Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Merlin couldn’t even begin to describe the amount of relief coursing through his veins at the sight of Gaius. Alive. Despite everything, despite Agravaine’s attempt to see him harmed and Arthur’s complete dismal of Merlin’s fears, Gaius had come out of that cave alive. Merlin can’t help but smile. He had come so very close to losing Gaius—not that it necessarily would have been the first time—and he was beyond grateful that it hadn’t come to that. A feeling in his gut said that if it had, Merlin most likely wouldn’t have been able to recover from the loss of yet another person he called family.

Gaius was worth more than almost anything to Merlin; He was practically a father to the young warlock. His sole confidant throughout the years that he has spent in Camelot. The dragon’s soul inside of him had him feeling such a fierce protectiveness over Gaius that the thought that he could have died with Merlin being helpless to save him…the thought was too horrible to even finish.

Gaius slowly shifts awake and Merlin turns his attention back to the old physician, offering up a tired smile that he hoped showed just how much he cared for his uncle. Gaius didn’t return it, however, instead casting his eyes down to the floor. Merlin waits in silent questioning, worried about the look on the physician’s face.

”I’m ashamed.” Gaius’ quiet voice finally says after the silence had lasted for a few moments longer.

That’s definitely not what he expected. Merlin reels back slightly. “What?”

”Your secret.” Gaius clarifies, eyes clenching in the shame that he admitted to. He struggles to get his next words out. “A secret I thought I’d protect with my life.”

And Merlin almost wants to laugh at how absurd the statement is. Clearly Gaius didn’t realize that Merlin valued the physician’s life a hundred times more than his own. “Gaius,” He leans forward, earnestly trying to portray this feeling. “You could have died.”

Gaius only shakes his head. “But if Morgana had found out—“

”She didn’t.” Merlin immediately interrupts, stopping the thought process completely. There was no use rolling in the ‘what ifs’. It did no one good; Merlin had learnt that first hand. “She didn’t count on Alator’s true loyalties.”

The physician only swallows, still not satisfied in the answer. Guilt, fear, and shame swim in his eyes as he looks at Merlin. “I worry that one day I’ll let you down.” His words barely come out a whisper.

From experience, Merlin knows that there’s no hope in comforting Gaius like this. He knew that the man feared losing Merlin more than anything in the world (something that they both shared beyond magic and blood). Merlin knew this and accepted the fact. It was nice, sometimes, to know that someone cared so much about his well-being. He lets the silence carry on for a moment longer before deciding to change the subject completely.

”My worry is Arthur.”

There. Simple and clean.

He watches as the guilt slowly recedes for the grim look that Gaius wears in its stead. And, despite Merlin having wanted to change the subject, he has a feeling that he’s not going to like whatever it is that Gaius has to say. “We can’t tell him about Agravaine.” And he’s right. Really, should he even be surprised?

Merlin sighs, levelling a look at Gaius. Things would only get worse the longer they let the treasonous uncle continue to run off with Morgana. Every day he was able to further his position at Arthur’s side was another day that Arthur’s life was in danger. Merlin would rather they take the chance and report the Uncle while they still had the chance. Call it one of his ‘funny feelings’ but he felt like something big was coming—Agravaine had only grown bolder and bolder in his attempts to undermine Arthur and it had his magic turning uneasily in his stomach.

”He needs to know,” Merlin insists.

”We don’t have any evidence.” Gaius starts, voice low and soft as if he were comforting a wailing child. Right, like literally seeing Agravaine consort with Morgana ‘wasn’t evidence’. At the look Merlin wears, Gaius changes his approach slightly. “And you’ve seen how dear he is to Arthur.”

Even Arthur would have to at least consider the accusations if Merlin brought it up to him…right? No. Merlin knew that Arthur was desperately loyal to his family and would never think anything ill of them. It took Morgana literally attempting to kill him face-to-face for Arthur to come to terms with her betrayal. Besides, it’d be the word of a commoner against a member of the royal family. And, despite being better than Uther, Arthur would be quick to disregard any such accusation.

Merlin’s eyebrows knit together in the center of his forehead as he realizes just how angry he is at the moment. Here he was being so gracious with his prat of a king when the dollophead had never shown him the same consideration. Merlin opens his mouth to voice this sentiment when a knock sounds on the door. Before either of the two men can answer, the door opens, revealing Arthur.

Merlin’s eyes narrow automatically, his newfound anger spiking at being confronted with the source. He quickly adverts his eyes, taking a deep breath in to try and calm himself down. It wasn’t solely Arthur’s fault, he tries to reason. His emotions don’t listen and he turns his head to look at Gaius. The physician looks slightly shocked at the anger he reads on his ward’s face, but doesn’t say anything as the King speaks.

”I think I owe you both an apology.”

At that, Merlin’s anger tampers down a little. It wasn’t often that the young King believed himself to be so in the wrong that an apology was necessary. Gaius sends him a look, a question in his eyes. Merlin’s lips tighten into a thin line before he shakes his head slightly.

”Not to me.” He says to the King, back still turned to him. He’s not sure all the anger is out of his voice, but he continues anyway. “To Gaius.”

”Yes.” Arthur easily agrees.

Merlin squeezes Gaius’s hand once before standing up from his chair. He wouldn’t be needed for this conversation. And, frankly, he didn’t exactly want to be near Arthur at the moment. He makes the mistake of looking up at Arthur as he stands and suddenly the anger is back tenfold. Merlin breaks eye contact immediately, instead looking to the floor as he makes his way to the door.

Arthur catches his arm before he can make his escape. Merlin can feel his eyes boring into him, but he doesn’t look up. Instead, he waits in silence for Arthur to say something. Maybe Merlin does want him to apologize. For not trusting him. For nearly killing Gaius. Instead, Arthur clears his throat before awkwardly saying, “You can have the morning off.”

