Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It didn’t start with treason, of course, but with a simple delivery for Gaius.

„Right, where to today?”

Merlin slowly took the few steps down from his room into the adjacent physician’s quarters, yawning as he went. Gaius raised one voluminous grey eyebrow. „No breakfast?” he asked, looking up from his own bowl of porridge.

Merlin just tore off a piece of bread from the loaf on the table and began chewing. „Nah, I’m fine,” he managed between bites, „I overslept a bit.”

„I know.” Gaius gave him an exasperated look, but then handed him his list for the morning’s deliveries in Camelot. Merlin glanced at it and found much of their regular customers amongst the courtiers of the keep, as well as some unfamiliar names down in the lower town.

„The usual, then?“

„And remind old Devan not to drink it all at once, this time,” Gaius said.

„I’ll try,” Merlin said, „but last time he was too quick!”

He picked up his readied bag and heard the familiar clinking of various glass bottles filled with potions and tonics inside. He carefully lifted it over his head and placed it around his shoulders, adjusting his neckerchief. „Anything else from the market while I’m down there?“ Merlin trudged over to the door.

Gaius smiled. „Bring some sweetbreads from Rowland,“ he said. „I’ll make you breakfast for when you get back.“

Merlin grinned and left, walking down the white spiral staircase with a considerable skip in his step. Gaius wasn’t generous all the time, but on some days, he knew how to motivate Merlin to get on with his job as a bit quicker.

The wide square in the centre of Camelot keep opened to him at the bottom of the staircase. It was busy this morning: horses were being led across by stable hands, servants rushed to and fro carrying balls of cloth or baskets or armour, and Merlin spotted his fellow servant George diligently sweeping the steps of the central staircase. Merlin went through the archway past the guards, before crossing the square. He sent a quick ‚good morning’ nod to George, who replied politely; but then Merlin couldn’t help himself and he whispered „I think you missed a spot over there,“ as he passed.

„What?! Where?“ The other boy looked around, panicking.

Chuckling to himself, Merlin quickly went on his way before George got his bearings. Out through the big gate to the keep and across the drawbridge, he walked around the main keep in the shadow of its high, white walls. The sun was shining and the air was fresh with that hint of warm that still lingers in October before the winter sets in properly. This time of year was always a little special to Merlin, as his birthday drew near.

In front of him, the town of Camelot began with its whitewashed houses leaning over cobbled streets, smoke rising from the chimneys. Merlin’s steps led him down the main thoroughfare, across the big round market space, past the big well, weaving through throngs of people, into the lower town. After dropping off a few potions with Gaius’ patients, he made his way to the baker’s shop.

The small room with the stone floor was warm and cozy. The smell of bread permeated the air, and motes of flour dust danced in the sunbeam that fell through the window. Rowland, the baker, came out of the back, wiping his hands on a cloth. His sleeves were rolled up over his tree trunk arms.

“Merlin! Good morning. Sweetbreads for you and the old man?”

“You know it,” Merlin grinned, and got out his purse.

“Owe you one for checking in on Molly last week,” he said. “Here are the freshest ones, just came right out of the oven.” Rowland gave Merlin two rather large, fragrant rolls and he put them in his bag.

“I hope she is feeling better?”

„Oh yes, right as rain, and full of praise for the king’s physician. If I didn’t think he was too old for her, I’d be worried!” He laughed. “But that’s yesterday’s news! Did you hear?“ Rowland leaned his broad shoulders across the counter and didn’t wait for Merlin to answer. „The prince is back in Camelot!“

Merlin’s eyebrows rose. „What, Prince Arthur?“

„The one and only golden boy,“ Rowland chuckled, clearly pleased. „Didn’t Gaius mention it?“

„He must not have been told ahead of time… Why’s he coming back this time? Another pointless banquet?”

Merlin had never met the king’s only son, but the raw facts of his life were, naturally, common knowledge. He’d been sent off to be fostered as squire to King Uther’s good friend Sir Ector, an older nobleman who lived on an estate south of the forest of Brechfa. As Sir Ector’s squire, the prince had been along to the fighting against the Saxons in the war down south - the knights and guards who were treated at Gaius’s would never shut up about it. Merlin usually rolled his eyes at their hero worship of what he assumed would be a thoroughly spoiled noble boy.

„Well, the prince was leading part of the campaign against the Saxons,” Rowland scratched his chin, dislodging a spot of flour. “I heard that they successfully defended the borders, so the rest of the knights and footmen will be returning home for now as well.” He nodded sagely, clearly enjoying being the authority on important courtly news. „The king always said that once the fighting has given the prince the training he needs, he expects him back at court to be groomed to rule.“

Rowland probably knew the king’s mind as well as any of the washerwomen at the castle who always talked like this. It seemed part of being a commoner in Camelot was to feel they knew intimately what the stories of their rulers were. Uneasiness made Merlin fidget and he stopped listening to Rowland prattling on. As soon as he could, he said his goodbyes.

He continued his deliveries with considerably less enthusiasm than before. On his way through the lower town, he heard other vendors and commoners repeat the news: Prince Arthur was back in Camelot. Everyone he spoke to seemed very excited about the prince, but Merlin couldn’t quite share the joy. The problem was: Merlin didn’t like Camelot’s knights. The older ones were aloof, taciturn, or flat-out arrogant; the younger ones were loud, obnoxious, and rude, especially to Merlin. He’d always had a bit of a target painted on his skinny back, even back in his home village, which seemingly every well-trained bully in the area could see, and his frequent bouts of mischief or clumsiness hadn’t made him popular at home either. Now, however, Merlin couldn’t just run away, and the bullies were sanctioned and armed by the king. And glorious hero Prince Arthur had been trained to be one of them.

Merlin passed some of the resident knights, talking excitedly, and he kept his head down and tried to remain invisible - sometimes one of them would recognize him outside of the castle and begin berating him for no reason. That was the last thing he needed today.

Once the buildings started turning from the whitewashed, two-storied clean homes to the poorer, one-room hovels, he turned sharp left and took a more winding path back towards the outer walls, checking the note he got from Gaius. The further Merlin got away from the reputable market and the nicer houses, the less he heard about the prince. Camelot was a rich town, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t any squalor - that part was just well-hidden at the outskirts of the houses and hovels that grew in a ring around the central keep. Merlin knew his way around and felt comfortable going into any odd nook in Camelot after three years, but there were thieves and worse hidden in the underbelly of the town - and there were places in the lower town they frequented.

After dropping off one pack of poultices to the tanner (his wife had just given birth), he came to three small, connected hovels overgrown by ivy. His last delivery for today was simply a bundle of dried herbs.

He checked his list again and knocked on the last door in the row. When a voice from inside called him in, Merlin ducked into a small room with a musty smell to it. „Are you Mary Collins?“

An old woman stood in the middle of an enormous mess. The room seemed to mostly consist of a hoard of random objects, plants, and junk, with one small bed squeezed in amongst it, and what looked like a hammock strung up between two wooden beams on the low ceiling in another corner. The woman wore an old, thick cloak around her shoulders that intensified the impression of a hunching hag. Her voice, however, was quite clear, if annoyed. „Yes, I am. Who are you?”

„I’m, um —“ Merlin was stumped for a moment. His eyes widened as he took in the herbs hanging everywhere, a few small, dirty glass jars with what looked like animal organs preserved inside,  and the ornate runic symbols that appeared on items here and there between her belongings. He had only ever seen living quarters like this once before, and it certainly hadn’t been in Camelot.

„Um, sorry,” he cleared his throat and pulled his eyes away from a small cooking pot that smelled like nothing actually edible was brewing in it. „I’m Merlin, Gaius’ apprentice. He sent me with these for you.“ He pulled out three bundles from his bag.

Mary Collins came forward and took the herbs from him. She examined them by sniffing deeply and her demeanour changed. Her frown melted, making her face younger instantly; as if something other than time had dug these deep frown-lines into her face.

„Oh! Yes, I had forgotten,“ she said. „Thank you, my dear, for coming all this way.“ She turned and began puttering around in her mess of pots and small jars. Finally, she seemed to find what she was looking for and tied the bundles together with a piece of string to hang them next to other herbs on a ceiling beam.

„At my age, it’s not so easy any more, walking all the way up to the keep. I’m glad he remembered. But Gaius was always a conscientious man. Known him a long time…” She sighed. After a moment of searching, she picked up a few small coins from a purse and shuffled back towards Merlin. She grabbed his hand and put the coins in it quite abruptly.

„Here’s two coppers for the old man, and one for yourself.” Mary Collins gave him a little matronly pat and then let her small, wrinkled hand linger on Merlin’s. Her skin seemed to him paper thin and even with his lack of physical strength he could have accidentally broken her fingers. But then she stepped closer, their hands still connected, and frowned.

A look of surprise and disbelief flitted across her face. „Oh,” she muttered, „…is it really?”

