Chapter Text
It was a weekday not unlike any other in Camelot. The air was clear, the sun was shining, and summer was leaving her mark on the city.
As were the monster guts, but Arthur thought they’d done a fairly decent job cleaning those up in the past twenty-four hours.
“I just don’t understand where they’re coming from,” Arthur grumbled, tossing his sword onto the round table.
“Summer is a time when the monsters are most active,” Merlin said, frowning at a stain in his Official Court Sorcerer Robes as if wondering how it got there (and he probably was – between the monsters and his obscene table manners, it could be anything from blood to Cook’s venison sauce).
“Yes, but so close to the city?” Arthur mused, taking a seat.
The knights were still in the lower town, reassuring the citizens of their presence. He and Merlin had retired to the castle for research, and Gaius was expected to be joining them later with news.
Not that Arthur expected any. A few wyverns weren’t normally much to be concerned with. The only reason he was concerned now was because of how many cattle they’d made off with before anyone noticed. If there was a nest nearby, and more of them showed up…
“Could there be… sorcery, behind this?” he asked, glancing at Merlin from the corner of his eye.
It had been two years since magic had been made legal again in Camelot. More than a year since Merlin had been appointed Court Sorcerer. But while Arthur had grown used to the presence of magic in his life, it would always make him uncomfortable when it threatened the safety of his kingdom.
Merlin didn’t seem to begrudge his tone. Unfortunately, instead of the immediate dismissal Arthur was hoping for, his gaze turned thoughtful. “I’m not sure,” he finally murmured, absently drawing circles in the table’s surface. “I can’t think of a reason why Morgana would be back so soon.”
Arthur rolled his eyes. “Need I remind you there are other sorcerers out there with a vendetta against us?”
Merlin’s dismissive hand wave would have been offensive if Arthur didn’t know how dedicated he was to Camelot's safety. “We haven’t heard from her in months.”
“Nor are we likely to. She was grievously wounded before,” Arthur reminded, twisting in his chair so they could talk more easily. While Morgana’s various sieges on the castle had failed, the last battle at the end of spring had left her with a nearly mortal wound.
He wasn’t sure whether he hoped she would survive another day or not. While he abhorred her continued threats to the kingdom, the thought of her death left a weight in his chest he couldn't abide but didn't want to spend time examining.
Merlin’s dark eyes glittered in the afternoon light, as if reading his thoughts. “If she were dead, I would feel it. Morgana is powerful, and the loss of her power would leave a void.”
Arthur didn’t entirely understand that, but he knew from experience no amount of discussing the point with Merlin would help, so he decided to just take his word for it. “Then wouldn’t she still be recovering somewhere, waiting to strike?”
“Or she could be recovering, amassing another army to invade Camelot. Again.”
That was an uncomfortable thought. They were barely recovered from the last invasion, and all these wars were draining their resources. Other Kingdoms already sensed this, and it would only be a matter of time before they faced other threats besides Morgana.
But Arthur didn’t want to think about that, not when there was nothing he could do to fix it. Not yet.
“I see,” he finally murmured with a mock-thoughtful expression. “And these cattle the wyverns made off with – are they to feed her mysterious army, or will we be battling undead bovine this time next year?”
“Prat,” Merlin said, but a smile danced around his lips. Arthur’s heart sped up at the sight of it. “You’re the one who suggested sorcery. What did you think, there’s a band of hungry, evil sorcerers out in the woods who simply grew tired of hunting?” Arthur went to smack his head, but Merlin, the buffoon, dodged, smirking.
It was only sometime later, when they were looking over reports and a maid had brought them a hurried lunch, that Merlin said, with an air of seriousness, “Wyverns aren’t natural creatures. If there are sorcerers involved, we’ll find other signs. I will do whatever I can to protect Camelot, Arthur. You know that.”
Like always, when faced with Merlin’s sincerity, Arthur felt his heart stop. And then, suddenly, it quickened, leaving a calm thrum in its place.
He hid his smile behind a sandwich. Merlin had quit paying attention, already scanning the reports on the table.
His words were all the reassurance Arthur could ever need.
Arthur and Merlin left the castle shortly after eating. Even though the Wyverns had been slayed and hadn’t done any mortal damage to the citizenry, the very thought of evil magic sent Merlin and a handful of the knights to scour the forest for any trace of other monsters. Arthur spent his time recouping the citizens for their lost goods and making arrangements to breed more cattle in the neighboring towns so they could be brought in the next year.