What?

Merlin looks up, seeing the smile that Arthur is giving him. Like somehow giving Merlin the morning off was going to fix this whole mess. A snarl crosses his face before he can think better of it, and he rips out of Arthur’s grip. He has just enough time to see the surprise on Arthur’s face before he dips into a low bow, formal and sincere in every way that his usual bows characteristically weren’t.

”How generous of you, sire.” There’s a stilted politeness that’s barely able to mask the anger in his voice. Silence rings in the room for a moment more before Merlin turns on his heel. And then he’s out the door, closing it firmly shut behind him.

There are tears burning behind his eyes as he takes a breath before pushing off the door and rushing down a corridor. He just needs to get away. Away from everything that had happened in the past 48 hours and that absolute prat of a king. What the fuck was he even thinking? Did he expect him to just forget the fact that Gaius almost died?

Tears blur his vision as he begins to run down the corridor, not really looking where he’s going. Suddenly, he crashes into something and it sends him flying backwards, off-balance. An arm shoots out and grabs his arm to steady him before he falls to the ground.

“Whoa! Easy there, Merls.”

Of course it’s Gwaine. Merlin curses his luck as he quickly swipes at his eyes futilely, knowing they’re already red and puffy. He refuses to look up but still puts on his most convincing smile, clearing his throat and attempting to sound normal. “Sorry, wasn’t looking. Thanks for the help, Gwaine.” With that he tries to move around the knight, but is stopped immediately by the hand that still circles his arm, keeping him in place.

He must’ve not sounded very convincing because there’s worry in Gwaine’s voice when he speaks. “What’s wrong?” He ducks his head in an attempt to make Merlin look at him.

Merlin shakes his head, his gaze still rooted on the ground. “Nothing’s wrong.”

”It’s Gaius, isn’t it?” At this, Merlin does glance up, surprised at being read so easily. Gwaine merely sends him an understanding smile, a form of sympathy easily read in his eyes. Merlin opens his mouth, intent on saying something, but Gwaine merely lifts up his hand to stop him. “You don’t have to deny it, Merlin. I know you too well for that.”

“It is.” Merlin finally concedes, knowing a lost battle when met with one. He looks off towards the ground but keeps his face angled towards Gwaine as he continues helplessly. “It…it terrified me that he was gone. I thought he was de—“ His voice cracks horribly over the word and Merlin brings a fist up to his mouth to cover the sob trying to escape.

“I know.” Gwaine murmurs, squeezing Merlin’s arm in comfort. ”But, he’s back now, Merls. He’s safe.”

“Yeah.” Merlin sighs, shoulder slouching with the weight of it. He nods mournfully as his mouth twists to the side in another effort to stave off the tears. “I know. And I’m so happy that he is, but—“ He trails off and clenches his eyes shut at the anger that he can feel rising in the back of his throat. It wasn’t fair. Despite everything, he still didn’t want to blame Arthur for what had happened. He doesn’t finish his sentence but it doesn’t seem like Gwaine had the same problem.

”The Princess did something.”

Merlin’s eyes fly open at that. “How did you know?” Disbelief colors his voice.

Gwaine lets out a laugh and claps his shoulder before finally letting his hand fall back to his side. “Maybe because I’m the one who helped you save Gaius.” Merlin nods, confused as to what that has to do with anything. “You know I love my fair share of trouble, but it’s usually the two of you going on solo rescue missions.” Gwaine raises his eyebrow as if daring Merlin to deny it, but Merlin does nothing but sheepishly smile, causing Gwaine’s lips to twitch upwards in response.

The smile on Merlin’s face quickly disappears when the reason why Arthur didn’t come with Merlin returns to him. Gwaine watches as Merlin’ face darkens and huffs out a breath, shaking his head knowingly.

“You’re right in calling him a prat.” He crosses his arms and leans against the wall, his body angled so he’s still facing Merlin. A slight smirk marks his lips.

”He’s not a prat all of the time.” Merlin weakly defends, entirely on instinct.

”I wouldn’t still be here if he was, but that doesn’t mean that he’s perfect.” Gwaine says softly, sincere in every aspect. His gaze darkens, his mouth tightening before he continues. “And his Uncle hasn’t been much help there.”

That surprises Merlin. “Agravaine?”

”Unless he has another uncle.” Gwaine jokes, and Merlin almost cracks a smile at the jest. He sobers quickly, however, and leans forward as he lowers his voice. He fixes Merlin with a conspiratory look. “I don’t trust the bloke. He’s too…shifty. He’s definitely hiding something.”

Merlin nods resolutely. “He is.” The fact that Gwaine thinks Agravaine suspicious without Merlin even having to bring up the subject makes him feel firmer in his beliefs that they should tell Arthur. Maybe with Gwaine on his side, Arthur would actually listen.

After all, a knight’s word holds more value than a mere commoner’s. And doesn’t that thought just burn Merlin?

Gwaine tilts his head, a slow and awed smile breaking across his face. “You know what it is.” It’s not even a question at this point anymore, but Merlin still nods.

”Yeah.”

Gwaine nods back. “Are you going to tell me?” He asks, eyes searching Merlin almost in a new light. He looks as if he’s trying to get the answers out of the manservant with just his gaze alone. Merlin almost wants to preen under the attention.

He lets a secretive smile steal its way onto his face. “Maybe.”

Gwaine lets out another laugh at that, shaking his head in humorous disbelief. “Okay, if you won’t tell me that, will you tell me about what the Princess did?”

