Chapter Text
Sans their first meeting, it was always a good day when Merlin got to see Lancelot. Actually, even almost being eaten alive was well worth the new friend he had made. So when the man hailed him from down the hall, he answered with a smile.
“Merlin my friend-” and wasn’t that just a lovely way to be greeted? Lance was great. “I was wondering if you might have seen Guinevere today? She had asked that I meet her but try as I might I can’t seem to find her.”
Ah. That was unfortunate. Because he did know where Gwen was, and that was sharing a tender moment alone with Morgana. When Merlin had discovered Gwen’s feelings for the lady, he’d been so excited for them both that he’d completely forgotten Lancelot’s heart. Of course he trusted Gwen- she wasn’t the type to play with people’s affections- but he could’ve sworn there was something between her and the knight. Had nothing come of it in the end? None of it was really his business, and maybe this was part of why Gwen had been so reticent to share- did she think Merlin would find her fickle for courting Morgana?
But he was taking too long to respond. Any answer might sound suspect at this point.
“Gwen?” he tried to appear thoughtful, but nervously tugged at his earlobe. “Gwen, no, I don’t think I have, not today at least…” Meeting Lance’s eyes at all was difficult so Merlin opted for looking anywhere but, hopeful to catch a reason to excuse himself.
Such an opportunity barreled towards them right as Lancelot tried to speak.
“Merlin! ” came the stentorian call of Arthur. The man himself followed shortly after, rounding the corner at the end of the hallway. “There you are.”
“Arthur!” Merlin whipped around with an open-mouthed smile, so relieved he could squeeze the prat- huh. He resisted the impulse to shake the errant thought from his head. Instead, he turned back to an uncertain Lancelot.
“Sorry to run but you know how he gets,” Merlin begged off quickly. The other man opened his mouth to speak but was spoken over. “I’m sure you’ll find Gwen, she’s around somewhere.”
With a parting nod and pat on the arm, Merlin made his way to Arthur as quickly as he could make seem casual. The hard up way Lancelot sighed made apparent that he had more to discuss, but Merlin didn’t trust himself to not put his foot in his mouth. Still, a bit of guilt prickled in his gut as he left.
Unfortunately, the tension must’ve been palpable because Arthur cast his eyes between the other two, speculative. He only asked after the knight when he was out of earshot.
“What’s gotten Lancelot looking so cockled?”
“Dunno,” Merlin said honestly. “He was looking for Gwen though.”
Immediately he wanted to curse himself for adding that. Arthur was still sore over being rejected as it happened just over a fortnight ago.
Predictably, the man stiffened. Merlin’s chest twinged in sympathy. Even when his friend deserved the flack he got, he hated seeing him in pain.
At length Arthur said, almost to himself, “He’s a good man.”
“Arthur-”
“Oh, stuff it Merlin,” he shot back, brushing off the hand his manservant had placed on his shoulder. “I don’t have any- any claim on her. She’s allowed to see whom she pleases, and at least Lancelot’s. Well he’s more worthy than most.”
Merlin’s pretty sure he heard the More worthy than me hanging unsaid at the end. Proud though he was of Arthur’s hardwon maturity (he’d been horribly jealous at first, even if it was Merlin hanging around Gwen), he couldn’t help but wish he could make it any easier for him. If it were ethical possible, he’d even wave his hand and just magic his two friends back together, though the idea chafed him for some reason.
He studied Arthur for a moment, feeling frustrated at not knowing how to help. It wasn’t until then that Merlin had noticed the chunks of porridge smeared in the prince’s clothes and hair. With a little laugh, he tapped Arthur’s shoulder with the back of his hand and opened his mouth to say something. The glare shot back warned him to not even try it.
“Better Lancelot than George,” Merlin said instead, gentle and teasing.
Arthur scrunched his face in distaste. “Don’t put the image in my head,” he griped, but was humored regardless.
Encouraged, Merlin bumped his shoulder against his friend’s.
“She’s a blacksmith’s daughter, he’s obsessed with brass- who knows, maybe there’s something there!”
“He’d leave her for her father’s foundry,” Arthur muttered as he dragged a hand down over his brow. Merlin grinned and laughed, which made the other’s stony countenance break somewhat.