It took longer than expected, and the sun had almost set by the time Arthur was making his way across the courtyard. He was tired, sore, and just wondering if he could get supper brought up early when he heard horses on the cobblestones behind him.
Merlin and the knights were returning from their trip.
Arthur paused on the steps and waited while Merlin dismounted. When he saw Arthur, he passed the horse to a stable hand and made his way over.
The sight of Merlin in his Official Robes was enough to turn anyone’s head (and often did). While they did make him look quite handsome, drawing attention to his wide shoulders and slender legs that had toned with age, the dark color lent an attractive cast to his features. In his less lucid moments, Arthur fancied Merlin looked like some kind of vengeful guardian angel (a very rugged one, with wild hair and stubble that Arthur wanted to run his palms – and other things – against).
At the time Merlin was appointed Court Sorcerer, Arthur had decreed the robes mandatory. But he’d regretted that decision almost immediately – soon after they’d held court with representatives of Mercia, and Arthur had been so busy staring he’d been halfway to handing over a fourth of Camelot’s borders by the time the noon bell rang.
Since then, he made a point of keeping his eyes above neck height.
“Find anything?” he asked once Merlin was close.
“No,” he said, voice heavy with exhaustion and disappointment. “But we didn’t see any other signs of monsters, so I suppose that’s-“
“Excuse me, sire.”
The two of them turned. Leon was coming across the courtyard, fading sunlight reflecting off the metal of his armor. He was the only one who could manage to look regal after a day spent tromping around the woods, nary a speck of dirt in sight.
“Sir Leon. Any news?”
“Er, yes, sire. If I may have a word in private?”
Arthur frowned, concerned. Merlin looked just as confused as he was, and trying to ignore the sense of impending doom, he said, “In our council chambers,” and led the way.
They’d just reached the hall, about to go through the doors, when he heard, “Lord Merlin as well.”
His unease only grew. What could Leon have to say that was so urgent he had to speak with both of them, and without waiting for the rest of their council?
The door shut behind them. Merlin waved a hand, and the candles in the room sprung to life, casting a warm glow to their features.
“What’s this about, Leon?” Arthur asked, arms crossed.
“This child has come to the castle looking for her father, sire.”
Child?
It was at that time Arthur noticed the small figure at Leon’s side. A gangly one, with dark hair and ratty clothes. The girl – for he could see it was a girl now, in the candlelight – was young. She barely came up mid-thigh, face dirty and hair lanky.
“Her father?” Arthur repeated, brow furrowing.
In a way, she was… familiar. Eerily familiar. Clear blue eyes, a pale face, and dark hair. Wavy dark hair, that fell down almost to her waist. While those features alone were not incredibly unique, in combination with her large ears and gangly limbs, she seemed quite striking. And the ears were ginormous. He’d never seen ears that size on anyone before, except-
Except…
A feeling of certainty, not unlike dread, settled in his gut. He had a sudden, childish urge to tell Leon not to answer just so he could live in denial a bit longer.
“Lord Merlin, sire. She says her father is Lord Merlin.”
The words were like the peel of a gong, striking in the air and leaving heavy silence in their wake.
Merlin.
Merlin. Who, in the past, had relations. With a woman.
He was a young man. He must have lain with one at some point. Arthur knew this, logically. Like he knew there was a maid in the castle who emptied his chamber pot – he didn’t see it, he didn’t notice it, and he tried hard not to think about it.
Now he was thinking about it.
Worse, he could even see the similarities between his friend and the girl before them. And not just in the ears. The child held herself with a certain bearing, not at all deferential. The eyes that met his were startling, clear, and unafraid. She even dressed like him – both her ratty trousers and tunic were a size too large, and likely hadn't been washed since the last frost (not unlike the state of Arthur's clothes when Merlin had been his manservant).
Merlin did not seem quite as convinced. “She’s- what?”
Leon, barely audible over the droning in Arthur's ears, explained, “She claims her mother sent her here, to Camelot, to be with her father. Apparently, she’s been looking for you for years but only learned of your whereabouts when you were appointed Court Sorcerer to the King.”
“She heard- I thought the girl came in alone. How do you know this?” Arthur asked, starting to worry he'd tuned out at some point.