And immediately all the levity that Merlin had dissipates. He takes a deep breath in before deciding that Gwaine deserved the truth of this, if nothing else. “It’s just…I told him. I told him that Gaius was innocent, and I told him that Agravaine was lying and he just wouldn’t listen to me!” He nearly shouts that last part before closing his eyes and reigning himself in. His magic is bubbling dangerously close beneath the surface and Merlin knows from experience that if he doesn’t calm down it’s going to lash out.

He lets out a slow breath before continuing to talk, voice softer; His words aren’t any less impassioned however. His hands gesturing wildly in the space between him and Gwaine. Bitterness creeps into his voice. “Even after all of the years Gaius has spent in his service, Arthur was so quick to dismiss that! He said that it was ‘only logical’!”

Gwaine nods in understanding, a grim look on his face. There’s silence as he processes Merlin’s words with a focus that Merlin has rarely seen on him before. Finally, he seems to steel himself as he leans forward and begins to speak with deliberate slowness. His voice is soft and comforting as if to soften a blow and Merlin’s immediately on edge from it.

”So are you mad that he trusted Agravaine more than he trusted you, or of what his actions could mean for you?”

The breath is stolen from Merlin at the implications that statement has. Eyes wide, his breaths pick up slightly and Merlin swallows before speaking again. “What is that supposed to mean?”

”I know, Merlin.” Gwaine’s voice is softer than Merlin has ever heard it. His eyes are sympathetic and he’s positioned in a way that’s non threatening even with Merlin in a panicked state. Gwaine looks around, making sure they’re well and truly alone before continuing in a voice that’s impossibly softer. “I know you have magic.”

And that—that—what? No, he can’t—Merlin’s full on panicking now even with Gwaine’s attempt at preventing just that. He rapidly searches the knight’s gaze but can’t read any ill intent. And that just—“What?” He finally breathes out, not completely sure how his voice is even working right now. “How? How long?”

”A troll doesn’t just say ‘Courage, Strength, and Magic’ without me figuring out a few things.” Gwaine says, raising an eyebrow. And…yeah. Merlin supposes he should have perhaps been a little more worried about that at the time, but in his defense Arthur had been dying. A wry smile quirks Gwaine’s lips as he continues, ticking the points off on his fingers. “Arthur’s Courage, I’m obviously Strength, so that makes you Magic.”

There’s no more air for Merlin to breathe, he swears. Someone came into the room and stole all of the oxygen right out from his lungs and left Merlin gasping.

“You’ve known for that long?” And no, his voice does not come out higher pitched than normal. and if it did it’s because he can’t breathe.

Gwaine finally seems to notice Merlin’s struggle to breathe and casts a worrying look his way. He moves a hand out to comfort him but Merlin shies away from the touch. Gwaine drops his hand, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth for a moment before taking a hesitant step forward. When Merlin doesn’t react, he attempts a small smile. “I have.”

”Why haven’t you said anything?” Merlin gasps out.

”Because it doesn’t change anything.” Gwaine immediately answers. The earnestness he displays knocks the air straight back into Merlin’s lungs and suddenly he can breathe again. Gwaine grins and continues, no less honest. “You’re still my best friend, Merls. You’re loyal and beautiful and kind and good. And if you have magic that means that magic is all those things as well.”

Merlin feels small at the grandiose declaration. There’s no way that this can be real right now. Absolutely no way. Not even in his best dreams has anyone ever accepted his magic like this—not since Lancelot.

“You really believe that?” His voice comes out as small as he feels.

”Of course I do.” Gwaine answers, and Merlin is helpless to do anything but believe him. Gwaine moves his hand to Merlin’s shoulder again and this time Merlin welcomes the touch, even going as far as leaning into the comfort that it gives. Gwaine’s grin grows at this. “You’re you. Magic and all.”

”Thank you.” the words are caught on the edge of Merlin’s disbelieving breath. Then the meaning of those words truly sink in and he laughs, loud and carefree, and just so happy—all of the worries washing off of him in one fell swoop. He lunges forward and wraps Gwaine up in a hug so tight that he can almost feel the knight’s ribs cracking underneath his force. Gwaine only laughs at the attack, arms coming up and returning the hug just as fiercely. Merlin buries himself in the hug, his smile widening until he has to let out another laugh, speaking in a rush. “Thank you thank you thank you thank you.”

”There's no need to thank me for speaking the truth.” Gwaine hushes, but squeezes Merlin in his grip anyways. “But-“ A mischievous note enters his voice. “If you’re really that thankful, would you mind…showing me?”

Merlin pulls back just enough—arms still looped around the knight’s waist—so he can see Gwaine’s face, gauging how serious he’s being. When all he sees there is genuine curiosity, his mouth drops open slightly in awe. “You want to see me use magic?” And there’s no use hiding the absolute wonder in his voice.

”Yes.” Gwaine responds immediately. He pauses for a moment before searching Merlin’s face with a questioning look. “That is, if you’ll let me.”

And does Merlin even need to think it over? “Alright.” A great happy smile appears on Gwaine’s face and Merlin can’t help but mirror his expression. He’s practically overflowing with happiness. “But not here.” He leans in conspiratory, smile shifting to something more mischievous as he winks. He grabs Gwaine’s hand and pulls him along as he starts making his way down the hallway at a pace that is almost at the brink of being a mad sprint.

”Slow down!” Gwaine shouts from behind him, but his voice is colored in laughter and excitement so Merlin does the exact opposite and speeds up instead, laughing too.

What? You can’t blame him for being excited.

Chapter Text

Merlin holds his head in his hands, willing the tears to go away. Today hadn’t been the best of days, Gods know, but he has always gotten through every obstacle the universe could throw his way. Some might say that it’s poetic justice how today it seemed to prey on his deepest fears.