“Can’t imagine how you’d consummate a union like that.”
“Uhg! What! Merlin!” Arthur looked appalled and shoved him, only for the damnable man to throw his hands up and laugh harder.
“You were begging the question!”
“I most certainly was not!” Arthur lunged at his friend, capturing him in a headlock and digging his knuckles into his scalp. The slighter man struggled fruitlessly as Arthur dragged him along. “Has anyone told you how utterly noxious you are, hm?”
“Oh fancy word there, sire, careful you don’t-” Merlin said as he was released abruptly and stumbled forward. The rest of his retort died on his tongue when he righted and saw Uther glaring at them just ahead. He snapped his jaw shut and sped behind Arthur, arms behind his back, at the distance where servants were meant to follow their masters.
“Arthur,” Uther greeted coolly. The king was accompanied by three of his oldest advisors, who all looked uniformly unimpressed.
“Your Majesty,” his son returned with a shallow bow, flushed with shame up to his ears.
No one was better at extinguishing all mirth in a room than Uther. It was like his own unique magic, Merlin thought glumly. Of course he was biased, but hating someone who’d put your head on a block didn’t feel unfair. And even if Uther wasn’t a homicidal bigot, there was still how he treated servants, how he belittled Morgana, how he didn’t love Arthur nearly as well as his son deserved. If Merlin wasn’t so sarding petrified of the man he wondered if he wouldn’t have told him off by now. Or something. Really it was hard to fantasize about how he’d exact justice on Uther when his red, wroth face was staring him down, nostrils flaring.
“Take care you bathe before council today Arthur. You’re looking like a refuse pile.”
“Yes, sire.”
With that, Uther swept into an adjacent chamber, company in tow. All the brevity from before washed out of Arthur and his posture became rigid again. Merlin just about conjured a frog in the king’s throat.
Neither said a thing for the rest of the way to Arthur’s chambers. Upon entering, however, Merlin couldn’t help his dismay at the sight of a half dozen dishes dripping orts on the floor.
"Why does it look like you got in a row with your breakfast? The porridge insult your honor?"
"No, but I know a servant who's trying my patience," Arthur said, wheeling around from where he'd been turning out the contents of a chest. "Are you sure you didn't miss your calling as court jester?"
"Uther'd find me funnier in the stocks," Merlin mused as he hunched over to pick up the silverware.
"King Uther," Arthur corrected with as much severity he could muster despite the threat of a smile on his face. The look was completely undercut by a sudden prolonged grumbling sounding from his stomach.
Merlin huffed. "Don't tell me you're still hungry- I even got Cook to add seconds this time."
"I'm not still hungry because I didn't bloody get to eat any of it!" the prince snapped. "A fox pinched it all. And you're here to help me catch the mongrel."
"Right," the younger man drawled, looking up from where he was kneeling collecting dishes. "You know you're the prince and can just ask for thirds?"
He knew he'd tease Arthur about the size of his portions but it wasn't like there was anything wrong with eating till you were full. No need to justify it with an elaborate story.
"Are you trying to have me throttle you, Merlin, because I'm a hair's breadth from-"
At that exact moment, the bane of Arthur's morning padded across the floor, stopping barely out of arm's reach of the man. A fox, just like he'd described, plopped onto its hindquarters. Grease stained the fellow's maw and glistened when it licked its chops. There was a sort of lazy, sated quality to its movements most likely related to its swollen belly.
"Seems friendly," Merlin said mildly, but Arthur was near incensed.
“Here’s what we’re going to do,” he said low, as if the yawning fox might startle, “we’ll herd it to the desk and corner it there. Then we’ll make a grab at it.”
They managed the first half easily. Though the fox didn’t seem wary in the slightest, it ambled over to the desk without fuss and sat with its back against it. Arthur and Merlin flanked the animal at opposite angles, pausing several steps away. From his periphery, Merlin saw Arthur signal.
“On the count of three,” he mouthed. Merlin nodded despite thinking this was all a little silly. “One. Two. Three-”
Both men lunged forward, but the fox bolted straight out lightning fast. It chittered gayly at them as their heads connected with a crack!