“She did come alone, but she was very willing to explain her journey when asked, sire. And she also gave me this.” Leon produced a rather crinkled roll of parchment from his vest and held it out for him to take.
As usual, Merlin ignored protocol and took the parchment. Arthur, a mixture of curiosity and discomfort growing in his chest, couldn't be bothered to berate him, never mind lift his arms in any coordinated effort.
But when minutes passed in silence, Arthur decided waiting was overrated when one was the King. “Well?” he snapped.
It was evident by the tense lines of Merlin’s shoulders and the stiffening of his frame that he was… obviously unhappy with whatever was written within. “Where did you say she was found?” Merlin asked. His eyes were already glowing gold, but Arthur could see no physically marked difference to indicate he'd done something as daft as flower conjuring.
“In the lower town. She walked right up to us and said she wanted an audience with the King.”
Merlin was still frowning when the doors to the council room opened. Gaius slipped inside, taking in the scene with a critical eye before folding into a bow. “Forgive me, sire, for the delay. There was a malady in the lower towns that required my assistance.”
“Not at all, Gaius. Please step forward. Can you escort this, er, child, to your chambers and offer her-“
“Leon. Please take the girl outside.”
Arthur wasn’t accustomed to being interrupted, much less having his orders countermanded. He should have known not to expect any better from Merlin, but it angered him regardless. Leon glanced at Arthur, too practiced to show surprise, and Arthur made himself nod once in permission. With a guiding hand, the knight led the girl from the room, leaving the three of them alone.
As soon as the doors were closed, Arthur rounded on his Court Sorcerer. “I welcome your opinion in private and encourage you to express it. But when we’re in front of my knights, you will not interrupt me. Is that clear?”
Merlin, instead of cowing (like he never did), glared. “That child is not mine.”
Arthur rolled his eyes. “Yes, well, I understand why you might be hesitant to claim any surprise offspring, but-“
“No, I mean, she’s not mine.” Merlin shook the parchment letter, as if proclaiming a travesty to the room at large. “This- it- it’s not true. According to… this, she was conceived when the castle was under siege. Under siege! When would I have had time to bed any women? Whilst dodging arrows? There’s no way I could possibly be the father!”
Arthur held a hand out, and with a rather petulant pout, Merlin passed him the parchment.
Merlin,
Please meet your daughter, Aislinn. I can care for her no longer and hope you can love her in my stead. She’s six summers old, born on the solstice. As her birth would portend, she has brought me nothing but happiness, and I hope she brings you the same.
Yours,
Marion
Six summers ago. During the solstice.
Arthur wanted to avoid thinking about conception of any kind between Merlin and nameless women, but in this instance, he wasn’t left with much choice. And… well, the finer details aside, Merlin was right; Autumn seven years ago was when Morgana had staged (yet another) coo against the castle. They’d been holed up inside for months, half unsure if the next breath they took would be their last.
Under most circumstances, bedding another would be the best way to relieve tension. Which was why he said, “Perhaps Marion was a former servant in the castle?” and tried not to wince. Naturally he didn’t expect Merlin was celibate, but it was another matter entirely if these dalliances were going on right under his own roof.
“Of course not! Do you think I was in the mood to bed any willing woman with a literal army marching at our door? Besides, you know your safety has always been my priority. I wouldn’t risk it over distractions like that.”
While hearing Merlin considered sex a distraction should have been upsetting, Arthur decided to focus on the part where Merlin put his safety above everyone else.
“Yes, that’s all well and good,” he managed to say with a good throat clearing, “but that doesn’t negate the fact that there is a girl on the other side of those doors claiming to be your daughter. By the Goddess, she even has your ears!”
“If I may, sire?” Arthur nearly jumped out of his skin at Gaius' voice, having nearly forgotten they weren't alone. Then, with a carefully neutral gaze, he said, “There may be a spell or two back in my chambers that can tell us more about the girl’s origins. If you will permit me to investigate?”
Normally, Arthur was hesitant to use spells for anything that didn't have to do with the safety of the kingdom. Even after two years, he still wasn't entirely comfortable with any magic but Merlin's (and it would take pain of death to admit that much aloud).
But when Merlin didn't object, he had no choice but to nod. “Please do so, Gaius, as soon as possible.”
He bowed, and with a long look at Merlin, departed.
At the mention of magic, Arthur was suddenly struck with a thought. "Merlin. When you used your magic? Before, I mean, when the- the girl was here. What did you do?"