Merlin wasn’t scared of death—how could he be when the threat of being burned at the pyre loomed over his head every time he so much as breathed? No, death was something that Merlin had accepted a long time go.

It was losing his loved ones that scared Merlin. Not in death (though that was a particular nightmare that he suffered through quite often), but rather the thought that after his magic was no longer a secret no one would trust him anymore. No one would even so much as look at him. Not as a nobody, not as a servant, and certainly not as a friend.

Today he had gotten a taste of what that would feel like. And, let’s just say, the reality was so, so much worse than what he had feared. The hatred that had burned in each of the knight’s eyes…it was something that would fuel his nightmares for weeks to come. He just knew it.

Merlin was lucky that Gwen had been unaffected. He doesn’t think that he would even still be alive if she hadn’t been there to help mediate.

And, okay, he knows the knights were under a spell. Knows that the Lamia had taken control over their minds and turned them not only against him, but against each other. Knows that they were hollowed out versions of themselves that thrived on hate and suspicion.

Even Gwaine. Gwaine who had promised that he would have Merlin’s back no matter what. Gwaine, who said that Merlin having magi didn’t change anything—who called it beautiful—had been affected by the Lamia. Had turned on Merlin had snarled with all the hate and disgust that he had come to expect when sorcerers were discovered in Camelot. And Merlin thinks that that had probably hurt the most out of everything.

…And Merlin isn’t doing a good job at stopping the tears. His hands are wet and some tears have dripped onto the table that he had been bowed over. He huffs out an self-deprecating breath, swiping at his eyes roughly. It was time to pull himself together. Gaius wouldn’t be gone for much longer since he was only attending to the knights and making sure that they weren’t suffering any side effects from being under the Lamia’s spell.

”Merlin.” And right on cue, the door shudders open, revealing Gaius in its wake. “I need you to make more—what’s wrong?” The physician’s voice gentles as he takes in Merlin’s disheveled appearance and red-rimmed eyes. He walks over, slowly sitting down beside the boy and wrapping him up in a hug. Merlin hugs back immediately, clinging to Gaius’s robes like they were the only thing keeping him upright.

With the added comfort of his adopted father, Merlin struggles to control his emotions once again. It is silent except for the occasional sniffles coming from him. Finally, he gets enough control over himself that he doesn’t feel as if he’ll be bursting into tears again.

”Maybe I’m not cut out to be a physician, Gaius.” His voice still sounds wrecked, though far stronger than Merlin thought it was going to be. It must be all that experience through the years of covering up how he truly feels finally paying off. Yay! The thought is bitter, though really Merlin should be rejoicing at the fact.

”You are more than capable of being a physician, Merlin.” Gaius reassures him pulling back so that Merlin can see his honesty. There’s a kind smile on his face that tears at Merlin. “You just don’t realize how much you’ve learned.”

Merlin jocks his head, breaking eye contact completely. His shoulders curl up and there’s a sharp edge to his words that sounds almost like self-loathing but could also be hopelessness. “I couldn’t help those people.”

”You’re right.” Gaius concedes, and even though Merlin knows this, having it confirmed blisters something hot in his throat, causing his eyes to well up with more tears. Then, there’s a hand on his shoulder, rubbing soothingly in circular motions. Merlin looks. and meets Gaius’s kind gaze. “But neither could I. They were under the spell of the Lamia. They couldn’t have been helped without that knowledge.”

”I don’t have nearly as much knowledge as you.” Merlin objects, but he can feel the steel hot burn of shame being doused by Gaius’s words. It’s not enough, but it’s a start. “I’m useless in healing—both herbal and magical.”

”Practice makes perfect, Merlin.”

He attempts a scoff but it comes out with a little more desperation than he intends it to. “I can’t practice when people’s lives are at stake.”

“What happened?” Gaius finally asks, giving up trying to convince Merlin completely. When Merlin doesn’t answer, he raises an eyebrow; Merlin swears that evil eyebrow could make even the strongest kings give up their state secrets. “You were nervous before you left, but I thought you did a fine job.”

Damn that eyebrow, it sees too much. Merlin lets out another sigh, just to make it clear to Gaius how much he doesn’t want to talk about this before answering. “The knights were under the Lamia’s spell and…I don’t know really. I don’t know why it’s affecting me so much.” He runs a shaky hand through his hair, opening his mouth to continue before biting his lip, keeping the words held back.

That only gets him a stern look from Gaius. “Merlin. What is it?”

”They—They hated me, Gaius.” The words are a little more than a pained whisper and Merlin closes his eyes in despair. “I couldn’t speak or they would yell at me. If I reminded them of Camelot, they threatened to kill me. If I disobeyed…” Images fly through his mind of fist connecting to skin and snarling faces with anger in their eyes. Merlin’s eyes quickly flash open and stare slightly unfocused as he continues to reminisce about the events. He lets out a bitter laugh, his hand leaving his hair and dragging down his face before dropping to his lap. “Gods forbid I got near Lamia.”

”That was only the spell, Merlin.” Gaius comforts, but Merlin can tell that even he knows how feeble that attempt at comfort is. “You know how much the knights care about you.”

Merlin just stares at Gaius for a moment before slowly nodding his head in assent. “I do…but you weren’t there, Gaius. You didn’t see how bad it was. How real it all was.” It was too real. So real that, for a moment, Merlin had believed it. Had believed that Gwaine had told, had lied, and had turned against him; And that hurt more than anything. “I’m glad Gwen was unaffected. Otherwise—“

”Let’s not think like that.” Gaius cuts in swiftly, saving Merlin from voicing his thoughts completely. He’s not sure how he would have finished that sentence. He gives Merlin an encouraging smile. “the knights will be up and running by tomorrow morning. I’m sure they’ll all apologize then.”

And Merlin, Merlin hopes. “I hope you’re right.”

