untangles herself from Leon and crosses to Merlin, pulling a slightly squashed flower crown out of her dress.
“Here. This is for you.” Merlin gives her a shaky smile as she places it atop his head and the flowers start to bloom properly again, and pulls her into a hug.
“Thank you, Gwen.”
There’s a knock at the door and Gaius opens it, taking two notes from the boy outside and handing them to Morgana and Arthur. Morgana rips hers open and snorts in disgust.
“Uther wants me to have dinner with him. As if I’d do that when he’s just tried to kill my friends. Probably wants me to apologise for trying to save them.”
Arthur scans his own. “Same here. I’ll go, though.”
“What?” asks Morgana, aghast. “Why would you– why ?”
“He’s still my father, Morgana. And besides. I want to see if we can get Ealdor as part of the new treaty.”
“You’d do that for us?” asks Hunith, eyes shining.
“Of course. It’s your home, Hunith. I won’t let Cenred bar you from it.”
“Thank you, Arthur.”
Just then, Merlin yawns loudly.
“Tired, little bird?”
“Mmm. ’m fine.”
Leon chuckles, ruffling the boy’s hair and earning a sleepy glare. “You haven’t slept in days, little falcon. So, much as I hate to break up this gathering, we really should both get some sleep.”
“Yes,” agrees Hunith, “do. You can take our bed.”
Leon nods, lifting Merlin off of Hunith’s lap and into his arms. “We’ll see the rest of you in a few hours.” He carries Merlin up the stairs to a chorus of goodbyes and sleep wells, laying the boy on the bed and curling up around him. Merlin’s very nearly asleep already, but lets out a last grumble, taking Leon’s hand and clutching it tight.
“I’m not going anywhere, little falcon.”
That evening, Morgana declines Uther’s invitation for dinner.
Uther’s annoyed. He’d like her to at least try to smooth things over after the treason she’s committed recently, but she won’t even give him that. At least Arthur’s here.
At first, dinner’s stilted and awkward. They’re clearly both thinking about the same thing, and it’s equally clear that Arthur doesn’t plan on apologising.
His own son, a traitor. And Uther can’t even punish him for it.
“Why did you grant them a pardon?” asks Arthur suddenly, towards the end of the meal. “I’ve never seen you do that for a sorcerer.”
“I needed the information they had,” Uther answers readily. It’s not the whole truth, but it should be enough for Arthur to accept. Unfortunately he has become far more wilful since meeting the boy.
Arthur shakes his head. “It was more than that, I could tell. I know you, father. You could’ve killed him regardless, and any other sorcerer you would have. So why?”
Uther sighs. Damn his son, and the boy.
Because the truth is, it makes him uncomfortable. The boy reminds him of a certain Dragonlord from decades ago (which he’s trying not to think about, because how did he not spot the resemblance earlier? It’s simply embarrassing), and his son’s relationship with the boy reminds him of their own. He might’ve hated him by the end, after his betrayal of the kingdom, but at that age... well, he just couldn’t make himself do it. Not with the boy’s obvious terror.
But he can’t tell Arthur that. It’s too sentimental.
“I didn’t want to incite a rebellion. It’s a delicate business, ruling a kingdom.”
Arthur looks at him sceptically, gaze pointedly flicking to the flower crown he’s absently turning in his hands, but mercifully drops the subject.
“What are you planning to ask Cenred for? I assume you already have an idea, you usually do.”
“Land, most probably. And monetary reparations. Do you have any suggestions?” It’s about time he started testing his son on these things, after all.
“The lands straddling the border,” says Arthur immediately. “There are a lot of farmers out there and I get the impression that as long as we’re not as harsh as Cenred we’ll earn their loyalty easily. Besides. It would be fitting, seeing as that’s where Cenred’s men started their hunt from.”
“And you’re including the boy’s village in those lands, I take it?”
“Yes, father. Is that so wrong?”
Uther mulls it over. It’s not as if absorbing the boy’s village into Camelot is a bad thing. And it’s exactly what he’d have done when he was younger. He doesn’t answer, changing the subject slightly instead.
“I might not agree with some of your more treasonous actions recently, Arthur, but I’m proud of you for standing up for what you believe in. And for managing to persuade me to release the boy. I won’t stand for it again, but I’m proud of you nonetheless.”
Arthur blinks. “Thank you, father. That means a lot.”