All of a sudden, a familiar golden hue tinged her irises. Before he could properly register his shock, Merlin began to feel pleasantly warm and couldn’t fathom ever wanting to let go of her hand. It was so nice, why would he? She was so friendly, after all. Like a mother.

Her voice was strange when she spoke, almost… reverent? „Tell me, boy, how do you feel about the king’s ban on magic?”

Merlin answered immediately, because why not? „It’s awful,” he brought out. Would this get him thrown into the dungeons?

Mary’s eyes narrowed further. „But isn’t sorcery an evil that corrupts the soul?”

„It doesn’t seem evil to me. And besides, some magic users can’t help having it, can they?”

Something was wrong.

Terribly wrong.

He wasn’t supposed to say any of that.

Mary smiled. „I know that, my boy.” She looked him straight in the eyes. Hers were very blue and there was a glint of shrewdness in them now. „And I can see you know it very well, too. Can’t help it, eh? Interesting.“

She let go of his hand. Merlin gasped and shook his head. What had just happened? What she had done to him? Did she know… or only guess? He had managed to keep his innate magical abilities a secret from anyone in Camelot save Gaius himself these past few years - in fact, Merlin’s magic was probably the best-kept secret in the kingdom.

As if on cue, Merlin felt a curious tingle in his stomach. He took a deep breath and let out some tension from his muscles. It wasn’t easy, suppressing his gift, and it usually made itself known at inconvenient times. But to Merlin, it was still a gift, not a curse, as the king saw it. Under his rule, merely possessing magic, even if one didn’t openly perform it, was punishable by death. Uther had been burning sorcerers at the stake for the last twenty years, and his zeal for hunting and persecuting them hadn’t lessened over time. The people of Camelot seemed to have largely gone along with this; magic was known to be corrupting and evil.

One of the first and most important lessons Gaius drilled into Merlin was to never use his magic for anything. When Merlin first arrived in Camelot, he involuntarily saved Gaius from a nasty fall by freezing him in place. He hadn’t meant to, it just kind of happened. His magic reacted instinctively to danger - but unfortunately it was blind and deaf to the dangers of being discovered. Despite the old man’s gratefulness, this henceforth cemented Gaius’ opinion of his new apprentice’s magic: Merlin’s focus by day became to grind herbs, brew potions and clean the leech tank, and by night to learn to centre and compose himself, to suppress the power bubbling within him, to lie and deflect and to make himself as unassuming as possible.

„I’m impressed,“ Mary continued, unaware of Merlin’s panic. „With you living so close to the king, that is.“ She balled her fist. „If only there were more of us, perhaps we could do something,” she said and her eyes met Merlin’s.

Us. A citizen of Camelot had just performed magic in front of him. On him! Naturally, he wasn’t going to turn anyone in for sorcery. So was that high treason, too? Well, in addition to having magic, that alone was high treason, of course. Could you be executed twice?

Mary must have finally noticed his shock and came over to lay a hand on his arm. „Don’t worry, I will not deliver anyone to Uther’s twisted justice. Not today and not ever. Us few that are left must stick together,” she patted his arm and kept holding his gaze. „Though it fills me with great joy to see a young one like you. How old are you?”

„Um, about eighteen years,” he said, still shocked they were having this conversation. „B-but it’s my birthday soon.“ He could feel sweat slowly running down his back as he fought the panic rising. Hundreds of questions flitted through his head. Was he that transparent? Or did she simply recognise him because she used magic, too? Was that how it worked? Then why had he never recognised anyone else before?

She nodded. „Born just after the beginning of Uther’s purge, then. Well,” she squeezed his arm again. „That gives me hope for the future. Even though I won’t be there to see it.”

Merlin’s head swam with questions. Before he could ask any of them, however, there was a knock on the door. A man poked his head in. „Mum? I’ve got — oh.“

When he hesitated, Mary led Merlin over to the door. „Not to worry, this is just Gaius’ boy,“ she said. Mary patted Merlin’s back and gave him a little wink. „You run along now - Merlin, was it? But do be sure to come back when you can. I’m running mighty low on herbs, you see.”

Merlin was ushered out into the street and Mary’s son went inside with one last long, worried look at him before closing the door. Merlin stood on the path, his heart hammering in his chest. He blinked and took a few deep breaths.

And finally, something clicked within and silenced his fears. This woman was a sorceress. And she hadn’t threatened him, but spoken instead of kinship and understanding. She didn’t reject him or treat his secret like a dangerous thing best kept hidden. She simply accepted it. Merlin realised that Gaius had never spoken to him like that before. He suspected that Gaius had used magic in the past - yet he’d never chosen to share that experience with Merlin. Merlin was different and had to keep quiet about it, that was it. And here was a woman he’d only just met, and she treated him like he belonged somewhere. Like family.

His steps slowly carried him onwards as he wondered if she was alluding to the Druids, if she considered herself a Druid, whether she followed the old religion and where or from whom she’d learned to use her magic. And, whoever it was, could they teach him, too? Could she?

In Ealdor, the village just outside Camelot’s borders where Merlin had grown up, magic wasn’t forbidden. Uncommon, perhaps, and he was certainly the only one there at the time who had special abilities, but not unheard of. The neighbours often suggested that Merlin go to learn from the Druids at the king’s court in Escetir. Apparently, they trained sorcerers there - to serve the crown. But Merlin’s mother didn’t like the idea. There was no concrete reason she would give to Merlin, but the thought of her son being trained in magical arts at the behest of a king seemed to make her uneasy. So, short of teachers, Hunith sent him to Gaius, who refused to talk about magic and trained him to be a physician instead.

By the time Merlin had made his way back to the physician’s quarters, he had pretty much a whole speech prepared in his head. He would finally talk to Gaius about his magic, properly, and wouldn’t let himself be brushed off so easily. He would ask him about his experiences with magic in the past. He would ask about the Purge.

There was a spring in his step. Somehow, until today, Merlin had tried to ignore his magic or not think about it too much. He still faced situations where the spark inside him seemed eager to show itself, ready to jump out; but Merlin had gotten quite good at suppressing it after a few years in Camelot. Until today, he’d assumed it would always be this way.

But now…? The possibilities seemed endless! Merlin’s head conjured up images of himself being secretly tutored by Mary, showing Gaius what spells he’d learned and Gaius finally deeming him mature enough to handle the responsibility. Would Gaius be inspired to pick up magical remedies for patients again? Or, perhaps it would stay a secret even from his guardian, and Merlin could somehow build up a network of secret magical relationships and acquaintances… Merlin chuckled at his own imagination. No, talking to Gaius would surely be the best next step.

Bouncing with excitement, Merlin opened the door, only to find Gaius already in a bustle. Two of their work surfaces had been cleared, with most of the things that had been lying around relocated to various crates around the room. There was a pile of bandages on one table, and Gaius was busy grinding herbs in one of his biggest mortars. When Merlin walked in, he barely turned around and said, sounding a little out of breath, „there you are, finally. Come on, you can keep grinding while I sort out a quick breakfast.“

Before Merlin could say anything, Gaius had taken his parcel of rolls and put it unceremoniously on the table. He found himself grinding herbs while Gaius lumbered around the room, carrying small tools, and clearing the table. Merlin finally understood what he was doing and let out a small chuckle. „Did Camelot go to war since I left this morning?“

Gaius stopped. „Surely you heard - Gwen dropped by earlier to tell me the news. The prince’s retinue has returned to Camelot. The castle is expecting the army to return any day now.“

„Oh, right,“ Merlin’s face fell. He’d completely forgotten about the whole Prince Arthur excitement from earlier. „Yes, I heard. Rowland got all worked up about it, too.“ Merlin morosely smashed at his herbs with the small mortar and pestle.

Gaius raised an eyebrow. „Well, I’m sorry if lots of possibly wounded soldiers and knights coming to see us isn’t interesting to you, but as the physician’s assistant, it very much should be, Merlin.“

Merlin made a face at Gaius’ tone. The old man was overreacting again, as usual. The Camelot soldiers had been successful, from all accounts, in driving back the Saxons, so surely there wouldn’t be that many people with grievous injuries. The revelation that one of their customers was a sorceress, however, now that was news. But this didn’t seem like the right time to bring up Mary Collins to Gaius. He’d probably block all the questions and just tell him it wasn’t safe to associate with someone like that. So he kept quiet and helped prepare their quarters for the rest of the day.

Merlin didn’t sleep well that night. The conversation with Mary was playing over and over again in his head, and he kept turning her words this way and that way, trying to squeeze more meaning from them. Additionally, he was now hearing voices. More precisely, the same voice over and over again. Throughout the night, a raspy baritone kept calling his name, and Merlin didn’t know how to make it stop. By mid-day the next day, with his lack of sleep, Merlin’s nervous energy had turned into unfocused frustration. He kept forgetting what he was doing, and Gaius was constantly reprimanding him for his clumsiness. All Merlin could think of was how much he wanted to go back to the lower town and talk to Mary.

