Chapter Text
Camelot — Autumn, four years before Arthur's coronation
The boy who arrived with the new royal physician was thin.
That was the first thing people noticed. Thin in a way that had nothing to do with country living. He was scrawny, all limbs and bones and barely not fat; but if you looked at his face you could see a healthy flush and prominent cheekbones. His eyes weren't sunken and his stature could explain his lithe form. But Gaius knew better. He knew how long it took Merlin to look even this healthy.
He had dark short hair that stuck up at odd angles, blue eyes too large for his face, and a smile he deployed at everyone like a shield. He was nearly seventeen, though he looked younger with the way he looked at everything with big eyes and kept close to his mentor.
"Stay close," Gaius murmured as they passed through the great gates. "The castle is large. It's easy to get lost."
Merlin nodded, but his eyes were already moving; scanning the walls, the towers, the guards at their posts, even the commoners milling through the plaza and market as they passed. Gaius watched him map the exits, catalogue the shadows, press closer to Gaius's side whenever anyone drew too near. It was a habit Merlin had developed in the three years since Gaius had found him. Three years, and still his eyes did that every time they entered a new space.
Give it time, Gaius told himself. The boy had come so far already. He couldn't blame him for the vigilance—not really. After all, Merlin had spent the past few years in a small village with only Gaius for company. The citadel, with its endless crowds and noise, would overwhelm anyone.
Once inside, the castle revealed itself as a maze of corridors and chambers. Servants hurried past with armloads of linens and trays of food. Guards stood at attention. Nobles swept by in silks and furs, not deigning to notice the physician and his scrawny apprentice.
Merlin stayed close to Gaius, still watching everything in silence as they moved through the halls. Occasionally he paused to note certain corridors and where some doors led. Gaius let him familiarize himself patiently, pointing out some of the spaces he remembered from his time as an apprentice himself in his younger days.
They kept walking until they reached the stairs leading to the tower that would be their new home from now on.
"These are the physicians' quarters," Gaius said, pushing open a heavy door. "Ours, now. What do you think?”
Merlin stepped inside. The room was cluttered but warm. Shelves lined the walls, filled with herbs and flasks containing various unfamiliar liquids; a worktable sat scattered with equipment and parchment. Against one wall, a fireplace held a small fire with a black iron crane swinging out from the stone and a pot still hanging from its hook. Nearby, an open area provided space where Gaius could set a bench to treat patients. Above it all, an interesting loft jutted out, its shelves crowded with books and other paraphernalia he couldn't distinguish.
And, tucked into the back corner, a tiny hallway led up a couple of steps to two doors: one to Gaius's sleeping chamber, and one to a smaller room that would be Merlin's.
He stood in the center of the main room and turned slowly, taking it in. His expression didn't change, but something in his shoulders loosened, just slightly.
"It's… nice. Comfy" he said quietly with a barely there smile.
"It is," Gaius confirmed. "No one is allowed without knocking or without the need of healing." A pause. "You can lock your door at night. There's a latch."
Merlin's eyes flicked to the small door that would be his. He nodded once, and that was all.
Gaius let him explore. He'd learned, over three years, that Merlin needed space to make a place his own. Needed to check the corners, test the locks, know exactly where the exits were. It helped the lad to feel more comfortable and safe, the gods know he could use having this bare sense of control.
Only thirteen years old, Gaius thought, watching the boy run careful fingers along the doorframe of his new room. Thirteen years old, walking out of ashes with the gait of a survivor. It was a miracle he was as whole as he was, and Gaius couldn't be more grateful to whatever above for that.
Merlin finally emerged from his room after a few minutes. "There's a window."
"Small, but it opens. Good for the air in summer." He commented, observing his guard curiously.
Merlin nodded and then with a barely concealed hope asked "And the roof? Is it accessible?"
Gaius blinked. "The roof? I... yes, there's a stairwell at the end of the corridor. It leads to the battlements. Why?"
Merlin shrugged, suppressing a mischievous smirk that wanted to form in his lips. "Good to know. In case of fire." He excused with fake innocence.
It was a sound answer. Gaius knew that wasn't the actual reason, but he didn’t press the issue. He also learned it was best that way.
That night, after everything was settled and weariness started to seep in his bones, Merlin lay in his new bed and stared at the ceiling.
This was new, unexpected, but surprisingly, not unwelcome. The room was small but clean, it had a bed, a washstand, and a small chest for belongings. There was a small window high up the wall that let in a sliver of moonlight. And, a door with a latch that worked.
He'd checked the latch four times before lying down.