Merlin’s punishment comes two days later, once his leg’s recovered enough to stand on for the whole afternoon. Arthur paces in his chambers. His father’s forbidden him from staying with Merlin while he’s in the stocks, but he’s just deciding whether to visit Merlin anyway (surely he can think of some excuse) when Morgana strides in.
“Have you ever heard of knocking?”
Morgana ignores him. “You have to get down there. I don’t like the looks the guards on the stock duty are giving him. And some of the citizens.”
“What do you want me to do? Father’s forbidden me from staying there.”
“I’ll work on Uther. Just go and replace them.”
Arthur nods and strides out of his chambers and towards the courtyard, worried. Morgana might be over-protective sometimes but she wouldn’t ask him to do this for no reason.
Merlin perks up when he sees Arthur approaching. “Arthur! What are you doing here?”
“I was told to come here and look menacing.” He eyes up the guards, two of Uther’s favourites. “You’re dismissed.”
They exchange glances. “Sire–”
“ Now .” At his warning tone they bow, pass him the keys and leave. Merlin sags, looking exhausted. “I assume there’s a reason I’m needed here?”
“Your father told the guards that I have magic.” He flexes his wrists miserably. “You can guess how well that went.”
Arthur’s heart clenches painfully. The guards Uther had set to keep Merlin in the stocks despise magic nearly as much as his father does. And they’d have no qualms about hurting someone with it. Even a boy whose feet barely reach the ground. Oh, Merlin .
“Are you badly hurt?”
“’m ok. Mostly bruises. Better than being burned or beheaded at least.” The boy’s voice is determinedly upbeat, but Arthur can hear the small crack at the end.
“How long are you meant to stay here?”
“Til sunset.” He shifts on his leg and Arthur frowns.
“Is your leg recovered enough for that?”
Merlin shrugs. “Dunno.”
Arthur sighs, settling in next to him. “Well then. I’ll just have to keep you company.”
The guards... do not have a good time in the days that follow Merlin and Leon’s arrest. The names of those who arrested them and the ones who hurt Merlin in the stocks have somehow been leaked to the citizens of Camelot (Leon has no idea how, he swears) and the people aren’t happy.
Some of the guards come back from practice exhausted, their clothes a mess and often pink. They’re served last in The Rising Sun, and Leon’s sure he caught Elaine, one of the barmaids, spitting in their drinks once. They don’t even bother eating out anymore because their food comes cold or burnt or both.
And their home life, and life within the castle... well. Leon pretends not to see as two little girls spread a skipping rope out in front of the dishevelled guard, who’s too sleep-deprived to notice it and trips, spilling his market purchases over the courtyard.
The girls giggle and run away, tossing Leon a few pieces of fruit as they go. Leon suppresses a smile. The guards deserve their treatment for what they did to Merlin.
He makes his way up to Gaius’s chambers and opens the door to see Morgana helping Merlin with something at the table, Gaius half-watching as he mixes his potions.
“Leon!”
“Hey there, little falcon.” Leon ruffles Merlin’s hair and passes him an apple, surreptitiously checking his bruises at the same time. They’re healing well. “What are you doing?”
“Morgana’s teaching me how to write! She already taught me how to write ma and Merlin and now she’s teaching me proper sentences!”
Leon peers over his shoulder. His handwriting’s large and wobbly, and the e s are back to front. “You’re doing well.”
Morgana smiles triumphantly. “And I’ve persuaded Uther to let me sit in on the negotiations.”
“You’re sure you want to be there? Peace talks can get very dull.” Very, very dull, in fact.
“Yes! I shouldn’t be excluded just because I’m a woman! If Arthur can attend I’m certainly old enough. Anyway, the more friendly faces for Merlin the better.”
“That’s certainly true.”
“How long until they get here?” asks Merlin worriedly.
“A week,” Leon answers. “Don’t worry, you’ll be fine.”
They’ll make sure of it. However much they might like to, Cenred and his men aren’t getting their hands on Merlin. Never again.
A week later, Merlin perches on the desk and peers out of the window at the carriage entering the courtyard, surrounded by men on horseback. They’re wearing turbans and chainmail under grey tabards with the Essetir crest on.
The carriage rattles to a halt at the bottom of the steps where Uther, Arthur, and some of the court are waiting to greet them. A man dismounts his horse and opens the door of the carriage, bowing as another man exits it confidently. He’s tall, a large gold crown sitting atop the curtain of long black hair. His expression isn’t visible from up here but Merlin imagines him sneering, like his knights did. He’s dressed all in black leather, dual swords strapped to his back. Merlin swallows. Even from here he’s intimidating, striding up to the bottom of the steps, followed by his knights.