During the day, they actually heard the beginning of the soldiers’ return, with large groups of knights, light riders and footmen spilling into the courtyard to the cheers of the peasants. Some badly wounded men were brought before them without delay, and only when Gaius debated amputating someone’s arm did Merlin fully return to the present moment.

From the tales of the less wounded men, Merlin and Gaius gleaned a rough outline of how the battles against the Saxons had gone; apparently the borders of Camelot were now safer than before. Prince Arthur’s presence seemed to have done wonders for morale, with one or the other heroic anecdote being told several times over, most prominently how he’d saved Sir Ector’s and his son Kay’s life. By the early evening, Merlin was thoroughly sick of it.

Gaius went to attend the king’s council, leaving Merlin in charge of restocking their shelves. Merlin was still refilling the jars when the door opened and two people came in without knocking. Morris, one of the servants of the king, looked dirty and beaten up. The other boy, Merlin did not know. He looked as if he’d been fighting, too, his loose tunic and blonde mop of hair covered in dust. He appeared not much older than Merlin, but was most definitely broader.

„Here we are, now quit being such a pansy,“ the boy drawled, rolling his eyes. He’d been dragging Morris by the arm and now practically threw him towards Merlin. Merlin quickly stepped forward and helped the servant to a chair.

„What happened, Morris?“ Merlin asked, looking him over. He had a nasty looking bloody streak on his arm and some bruising on his shoulder - and probably elsewhere.

„Never mind that, just see to him,“ the boy said impatiently.

Merlin frowned. „Can you take your tunic off?“

Morris winced but nodded and gingerly began peeling his shirt off his narrow frame. He hadn’t said a word and seemed incredibly cowed - and there could one be one reason for that. He glanced up at the other boy again.

The newcomer still stood by the door, his arms crossed, looking bored. „Where’s Gaius?“ he asked. Gaaah-ius, he enunciated it. He sounded high-born. Probably one of the knights-to-be; some lordling’s spoiled son.

Merlin raised an eyebrow. „I’m his apprentice, I can take care of this.” He walked over to his workbench and fetched a bowl of water and a cloth.

„That is not what I asked,“ said the boy. „I don’t care who you are, I wanted to know where the king’s physician was.“ He spoke slowly, as if Merlin was dim-witted. Merlin immediately hated everything about him.

„He is attending the king, as someone might have guessed from his title,”  Merlin said equally slowly, while he turned to Morris and began washing his wound. Morris appeared to be in shock, staring at Merlin openly, his eyes wide. The cut on his arm wasn’t deep but it was full of sand. A glancing slash from a small blade. He gently ran some water over Morris’ arm, who winced.

“Sorry, I have to clean it.“ He glanced at the bully again. „You know, the next time you use the king’s servants for target practise, at least give them some armour first. Or try not rolling them in the dirt afterwards, if it’s not too much trouble.“

Morris sucked in a sharp breath, and his eyes darted towards his tormentor again. More than the boy’s posh voice, the fear in Morris’ eyes should have sent alarm bells ringing in Merlin’s head, but he was too annoyed and tired to care. He put aside the cloth and fetched some bandages.

„Excuse me, do we know each other?“ the boy asked after a pause, sounding incredibly polite, if somewhat strained.

„Not really, no.“ Merlin applied some of Gaius’ salve and began wrapping the bandages carefully around Morris’ arm, whilst the young man looked up at him pleadingly. „Merlin, maybe you should…“ he began, but the other boy cut him off.

„And yet you presumed to tell me what to do.“ He sounded no longer polite now, and his voice had the sharp tang of authority, through and through. He pushed himself off the wall and walked over to Merlin and his patient, looking at him as if he was the dirt under his boots.

Merlin’s pride was thoroughly ruffled. „My mistake,“ he muttered darkly.

„Yes, I think so.”

Morris winced as Merlin tightened the bandage perhaps a bit too roughly. Merlin looked up. His heart was rapidly drumming in his chest now. „Yeah…I shouldn’t have presumed you’d be able to follow simple instructions.”

„Hah!” the boy laughed, but then his face became deadly serious. „Trust me, out of the two of us, I know who‘s the idiot.” He prowled closer and something tingled in the pit of Merlin’s stomach. He wasn’t entirely certain it was only fear.

„All patched up?” the boy asked mock-sweetly, grabbing Morris’ uninjured arm, while his eyes never left Merlin’s.

„For the moment,” Merlin wiped his hands.

The boy yanked Morris up and made a show of brushing down the servant’s dirty tunic. „Now - Morris, was it? - do you happen to know the way to the castle jail?”

Morris still looked rather pale. „Y-yes, my lord,” he stammered.

„Well then, you can show your physician the way.” The boy turned to Merlin. They were almost chest to chest and it was hard to ignore how well-trained he was. He’d never felt so scrawny in anyone’s presence before. „I believe he requires a cure for his insolence, and I hear the cells have that effect on people,” he said, his voice enunciating each word with glee.

And suddenly, Merlin’s brain caught up with him. The golden hair, the blue eyes, the attitude. It couldn’t be anyone else.

Gaius was going to kill him.

But, just on the off-chance that he was wrong, Merlin swallowed nervously and asked, „Who do you think you are, the king?”

He heard Morris’ gasp, and a moment later, Merlin’s arm was twisted behind his back, his shoulder connected with a solid chest, and he was thoroughly unable to move.

„No. I’m his son, Arthur.”

Chapter Text

„And you really didn‘t recognise him?“ Gaius asked for the third time. He was standing in front of the cell bars, an incredulous look on his face. The dungeons were dark, with only a few torches lighting up the various empty cells.

„I‘d never actually seen him before, and he wasn’t exactly dressed like a prince!“ Merlin was pouting, sitting on a pile of straw, his elbows wrapped around his knees, resting his head thoughtfully on them. It was damp and musty and he felt thoroughly sorry for himself. “Everyone kept going on about the prince being this… incredible warrior who was being brought back to learn how to rule and be a king. Not to roll around in the dust, beating up servants.”

Gaius sighed. “I genuinely don’t know what to say.“

Merlin lifted his head. “You could say how you spoke to the king and that you’re here to get me out?” he suggested hopefully.

“The king’s got enough on his plate at the moment. And it isn’t my job to bother him about such minor issues,” Gaius said.

“Minor!” Merlin got up and walked to the bars. “I’m stuck in here all night! What if you need help with a patient?”

“Merlin…”

“No, seriously, an epidemic could break out tonight, or the soldiers could have brought in a nasty disease, you know how soldiers are, and then where would we be with half the castle’s physicians stuck in a cell?”

„And how about the fact that you were supposed to keep a low profile? Not antagonise the heir to the throne?” Gaius shook his head. “Surely I taught you better than to insult people who come to see us?”

“He insulted me first,” Merlin grumbled, “and he didn’t even introduce himself.”

Gaius threw up his arms. “He’s the prince, Merlin! Of course he doesn’t introduce himself to his own subjects!” He sighed. “Well, it seems a night in the dungeons is exactly what you need to get your head straightened out. Honestly, I don’t know what’s gotten into you all of a sudden. You’ve been distracted and morose and not a great help, I’m sorry to say.”

Merlin huffed. “It was only…” …Mary, the strange voice, and all the sorcerers that had perished on the pyres. Gaius couldn’t understand. It wasn’t the same for him. “Never mind,” he finished.

“All right, well… good night.” Gaius turned to go. “And if you can’t sleep, perhaps take the time to think about a few things.”

And so he left Merlin in the dungeons to his penance. It was probably inaccurate in the greater picture of Merlin’s life, but in this moment it was true: he’d never had to live through a worse night. There was no dinner, of course. He couldn’t sleep half the night. The bedding wasn’t such a big problem - he’d not exactly grown up in luxury - but his stomach growled and it was annoyingly damp. And the biggest issue was the strange voice again. Tonight it called his name a few times, but when his thoughts turned to self-pity and moroseness, there was something that sounded like a deep chuckle, before the voice stopped. Merlin did wonder if he was perhaps going a little mad, and couldn’t stop his thoughts from going round in circles. Merlin also expected Prince Prat to release him personally in the morning to gloat, and spent part of the night planning an appropriately snappy response, to show the blonde lordling how little subdued he was by the experience.

Therefore the worst of all was that the morning only brought a bored guard to open his cell door and he was released with no attention by anyone whatsoever. Arthur was the heir to the throne, he was probably too busy to deal with such a minor incident - Merlin faced this fact as the morning light destroyed all his fancies, and he trudged back upstairs feeling considerably subdued.

He took a few shortcuts through the secret passages of the keep, but more to ensure solitude rather than to be quicker. This was why he suddenly found himself overhearing a conversation in the corridors.

At the sound of voices, he slowed down. It was probably not a good idea to be caught slipping out from behind a tapestry like some kind of thief, after he’d just been released from jail. He pressed himself against the wall and waited, and after only a moment of listening, his stomach lurched anxiously.