He knew he'd check it again before sleeping. And probably once more in the middle of the night, if he woke up needing reassurance. Despite all that, Camelot he told himself, is safe. He had Gaius just through the main room. The chamber was multiple stairs and doors away from the outside world. Guards patrolled the corridors, royal guards, trained men. And magic was illegal here, punishable by death.
Oddly enough, that was the best reassurance he had so far.
Gaius had found him around three years ago. Merlin had been walking along a road, just walking—no destination, no purpose, no anything—when the old physician's cart appeared. Gaius had taken one look at him and stopped.
Merlin didn't remember much about those first weeks. Just flashes: a warm bed, broth that someone kept trying to make him drink, a voice that never raised, hands that never grabbed. He'd woken screaming more times than he could count. He'd flinched from every touch. He'd gone days without speaking, and Gaius had simply waited, patient as stone.
Eventually, he'd started talking. Eventually, he'd started eating. Eventually, he'd started helping with the herbs and the poultices, learning the healer's trade because it gave his hands something to do and his mind somewhere to go. And, eventually, he started getting better.
And now they were in Camelot. Because Gaius had been summoned by the King, Uther Pendragon, who had lost his own physician and needed a new one, and Merlin had nowhere else to go.
Nowhere else I want to go, he corrected himself. Gaius was the closest thing to family he had. He wasn't leaving.
He checked the latch again. Still secure.
He closed his eyes and waited for morning.
It was the next day. Merlin had slept surprisingly well and woke feeling more energized than he had in a long time.
He rose quietly, pulled on fresh clothes, and set about his morning tasks. First, a quick inventory of the physician's chambers, checking that everything they'd brought had made it inside, that the supplies they'd need for breakfast were somewhere in the cluttered space. He found a small sack of oats, some dried fruit, and a pot that would do for cooking. Good.
He got the fire going, added some kindling and swung the crane into place. While the water heated, he cleared the worktable of its scattered equipment, stacking books and jars to one side to make room for their meal. The rhythm of it was familiar, comfortable. Just morning chores. Nothing that required him to think at such an early hour.
By the time Gaius emerged from his room, blinking against the light, Merlin had two bowls of porridge ready, a pot of tea steeping and some barely stale bread from their traveling leftover supplies.
"You're up early," Gaius observed, settling onto the bench.
"Couldn't sleep in. New place." Merlin shrugged, pushing a bowl toward him. "Figured I'd get things organized."
Gaius accepted the porridge with a nod. His eyes swept over the room, the organized table, the crackling fire, the supplies neatly arranged, and something warm flickered in his expression. But all he said was, "Good. We have much to do today."
Merlin sat across from him with his own bowl, and they ate in comfortable silence for a bit.
"You'll need to meet the Court," Gaius said over breakfast. "Not today. Today we'll keep to the quarters, get things organized. But eventually, you'll be seen. People will ask questions."
Merlin tore off a piece of bread. "What should I tell them?"
"That you're from Ealdor. A small village. That I'm training you as my apprentice." Gaius paused. "They don't need to know more."
Merlin understood. They'd discussed it, once, in those early years when he'd finally started talking again. Who should I say I am? he'd asked. And Gaius had looked at him with something ancient and sad in his eyes and said, You're my apprentice. That's true. The rest... the rest is ours. No one else's.
"I can do that," Merlin said.
It wasn't about shame. But if people knew Gaius was his uncle, they'd ask about his mother. And he didn't think he could answer those questions. Not now, maybe never.
So he was from Ealdor. He was Gaius's apprentice. That was all.
"She'd be proud of you," Gaius said quietly, not looking at him. "Coming here. Starting fresh. Living."
Merlin's jaw tightened. He focused on his bread, tearing it into smaller and smaller pieces. "I'm not starting fresh. I'm just... following you."
"Following me into a castle full of people. Into a life you could have refused." Gaius finally looked at him. "That takes courage. Even if you don't feel it."
Gaius knew. Gaius always knew. So Merlin said nothing and they kept eating.
Later that day, as he and Gaius finished organizing some of the physician's belongings, a light knock came at the door. Both occupants were startled, neither had expected company so soon from their arrival. But if Merlin has to guess, injury awaits no man. So after a quick exchanged glance, Gaius called them in.
The door opened to reveal a knight. Tall, blonde, with defined features and a polite stance. But something was wrong. He held his arm awkwardly against his chest, and a sheen of cold sweat glistened on his brow. The pallor of his skin made him look almost translucent, but even that couldn't hide the green that threatened to overtake.
"Forgive the intrusion," the knight said, his voice tight with pain. "I was told there's a physician in residence now."