“Merlin, you idiot-”
“How was that my fault! This was your brilliant idea, sire,” Merlin groaned, rubbing at what’d probably end up being a bruised temple.
“Which I executed perfectly!”
“Oh so we caught the fox then?” griped Merlin. “Neither of us knocked flat on our asses?”
Arthur heaved himself up off the floor. “Shut up, Merlin.”
Apparently, they’d not shaken the fox’s confidence at all because it was lounging nearby with half lidded eyes and a wagging tail. Somehow it looked smug, which immediately rang alarm bells for Merlin. True, he’d just been studying shapeshifting spells so maybe it was his imagination but then the fox turned towards him and winked.
“I think it just winked at me,” he said, voice pitched up.
Arthur sighed. “Don’t be daft Merlin. Now help me think of a way to catch it.”
Not knowing if he was grateful or annoyed at being ignored, Merlin stood and took stock of the room. The back of his neck tingled in the way it usually did when he sensed magic, but he wasn’t sure whether to voice his suspicions. Generally he preferred to keep Arthur in the loop if he could since lying to him felt wrong. Or at least counterproductive to the two-sides-of-the-same-coin business. There was also that he just preferred facing whatever it was together, even if sometimes that made things more difficult. They were meant to be a team, the two of them. Even if Merlin couldn’t be open about the most important stuff now, he’d take whatever moments of transparency were offered until he could.
The sound of a cupboard opening broke Merlin from his thoughts. He must’ve been in a fog a while since Arthur was suddenly across the room, rummaging through the storage. The fox had remained put but was also watching the prince. It caught Merlin looking and winked again, this time also giving the approximate of a smile. Thrown badly by the gesture, he hardly registered that his name had been called.
“I asked you a question, Merlin.” Arthur’s tone implied that he had repeated it, too.
“Oh, sorry Arthur- I just- did you not see that? I swear it winked again.”
The man turned around with an annoyed air, opening his mouth then shutting it into a softer expression.
“You couldn’t have hit your head that hard,” he said and strode over. “With a skull as thick as yours I imagined you could sustain any blow just fine.”
“Hardee har har, sire.” Merlin bobbed his head to and fro with each syllable but stilled as Arthur examined the minimal swelling at his temple. With a little neutral hum, the prince tilted his head and leaned in. The focused look on his face was visible in Merlin’s periphery and made the younger man strangely shy. He cast his gaze away towards the wardrobe and came upon an idea.
“Let’s try throwing a bed sheet over it,” he said quickly, striding towards where they were stored across the room. Even though he passed the fox by a foot or two it didn’t flinch, just followed his movements with its eyes. “If it can’t see where it’s going it might not dodge us so well.”
Arthur sounded vaguely approving. “That’s not actually half-bad. Grab one for each of us.”
They found after several starts and stops that the fox was no less of a menace blinded. In fact, it only got faster, hurtling itself around the room in unpredictable patterns like a tiny, crazed ghost. Arthur and Merlin danced around in half crouches while trying to keep it between them, shouting “Woh!” and “Hey!” as it zipped around. Somehow the fox managed to duck beneath the bed or table but not once crash into anything, always turning sharply or veering backwards in the nick of time and leaving the two men stumbling into each other.
“Can’t say I’ve played this version of game-ball before,” Merlin had said, frustration turning to exasperated amusement as the fox had faked him out, making him trip onto the floor.
“Nor I,” Arthur huffed, “but that gives me an idea.” He picked up a large woven basket and matching lid, tossing both at Merlin as he stood. “I’ll force it towards you- you be ready to snatch it up.”
They took turns diving after the fox, though rarely actually catching it. When Arthur had wrangled it up in his arms, the creature thrashed so violently it knocked hard against his mouth. He grunted in pain, tasting blood where his lip cut against his teeth, and the fox ripped through the sheet before Merlin could run over with the basket. It made a bizarre, gurgling noise and chucked itself over Arthur’s shoulder, hitting the floor running.
Caught behind its shoulders, the sheet resembled an elegant dress on the fox. Merlin groaned at the thought of having to mend anything in addition to his usual chores. But then the fox, poised on a bench by the window, eyed them over its shoulder.
“It looks like Morgana like that,” he chuckled, edging towards the animal.