“…yet, but we finally got the right tip-off, Sire,” a deep male voice drifted through the hallways.

“Good. Well done, Sir Pellinore,” said the king.

Merlin’s heart thudded faster in his chest. King Uther Pendragon was certainly the last person who should find him sneaking around the corridors. In fact, it was generally best when King Uther forgot he existed.

“I’ve gathered a few knights and guards to approach the sorcerer, and we intend to move quickly,” Sir Pellinore continued. Merlin knew him; he was one of the more experienced, higher-ranking knights of Camelot.

“The people who tipped us off might reconsider cashing in twice and warning him,” Sir Pellinore said, as their steps passed Merlin’s hiding place. “We will apprehend him this morning.”

The two men’s heavy footsteps continued slowly down the hallway, Sir Pellinore’s armour clanking on the stone. “Yes, excellent,” the king sneered in his slightly nasal, refined accent. “We wouldn’t want an escape attempt. And Pellinore - use whatever necessary force. If this man has been living undiscovered in our midst until now, it seems people must be reminded what happens to criminals who use dark magic to undermine Camelot.”

“Absolutely, Sire.”

The king’s voice sounded further away now. “This should make a powerful display to mark the return of my son. He will see how…” the two men rounded a corner and Merlin could no longer make out what they were saying. Merlin let out his breath and quickly walked in the opposite direction.

He kept to the public corridors now, hurrying along with a nod and a smile to other servants he passed, and with his head ducked politely to everyone else.

The poor soul the knights were about to arrest. This hadn’t happened in quite a while, actually - most people in Camelot had gotten the idea by now. Perhaps the king had sounded so eager because he had less chances to burn sorcerers. Even so, people being arrested after a tip-off wasn’t unusual, as there were rewards to be had for those who spotted and revealed a sorcerer. The king’s regard was assured.

When Merlin arrived back home, Gaius received him quietly and kindly refrained from making comments. Perhaps he should have told him about Mary Collins then, but feeling utterly fatigued, he decided against it. He felt chastised, somehow, in a way that hadn’t happened before: Gaius was often quite exasperated at Merlin’s lack of decorum towards their patients. But where King Uther was concerned, Merlin always managed to put on the respectable front of being utterly invisible and an unremarkable a servant. Merlin’s magic hadn’t caused many unforeseen mishaps over the few years of his apprenticeship, and they had all been in the safety of their quarters or while they were alone in the woods. He’d never even come close to being discovered. Somehow, he didn’t want to own up to Gaius that he managed to find his first fellow secret sorceress since coming to Camelot and she had immediately found him out on the same day that he exposed his ineptitude to Prince Arthur. It might just a bit too much for the old man’s heart.

So he finished his breakfast gratefully and silently and, as soon as he got a break from working, made his way down to the lower town again. He took the familiar path through the gates, past the nicer tavern and houses down towards the hovels and shacks at the outskirts of town. But before Merlin even reached the place, he already heard the sounds of a commotion.

„How dare you take a mother’s only son!“ an angry voice rang out. Merlin saw that a lot of the neighbours were peeking out of their windows, and the few passers-by stopped in the street. He got closer and his immediate fears were confirmed when he spotted the red cloaks with the golden dragon of Camelot’s knights. His heart leapt into his throat.

„He’s a good man, he’s done nothing wrong!“

Out of Mary Collins’ hut at the end of the row, two castle guards were dragging a defeated looking man towards the two knights in the street. He had dark hair and wore simple clothes and no shoes - it was the man Merlin had seen briefly only yesterday. There was a bloody gash on his cheek, where perhaps an armoured hand might have struck him. Behind them, another knight stepped out, and Merlin recognised Sir Pellinore. He ducked under the low door frame with a clearly disgusted look on his face. „Using magic is punishable by death, old crone, you and your son well knew that. The king has no mercy for sorcerers!“

Mary followed them into the street, screaming and cursing the guards who were putting shackles on her son. He, on the other hand, wasn’t struggling at all, and looked oddly resigned to his fate. Merlin watched, unable to look away. His heart beat wildly, his knees turning to cotton. This could be me.

Tears ran down Mary’s face. She tried to pull one of the knight’s arms back, but he simply pushed her back and she fell down in the dirt. Sir Pellinore didn’t even regard her with another look. Camelot‘s finest walked away, their quarry between them.

“You mark my words,” Mary screamed. “This injustice will be rectified! On my life I swear it!” Her eyes were wild and her fingers were dug in the dirt.

Everyone around Merlin looked away, already forgetting they had ties with the man, even though they had probably known him all their lives. People usually looked away to protect themselves. But Merlin didn’t. He looked at Mary’s son and tried to commit his face to memory. He looked at the guards and especially the knight who’d been so unnecessarily cruel.

When they were gone, Merlin came forward. He noted that none of the neighbours had come to help Mary at all. Perhaps associating with her had become too dangerous now.

„Here, let me help you up,“ he said and gave her a hand. She seemed light and frail in his arms as she leaned on him.

„Oh!“ she sniffed and angrily wiped at her face as she accepted his help. „Oh, those evil wretches,” she said, and Merlin felt entirely ill-equipped to deal with that. His heart sinking, he quickly helped her back inside to avoid the stares.

In her hut, she immediately began grabbing various items from out of the mess and throwing them into a backpack. “My Thomas is a good man,” she said. “He doesn’t deserve it. None of them did.”

Merlin looked at the pack. Surely, she was too old to be carrying a backpack anywhere? He didn’t know what to say, so he tried „are you all right?“

Mary sighed and walked over to her bed, dug under a mess of pillows and blanket, and pulled out what looked like an amber necklace. She carefully placed it around her neck, then hid it in her dress. „No,“ she said grimly, „but I will be. Soon. It is time.“ She came over to Merlin, to look him straight in the eyes. There was no hint of her magic in them this time. “It was not my son who performed sorcery here, it was me. He accepted the blame to protect me. Someone must have told the guards - maybe they said it was him because they didn’t like his dealings with the outer villages. And now they will burn him for it.”

„Wait,“ Merlin said, „people… just lied to the guards like that and they don’t even check?“

Mary tutted at him. „Dear lad, if several citizens accuse a man, and then the man himself doesn’t deny it, what more is there to check?“

„But… isn’t there something we could do? Appeal to the king? Show proof it wasn’t him?”

Mary looked at him and scoffed. “Pah. I’d only be joining him on the pyre. The people who denounced my Thomas know who’s truly the witch in this house.“

„They do? Aren’t you scared of being caught?“ Merlin gaped at her.

“They usually know better than to make an enemy of me,” she sneered, and suddenly she looked very old and ugly, and there was a jolt of fear in Merlin’s stomach. “But it doesn’t matter, now. It’s time for me to leave, I think,” she added, and continued packing.

Merlin shook his head, frustration making his head spin. “But what about your son? He’s innocent!”

She paused to look up and her eyes were full of pity. But she seemed pleased with him, as well. “You really are a nice boy, aren’t you?”

Merlin just shrugged awkwardly. “I just… don’t like this.”

“Yes,” she said. “It’s called injustice, boy. I don’t like it either.” She balled her fist and added, “but I will find an opportunity to get to Uther, believe me. Even if I have to do it by myself.”

She went back to packing. Merlin just stood there, feeling defeated. “I’ve never met anyone like you… one of us, before,” he said quietly. “I only saw them on the pyre, and wondered.”

Mary only sighed in response.

“It’s just that… I have so many questions! And when you leave, there’s nobody I ask about my— my— you know. I don’t know anything about it and whenever I asked Gaius, he only said…,” suddenly Merlin paused. A thought struck him and began to grow into an idea… a mad plan… surely he couldn’t?

“What?” asked Mary.

Merlin let out a breath and a smile formed on his face. It would be so reckless. Gaius hated recklessness. You’ll end up getting arrested, he’d say.

“I think I know how to get your son out.”

“You do?” She narrowed her eyes.

“Yes,” Merlin cocked an eyebrow. “All I have to do is get thrown into jail again. And I know someone who will be happy to do just that.”

Merlin returned to the upper town, and thanks to Camelot’s steady gossip mill, only had to chat to a few of the maids to find out what Prince Arthur was doing: predictably, the renowned hero was at the castle training grounds. Merlin didn’t come here often, because he wasn’t usually interested in people practising hitting each other with sticks; but generally commoners and nobles alike stopped by here for some entertainment during their day. Today, it seemed busier than usual, as people all wanted to get a good look at the royal heir. Prince Arthur was at the centre of the grassy training ground, getting instructed by the king‘s battle master, an older, distinguished looking man with greying temples and a strong voice.

Even though Merlin knew nothing about fighting, he could tell the prince certainly did. Arthur moved like in a dance, despite the heavy armour he was wearing. He showed good form, yet the battle master kept calling out things to improve, like ‘steady on your feet!’ or ‘don’t lower your arm too far’. It looked exhausting, Merlin had to give him that.