Gaius was already rising, gesturing toward the treatment bench. "You were told correctly. Come in, sit down. What happened?" He talked as he moved closer to the bench.
"Training accident." The knight moved carefully, lowering himself onto the bench with a grimace. "Took a hit to the shoulder. Felt something... give."
Gaius nodded, his hands already reaching for the injured arm with practiced gentleness. "Let me see."
Merlin hovered at the edge of the room, watching. He knew this dance, knew when to stay back, when to step in. The knight's shoulder was bad. Even from here, Merlin could see the wrongness of it, the way the joint sat where it shouldn't.
Gaius probed carefully, asking questions, where did it hurt, how had he landed, could he move his fingers. The knight answered steadily despite the pain, his composure was impressive. It made Merlin wonder if that was a feature of this specific knight, or if that was one trained into all Camelot’s knights. He guessed he'd find out one way or another once they treat more of them
Finally, Gaius looked up, scanning the room until his eyes found Merlin.
"Merlin. Fetch the wide sling from the shelf. And the willow bark."
Merlin moved.
The supplies were where Gaius had shown him, the wide sling folded on the third shelf, the willow bark in a jar beside the dried chamomile. He brought everything to Gaius's side without being asked, setting them within easy reach. Then he stepped back once again, waiting.
Gaius acknowledged him with a small nod. To the knight, he said, "This will hurt. But it needs to go back in place, and the longer we wait, the worse it will be."
The knight's jaw tightened. "Just do it."
"Merlin." Gaius didn't look up. "The tea. He'll need it after."
Merlin retreated to the small stove, filling a kettle with water, measuring the willow bark into a cup. Behind him, he heard Gaius's quiet voice walking the knight through what was about to happen. The knight's responses were short, strained, but he didn't argue.
Then. A sharp cry, quickly cut off.
Merlin didn't flinch. Being a physician's apprentice taught him to stay steady in the face of others' pain. He focused on the tea, on the steam rising from the kettle, on the simple task of pouring water over dried bark and getting some honey to sweeten the bitter and strong acidic after-taste of the infusion.
By the time he turned around, the knight was slumped forward, breathing hard, but the wrongness in his shoulder was gone. Gaius was already reaching for the sling.
"Here." Merlin approached carefully, making sure the knight saw him coming, and held out the cup. "Drink this. It'll help with the pain."
The knight looked up. His eyes were grey, still hazy with pain, but something in them sharpened as they focused on Merlin. "You're the apprentice."
"Merlin." He offered a small smile. "And you are?"
"Leon." The knight took the cup with his good hand, managing a weak smile in return. "Sir Leon. Though just Leon is fine when I'm not on duty." He sipped the tea, grimaced at the bitterness he could still somewhat tell despite the honey, then sipped again. "You're young for an apprentice."
"So I've been told."
Gaius finished securing the sling, stepping back to assess his work. "Keep that arm immobile for at least a week, probably two. No training, no lifting, no heroics. Cold towels for the swelling, and more of that tea as needed. Come back in three days so I can check it."
Leon nodded, testing the sling's fit. "Thank you. Both of you." He looked at Merlin again, something thoughtful in his expression. "The last physician... We learned to patch ourselves up, mostly. It's good to have someone who actually knows what they're doing."
"Gaius knows what he's doing," Merlin said. "I'm just learning."
"Learning fast, by the look of it." Leon finished the tea and carefully stood, swaying just slightly. Merlin's hand twitched, an old instinct, reaching to steady, but he caught himself. The knight was already finding his balance. "I should report back. The Prince will want to know the physician's quarters are in good hands."
"The Prince?" Merlin asked.
Leon's mouth twitched. "Arthur. He sent me, actually. Saw me take the hit and ordered me here before I could argue." He paused, then added, "He acts like he doesn't care about the men, but he does. Just doesn't like showing it."
Merlin filed that away. The Prince cared. Interesting.
Leon moved toward the door, pausing with his hand on the latch. "I'll see you both in three days, then." He nodded to Gaius, then to Merlin. "Welcome to Camelot."
Then he was gone.
The door closed behind him with a soft thud. Merlin stood there for a moment, staring at it, then turned to find Gaius watching him with that particular expression, the one that meant he was pleased but wouldn't say so directly.
"Well," Gaius said. "That went smoothly."
Merlin shrugged, but there was a small warmth in his chest. "You did the hard part."
"I did the bones. You made the tea and you were calm, that helped him too." Gaius's eyes were knowing. "That matters, Merlin. Never doubt it."
Merlin looked away, but the warmth stayed.