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Summer unfurled across Camelot, the last burgeoning days of spring growing warm and glorious. The training field was a dusty patch of bare earth surrounded by tall, wavering stems of grass. They brushed against Gwen's skirt as she walked, arm-in-arm, with Morgana, admiring the way the sunlight flashed on swords and armour alike.
'If you don't want to be obvious,' Morgana murmured at her side, her eyes sparkling, 'you might want to pay heed to someone who is not Lancelot.'
'I am paying heed,' Gwen replied airily, peeling her eyes away from the man in question. A frown pinched her brow when she saw who slumped against the fence delineating the edge of the training ring. 'I'm paying heed to Merlin.'
Morgana's face tightened as she followed Gwen's gaze. 'I thought he was in the Lower Town helping Gaius with the ague?'
'He was, all night. He came rushing in this morning. I told him to get George to attend Arthur!'
'It looks like he didn't listen.'
'When does he ever?' Gwen huffed, shaking her head. In truth, a sleepless night would have earned her sympathy but not her concern. Camelot called upon many to go above and beyond in the name of duty. However, yesterday had been spent cleaning up after another of Uther's ludicrous feasts, and there had already been shadows under Merlin's eyes that morning.
She hated it – hated how one of the best, kindest, most compassionate men she knew worked himself into the ground with barely a word of thanks from anyone. More to the point, she loathed how he refused to take the time to look after himself.
He and Arthur appeared to fall from one catastrophe to the next. If there was trouble in Camelot, the pair of them were always at its centre. Merlin dashed off after the knights with nothing between him and the edge of the blade but a linen tunic, and one day, that would reap its consequences.
Gwen pushed that thought away, swallowing against the tightness that caught in her throat as she picked up her pace. Merlin barely stirred when she touched his elbow, cupping her fingers around the hub of bone and giving him a gentle nudge.
'I told you to go to bed,' she chided, wincing at the lilac shadows under his eyes. He squinted in the sunlight as if it hurt, and despite the heat of the day, his pale skin looked waxy and grey. 'You're exhausted. Why are you out here?'
'Arthur.' He said it like it was the answer to everything; perhaps, to Merlin, it was.
'Well, Arthur can do without you for a bit,' Morgana decided, gesturing to one of the squires hovering nearby. 'If His Highness asks, we've borrowed his manservant.'
The young man looked shocked, as if he thought it deeply improper that two women should have need of Merlin in any manner, but he bowed all the same.
Merlin made a brief noise of protest, shaking his head. 'I need to be – In case...'
'We're not going far. You'll be within screaming distance, though if Arthur complains he will find the line of succession no longer his responsibility, because I will do something aggressive with a dagger between his legs,' Morgana promised, a particular gleam in her eye.
She reached out, her fingers lingering over a hastily mended rip high on the sleeve of Merlin's tunic. It was no small thing, and she frowned in confusion as Gwen offered a shrug.
Between them, they guided Merlin over to one of the sprawling oak trees, settling him in the grass beneath its lush canopy. 'Lie down,' Gwen suggested. 'Rest your eyes a moment.'
Merlin's obedience spoke volumes of how tired he truly was. He stared as if his weary mind was struggling to make sense of it all. Then, with a faint sigh, he lowered himself to the warm earth, curling up on in his side.
She shared a quick, worried look with Morgana before tucking her skirts beneath her and sitting at Merlin's side, more than happy to watch over him while he slept. Never mind Morgana's threats. If Arthur made a fuss, she would hit him over the head with a mace: treason be damned.
For a while, there was silence. She ran her fingers through the grass, enjoying the soft tickle of it against her fingertips as she listened to Merlin's breathing grow slow and steady, sleep pouncing like a wolf to catch him in its clutches. In that, at least, there was a fragment of relief, but it was short-lived.
'This is about more than helping Gaius and basic servant duties,' Morgana murmured, her eyes dark as she reached out, nudging aside the loose edge of the scarf Merlin had wrapped around his neck. Given the heat, Gwen thought he would have left it off. Now, she understood. It was not there to keep him warm. Rather, it hid the damning evidence beneath. Not of some lover's tryst, as she had vaguely hoped, but something far worse.
Long, dark bruises charted the column of Merlin's throat, blue and green and vivid purple. It looked like someone had reached out and throttled him, and not in rough-and-tumble play. There was intent behind the pain painted upon his skin, and a shudder of ice darted down her spine.
'You don't think –?'
'Arthur is capable of many things,' Morgana replied, 'but he wouldn't do this.' Her gaze darted over Merlin's frame as if seeking out other injuries that might lie beneath his clothes. It was not as if they could peel the fabric aside and find out for themselves, but Gwen found herself looking at those quick, callous repairs to his garments and wondering if there were corresponding wounds beneath, healing in their own, slow way.
'What has he been doing?' she asked, reaching out without thinking before pulling her hands back and tangling them in her lap. She remembered him when he'd first arrived in Camelot, all gangly and bright-eyed, despite Arthur chucking him in the stocks. He'd lost that, in the years that passed since. Now he was a man with some burden on his shoulders – something bigger, she suspected, than any of them knew.