”I’m always right.”

⚔

Always right, his ass.

The knights hadn’t looked remotely apologetic since Merlin had gone to check on them this morning. Not a single variation of ‘sorry’ was uttered. Not even Gwaine had looked guilty when he beamed at Merlin in hello. And Merlin knew that if Gwaine had remembered what he had said and done to Merlin, he would have at least apologized as soon as he had woken up. So that left only one explanation:

The knights didn’t remember.

Which was all fine and dandy for them, but it was downright awful for Merlin. He had been hoping on the thought of the knights being truly sorrowful—and maybe even receiving some reassurances—to put his thoughts at ease. There had been no sleeping last night, just like Merlin had predicted. Nightmares had plagued his rest. Taunts and leers and hatred were the only remnants as he had stepped out of his room that morning feeling anything but refreshed.

As soon as the realization hit, Merlin slipped out of the room, giving some vague reassurance that he would see the knights at training later that day. He was glad that it was a couple of hours away—he needed the time to rearrange his mind. Hopefully he will be completely normal by noon.

But, before that, he had to go wake up the royal prat.

They had almost gone back to normal after the whole ‘Gaius-almost-being-killled’ incident, though Merlin was now even more wary of Agravaine. They weren’t quite as comfortable with each other now and their banter would falter from time to time but they would get there.

Merlin had actually told Gwaine of his suspicions and from then on he and Gwaine had spent a couple of nights a week following Arthur’s uncle around the council. But Agravaine had yet to do anything definitively incriminating while Gwaine was around to witness. It would come soon enough, Merlin knew (hoped), so to stave off any disappointment, he offered to show Gwaine some more of his magic. The knight was always fascinated and curious, with a certain type of childlike wonder that pleased Merlin to no end. Merlin doesn’t think he’s ever seen the knight more inquisitive than when it came to his magic and all that he was able to do and had done with it. Slowly, Merlin had told story after story of the many ways he had saved Arthur’s life and Gwaine had vowed to help him in whatever ways he possibly could. 

He had grown to completely trust Gwaine with all that he was. He had even thought that there could be something more between them.

Which was another reason why this stint with the Lamia stung so much.

Merlin quickly dislodges himself from his morose thoughts and barely has any ice to cut out of the way of a servant girl carrying a basket of freshly washed clothing. She’s knocked off balance and he hurries to steady her and her load. She lets out a relieved sigh before thanking him and Merlin smiles and nods before heading towards the kitchens to grab Arthur’s breakfast. He grabs an extra roll, enduring a smack with a wooden spoon from the Cook with a smile before heading up to Arthur’s room.

He stands in front of Arthur’s door and takes a deep, settling breath before throwing open the doors as hard as possible, causing them to bang against the walls. A groan emerges from the bed and Merlin can’t help but smile. This is a game he knows well. He closes the doors behind him loudly, quickly sets down the tray of food, and crosses the room to the windows.

”Rise and shine!” Merlin chirps, throwing the curtains open.

”5 more minutes.” The King grumbles, burying himself in the covers even more.

”You sound like a toddler, sire.” Merlin jokes, a laugh brightening his voice. The normal banter between him and Arthur offers him a little fraction of normalcy in all the turmoil that he’s been facing lately. His smile continues to linger even after the final notes of his laughter ring through the room. “I’ve already let you sleep in long enough. It’s time to greet the day.”

The King still doesn’t move, spoiled as he is, and Merlin reaches over to tug the sheets away from him. He rips them off in one fluid motion, not giving the King any time to react. Arthur makes a loud noise of protest, but Merlin ignores it as he throws the sheets onto the ground, a good distance away from the bed.

(He learned from last time when Arthur simply just reached over to retrieve his stolen bedsheets, cocooned himself, and went back to sleep. Merlin hadn’t noticed for a solid 10 minutes, and had had to wrestle the sheets off of him instead. Arthur had shown up late to his meeting that day, much to Merlin’s dismay.)

He looks back up at Arthur only to see the part’s eyes open and watching Merlin in some sort of amusement. He immediately closes his eyes when he sees that Merlin has caught him, pretending to go back to sleep. He even begins to snore loudly. (Which was actually fairly accurate, given how much Merlin complains of the noise on hunting trips).

”Arthur, quit it.” Merlin deadpans, putting his hands on his hips like a scolding mother would.

”No. Leave me alone.”

Merlin presses his lips into a thin line, looking up at the ceiling as if to ask for strength. You would think that after so many years of Merlin being in his service, Arthur would have learned better than to question his abilities. In a sudden movement, Merlin grabs Arthur’s both of his legs and pulls him swiftly off of the bed. Arthur lets out a particularly girly screech as he falls. Merlin tries to hold back his laughter but fails completely, letting it echo through the room as he steps back.

What? You can’t judge him—it’s a part of his job.

”Speaking of greeting the day…” Merlin starts, smirking wickedly at the loud groan that Arthur lets out as he sits up from his pile on the floor.  He groans as his servant lists off his responsibilities for the day, voice almost forcefully lighthearted as he continues. Arthur’s glaring at Merlin by the time that he’s finished, Merlin merely smirks at the reaction.

“Is that all?” 

“If I can come up with more, I’ll be sure to tell you.”

“Shut up, Merlin.” Arthur says, but there’s no real heat behind the words. “Where’s breakfast?”

Merlin rolls his eyes. “On the table. Where it usually is, sire.”

As Arthur begins to eat his food, Merlin moves around the room, tidying up as he waits for him to finish so he can take the dishes down to the kitchen. The room is completely silent and Merlin can feel his thoughts starting to drift to yesterday’s events. He catches himself and exhales sharply, refocusing on making up Arthur’s bed. He may use an excessive amount of force when fluffing the pillows back up, but who's to stop him?