“So that’s King Cenred?” asks Merlin, leaning out of Arthur’s bedroom window to get a better look. He doesn’t think he recognises any of the knights, but it’s a bit hard to see, their chainmail glinting in the light. He doesn’t remember it this shiny, but then, what he remembers strongest is the crossbows and the yelling and the snarling dogs. He wasn’t paying much attention to the chainmail.
“Yes.”
“Oh.” He looks at Leon worriedly. “Will he do anything to me?”
“You’re a citizen of Camelot, he can’t without incurring Uther’s wrath. In any case we’re not leaving you alone while he’s here. But don’t wander off during his visit, just in case.” Merlin nods solemnly and they continue watching, Uther and Cenred’s voices drifting up to them.
“King Cenred,” says Uther coolly.
“King Uther. It’s been some time.”
“Indeed. My servants will show you and your entourage to your chambers. And then, once you’re rested, we can discuss the reason you’re here.”
Once Cenred’s out of sight, Merlin hops off the desk. “What happens now? Do I have to meet him?”
“Yes, later this afternoon. But I’ll be with you the whole time.” Merlin nods, a shiver running down his spine at the thought of Cenred’s knights, and Leon puts an arm around him, squeezing him tight. “You’ll be all right, little falcon. I’ll make sure of it.”
“So, Uther, care to tell me why I’m here? We made the peace treaty years ago.”
Cenred’s sitting opposite Uther, his men on either side. Leon’s standing off to the side of the throne room, a little way away from both delegations, a hand on Merlin’s shoulder where he sits on a chair in front of him.
“Nine months ago, your men crossed the border into Camelot and broke the terms of that treaty.”
“This is outrageous! Where is your proof of this accusation?”
Uther nods to Leon, who steps forward. The looks that he and Merlin got earlier, Cenred’s men wondering why a small peasant boy is sitting in on the talks, is nothing compared to the attention on them now.
“I saw your men chase Merlin here and shoot him in the leg within our lands. It took two warnings for them to leave Camelot territory.”
Cenred inclines his head unhappily, unable to protest further. “Well they certainly did not enter under my orders. Nonetheless I offer my apologies.”
Uther nods. “I accept your apologies but they are not enough. Your men shot a boy on Camelot soil, outside of your jurisdiction. I am willing to renegotiate the terms of the treaty to include recompense which is acceptable to both of us. The alternative to this is war, which I do not think either of us are eager for.”
“Very well,” says Cenred through gritted teeth, “we will... negotiate.”
Leon steps back and rubs Merlin’s shoulder, feeling the boy tremble under his hand. He wants to shield Merlin from the piercing glances of some of the knights, who look like they’re starting to work out why he was shot, possibly to remember him, but this is the best he can do unless Uther sees fit to dismiss them. And he won’t bother to do that any time soon.
In the meantime, they have to stay there and watch the negotiations, and Leon hopes against hope that he’s wrong, that the knights haven’t recognised Merlin for what he is. And that this isn’t too traumatising for the boy.
The negotiations go on for several days. And Merlin has to be there every time they meet, in case Uther needs any more evidence.
It’s terrifying. Cenred’s men keep looking at him, sneering at him, and Merlin can’t look at them without remembering the forest and the cuffs and the hunt.
Luckily, Merlin doesn’t have to talk. He’s not sure he can. And Leon’s here too, a hand on his shoulder, never leaving him alone. Merlin knows he’s not happy that Merlin has to be here, but Merlin’s very grateful that Leon is.
As the days go by, both Uther and Cenred become more frustrated. Neither will agree to anything. Leon explains it to him, that they’re both very proud and there’s a reason why the last peace treaty took years to negotiate, but Merlin doesn’t care. He just wants Cenred to leave, so he can stop being so scared in his own home. He wants Cenred gone before something happens, because he can’t stop thinking about what could happen if Cenred or his men caught him alone.
It takes until the end of the fifth day of negotiations, when both Merlin and Leon are starting to let their guard down a little, for something to happen.
Merlin and Leon are walking down the corridor towards Uncle Gaius’s chambers after the day of negotiations, one of Merlin’s hands held tight in Leon’s and the other holding his stick, when Leon curses, stopping suddenly. “I left something in the council chamber. Will you be alright getting back by yourself?”