Chewing on her lip, she sighed, bracing her shoulder against the trunk of the tree. On Merlin's other side, Morgana did the same, the two of them flanking him like watchful guardians.
Of course, it did not take long for Arthur to realise Merlin was missing. The chime of blade-on-blade fell to silence, and Gwen shot a glance at the training ground, seeing the squire point in their direction. Arthur shielded his eyes against the sun, and Gwen could just about make out the way his shoulders slumped a fraction, as if he were relieved to find that Merlin had not gone far.
There was some general bustle as various pages and squires put away weapons. The knights, of course, turned their backs on it all as if the mess they had made was not their concern. Instead, they were picking their way across the grass, their chainmail agleam as they shoved and joked at each other.
'Quiet,' Morgana hissed as soon as they got close enough to hear her without raising her voice. 'You'll wake him.'
'I doubt it,' Gwaine replied, though he did lower his voice to a murmur all the same. 'Sleeps like the dead, does our Merlin.'
'When he gets the chance,' Lancelot added, offering Gwen a smile that made her heart flutter as he sat down nearby. 'I thought he was going to doze off propped up against the fence.'
'He shouldn't be in this state in the first place.' Morgana lifted her chin, glaring daggers at Arthur, who sighed and settled down on the ground, crossing his legs beneath him as he peeled off his gloves.
'And what would you have me do, Morgana?' he asked. 'Forbid Merlin from helping Gaius and have my people suffer? Give him a day off when all the other servants are at work after the feast? I'm sure that wouldn't earn my father's wrath or anything.' He sighed. 'I tried to send him back to Gaius this morning, but he refused. Loudly.'
Any other servant who had disobeyed an order would have been in the stocks, but since the punishment never seemed to make any difference to Merlin's behaviour, Arthur had quietly given up after a couple of months.
It was sweet, not to mention amusing to see the Prince butt heads with someone as immovable as Merlin. Gwen would have smiled if not for the concern about Merlin's bruises that thrummed beneath her skin.
For a moment, she considered mentioning it, but uncertainty stayed her tongue. Morgana swore that Arthur wouldn't hurt Merlin, and she believed it, mostly. Yet still she couldn't quite bring herself to expose the bruises he wore like secrets daubed upon his skin. The knights might tease or make rude jokes or...
Something stirred in the grass next to her hand: a tiny movement. She twitched, fearing a spider, but what gently uncurled was nothing of the sort.
The flower bloomed from nothing at all, rich blue amidst the green and yellow of the whispering grass. She had never seen a flower spread its petals with such haste, and she stared, fascinated, as it stretched towards the sun, its edges laced with gold.
Skimming her gaze over the ground, she saw another one coming to life by Lancelot's side. A moment later she watched him glance down, his eyes widening before he quickly covered it with his hand.
A shiver of unease painted its mantle over Gwen's shoulders, growing heavier as she glanced at where Merlin's fingertips rested against the earth. There were five there, one at each fingertip, bold blue and glimmering gold, like no flower she had ever seen.
Oh gods, no.
She was not like Uther. She did not squeal "Sorcery!" whenever something strange happened, but there, amidst the heavy, sweet sunshine, she could feel the steady blessing of magic weaving through the grass and reaching up into the leaves.
It was not the dark tempest of threat she had come to expect. There was nothing there to hurt her and no reason to be afraid. No, her fear was for the man wielding the power, apparently in his sleep.
A thousand defences sprang to mind, the words tangling in her throat as she watched Leon calmly lay his gloves down over where another pair of flowers erupted to life, their passage from sprout to bloom more obvious in the shorter grass where he sat.
His movements were unhurried, as if it were no cause for concern, but Gwen was no fool. He was trying to hide what was happening, as was Lancelot, who had spread his hand further to shield more evidence from view.
Percival had half-reclined, but he did not look comfortable. A faint hint of sweat gleamed on his brow, which she doubted had anything to do with the drills he had performed on the training ground. Elyan was no better, casually shifting his weight around as if he thought he could hide the cluster of flowers behind his back if he just made himself big enough.
None of them were lunging to their feet with accusations on their lips. They knew what was happening, and five of the most loyal knights in all of Camelot were trying to keep it secret.
Her heart lodged in her throat as she noticed that Arthur had become distracted, his sniping with Morgana half-hearted at best as his eyes fixed on something on the ground by his boot. He wasn't paying any attention to her – he had no notion she was bearing witness to his expression. She watched the crease form in his brow and the purse of his lips, the way his sandy lashes fluttered before his gaze darted to Merlin.
And then, oh, so casually, Arthur moved his boot to hide the flower from view.
Gwen's voice was choked in her throat, caught up beneath the frantic thrum of her heart. Morgana's, however, was not.
'Merlin has magic.' She sounded as if she had been punched, breathless and stunned by the revelation, her voice little more than a wheezing rasp. 'Merlin has magic, and you all know it!'
Arthur held out his hand, his fingers splayed and his palm bared in appeasement. 'Morgana...'