”Is something wrong?” Arthur asks, weirdly focused on his food as if determined to look uninterested in the answer to his own question.

“What? No.” Merlin quickly answers. He cringes; He probably answered a little too quickly. Arthur simply raises an eyebrow at the obvious lie. He shrugs. “Why are you even asking?”

”You’re not doing any of your obnoxiously cheerful humming like you usually do.” He states, and the simply way that he says it makes something sweet in merlin pang. The fact that Arthur knows him so well will never cease to amaze him—especially when the prat refuses to admit that they’re friends. Arthur, ignorant to his thoughts, merely sends him his most ‘you have to answer because I’m the king’ look. “What’s bothering you then, Merlin?”

Merlin sighs, relenting. “Nothing’s wrong. I didn’t sleep very well last night, is all.” It’s not a complete lie. Merlin’s gotten pretty good during his time in Camelot in telling just enough of the truth to not fall under scrutiny. Lying by omission is an art that he has thoroughly mastered. The best thing is Arthur never catches on.

”You shouldn’t come to practice then. “ And, just like he predicted, Arthur takes the answer at face value. The King seems to relax at the admission, continuing to eat his breakfast with a newfound ease. He pushes some off to the side, offering it to Merlin which he takes happily. “You won’t be of any use if you can’t at least hold some sort of challenge against my knights.”

“You think I could challenge one of the knights?” He asks, chewing on a grape. Realistically, he knew he could—his magic would make sure of it. But the thought that Arthur thinks he might stand a chance is kind of comforting at the moment.

Arthur lets out a scoff. “They could snap you in half with one hand, Merlin.” Mirth tinges his voice as if the mere thought of Merlin standing his own is a joke.

The answer makes Merlin freeze where he’s bringing a piece of cheese to his mouth. Suddenly, he’s not very hungry anymore and puts the food back onto the plate. “That’s a comforting thought.” He mumbles, mostly to himself.

Arthur notes the reaction with a warrior’s interest. There’s a crease in his eyebrows that Merlin knows means that the gears in his head are turning. “It’s a good thing that you’re all friends then.” When he speaks the words are slow and calculating 

“I suppose it is.” Merlin intones.

A thick silence follows his response and Merlin can sense that Arthur wants to ask more questions. He opens his mouth to say something and Merlin claps his hands—effectively cutting him off. He smiles and continues with false exuberance. “Well! I should get started on your laundry. If you need me, I’ll be trying to decide if the stench of your socks is more deadly than Hemlock.” He stands, making his way to the door in hopes of a quick exiting, resolving to pick up the dishes later.

”Merlin?” The young King calls and Merlin is helpless to do anything but stop. He turns to face Arthur onlyto b met with a look of pained confusion. They stare at each other for a few moments before Arthur begins to speak haltingly. “You know they are your friends, right? At least those of the Round Table. They would gladly protect you with their lives.”

”That’s their oath to you, sire.”

Arthur shakes his head, immediately dismissing Merlin’s rebuttal. “That doesn’t matter. They would still die for you, Merlin.” His words are sincere and sure.

And even though Merlin knows that he would’ve been strong in his belief of that statement only some days prior, he can’t seem to scourge that same resolute faith now. Instead, the thought leaves a bitter aftertaste like a particularly harsh joke. Instead of voicing his thoughts, he simply says “I’ll be back before practice.” And leaves Arthur’s chambers with a short nod of his head in a pathetic mimicry of a bow as he shuts the door.

⚔

The noises of the training field shouldn't be affecting Merlin as much as they are. They’re noises that he has heard since he first came to Camelot and he’s had literal years to get used to them. So why is it that every clang of the swords the knights practice with cause Merlin to jump? He even had to suppress the urge to strike out with his magic when a pair of tousling knights came to close for comfort.

It doesn't matter, it will pass. Merlin urges himself to just relax and focuses on watching a particularly bumbling bee work its way through the flowers by his feet.

“Merlin!” Gwaine calls, and Merlin’s head snaps up from his entertainment. Still, he plasters on a smile as the knight jogs over to where Merlin is leaning against the tree he has decided to take shade in. “Leon and Elyan want to fight in teams of two.” He begins, pointing a careless thumb over his shoulder where the two said knights were standing on the field. “We’re short a knight. Care to join us?”

”No, thanks. I’m fine just watching.” Merlin immediately declines, pulse jumping at the thought of going anywhere near the knights while they have very sharp objects capable of killing him if they wanted.

”Nonsense, come join us.” Gwaine shoots Merlin a teasing smirk. “We’ll go easy on you.”

”Arthur said that you could rip me in half.” Merlin scoffs, his voice coming out teasing despite the panic that he feels. He laughs slightly, feeling like needles were poking into his skin at the continued proximity. “I quite like my body the way it is, thank you very much.”

”Come on, Merls…” Gwaine raises his hand to place on Merlin’s shoulder in a practiced action. It’s such a common thing between the two. It happens all of the time.

And Merlin, not paying attention, sees the hand as someone would see a flying fist. He ducks quickly, throwing his arms up in a desperate attempt to shield his face from the oncoming blow. His eyes are shut tight and his breath starts coming out rapidly. He only just keeps a hold on his magic, although it nearly jumps out of his skin at the perceived threat. However, Merlin would rather take a beating than expose himself as a sorcerer in front of Camelot’s finest warriors.

When the first blow doesn’t come, he takes a couple of deeper breaths. Despite his fears, Merlin knows that Gwaine would never hurt him and that he has nothing to fear, but yesterday must have truly rattled him to affect him this much. When he’s more composed, he realizes that the training field has fallen quiet and he lifts his head to find out the reason why.