Suddenly, Arthur performed a particularly good move and landed a blow against the battle master‘s armour. Arthur received shouts of praise, both from his instructor and some actual clapping from the impromptu audience. Merlin noted quite a few girls in the gathered folks, forming small, giggling units. Arthur took his training helmet off and looked around with a big smile, clearly pleased.

Any budding respect was immediately doused. The guy needed to be taken down a peg.

He waited for Arthur in the armoury. For an excuse, he’d grabbed a broom and was innocently sweeping the floor, when, sure enough, after a few minutes, Arthur came in from the training grounds, wiping his face with his sleeve. He was out of his armour already and quite sweaty and dirty from his practise session. When he spotted Merlin, he stopped short.

“Not beating up anyone else today?” Merlin said, trying to start off deliberately rude, leaning insolently on his broom. Even so, his heart was fluttering in his chest - it was hard to ignore the basic fear from insulting someone who could probably kill you quite easily.

Arthur shook his head in disbelief. “That can always be arranged.”

“Careful,” Merlin said. “I’m stronger than I look.”

To Merlin’s surprise, Arthur threw his head back and laughed. “I may be tired, but I could still take you apart with one blow,” he said.

“I could take you apart with less than that,” Merlin said quietly and cocked an eyebrow.

Arthur made a face of mock-disbelief. “Oh really,” he grinned.

In response, Merlin put his broom aside and began taking his jacket off. Arthur laughed again. “Are you serious? You’re challenging me?”

Merlin shrugged. “Not enough fawning girls in here to watch you?”

Arthur’s eyes narrowed. “Very well,” he said. “You brought this on yourself,” he added with a condescending sneer. He marched forward and pushed into Merlin with his shoulder as he walked past, and Merlin stumbled.

Arthur scoffed and grabbed two maces from the wall, throwing one to Merlin. Merlin didn‘t react quickly and it clattered to the floor. He picked it up, hoping he hadn’t made a really, really stupid mistake. The mace was probably the heaviest thing he’d ever held.

Arthur gestured to the door, and Merlin stumbled more than walked back outside into the cobbled street.

“I warn you,” Arthur said politely, advancing, swinging his mace over his head. “I’ve been trained to kill since birth.”

Merlin held on to the mace with both hands and took a few steps back. “Wow. And how long have you been training to be a prat?”

Arthur laughed again, but this time it seemed less amused. “You can’t address me like that.”

“Oh, sorry,” Merlin said. “How long have you been training to be a prat, my lord?”

That did it. Prince Arthur advanced properly, quickly getting close with the mace. Merlin darted left and right, still walking backwards, and made some unsuccessful attempts to bat at Arthur’s mace with his own, but he was obviously entirely untrained. Another swing nearly missed him and with another step of retreat, Merlin found himself back in the streets of the upper town. People quickly made space for them, gasps, and shouts of “the prince!” following them.

“Don’t just run away!” Arthur whined, and Merlin rejoiced in how annoyed he sounded. Suddenly, he had an idea: he wasn’t trained in using weapons, but there was one weapon at his disposal to even the playing field a little. He only had to be careful not to be seen, otherwise his intended trip to the dungeon would be his last.

A bucket stood just in the right place, and before he could second-guess himself, he lowered his gaze and let his power flow. His magic rejoiced, and the feeling sizzling through him was like a persistent itch that was finally getting scratched. It was intoxicating. He knew his eyes were turning golden, as any sorcerers‘ did. So he kept his lids down, bumping into another person, but it worked: The bucket moved over just a little and Arthur’s foot landed right in it.

Arthur stumbled and Merlin found his opening to finally dance around the prat a little more. He laughed recklessly and weaved through a few market stalls, keeping an eye on Arthur, who looked properly annoyed now. Merlin stepped around and found the opportunity to attack with his mace, and their weapons actually clashed once or twice. It was more than Merlin had expected. His arms were getting tired.

“I guess I can see why you don’t usually arm your opponents,” he called, and saw Arthur roll his eyes rather comically.

“You really have a death wish,” he groaned and advanced.

Unfortunately, people made way for the prince, but not for Merlin. He found himself surrounded quickly, and didn’t get another opening to use his magic again, not unless he wanted a dozen witnesses. He valiantly swung his mace, but the prince needed only one elegant shove and twist to disarm him. Merlin stumbled backwards and hit his head sharply on something. A disoriented moment later, Arthur was standing over him, his golden hair gleaming in the sun behind him. The heavy mace rested painfully on Merlin’s chest.

“I yield,” he muttered meekly.

“I’ll say,” Arthur sneered and removed the mace. Two guards appeared next to him and picked Merlin roughly up from the ground, holding him between them. There was a dull throbbing at the back of his head.

Arthur looked at him and shook his head. “What was your name again?”

“Merlin?”

“You’re an idiot, Merlin,” Arthur said decisively. “A brave one, I’ll give you that, and you entertained me for a few minutes, so I won’t put you in the stocks today.” His expression turned mocking again. “But perhaps a nice rest will help you think about your rudeness and what you’ve done. Perhaps you’ll stop doing it,” he added with an eye-roll at the guards, who laughed as if on cue. Arthur nodded at them and Merlin was taken away.

Only when his back was turned to Arthur, did Merlin allow himself a small smile.

Later in the day, Gaius came to visit Merlin’s cell in the dungeons for the second time in as many days. He surreptitiously handed him a small vial through the bars. “I heard what happened. Here, that will help with the swelling on your head.”

“Thanks,” Merlin said, a little sheepishly, but he also couldn’t keep the sense of triumph off his face. When he’d been brought in, they put him in the same cell as last time. And in the bigger one near the staircase, he had spotted Thomas Collins.

He quickly drunk the bitter potion and shook his head. “Ugh.”

“Listen, Merlin,” Gaius said, coming closer to the bars. “I don’t know what it is you’re doing, but you need to stop. Antagonising the prince like that… This isn’t a joke - the king was told about your fight and he is most displeased. He asked me to come and see him and I will do my best to get you released, but—“

“Gaius, no,” Merlin interrupted.

“What?”

“Don’t get me released early, please.”

One bushy eyebrow went up. “Don’t tell me you like this place. Surely your quarters aren’t that bad?”

Merlin came closer as well and lowered his voice. “I talked to Mary Collins.”

“You delivered some herbs to her, didn’t you?”

Merlin nodded to the other cell. “His mother.”

Gaius’ eyes went wide. “I didn’t realise she… she never mentioned having a son.”

“Gaius, he’s innocent. She’s the one with the magic. And she…” he lowered his voice further. “She recognised me as well!”

Suddenly, Gaius’ whole face changed. He went pale and gripped the bars of the cell tightly. “Did she confess her powers to you? What happened?”

“She held my hand and asked me some questions and then she said it was fine and that she wouldn’t betray another one of us to Uther’s murdering.”

“Damn it, Merlin!” Gaius hissed and looked around quickly. “And you believed her? What if she had tried to exchange your life for her son’s?”

Merlin waved that away. “No, she didn’t want that. She just wants her son to go free.”

Gaius’s face was white as a sheet now, his voice shaken. “Merlin, she clearly used some kind of spell on you. She might have deceived you, tricked you! Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, Gaius! He’ll be executed tomorrow. He’s innocent, he doesn’t deserve to die!”

Gaius took a deep breath and ran his hand over his face. “No. A lot of them don’t. That doesn’t mean you should put yourself in his place. What are you going to do? You can’t help him from here!”

“I have a plan, trust me.”

“You can’t mean… by the Gods, I don’t think you’re aware of the kind of danger you’re in, my boy…”

“Gaius, please. Please… I have to try.”

Finally, Gaius was quiet and simply looked at Merlin. He sighed heavily and briefly rested his hand on Merlin’s fingers on the bars. “Yes, I know you do. But promise me to be… careful?”

“I will.”

„I mean it, Merlin. I don‘t want to watch two sorcerers getting executed tomorrow. I couldn‘t bear it.“

Merlin swallowed at Gaius‘ earnest look. The man didn‘t exactly shower him with affection the rest of the time, so it was nice to see he cared.

„I promise, Gaius.“

Gaius nodded once, his face becoming more of his usual self again. “Well. I better go talk to the king so he doesn’t suddenly decide to execute my apprentice for insulting the prince. And when you get home, we’re having a talk about… this.”

“Thank you!” Merlin called after him, then settled back on his pile of straw, to wait his turn to be a hero. Only after Gaius’ steps had faded, did Merlin realise that he’d never seen his mentor so afraid before.

It turned out that being a hero was easier to plan than to actually accomplish. Merlin had intended to wait until the guards were either asleep or distracted to talk to Thomas. He wanted to warn the man that he was going to create a distraction, open his cell door and point him towards the exit.

The core of Merlin‘s plan was his knowledge of Camelot keep. Much like he used his secret passages and alcoves when he hid from the king, he’d guide Thomas through the succession of corridors and doorways to avoid detection. During the night, they could slip into the physician’s quarters, and then escape at daybreak. Maybe a disguise would be involved. At midnight, Merlin still considered this plan foolproof.