'Don't lie to me.' She reached out, plucking one of the flowers from amidst the grass and holding it out as proof. Perhaps if it had remained as such, gently wilting in the heat, Arthur might have been able to weave some convincing excuse. Yet the moment it broke free of the stem it began to change, until what Morgana held was like something from a jeweller, all bright enamel and gilt edges: no longer a flower but a memory of one rendered in metal and glass.
Everyone stared at it, she and Morgana in surprise, the knights with something more akin to desperation.
One by one, they turned towards Arthur, looking at him, as always, to lead. Gwen took a moment to examine each face around her, seeing in their features the same dread that held her heart. They did not live in fear of what Merlin might do, but of what might become of him. The knights were the blade of the King's law – his justice – yet here, they showed mercy.
'He's not dangerous,' Arthur began, shooting a glance over his shoulder when Leon made a soft, doubtful noise. 'Not to us. Never to us.'
'Of course not!' Morgana's denial joined Gwen's, and she was relieved to know that the thought barely crossed either of their minds. Around them, it was as if some vast tension snapped, shoulders sagging in obvious relief. Gwaine, who had propped himself up on his elbows as if half-braced to simply scoop Merlin up and run off with him, dropped back to the earth with a grunt.
'He's been protecting us,' Percival explained, his big voice low and soft. The expression he shot in Merlin's direction was thick with gratitude, and Gwen wondered just how many times the men around them owed him their lives. 'All of us.'
'Well, mostly Arthur,' Lancelot sounded a touch apologetic to remind them of that. 'And by extension Camelot, its knights, and even its King.'
A thousand questions rumbled around Gwen's mind, staining her tongue with their flavour. She wanted to know when it had started. Was this something Merlin had learned here, in Uther's Camelot, or had he already had the skill when he strode through the city gates all those years ago? She wanted to know when the knights had found out, and how they had reacted. She doubted they had been this calm when they discovered it.
She wanted to ask why Merlin hadn't told her. Logically, she knew it was a lethal secret to have, but had he really believed she would turn him over to the King and his wretched pyres?
Yet instead, she found herself leaning forward, easing down the cloth covering Merlin's neck to reveal the bruises beneath. 'Is that where he got these? Protecting you?'
The look on Arthur's face would stay with her forever: the anger bracketing his lips and the hopeless devotion in his gaze, as if his beating, bloody heart had escaped the cage of his ribs to lie before him, vulnerable and exposed. She had never, in all her life, seen so much raw emotion on Arthur's face, and all of it for Merlin.
'He's been doing it again,' Elyan observed, his voice low and rough.
'Doing what?' Morgana shifted, pulling a face as Arthur nudged her to one side so he could sit closer to Merlin, his back to the tree trunk and his legs stretched out before him, Merlin's head on level with his hip.
'"Gathering herbs."' Gwaine curled his fingers around the words. 'Probably fighting off something huge and dangerous without telling anyone else a word about it.'
'Why didn't you help him?' Morgana asked.
'As if he gives us the chance. He sneaks off without telling anyone, all in the name of keeping us safe. Gaius used to make the most ridiculous excuses for his absence. I thought Merlin was spending more time in the tavern than anywhere else,' Arthur confessed.
His hand shifted, the back of his knuckles resting oh-so-gently against Merlin's neck above his scarf. Around them, the flourishing flowers seem to halt, tremulous, before withering away, as if Arthur's touch had calmed something wild deep within Merlin's heart.
Gwen swallowed, feeling like an intruder. It was the most gentle touch she had seen Arthur bestow on anyone, no more than a feather-light point of contact. Merlin's devotion had always been bright and obvious, but Arthur was more subtle about these things. This morning, she would have sworn the two of them were friends at best. Now, she realised that if they were not yet lovers, it was not for lack of longing.
'You said he protects us.' Morgana sounded small, as if she were still struggling to find her way through this sudden maze of questions that had erupted in their lives. Yet despite that, the hope gleaming in her eyes was plain to see. 'Who protects him?'
Certainty settled in Gwen's gut like a lead weight, coating her spine in iron and hardening her resolve. She did not need to question Merlin's loyalties. She knew exactly where they lay, and she was more than happy to give them back to him ten-fold.
'We do.' She straightened her shoulders, looking from one face to the next before letting her gaze settle on Arthur, speaking as solemnly as one of the knights offering their vows. 'We keep his secret. We protect him from Uther, and this' – She gestured to the bruise painting Merlin's throat – 'This stops now. We can't let him carry on alone.'
Around her, the others nodded in agreement, the same determination lending strength to slumped backs and easing line of strain from each expression. Morgana looked fierce, something sharp and wild that Gwen did not yet understand lining her features, but it was Arthur's expression that stole her breath away.
Pure, heartfelt relief.
It must have cost Merlin so much to keep them safe, working in the shadows and carrying his secret alone for so long, saving Camelot without even a word of thanks.
And as they all sat there under the sprawl of the oak tree, the sleeping sorcerer oblivious between them, she knew they had all reached the same conclusion.
It was time to return the favour.