He’s met with the stricken face of Gwaine, who looks like he just saw everything he loves get burnt to the ground in front of him. Slowly, Merlin lowers his arms and takes in the fact that the other knights are being dismissed from training. Arthur stands supervising them as they file out of the field quickly. The Knights of the Round Table surround him in a loose semicircle, enough distance away that Merlin doesn’t feel caged in.

“…Merlin?” Gwaine finally tries, voice weary. He looks down at his still outstretched hand and his eyes narrow before he pulls it back to his side. Merlin decidedly wants to puke at the disgust and self-hatred that he reads in the lines of the knight’s face.

Elyan moves closer upon seeing that Merlin is more coherent. “Merlin, are you okay?” He makes no move to touch Merlin, but the concern in his voice is a touch on its own. His eyebrows are creased in worry.

”You’re safe.” Leon chimes in, voice soft with his reassurance as Percival nods empathetically. “It’s just us here.” Funny how that isn’t exactly reassuring to Merlin right now. He would prefer, honestly, if the knights would just leave him alone because they’ve moved forward in their worry and Merlin’s beginning to feel threatened by the proximity. The only one who has increased the distance is Gwaine, who is looking on with such a troubled expression that Merlin refuses to hold eye contact for more than a moment.

Suddenly, the knights part and Merlin is face to face with Arthur. The King’s body is taut with tension and there’s righteous anger on his face. “Who hurt you?” He asks, the words sharp as steel, but not sharpened to hurt Merlin.

”No one!” Merlin immediately envies, straightening himself up completely. None of the knights believe him, he knows, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to tell them the truth.

”Then why did you finch as if you’ve been beaten?” Arthur challenges, crossing his arms in front of his chest. his voice comes out a little kinder as if hoping to coax the truth. “I’ve seen the signs before, Merlin. Do not lie to me.”

Merlin sighs. “No one has hit me, Arthur.” Electing to ignore the presences of the rest of the knights, he focuses solely on the young King. If he can convince him, then the rest will follow.

”Was it another servant?” Merlin shakes his head, almost scoffing at the thought. “A noble? A Lord?” Again, Merlin shakes his head, losing interest in the King’s guessing. There’s a long pause as Arthur reads his face, takes in the twitchiness of his hands, and the way that his eyes keep darting to the knights around him. 

“…Was it one of the knights?” He asks insistently. Merlin opens his mouth to deny it but closes it when he realizes that he can’t. Seeing his reaction, Arthur’s eyes darken considerably and the anger in his face only seems to grow. His fist clenches around the hilt of his sword. “Who?”

Dammit, Merlin should've denied it quicker. That moment of hesitation was going to cost him. Merlin resolutely keeps his mouth shut and looks up at Arthur with defiance in his eyes.

”Who, Merlin? Give me his name.”

Merlin crosses his arms, shaking his head. “No.”

“No?” He asks incredulously and Merlin can see Arthur’s temper rising. The King's fists are clenched as well as his jaw, his body is taught with tension, and he’s glaring in a way that would have any lesser man cowering. But Merlin’s not a lesser man and he meets the King's eyes resolutely. Whatever Arthur reads there only seems to make him more angry. “How can you say no? Merlin, whoever hurt you deserves to be punished! I won’t stand for this sort of behavi—”

“They didn’t mean to!” Merlin cuts in, blanching at the thought of his friends being hurt.

That gives the King a pause. He stills, collecting the new information. Merlin sees the other’s react almost as badly in peripheral vision, but he ignores it. When Arthur speaks his voice is dangerously slow—promising death to those who defy him. “‘They?’”

“Of course that’s what you would focus on.” Merlin scoffs. Internally though, he’s panicking. He knows Arthur and he knows that that tone of voice means nothing good to those on the receiving end of it. He’s given Arthur too much information now—the King would never leave it alone. “Yes, they. And it wasn’t their fault.”

Arthur’s eyes narrow. “Wasn’t their fault?”

Merlin nods. “They didn’t mean to.”

“Didn’t mean to?” Arthur echoes. 

“Stop repeating everything I say!” Merlin yells. His magic threatens to lash out once again and he quickly looks down in case some gold leaked into his eyes. He takes a deep breath and the magic eases back into its place. The knights are still silent and Merlin can tell that they’re waiting for an answer. He’s getting irritated with the impromptu interrogation and his breath comes out in an annoyed huff. He looks back up to meet Arthur’s eyes once again. “Look, they weren’t in proper control of themselves. Whatever happened wasn’t their fault.”

“And what happened exactly?” Arthur persists, completely oblivious to the switch in Merlin’s mood.

“Nothing.” Merlin snaps. Arthur’s eyes widen at the reaction and Merlin winces, but doesn’t apologize. This conversation is getting redundant and Merlin honestly just wants to go back to bed and pretend like this had never happened. He sighs. “Nothing happened that I couldn’t handle, Arthur.”

Arthur seems to recover from his shock and levels Merlin with an unimpressed look. “Stop lying to me.” There’s pain in his voice and it’s obvious that he’s hurt that Merlin’s not telling him something so important. Merlin feels horrible that he’s causing his friend so much trouble, but really couldn’t Arthur see that Merlin didn't want to linger on this subject anymore?

“I’m not lying.”

The look only deepens as Arthur accepts that Merlin won’t budge on this concept. There’s a sharp wry twist to his mouth as he searches Merlin’s face. “Is this why you were so troubled this morning?” His voice is softer than it has been during their entire conversation. It’s...sad and more unsure, and Merlin can feel his irritation melt away.

The fact that his behavior still seems to trouble Arthur even hours later makes him hesitate. “...No.” He refutes, and cringes at how obvious the lie was. Wasn’t he just praising himself for being so good at lying to Arthur? So much for that.