However, the supposed sorcerer was under constant guard - Merlin should have expected it, really - and he wasn‘t sure how he could let him know when to make a run for it. If he even wanted to. Thomas sat so dejectedly in the furthest corner of his cell, his head down, that he may have been dead already. What if Merlin couldn‘t persuade him to come with him?

For the rest of the night, Merlin watched guards change shift, get served some food and chat amicably. Thomas ignored the food that was thrown into his cell and didn‘t move from his corner. Merlin was given some scraps and a jug of water that he drank greedily. Then he spent an hour trying to come up with ways that possibly broken shards of the clay jug might help in Thomas‘ escape.

As the morning approached, Merlin became more desperate. He had to stage the rescue attempt during darkness, so his time was quickly running out.

Finally, Merlin heard a guard patrol in the courtyard - the first of the new day. Thomas would have to use the few remaining hours of darkness to get away from Camelot - he couldn‘t wait any longer. He glanced towards the guards and when their backs were turned, he let go of his control over his magic again and let it flow gently into the lock of his cell. The familiar feeling dissipated some of his doubts and silenced his fears. He was powerful, wasn’t he? He could do this with magic, easily. He heard a quiet click in his lock and made his way towards the door. He would simply have to create a loud distraction and then use the commotion to open Thomas‘ cell and run and make sure the guards didn’t see him.

Suddenly, just before his hand was on the cell door, Merlin heard a voice. Merlin…

Merlin jumped; his heart began to race. It was the same voice he had heard before, tormenting him all night. He looked around frantically. Was it Thomas, or another sorcerer…?

I wouldn‘t be so quick to gamble away secrecy, young warlock, continued the voice. It was deep and gravelly and… old.

„Who‘s there?“ Merlin whispered.

I will help, said the voice, as if it hadn’t heard his question.

Immediately, the walls of the castle shook and there was a low rumble. Merlin saw the guards jump up. They frantically talked to each other, and one rushed over to Thomas‘ cell with a lantern. But Thomas hadn‘t moved, he just looked up and seemed just as surprised as the guards.

They shouted at him to stop his evil magic, when another guardsman shouted for help from up the stairs. The guards at the cell looked at each other. “I’m not staying down her alone with the sorcerer,” said the one, and the other looked fearfully into the cell. “Come on,” he said, sounding unsure. “He’s not going anywhere.” Both rushed up the stairs.

Merlin didn’t need to be told twice that this was his distraction. He quickly pushed open the cell door. He darted over to Thomas‘ cell. “Hey!“

Thomas looked up and his eyes widened when he noticed Merlin. He got up. „What‘s going on?“ he asked.

„I‘m getting you out of here,“ Merlin said. With no attempt to hide what he was doing, he focused his mind on the lock; in Merlin’s haste, the lock broke apart with a crack. He decided not to worry about it and opened the door. Thomas stared at him in shock. „You‘re a sorcerer!“

„Yes, and your mother tells me you‘re not,“ Merlin quipped, smiling when Thomas came forward. „So I’m here to get you out. Come on, I know all the secret passages.“

“You were with her, yesterday.” Thomas said. “Is she alright?”

“She will be,” Merlin said. “But we have to go!”

Suddenly, there was another rumble in the castle walls, and the voice in Merlin’s head spoke. The corridors are not safe, young warlock. Choose the darkest way, and your magic will guide you into the light, it rasped, and Merlin’s eyes were immediately drawn to a dark passage leading further into the dungeon.

“But I don’t know that way,” he whispered, frowning. He’d been relying on his knowledge of the castle upstairs. Down here, however…

“What?” asked Thomas.

Merlin hesitated only a moment. “Nothing. Follow me.”

Thomas followed him immediately as Merlin walked past a row of empty cells, down the dark passage, deeper into the dungeons. Merlin was very glad the dungeons weren’t full of people at the moment, but perhaps this part of the jails rarely was: The further they followed the passage, the more dilapidated the cells became. They turned a corner and were enveloped almost completely in darkness. Merlin stretched out his arm and found the crumbly stone wall under his palm. Thomas bumped into him and whispered an apology, then froze when his voice echoed slightly. But behind them in the dungeon, all was silent. Whatever crisis had called the guards away, they hadn’t returned yet.

Let your magic guide you.

As he relaxed the grip on the inner core of his powers, the magic crawled out of his fingertips, his head, his feet, into the stones around them. Merlin breathed out, feeling his way forward, stretching this way and that way into the darkness. He suddenly noticed a small heartbeat and followed it… but it was only a rat. But, from that same direction, came a difference in the air, like a small draft. Perhaps it could lead them to a secret exit.

„Take my hand,“ Merlin whispered, and Thomas did.

Grounded by the warm palm against his, and tugged forward by his magic, Merlin led them into the darkness, along a winding, downward tilting path. Finally, they reached a blank stone wall, and Merlin let his magic guide his hand again. He felt a connection to the magic slumbering within the very stones here: Someone had made this passage with magic - perhaps they could be opened with magic as well. He placed his palm on a stone, and with a soft grating noise, the bricks moved aside to present a narrow doorway.

„Incredible,“ Thomas breathed.

Merlin smiled in the darkness as they squeezed through. Behind them, the opening shut and they stood in another tight passage, this time with packed dirt walls, smelling of cold earth. A tiny sliver of light had found its way down here and they continued single-file. With outstretched hands, Merlin led them steadily upwards again, until he came to another stone wall. He held out his hands and a second secret gateway opened for him. Fresh air surrounded them as they emerged outside the keep - the tunnels had taken them out under the walls themselves. He looked around and noted there was a large strip of greenery surrounding the wall, which connected to densely forested countryside beyond.

„How do you do that?“ Thomas whispered.

Merlin chuckled. „I thought that much was obvious.“

„No, I mean, how do you cast a spell without… saying anything“

Merlin frowned at the odd question. „It’s always been like that. It just… happens.“

In the dim light of the pre-dawn, Merlin had a hard time guessing Thomas‘ expression, but he got the feeling the man was gaping a little.

„This is as far as I‘ll go,“ Merlin said quietly. „I have to be asleep in my cell when they come back.“

„Wait, how can I ever thank you—“

„Just… be safe,“ Merlin whispered, suddenly abashed.

Thomas clasped him on the arm. „What was your name again?“

„Merlin.“

„Listen, Merlin, I will never forget what you did for me. And I‘ll tell you one thing. A gift like yours is rare. My mother is quite powerful, and she cannot use magic like this. Be careful with it and who you show it to.“

Questions rose in his throat. Once again, here was a man who might have answered a few of them, one of these nebulous „us“ his mother had spoken of. „Thank you. I wish… but there isn’t time. You need to get to the forest before it gets light. Goodbye.“

He didn’t wait for Thomas to make a move and turned his back, before he could be tempted to ask more and more. He quickly dashed back into the tunnel, grinning broadly in the darkness. Merlin, elated hero, saviour of innocently accused men, found his way back to the dungeons, and back into his cell, thoroughly pleased with what he’d done.

Chapter Text

Merlin didn‘t have to wait long. He carefully re-locked both his and Thomas‘ cell, and then laid back on his wooden cot, looking out of the small, barred window at the morning sky, thinking. The voice did not come into his head again. Had he imagined the whole thing? Maybe his intuition sent him magical warnings in form of a voice?

Then the guards returned, looking exhausted and grumbling about chasing ghosts - so Merlin figured the distraction had certainly been real. Unfortunately for the guards, rest was not to be had. They discovered Thomas’ empty cell immediately, and the dungeon became a chaos of shouts, frantic searching, the arrival of more guards and finally the Captain of the Guard.

The man was older, with greying temples and beard, and carried himself with the dispassionate weightiness of long experience. When he approached, Merlin stretched himself and rubbed his neck a little as if he’d just woken up.

“You’re Gaius’ boy, aren’t you?” he said, as one leather-clad hand grasped the bars.

“Yes,” Merlin said, standing up and coming into the light. “What’s happened?”

“Perhaps you can tell me,” he said, seemingly completely unperturbed that Merlin was in the cell in the first place. “Did you see the man who was imprisoned over there yesterday?”

Merlin craned his neck a little. “Yes? The sorcerer?”

“He’s gone.”

“Oh,” Merlin said, praying that he sounded appropriately uninvolved.

The Captain’s dark eyes searched his. “Hm,” he grumbled. “Did you see him open his door? Run away?”

A knot formed in Merlin’s chest. He’d perhaps been a little sneaky in the past - stolen some food from the kitchen to eat with his friend Gwen on the tower banisters; perhaps he’d hidden from doing Gaius’ chores a few times. But he had never been anything but truthful to the guards or knights before. Nobody had ever interrogated him about magic or suspected him of any wrongdoing, so he’d never had to lie about it before. His heartbeat sped up and his magic curled dangerously ready in the pit of his stomach.