Merlin nods, and Leon hurries off. Merlin takes off at a run, wanting to get back to his ma as soon as possible, and he’s nearly there when he slams into someone.
“Sorry.” He looks up and gulps at the sight of the long-haired, leather-clad man in front of him. He scrambles backwards, determined to find another way round.
“You.” Cenred advances on Merlin, looking at him like he’s a smear on the sole of his boot. “You’re a sorcerer. An Essetirian sorcerer. As such, you’re mine, and will be hunted according to the law of the land.”
Merlin backs away, terrified, last year’s events flashing through his mind, he can’t go through that again, and hits something warm and solid.
“You can’t escape this time. There’s no Knight of Camelot to save you this time. Which, now I think about it, makes them rather hypocritical. Saving you and not everyone else.” Arms grab him tight and he struggles fruitlessly, feeling the ghost of cold iron on his wrists, knowing there’s no point but doing it anyway because he can’t not.
“What do you think you’re doing?” booms a familiar voice (though Merlin’s never heard it so angry). Merlin sags with relief – Arthur’s here, he’ll sort things out – and the arms melt away. Cenred smiles.
“Just having a chat.”
“Oh really.” Arthur puts his hands on Merlin’s shoulders and he pushes into them. “You would do well to remember, Cenred, that Merlin is a citizen of Camelot and has been for some time. He is also the only sorcerer my father has ever pardoned and I advise you to think on that. Do you really want to go to war against our kingdom? Virtually every citizen will take up arms against you once they find out who you took. Is that really a war you can win?”
Cenred scowls, looking between them. Merlin tries to hold his head up high, not looking away. Eventually, Cenred backs off.
“Fine, fine. I’ll leave him alone.”
“And unless you want my father to know that you attacked a citizen of Camelot then you’ll agree to the terms of the peace treaty tomorrow.”
“Yes, yes. Fine.”
“Good. Then we can forget this ever happened.”
With a last cutting look Cenred and his men stride away. Only once they’re out of sight does Arthur turn to Merlin.
“Are you all right?” Merlin nods, and Arthur picks up his stick and hands it to him, putting an arm around his shoulders. Merlin leans into it. “Come on. Let’s get you back to your mother.”
Arthur keeps his arm around Merlin as they head down the last corridor and up the stairs to Uncle Gaius. As he pushes the door open Merlin wriggles free, launching himself at his ma.
“What happened?” she asks, concerned.
“Cenred caught up with him,” says Arthur grimly.
“Oh, little bird. Are you all right?”
Merlin nods. He will be, anyway. As he buries his head in his ma’s embrace, smelling the comforting herbs and flowers she always smells of, his heartbeat slows and he starts to feel better.
He’s safe. He’s with his family. He’s safe .
Arthur watches Cenred closely as they file into the council chamber for the (hopefully final) day of negotiations. He’s managed to persuade his father that Merlin doesn’t actually need to be here anymore if Leon is, thankfully, and Leon and Morgana are watching Cenred and his entourage just as carefully. The last thing they need is someone deciding to attack Merlin anyway.
“A recap of the terms, before we start,” says Uther, gesturing to Geoffrey, who lifts his copy of the draft treaty and clears his throat.
“Essetir’s lands bordering Camelot’s, to a distance of twenty miles out. If that distance cuts through a village, then Camelot lays claim to the whole of that village. And 1000 gold coins in monetary reparations.”
“So, King Cenred,” says Uther coolly, “do you accept the terms of this treaty?”
Cenred scowls, eyes flickering to Arthur momentarily. “Very well, I accept.” He pulls the parchment towards him and signs it with a flourish, handing it back with bad grace.
“Thank you, King Cenred. It was a pleasure doing business with you.”
After the formalities are over and Cenred and his entourage have returned to their chambers to prepare for their departure, Arthur hurries through the castle and slams open the door to Gaius’s chambers. “Cenred signed the treaty!”
Gaius’s face sags with relief and Hunith smiles. Merlin just looks confused.
“What does that mean?”
“That we’re not going to war, for one,” Arthur replies, “and that Ealdor’s now part of Camelot, so you can go home if you like.”
“But I don’t want to go back to Ealdor!” exclaims Merlin, distressed. “This is my home!”
Arthur’s sure he’s not the only one who has to hide his reaction at this point. Hunith says gently, “Back for a visit, then. You don’t have to leave Camelot if you don’t want to. But you can visit Will now.”