“And about as feral,” Arthur puffed. When the fox dodge both men yet again, he added, “And as vexing.”
Eventually the chase led them back to where Merlin assumed it began, at the dining table. They’ve got the fox between them, him facing its backside and Arthur its front. Seeing the sheet streaming after the animal, Merlin pinned it underneath his boot hoping to end the hunt.
But it’s a silk sheet on a stone floor, and he suspects some porridge between, so when the fox ripped free there wasn’t enough friction to keep the sheet from tugging beneath his boot. The motion was enough to send the basket out from his arms and him pivoting forwards, right into Arthur.
They landed smack on the floor, Merlin above Arthur, eyes locking in startled expressions. The prince’s mouth was parted and his brows furrowed in that particular pouty look that always annoyed Merlin for some reason. Up close like this he could see a smidgen of oat pressed against the divot on his nose where the bridge had broken. And it’s just so much like the spark of a spell, a neat little bow on the whole ordeal, that he busted out laughing. Arthur didn’t seem any more bothered by it than everything else, but he pressed his lips into an increasingly thin line. Like he was nervous.
Merlin canted his head in question before his hands flexed around something pleasingly firm, with just the slightest bit of give. He looked down and felt his heart plummet.
Oh. Oh dear. He’d caught himself on Arthur’s tits.
Wheeling onto his feet fast enough to get lightheaded, Merlin took a moment to calm himself. His palms continued tingling even after he wiped them on his trousers. Arthur refused the hand up Merlin offered him with a frown. Merlin nodded and stepped back immediately, stopping himself from rubbing his neck as if his hand would sting him. The other man stayed on the floor a split second longer, silent and red-faced, staring at the ceiling. When he stood, his face remained pinched despite an attempt to seem unaffected.
“Sorry, I just- I thought I’d caught myself on the floor. Your, ehm, your-” Merlin raised his hands minutely as if to gesture but shot them back down and swallowed. “They’re very firm.”
Why was he even still talking?
“Merlin,” Arthur said, voice tight. “Shut. Up.”
A great clanging noise interrupted any further apology or explanation Merlin could give. Both men whipped around to see with great surprise that the fox had somehow clambered on top of the wardrobe and knocked over a candlestick. Arthur ran up without delay, but Merlin lingered behind, still a bit dazed.
Another candlestick tumbled over, missing the prince’s head by inches though he didn’t seem to notice. Merlin did, however, and startled. The fox’s eyes bore into his as it lifted a paw towards a third, larger candlestick. It raised its eyebrows and scooted the hunk of metal till it was just on the wardrobe’s edge, right above Arthur.
Merlin shook his head in warning. The fox held his gaze and knocked the candlestick over.
He only had a split second to divert its path, but just as he raised his hand and eyes flared gold, Arthur turned around.
For a moment, neither man said anything. Fear curdled in Merlin’s stomach with the candlestick suspended a hand’s breadth from Arthur’s skull. This was it, surely. He’d been caught.
“Are you just going to stand there gawping like a dullard or are you going to help?” Arthur upbraided. Both Merlin and the fox looked at him with disbelief.
“Well?”
“Right,” Merlin said, shaking his head. The candlestick pivoted away from Arthur and fell to the floor, making the prince jump.
“That was close,” he murmured, looking down at the blunt object. Merlin couldn’t help but agree.
He leaned over towards where the basket had landed and picked it up with his raised hand.
“Foxes aren’t normally this clever are they?” he asked while walking over.
“What do you mean? It’s just a dumb animal.”
“Dumb animals are usually easier to catch.” And don’t seem to think I have magic.
“That may be true, but I haven’t had my breakfast and you’re an oaf. It’s got an advantage.”
Arthur unsheathed the sword he kept on one of his bedposts, angling it at the fox so as to usher it towards Merlin who stood by the wardrobe’s opposite side. Stubborn without fail, the fox threw its weight on its hindquarters and needed to be scooted forward by the flat of Arthur’s blade. Merlin held up the basket, at the ready to catch the creature.
“Come on you blighter,” Arthur muttered. “That’s it you pest, easy there.”