“No, I was asleep. Sorry,” he added quickly.

“Hm,” the Captain grumbled again, and Merlin had no clue whether this was good or bad news. “Did you know him?”

This one was easy, because it was true. “I’d delivered herbs from Gaius to their house once or twice,” he said, feeling a little relieved.

“Ever notice anything strange?”

Merlin shrugged. “The hut was a bit messy,” he admitted, “but I never saw any magic there, if that’s what you mean.”

“Hm.” He scratched his beard. “And why were you in here?”

Now Merlin had to look down to hide a smile. “I, uh… ‘antagonized’ Prince Arthur.”

“Hah,” the Captain laughed. “Did you now? Well.” He turned to his guards. “I think one night’s penance enough for that. Let him out.”

Merlin grinned a little, but the Captain’s shrewd eyes immediately caught his. “Now don’t you go spreading words about anything, young man, are we clear?”

Merlin nodded earnestly. “Clear.” He stepped out when his door was opened. “Thank you,” he added, before hastily making his way out.

Gaius looked up from his breakfast when Merlin came in, still a little breathless. Merlin tried to put a neutral expression on his face. For a moment, they just looked at each other. Then Gaius sighed. „Well, don‘t just stand there, sit down. Have some porridge.“

Merlin smiled gratefully and joined Gaius. After a few minutes, Gaius said casually, „so, apparently there was an escape last night.“

„Oh, yes,“ Merlin shrugged.

„Prince Arthur and his best knights have already ridden out to chase the sorcerer.“ Gaius raised an eyebrow. „They‘re not back yet.“

„Must have a good head-start,“ Merlin said, but couldn‘t quite keep the smirk off his face any longer. He looked up to see Gaius give him an incredulous smile.

„Merlin!“

„Yes?“

„You freed a convicted sorcerer from the king‘s own prison! What would your mother say?” he hissed under his breath.

„…’Good job’?“ Merlin volunteered with a hopeful look.

Gaius shook his head. „I swear, one day you‘ll be the death of me, my boy. However did you do it?“

„Oh, there are some secret passages down there,“ Merlin waved his spoon, as if it were nothing, but he was grinning. “Nothing a little—“ he wriggled his fingers “couldn’t open up. But… Gaius, Thomas said something. About my powers.“

„What about them?“

„He said they were rare. That I was… different.“

Gaius’ eyes softened. „You are, Merlin.“

„How?“

Gaius sighed, hesitatingly finding the words. Perhaps, over the years, he had taught himself so much to not speak about magic, that he’d forgotten how.

„Magic normally requires years of study. Spells… incantations… they need to be learned and practised. You use your magic instinctively. It‘s like it is a part of you, rather than something you learned. Have you ever consciously performed a spell?“

Merlin frowned. „I don‘t think so. I‘ve seen people do it, but I just assumed anyone started out like me.“

Gaius gave him a rueful half-smile. „Nobody is like you, Merlin. Thomas was quite right.“

„But why?“

„That, I don‘t know. You are a question that has never been posed before, Merlin.“

„There has to be a reason,“ Merlin sighed, his porridge forgotten.

„I… don’t know,“ Gaius said. „But I’m not sure it’s a good idea to ruminate on this too much, my boy. I don’t think there is anyone in Camelot who would know.“

„I suppose not,“ he said.

For the rest of the morning, Gaius kept Merlin busy with housework, to make up for his absence the past two days. At some point, he was called to a patient, leaving Merlin to his thoughts. Around midday, there was a knock on the door.

Merlin was standing on a stepladder, sorting small glass jars back onto a shelf. Before he could answer, the door opened and Prince Arthur walked in. „Gaius, I need some of that— oh, it‘s you.“

„Oh. Hello,“ Merlin said. Pulled so abruptly from his brooding, he found himself a little lost for words. Of course, he and Arthur were bound to run into each other again from now on. Merlin fumbled and nearly dropped one of the glass jars. He quickly replaced them all on the shelf.

Arthur was in his full chain mail this time, the red cloak with the Pendragon crest around his shoulders dusty at the hem - he‘d obviously been out riding for a few hours, chasing after the escaped prisoner. When he spotted Merlin, he shook his head in disbelief. “You know - and I can’t believe I have to say this again - you really should start treating me with some respect, otherwise you’ll get into trouble, living in Camelot,” he said.

Merlin smirked and his shoulders relaxed a little. He’d created more work for Arthur with the escape - served him right. „So you’re worried about me getting into trouble again, my lord?“ He added the appellation with as much snark as he could muster.

Arthur affected a bored demeanor, but Merlin saw a smile tug on his lips. „I merely don‘t want my guards doing extra hours, just because you never learnt how to address royalty properly,“ he drawled in his posh accent.

Merlin stepped down, pushed the stepladder back under the shelf and began gathering some dirty bowls into a small box to be cleaned. „I guess it must be a lot of work, arresting all those people who insult you every day,“ he mused.

„No, it‘s pretty much just you who does that,“ Arthur replied. „People usually have more sense.“

„Really?“ Merlin grabbed a cloth and began scrubbing their table. „A shame. You could use a few more people to insult you. Regularly. I think it does wonders for your personality.“

At that, Arthur began to sputter and laugh. „I— you—! You are absolutely insane,“ he managed.

Merlin looked up and their eyes met. He could tell Arthur was still waiting for him to cower, bow or curtsy. „Hm. You haven‘t arrested me yet,“ he said. „So I suppose there isn‘t a rule against insanity, then?“

Arthur rubbed a hand down his face. „I honestly cannot tell if you‘re serious or not. Of course there isn‘t,“ he rolled his eyes.

 „I wouldn‘t know,“ Merlin shrugged, still scrubbing. „There seem to be some really specific laws in Camelot about calling the prince an imbecile, so…. Maybe there might have been.“

Arthur snorted a laugh. „You know, I think I‘ll go and write up a new law for you especially. I‘ll talk to the court librarian. I‘m sure he can come up with a suitably clear legal wording even someone with your limited mental capacities couldn’t misinterpret.“

Now it was Merlin‘s turn to laugh. He leaned on the table and chuckled freely. When he looked up, he caught Arthur‘s surprised expression; like a crack in the lordly demeanour. Perhaps Arthur wasn‘t used to people genuinely laughing at his jokes.

The door opened and Gaius came in. Arthur immediately stiffened and regained some of his regal composure. Gaius took in the scene. „Sire? What— oh no, what have you done now,“ he added towards Merlin.

Merlin held up his hands. „Nothing! I was just cleaning up when he walked in.“

Annoyance flashed across Arthur‘s face at being referred to like that, but he kept quiet and turned to Gaius instead. „I was looking for that salve of yours, Gaius. The ride was strenuous this morning.“

„Absolutely, your highness, let me get that for you.“ Gaius went over to his cabinet. „I hope Merlin hasn‘t been bothering you in my absence. He seems to be particularly dense when it comes to learning Camelot‘s customs.“

Arthur turned to Merlin, raised both eyebrows, nodded meaningfully towards Gaius and exaggeratedly mouthed the words ‚your highness‘ at Merlin.

Merlin suppressed a snort and rolled his eyes, and mouthed ‚prat‘ back at him. Arthur gave him another incredulous look.

Suddenly, the silence became noticeable, and Merlin saw Gaius watching them. He handed Arthur the salve. „Here you go Sire. Avoid contact with your eyes, please.”

„Thank you, Gaius.“ Arthur pocketed the salve, turned around with a swish of his cloak and went to the door. „See you around, Merlin.“

Merlin was tired, but for the rest of the day he cheered up. Gaius, thankfully, didn’t pester him with questions; but neither did they talk more about his magic. So the first chance Merlin got, after supper, was to dash off to the lower town, to search for Mary Collins again. It was almost getting dark by the time he found her ivy-covered hovel again, but when he knocked, nobody answered. He opened the door and peered inside and found the place abandoned.

“She’s scarpered,” Merlin heard a voice behind him. He turned around and saw one of the neighbours standing there with a basket full of laundry on one hip. “No surprise after what ‘appened,” she added meaningfully.

“Er, what happened?” Merlin asked, playing dumb.

“We’een’t you ‘ere yesterday?” The woman scoffed, but she was clearly relishing the chance to gossip. “’er son was arrested as a sorcerer, like, but me mam says it was ‘er that did the magicking, not Thomas. But this morning, what do you think? He’d escaped. And she was gone, too. Me mam says she magicked him free.”

Suddenly, another voice piped up, an older man looking out of the door next to Mary Collins’ hovel. “Ye mam’s half blind, Breah, she couldn’t tell magic from pig shit,” he snorted. Then he gave Merlin a shrewd look. “Mary never went anywhere last night, I heard her packing the whole time,” he said. “So you know what that means?”

“What?” Merlin tried to sound unaffected.

“There must be someone else who decided to free Thomas,” the old man half-whispered. “You’re too young, you wouldn’t remember. But this is the first time since this all started that a sorcerer escaped Uther’s fire.”