“Oh.” Merlin beams. “When can we go? I haven’t seen him in ages !”
“Once Cenred and his entourage are definitely back in Essetir, and no sooner,” says Hunith firmly. “I don’t trust that man as far as I can throw him. When are they leaving, Arthur?”
“As soon as everything’s prepared. Cenred’s in a bad mood, he doesn’t want to stay here any longer than necessary. I need to head back down there very shortly, I just wanted to tell you all the good news. I believe Leon, Gwen and Elyan are on their way here to celebrate, and Morgana and I will be by later.”
Merlin’s grin widens even further.
As Arthur reluctantly heads towards the courtyard, he passes Leon, Gwen and Elyan in the hall. Gwen’s carrying a cloth-covered basket.
“What do you have in there?” asks Arthur, stopping to greet them.
“Presents from the cook, and some of our neighbours. The cook’s made strawberry tarts especially for Merlin.”
“And I’m guessing he grew the strawberries,” says Arthur, smiling. Even when Merlin’s just escaped execution he can’t help himself. Leon rolls his eyes fondly.
“What do you think, sire? It’s what Merlin does . Anyway, we’d better get this food upstairs before it goes cold.”
Arthur waves as they head up the stairs. “Don’t forget to save me one!”
“If there’s any left,” calls back Elyan. Arthur chuckles.
Soon, Cenred will leave, and Camelot will be back to its usual, chaotic self. It’s the best he’s known the place to be.
And he certainly couldn’t imagine it without Merlin.
Chapter 5: Epilogue
Chapter Text
Leon watches from the shadows as Merlin makes the speech he gives multiple times a day, standing on a box near the main gates.
“Welcome to Camelot! Here’s your free flower crown! The physician’s chambers are over there and the courtyard’s over there, but don’t go in it when the drums sound because it’s nasty. Gwen’s house is that way and she’s the best seamstress ever and her dad’s an amazing blacksmith so go there! Also the knights’ training ground is that way and apparently adults like to watch sweaty men even though it’s icky!” He pulls a face. “Enjoy Camelot! And don’t forget to eat a strawberry tart from the market!”
He waves and as the crowd starts to disperse, Leon makes his way over. “You know,” he says, amused, “they’re going to run out of strawberry tarts if you keep doing that.”
Merlin turns to him, beaming. “Leon!”
“Hello, little falcon.”
“I won’t talk about the tarts forever, I promise . I still have the fabric stall and the herbs stall and–”
“Alright, alright.”
“Did I say everything right? I think I did.”
He’s chewing his lip nervously and Leon gives him a reassuring smile. “Yes. Just like this morning. You’re getting the hang of it.” The boy grins. “Isn’t it Gwen’s turn soon?”
Merlin nods. “But she’s helping Morgana so I’m gonna stay here until she’s done.”
“Want to sit on my shoulders for a bit? So your leg doesn’t get too sore.” Merlin puts his arms up and Leon lifts him up. The boy’s almost immediately distracted by another group of people entering the city and bounces up and down.
“Welcome to Camelot! Here’s your free flower crown! The physician’s chambers...”
As Merlin chatters away, Leon thinks back on the months since Cenred signed the treaty. They’ve been good, for the most part. The ban on magic is still in place, but since Morgana revealed her magic to the public with no consequences, Uther can’t execute anyone without looking like a hypocrite. And executing someone for using magic would make Uther look very hypocritical to the other kingdoms.
It doesn’t mean that Merlin can use his magic freely now, but it gives him some breathing room. It gives everyone with magic breathing room.
Leon nods to Arthur as he crosses the courtyard, and he changes direction to greet them, waiting until Merlin’s finished his speech to say hello.
“Arthur!”
“Hey, Merlin, Leon. How’s it going?”
“Really well!” answers Merlin excitedly, bouncing on Leon’s shoulders. “People love the flower crowns!”
Arthur grins. “That’s great. Can I have one?”
“Of course!”
Arthur chooses one with red and orange flowers and perches it atop his head. “How do I look?”
“Brilliant!”
“Well, I’d better get going. I’ll see you both later.”
“Bye!” Merlin waves at Arthur as he strides off, then spots people entering the citadel gates. “Ooh! Ooh! More people!”
Leon grins. Merlin’s happy and safe here, and that’s the best thing anyone could hope for.
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