When it was digging its claws into the very edge of the wardrobe, Arthur gave the creature a satisfying wack to its rear with the flat of his blade. Though that was enough to force it off the wardrobe, Merlin saw it was trying to push off and jump over him. With a silent push of magic, he made it trip and tumble into the basket.
“Not so clever anymore is it, Merlin,” mused Arthur from closer than the other had anticipated. Merlin flinched, again worried for a moment Arthur had seen evidence of spellcraft. He looked up from the floor where he was securing the basket closed with leather straps on the lid.
“What do we do with it now?”
Arthur shrugged as he sheathed his sword. “Just take it a ways out from the citadel and release it.”
“You don’t want to have it killed?” Merlin asked, a bit surprised. He hadn’t seen Arthur go on any fox hunts, but he heard rumor that the animal had been part of Uther’s Purge. Some creatures had been associated with magic, justly and unjustly, with the fox being one of the latter. And even if they hadn’t been, farmers tended to off them to protect their hens. This was the first he’d actually seen a fox since coming to Camelot, at any rate.
“No?” Arthur scoffed. “It’s not like it’s any good for eating. Besides, it’s not fair sport if the thing’s been trapped in a castle.”
“But you’re not worried it’s magic at all?”
“It’s just an animal, Merlin,” Arthur sighed. As Merlin made his way out of the chambers, he added, “Though just in case you best not let anyone see you with it. I’ve got enough on my plate without Father getting carried away by his superstitions again.”
Merlin nodded and left, more conflicted than before about sharing his hunch in fear that it would validate Uther’s paranoia. Because foxes were just animals. Except maybe this one. Merlin needed a second opinion.
Little surprised Gaius after his decades of being a physician in the court of a populous kingdom like Camelot. Even less then, after Merlin had been entrusted to his care several years ago. The lad had a knack for attracting contretemps of all sorts at all hours. If his ward wasn’t equally capable of scudding out from under danger, Gaius thought he’d have expired of heart pain a month into Merlin’s apprenticeship.
It was being so acclimated that Gaius barely raised an eyebrow when his nephew burst through the chamber door, wrestling an overlarge basket inside with him.
“Gaius!” Merlin greeted brightly. The basket gave a violent jerk and he threw an arm on its lid. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about enchanted animals, would you?”
Gaius gestured for the parcel to be set down on the table, which Merlin did.
“You aren’t thinking of keeping a pet now, are you?”
“Like I don’t have enough on my plate,” Merlin groused. “No, Arthur said this fellow showed up on his table and broke fast before he could.”
Gaius made an amused face then looked over the basket skeptically. “Somewhat out of the way for a meal.”
“That’s exactly what I thought- the kitchen’s on the ground floor, and the refuse ‘s dumped outside besides. Why go so far as one of the towers?”
“Even so,” the older man said, “wild animals occasionally slip into the castle, most often when the weather’s turned cold like it has now. Surely there’s more you’ve yet to share?”
The basket jumped again, startling Merlin. He pinned it back down with both arms as the creature inside kept throwing itself around. By how the young man was being jostled, Gaius thought the animal must have been strong for its size. When no sign of the struggle ceasing showed, Merlin uttered, “Swefe nu ,” and the thrashing stilled.
He and his uncle shared a mild look, at which point Merlin recounted all that’d went into capturing the fox. “I couldn’t shake the feeling,” Merlin concluded, “that it wanted me to use my magic- like it was baiting me in front of Arthur.” When Gaius’ eyebrows only climbed upward, Merlin added, “No- I know how it sounds, but seriously Gaius.”
“If you’re certain then that’s cause for grave concern.” The physician walked around the table so he stood closer to Merlin. He removed his spectacles and gestured with them. “Most likely this creature is enchanted or a familiar; either state binding it to the will of a sorcerer. Now depending on how it’s been conjured, it may bear the mark of its master. Open up the basket and we’ll take a look.”
Merlin nodded, more anxious than before. He lifted the lid slowly until he could peer inside to check that the animal was still sleeping. Satisfied that it was, he placed the lid on the table and leaned forward on his hands, bracketing the basket with his arms.
“You don’t think someone’s found out about my magic, do you Gaius?”
