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“But would you die for him, boy?” Asked the voice, and Merlin took a breath.
“You’re a good boy, Merlin,” Gaius said. “Your mother taught you the difference between right and wrong, and she raised you to want for the former. That’s a good thing. Many people don’t have the fortune to have mothers that teach you those things.”
“Are you praising me or my mother, Gaius?” Merlin laughed, though he didn’t mind either way. “And, well, I suppose so. Is it really so hard to be a good person though? It’s not something I do consciously.”
“Not everyone is like you, Merlin.”
Merlin chewed on his lip slowly. “I mean,” he began hesitantly, “if you have consciously try to do good. If evil continues to tempt you, and you are continuously tempted by it in turn, then are you really a good person?”
Gaius blinked in surprise. “I expand my statement slightly,” he said after a moment. “You’re a good boy, Merlin. But you are, in the end, only a boy after all.”
“But would you die for him, boy?” Asked the voice, and Merlin took a breath.
“Gwen,” Merlin said, “You’re friends with Morgana, aren’t you?”
Gwen looked up from the tray she was arranging, placing her lady’s breakfast onto the platter. “Well, yes,” she said cautiously. “As much of a friend as a noble and her servant can be, I suppose. Why?”
Merlin groaned, and let his head hit the table. “Wish that were me.”
She laughed, her eyes crinkling as the corners of her lips lifted. “Is Arthur causing some trouble? Lady Morgana’s always complaining about him being brutish and arrogant.”
“An understatement!” Merlin snapped in return, raising his head again. “I’ve been sent to the stocks every single day this week! ‘Oh Merlin, my plate isn’t arranged very artfully. Oh Merlin, there’s a bit of dust on my armor. Oh Merlin, I’m bored so I’m going to make your life miserable for entertainment.’ Honestly, that prat’s going to trip on his own ego one day, and I’ll laugh at him while he falls down the stairs.”
Gwen snorted with delight at the description, then raised an eyebrow teasingly. “Treason, Merlin? How daring.”
“But would you die for him, boy?” Asked the voice, and Merlin took a breath.
“Merlin,” Arthur had rasped out as he sank to his knees from exertion, “I don’t suppose we have any water.”
“‘Course not,” Merlin mumbled, even more winded than his much more fit prince, “that would be too convenient. Our waterskins were with the horses.”
“Of course,” Arthur groaned, and finally just fell entirely onto the floor. “Just perfect. Absolutely perfect.” He was too exhausted to sound angry, or even the slightest bit irritated. His face was wet from sweat, and quite dirty— though Merlin imagined he was in a similar, if not worse, state.
As the adrenaline faded, both of them managed to clamber back onto their feet with a bit of effort. Merlin wobbled slightly, and wondered if Gaius knew a spell that could improve running stamina. Honestly, with the amount of running around the castle he had to do on the daily, it would be helpful to have.
“So, sire,” he spoke dryly, “what now?”
“Oh, what else is there to do?” Arthur replied irritably. “We’re stuck in a dark and dense forest. Our supplies are lost. We are lost. It’s getting dark. Come on, let’s set up camp before we start tripping over ourselves.”
They cleared the leaves from the ground to start a fire in the clearing they found themselves in, and as Merlin collected dry branches around them, he realized with a pang of hunger that there was going to be no dinner tonight. Blast it, he thought grimly. He knew he ought to have snuck some food into himself this morning before they left. No water, either— not until they found a river tomorrow, at least.
When the fire was crackling merrily, it was already entirely dark. Arthur was grimly polishing his sword, while Merlin busied himself pretending to be busy, until the other finally barked out, “Merlin, do you think I’m stupid? If you don’t have anything to do, at the very least stop shuffling around and making noise. I’ll take first watch.”
“I don’t think you’re stupid,” replied Merlin earnestly. “Just a bit dumb, that’s all, sire.” He dodged a jab at his head. “And don’t think I don’t know you’ve been polishing the same square inch of that hunk of metal in your hands.”
“Merlin.”
“Arthur.” He imitated back with great glee. This time Arthur successfully managed to grab him and punch him in the shoulder, in which he yelped. “So violent!”
“So annoying,” Arthur snapped, though he seemed less annoyed than before, amusingly enough. He also set down his perfectly clean and unused sword, which was Merlin’s job to polish anyway, and lunged at Merlin with his full strength.
The tussled among the leaves for a few moments, until he finally had Merlin shouting, “Alright, alright, I’ll go to sleep and stop bothering you! You win, you win!”
Arthur, extremely pleased with himself, stepped back regally— pompous prince that he was— and replied in a dignified manner, “Of course I win.”
Similarly pleased that he’d raised Arthur’s mood, though he couldn’t show it on his face, Merlin scowled and muttered under his breath, “Clotpole.”
“But would you die for him, boy?” Asked the voice, and Merlin took a breath.
“He’s—- he’s barely—” Merlin cut himself off helplessly, then tried to start again. “I don’t—. Arthur, he’s not. He’s not like us.”
“Of course not, Emrys. We’re magic, he’s not. We have to hide who we are out of fear of death, and he’s the prince of this accursed land.”
“No!” Merlin denied, then sputtered. “I mean, yes, of course that’s true, but that wasn’t my point. We’re— we’re common folk. We grew up in villages with normal people. We know life there, and we’re used to it. Arthur’s never had that. For better or worse, he grew up in Camelot and was raised by Uther. You get that, don’t you?”
The man hesitated, then nodded. He seemed to understand that Merlin wasn’t done.
“Camelot’s had magic banned since the day he was born, literally in this case.” Merlin stood up, then sat down again before he started pacing. It had been on his mind for a while, and yet he still couldn’t find the words to explain it. “He’s grown up knowing deep in his heart that magic is evil. It’s something he understands intrinsically. It’s not even a point of controversy to him.”
The man nodded. “It’s why you’ve hidden your magic away.”
“Yes.” Merlin tapped his knee anxiously. “He grew up that way, don’t you understand? I can’t say he shouldn’t be blamed for his views, or that he hasn’t committed wrong. He’s an arrogant prince of a kingdom that persecutes the innocent.”
“Indeed. Yet you still defend him.”
“He’s the sort of person,” he bit his lip with uncertainty, “that’s faced with evil everyday. It always tempts him. He grew up in it. I don’t think anyone in his position wouldn’t become the sort of person he’s become.”
“And yet, as you say, it doesn’t excuse him.”
“Of course not.” Merlin shook his head. “Sorry, I’m going in circles. I just mean— he’s a good person. Deep down. He’s— he’s just a prince, just a boy following his father’s rules. When he grows up, he can change. Even in his position, I see him everyday and— I see the king he could be. The future he could create. But right now, he’s just a boy.”
“Just a boy,” the man echoes. “Yet, a boy you intend to follow until your dying breath. Isn’t that right, Emrys?”
“But would you die for him, boy?” Asked the voice, and Merlin took a breath.
“Yes, I would,” he said. To his surprise, his voice did not waver at all.