”Merlin, please.” Arthur takes a couple of halting steps forward and reaches for Merlin. And what can Merlin do? Arthur wasn’t one of those who hurt him under Lamia’s spell and even despite that, he’s Arthur. His other half in the prophecy and the man he knows better than himself. He doesn’t flinch or move, but he does watch warily as the King settles both hands on Merlin’s shoulders and squeezes once. When he talks, he stumbles over his words in his earnestness. “I just—Merlin, we just want to help.”

And Merlin can feel his resolve start to crumble, weak in the face of the usually strong King showing a vulnerability. The King is sincere in every possible way and Merlin is suddenly reminded that this is his friend. All of the knights are his friends and they deserve to know what happened to them—not only because of how it affected Merlin. Still, he shakes his head once more. His last defense.

Arthur merely looks at him pleadingly, sensing that Merlin is close to giving in. “Please.” That one simple word, so rarely said by the King, is finally what cracks Merlin.

He takes in a deep breath before starting. “It happened yesterday.” Arthur smiles something soft and pleased. The knights finally move from where they had been watching Merlin and Arthur interact, not wanting to interfere. Now, though, they move in close. Merlin can’t help but cower slightly under their gazes—even with how sympathetic they are. Maybe even because of it.

”Um. The…the Lamia.” Immediately horrified, wretched understanding dawns on the knight’s faces and Merlin swallows before pushing forward. “What she made you guys do wasn’t exactly the most…pleasant.” He lets out a small laugh that is devoid of all humor.

Arthur’s arms fall from where they had been gripping Merlin in his shock. Merlin looks around at all of the knights and sees the horror, disgust, anger, and self-loathing flash in their gazes. Leon’s fists are clenched in a way that has to be painful, Elian’s eyes are wide and his gaping jaw even more so, Percival looks close to tears, Arthur looks like he’s struggling to pick between being angry and comforting Merlin, and Gwaine looks like he’s going to hurl where he sways, unsteady on his feet.

”It wasn’t even that bad!” Merlin rushes to say. And, really, it wasn’t. He shouldn’t be acting like this and the act that his friends are in pain because of it makes him curse the fact that he’s so weak. “I’m just overreacting, honestly. I’ll be back to normal before you know it. He flashes his best smile but none of the knights seem reassured.

”It’s not okay, Merlin.” Leon speaks first, having known Merlin the longest. He shakes his head in somber disbelief as if the fact that Merlin saying it was okay was the worst thing to come out of this conversation. “How could you ever think that would be okay?” His voice cracks as he talks.

”It wasn’t really you guys.” Merlin immediately says, looking at each of the knights in turn. His need to reassure surfacing with a vengeance. “I know you would never hurt me.”

”But we did.” Gwaine finally speaks, voice fragile in its harshness. Merlin opens his mouth again to deny it but is stopped by Gwaine raising his hand to stay him. His eyebrows are drawn as if this is causing him physical pain. “Merlin, we did. Even if we weren’t in control of ourselves.”

Merlin only shakes his head. “No, you didn’t.”

”Merlin, you flinched from Gwaine as if he were going to kill you.” Elyan says, not unkindly, but Gwaine and Merlin both flinch. Merlin from shame and Gwaine from pain. Merlin’s quick to recover though and continues.

”I don’t blame you. Any of you. You don’t even remember doing it, so it doesn’t matter anyways.” The knights, if possible, look even more pained at his simple statement. Merlin just doesn’t understand. He’s saying that he trusts them. Shouldn’t that be enough? Why isn’t that enough?

”Tell us what we did.” Percival, ever the kind giant (and Merlin can see some of Lance in him—in his urge to help and in the goodness of his heart) demands.

”No.” Merlin shakes his head frantically. “You guys don’t deserve to beat yourself over something you didn’t even have control of doing.”

”You’re trying to protect us. We get that, Merls.” Gwaine counters, there’s a small smile on is face, but there’s a sort of grim weight in the corners that make it look so out of place on Gwaine’s normally joyful face. “But we deserve to know.”

And so Merlin tells them, albeit hesitantly. He recounts the events of yesterday and how Gwen and he had to watch them slowly submit under the Lamia's spell. He tells them of his mistreatment and how they were eventually saved. He watches the knights closely as he talks, taking the time to reassure them that he holds no ill will towards them. This seems to do very little to appease their guilt as they merely tell him to continue with their mouths in a hard line. 

By the time he’s finished, he feels a little lost. He doesn’t know how the knights are going to react and there’s still that uneasy buzz underneath his skin that they might react badly. He tries to push it down, truly, but the Knights’ eyes burn with anger just like they had yesterday.

Gwaine’s jaw works for a moment before he breaks rank from the rest of the knights and stalks forward. Merlin watches his approach warily. The knight stops in front of him; He looks him over before reaching out and pulling him in a bone crushing hug.  

Merlin lets out a squeak at the impact, but Gwaine only hugs him tighter. Finally, Merlin brings his hands up to slowly wrap around Gwaine's back. “I’m so, so sorry, Merlin.” The knight whispers in Merlin’s ear, pressing a kiss to his temple and squeezing once. Suddenly, there are tears in Merlin’s eyes and he lets out a strangled sob before burying his head in Gwaine’s shoulder. 

It’s like once he’s started he can’t seem to stop and he presses closer, clutching tighter. Distantly, he can hear movement, but he’s not paying attention until another set of arms wrap around him. And another, and another, and another. He realizes that each of the knights - even Arthur - had joined the hug and are holding him like he’s precious; something to be treasured.

A chorus of heartfelt apologies sound from the knights as they press in closer. 

And Merlin.

Merlin finally thinks he’s going to be okay.