Merlin, who had been staring at the floor as if it held the answer to this quandary, snapped his gaze up. More pursed lips and thinking occurred before he spoke. “I tested to see if she has magic. She does.”
When no follow-up came, Arthur could recognize the half-truth for what it was. He tried not to let the realization sting, very aware that almost a decade of keeping lies and sneaking around would be a hard habit to change for anyone, never mind a man like Merlin who readily took the weight of Albion on his shoulders on the daily.
But that didn’t stop Arthur from giving him a shrewd look. Merlin, sheepish, glanced away.
"…There is no spell to check if another has magic,” he finally said. “But... when children are young and have come into their magic early, it can be... reactive, to another's."
"...And?" Arthur prompted, when Merlin remained silent.
"I probed for magic. She most certainly has it." He paused, as if considering, before he added, "I haven't met many magical children her age, but her powers are well above anything I have ever seen before. Perhaps even my own.”
Arthur tried not to gape, but didn't quite manage it. "Doesn't that mean she has to be yours? You're... you. It makes sense your child would be a sorcerer just as powerful, if not more so, than yourself," he said, somehow managing to get past the 'your child' without incident. "And whether you remember laying with a woman or not," he said, and blatantly ignoring the affronted look on Merlin's face, continued, "how else do you explain such a powerful child showing up claiming to be yours?"
Merlin pursed his lips in thought. Arthur tried not to stare overlong at their shape. "I don't know, but I promise you, I will find out."
"There is no doubt. Aislinn is Merlin's daughter."
While Arthur had known as much since the girl had walked into his council room, hearing it confirmed from Gaius seemed to bring the ache back anew. An ache he had no right to feel. Not over someone who was so much a part of Merlin.
"Gaius, it's impossible."
Merlin had yet to be persuaded.
"There were- I wasn’t seeing a girl seven years ago!" he cried, a hint of desperation in his voice. "Your spells are wrong! They have to be.”
Gaius' look was long-suffering. "I conducted a wide array of magical spells on her, Merlin, and repeated them twice besides. Even you would agree they cannot all be wrong.”
"Is she alright?"
"She is fine, Sire. These spells were conducted using samples of her blood and magic. I assure you, the process was rather painless, and no magic was conducted on her person."
He spread his hands before the table in his workroom as if demonstrate said samples. The vials on display were just as varied in color and aroma as they seemed to be every other time Arthur had come into the workroom, but the texts on the table were of apparent significance to Merlin, as he started flipping through them before Gaius continued talking.
“What did these spells do, exactly?” Arthur asked.
"I used a sample of blood and magic from the girl and Merlin. Under a variety of comparative casting, I was able to determine that they share both."
"Both? What do you mean?"
"Their blood is similar, as is their magic." At Arthur's hard expression, he elaborated, "As you know, essence of the spirit remains in a man's blood. As does their magic, should they possess it. Both essence and magic are passed from parent to child, and the similarities therein can be detected with various spells.”
"I thought... magic was the same, between all sorcerers," Arthur said, somewhat bewildered. While Magic had been legal in Camelot for years, he was still somewhat ashamed over how little he knew, despite his efforts to the contrary.
"In a way, it is." This time it was Merlin who answered, without looking up from the spell book on the table. "Sorcerers have varying levels of power. Some learn it, a few rare ones are born with it. But the types of spells they have an aptitude for can change."
"As in... healing spells, as opposed to offensive spells?"
"Yes, sire, the very same," Gaius agreed. "Aislinn and Merlin share similar aptitudes. Which is to say, they have aptitudes for almost all spells."
"All spells? I take it that’s... rare."
"Very."
Mustering up a smile from somewhere, Arthur slammed a hand onto Merlin's shoulder with enough force to almost knock him off the bench. "Well, that seems settled, Merlin. Congratulations. You're a father."
"She's not mine!" He cried, finally abandoning the texts. "I don't know how it happened, but there is no way Aislinn is my daughter."
"Whatever you say, Merlin," Arthur said, determined to put his own... mixed feelings aside. Merlin was his best friend. No matter what reason he had to deny his new relations, Arthur wouldn't let him shirk his responsibilities. Especially if doing so meant taking him away from his current ones as Court Sorcerer.
"But as your daughter - proven to be so by your own spells, might I add - we must treat her as such. Until a time when her mother returns to collect her, we will give her a home here in the castle."