“I couldn’t say,” the other confessed. “We still don’t know if this animal is a product of sorcery. Albeit it may be best to be vigilant until we know what it is we’re dealing with.”
Carefully, Gaius reached inside and put a hand against the fox’s neck then dragged it up towards the brow, pushing the fur aside to reveal pale, unblemished skin. He continued searching its coat in this manner and, finding nothing, began looking in its ears and mouth. All the while, the fox breathed deep and even, only stirring slightly but at no point seeming close to waking.
At last the search came to an end when Gaius pulled back the fox’s lower lip. In its pink gums just below the teeth were four small ruins, appearing like the dark mottling along its lips.
“Well, Merlin,” the physician chuckled in surprise, “it appears you’re off the hook.”
“What? What do those markings mean, Gaius?”
“That this creature is decidedly meant for Arthur. Come, I have an entry in one of my books.”
Merlin trailed after his uncle towards a crowded bookshelf by the far wall.
“For Arthur? Isn’t that- I don’t know- worse?”
Gaius only quirked his mouth upward. “No, you’ll see. It’s actually rather funny if not still a little troubling.”
“Somehow that’s not reassuring.”
It took a moment to find the correct tome and then another to locate the desired passage. When he did, Gaius held it up between himself and Merlin.
“Look here, my boy. Those markings we saw were the ruins Ehwaz, Ansuz, Raidho, and Gebo. They all relate to matters of the heart and self.”
From his frown and the way he scratched his jaw, Merlin’s confusion was apparent.
“The fox… is some kind of love spell?”
“Not quite. Before the Purge, some sorcerers specialized in offering counsel in love, friendship, familial matters even. These services were especially popular among nobility-”
“You mean especially needed by nobility, with how they act.”
Gaius seemed caught between finding that funny and being annoyed at the interjection.
“And one such service ,” he continued, “was the conjuring of an animal companion. One that could teach heirs to temper their vices so that they may, eventually, enjoy a fruitful union.”
A colty smile brightened Merlin’s expression.
“So you’re saying someone-” he pointed towards the basket behind them, “summoned that little guy there because they thought Arthur was too much of an ass- ”
“Too much of a what now, Merlin?”
Gaius did his best not to chuckle at how quickly his nephew whipped around. Apparently the Prince had just entered, given that the chamber door was still swinging shut. An odd moment of silence followed where the two young men locked eyes and flushed. Merlin shook his hands as if to rid them of something and Arthur, when he saw the movement, colored with an angry embarrassment Gaius hadn’t seen on him before. This snapped Merlin out of his stupor.
“Nothing, sire!”
“I’m too much of a nothing?”
“No- just-” Merlin pulled his fringe back with one hand and sighed. “Right. I guess I should just head over to the stables and muck them out now then?”
Arthur gave a mean grin. “Now there’s an idea- but no,” his face dropped back into its usual passive scowl. “You’re needed on the training grounds, come on.”
Before Merlin could make to follow Arthur, the prince’s eyes fell on the basket. His gaze flicked briefly between it and his manservant before he strolled over.
“You wouldn’t have actually completed the task I gave you before coming here, would you have Merlin?”
“About that-”
But Arthur didn’t seem displeased when he peered into the basket. Instead, faint embarrassment flitted across his face before he pushed it aside with a small cough.
“Right, well, I can hardly praise you for actually doing your job for once. Come on.”
Merlin’s stomach dropped as he followed Arthur out the room, only stopping briefly to check the basket himself. It was alarmingly empty. With frantic, wordless gestures he communicated as much to Gaius, who looked equally flummoxed. Arthur was already down the hallway so the physician had missed his chance to ask that Merlin stay.
“It’s got to be in here somewhere. I’ll be back when I can but please-” his ward whispered hurriedly before being cut off by a distant yell.
“ Now, Merlin.”
“Please, Gaius,” Merlin said over any rebuttals his uncle could offer. With that he ducked out after the prince.
Silence rushed in at their absence. Gaius was still standing by the bookshelf with the grimoire in both hands. He snapped it shut and placed it on the table, looking around his chambers, miffed.
“Of course, leave the withered old man to chase after a wild animal. I’m a scientist not a damn huntsman,” he grumbled before bending over to start looking under the furniture.