Merlin frowned, finger drawing absent patterns in the table surface. "I... I appreciate what you're doing, Sire, but..." He shared a long glance with Gaius before saying, "I worry for your safety."
That...
That was not the tack Arthur had been expecting him to take.
Torn between laughter and outrage, the only thing he could do was gape. "Excuse me?"
"We don't know where this child came from, and I am not willing to allow someone possessing magic, whom we don't know, to stay in the palace. Especially when Morgana is still-"
"Merlin," Arthur broke in, quick to cut him off. Merlin's eyes widened at the expression on his face, and Arthur didn't make any effort to keep the ire from his eyes, or his tone. "Aislinn is your daughter. You are my friend. Even if those two things were not the case, I won't abandon a six-year-old orphan to the streets of Camelot simply because she might be trying to assassinate me. Is that understood?"
Merlin, to no surprise, wasn't happy. "Arthur-"
"I will hear no more of this. Come greet her, and we will get her moved into her own quarters immediately. Thank you, Gaius, for your help." He turned towards the door, and then rather belatedly realized he didn't know where he needed to be going. "Where is the girl?"
"Out in the hall with Sir Leon. Shall I send for her, sire?"
"Please do."
He did, and a few moments later, both knight and girl were stepping into the room. The girl – Aislinn – had a rather wide-eyed look on her face, entranced by all the colors and objects in Gaius’ lab. Her gaze didn’t seem to linger on anything in particular, until she spotted the books on the table.
That was also like Merlin – no self-awareness, even when in the presence of the two most powerful men in the kingdom.
Before he could decide on what to say, or even if he was required to say anything, Merlin stepped forward.
The faint scent of strawberries, sweat, and horse greeted his nose as he drifted past, close enough to touch. Two steps and he crouched down to the girl's height, angling his head in an attempt to catch her gaze.
"Aislinn."
At her name, she finally looked away from the table. Arthur didn't know many children (or any, really), but the enchanted look on her face was enough to make even his heart soften.
"I'm Camelot's Court Sorcerer. My name is Merlin."
"Are you, my father?"
Her voice was clear, strong, and direct. Arthur couldn't see Merlin’s face, but the tense line of his shoulders said enough on his feelings over this encounter. "I... don't know. But I promise you, I will be making every effort to determine who your father is."
The girl merely shrugged, going back to her perusal of the room. “Alright.”
‘Alright’?
Arthur frowned. "You'll be staying here, in the palace, until we find him."
“I’m hungry,” she said, as though expecting to be directed to the kitchens.
Arthur leveled a rather unimpressed glare at his Sorcerer. Merlin ignored him with, “This is King Arthur. You’d best refer to him as ‘Sire’ if you don’t want to end up in the stocks.”
It was clear she didn’t much understand what ‘stocks’ were, as her expression didn’t change. “Alright. 'm hungry. Sire.”
After a brief awkward pause, during which he could feel everyone silently laughing at him, Arthur said, “Sir Leon, please take our young guest to the kitchens for some supper. And see if Gwen can find her a room. And perhaps also a maid.”
"Of course, sire." He bowed once and turned to the door, only to pause in the threshold. “And… what should I tell the staff? If they ask.”
Right. Thank the Goddess for Leon – if not for his quick thinking, the whole city would soon be overrun with rumors of Arthur’s illegitimate offspring (how anyone could suspect the Pendragon line of carrying those ears, he had no idea, but he was quite certain the servants would find a way).
“Tell them…” he didn’t even bother asking Merlin for help. That mulish expression spoke volumes. “Tell them she’s a familial relation to Lord Merlin. She’s to be treated with the utmost respect.”
The girl practically skipped out after Leon and didn’t even bother with a goodbye before the door closed.
“I’m beginning to agree with you, Merlin. There’s no way that could possibly be your child.”
Merlin glared. And, as per usual, ignored him, going over to shelves and frantically pulling tomes from their places. “Don’t you have reports to see to, Sire?”
“I do, but watching you try to explain away a baby promises to be entertaining.”
“If you insist on taking up space with your weighty arse, perhaps you should pick up a book and help?”
“I am not fat! My belt size hasn’t changed in weeks.”
“If you say so, sire," Merlin replied absently, nose already buried in the dusty pages.
Long used to being dismissed by his own manservant-turned-Court-Sorcerer, Arthur barely paused to give him a hard shove before departing.