A cold shiver went down Merlin’s back. “Oh, I see,” he nodded politely to him and the woman, pulling a shaky smile. Then he quickly excused himself and made his way back towards the castle. He really would have liked to search the hovel for anything Mary might have left him, but that would have been hard to explain. As he left, the neighbours stuck their heads closer together and Merlin just heard the laundry lady say “…really?” and the man began elaborating on his theories, but also said, “that one’s from up the keep, don’t you know?”

On his way, Merlin actually heard the rumours spread in whispers around him a few times. But to his amazement, people weren’t ridiculing Mary, Thomas or their mystery benefactor. In fact, they seemed elated; there was a strange atmosphere in the air as the sun set on Camelot. It felt a bit like hope.

When Merlin had made his way back up to the keep, it was fully dark. The guards were lighting torches around the courtyard and the change of watch was close. Merlin wandered up the steps into the tower that would take him up to the physician’s quarters, mulling over his day. Suddenly, he heard the voice again. Merlin… it called out in his mind. The hair on his arms stood up and a shiver ran down his spine.

Merlin turned and quickly looked at the guards in the court, but none of them acted as if anything was amiss. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the torches closest to him flicker, just as the voice spoke again. Merlin… the time has come for us to speak.

Merlin concluded that the voice was definitely just in his head and nobody else’s. Nevertheless, he looked around again just to be sure, and then, as nonchalantly as he could, he turned on the spot and strode down the corridor, rather than going up the spiral stairs. His steps took him further into the keep.

Merlin… the voice taunted, and Merlin followed a vague feeling in the pit of his stomach leading him on. He avoided being seen by anyone by taking his well-beloved shortcuts and soon reached the entrance to the dungeons. He grabbed a torch from one of the wall sconces and held it high above his head, pondering how to explain his presence to the watch post he had only just left that morning. Suddenly, the voice rumbled in his mind again, calling his name like gravel sliding down a rocky ravine. Merlin’s magic tugged at him, dragging his attention to the white-bricked wall. And then he saw it: a faint discolouration around the stones next to the supporting pillar. He held his hand next to the wall and surely enough, a soft draft brushed his skin.

Merlin listened for the guards, but all was quiet. He glanced back at the stones and brushed his palm across them. Open, he thought, testing his magic, and the stones slid aside, much like the secret passageway before. After allowing himself a quiet cheer, Merlin stepped through the new entrance into a dark and damp corridor. The stones closed behind him and he followed the path, which gently sloped downwards.

After a while, the stones on either side ended and the corridor seamlessly fed into a rocky tunnel. It took a few minutes of walking for Merlin to realise the stones were no longer damp, but became warmer. The air tasted stale and dry. And he smelled something, a smokey roughness that settled in his throat. Underneath that, there was a pungent hint of something natural… like an animal, but unfamiliar.

Merlin rounded a corner and suddenly found himself on a small, dusty ledge in an enormous cavern. It was so large, he could neither make out its bottom nor its ceiling. Faint light was drifting in from somewhere above, but it was merely dim, making his torch the brightest source of light. It cast deep shadows around the large, hanging stalactites and the pillars of stalagmites around the ledge.

„Hello?“ Merlin tried, feeling silly. Whoever had called to him was clearly not in this cave, as the rocky ledge held no hiding places. His voice echoed around the cavern, but when it faded, it mingled with another: a heavy, leathery sound, like the flapping of too large wings.

The torchlight gleamed off the scales on the beast that flew into view. Merlin gasped and stepped back as he took it in: a large, shining body, armoured in gold. Four powerful legs that landed on a large promontory rock, one of them secured with a gigantic metal chain, grasping it with long claws. Two enormous wings folded elegantly back as the beast settled down.

Its head swung forward and two large, golden eyes fixed upon Merlin, who stood rooted to the spot, his heart hammering wildly.

„How small you are,“ the dragon said, his voice the same gravelly force as it had been in Merlin‘s mind.

He sounds amused. Merlin took a deep breath. „You were the one who helped me in the dungeons?“

„Indeed, young warlock,“ the dragon said. „And a good thing I did, too.“

„You knew when I was using my magic.“

The dragon inclined his head. „I do sense some of what goes on in the keep above,“ he said.

„But… how did you cause the distraction?“ Merlin asked.

„My! You have a lot of questions,“ the dragon rumbled, like a laugh. „But are they the important ones?“

Merlin made a face. On the one hand, he was intimidated by the gigantic beast - on the other hand, he sounded a little too much like Gaius. He thought about it for a moment, and looked closer at the creature. „What‘s a dragon doing chained up under Camelot, and why would you speak to me of all people?“

This time, the dragon distinctly chuckled. „I talk to you, Merlin, because you are important in the times to come.“

„Me? How?“

„Your actions in the dungeons have put in motion events of great magnitude. I intervened because it seemed you were about to expose your abilities too soon. It could have endangered all of our destinies.“

„Too soon?“

The dragon inclined his head. „You have the capacity for greatness, but your journey has only just begun. It would be wise not to let Uther suspect anything for the time being.“

“Well,” Merlin hesitated. “Thank you for your help, then.”

The dragon looked a little surprised. “Your magic is a precious gift, Merlin. Treat it with care.”

Merlin sighed. “Gaius told me to always keep it secret. He thinks nobody in Camelot can help me with it.”

“Yes,” the dragon sneered. “I know that old coward still hides up there at court, when he should be down here with me, instead.”

Merlin was taken aback at the venom in his voice. He’d never met anyone who truly disliked Gaius. He was generally a helpful, kindly man and a good physician. People were satisfied with his treatments, and the court clearly respected him. The only who could have grievance with him was Merlin, who suffered under undue chores and had unanswered questions about magic. One part of Merlin rejoiced to find someone who also disagreed with Gaius’ choices. But another part also felt compelled to speak up. “He took me on as apprentice and helped me hide my abilities from the king,” he pointed out. 

The dragon shook his whole body and some fire escaped his nostrils; Merlin pressed himself further back. “Pah. He betrayed his own kind and he still serves the whims of their murderer!”

„The king… he‘s the one who keeps you prisoner here?“

The dragon rumbled angrily, and Merlin knew that was the wrong thing to ask. He flexed his legs and unfolded his great wings. „I will not speak of Uther Pendragon,“ he roared, and lifted off the rock. „Remember my words, young warlock!“

Merlin stepped to the edge of the rocky cliff. „Wait! What should I do?“

But the dragon had flown off into the far reaches of the cave, his long, thick chain trailing behind him.

When Merlin made his way back to the physician‘s quarters, he found Gaius awake, reading a book at his table. There was a bowl of food there, untouched. „Ah, there you are. I was afraid you‘d gotten lost again,“ he gave Merlin a smile. He pushed the bowl of stew towards Merlin, and he felt immediately bad about the things the dragon had said.

Merlin sank onto the bank gratefully. „You‘re a life-saver, Gaius, thank you,“ he muttered and began eating quickly.

„Some would say I‘ve chosen the right profession,“ Gaius smirked, and closed his book. He got up and tidied up a little until Merlin finished wiping his bowl with a generous chunk of bread. Then he turned to him again.

„Now that you are here, there is something I‘d like to discuss with you, Merlin.“

„Yes?“

Gaius sat down, holding a big bundle in his arms. He placed it on the table and unwrapped the thick cloth: it was a book. An old book, ornately decorated, and slightly worn and dusty.

„This book was given to me when I was your age.“ Gaius pushed the book over to Merlin, so he could examine it. „I have a feeling it‘s going to be more use to you than it was to me.“

„Gaius, this is… a book of magic?“ Merlin whispered reverently. He gently undid the clasp and opened the book. There was the smell of old parchment and ink and… something more. As he flicked carefully through the pages, he saw tight writing, some of which he could not immediately understand. There were also numerous intricate illustrations, some of plants, some of strange beasts.

Merlin looked up and his eyes welled up. „Thank you… this is brilliant,“ he said, and Gaius smiled.

„Perhaps studying it will give you a better idea of what you can do with your gift. As long as you keep it quiet,“ he added, an eyebrow raised.

Merlin paused a moment, looking at his mentor‘s face. This must have been a lot for Gaius to consider. Finally he asked what he‘d been meaning to ask ever since he came to Camelot. „Gaius… did you ever study magic?“

Gaius looked away and sighed. „Uther banned all such work twenty years ago,“ he hedged.

„Why? Why is it such a crime?“

„People used magic to the wrong ends at that time. It threw the natural order into chaos. Uther made it his mission to destroy everything from back then. Even the dragons…”

“What?”

“Well, there was one dragon he chose not to kill. Kept it as an example, imprisoned it in a cave deep beneath the castle, where no one can free it.”

Merlin took a deep breath and brushed a hand over the book again. Gaius had finally been forthright with him. “I know,” he said. “I spoke to him this evening.”

Chapter Text

The small boat shook lightly as Mary Collins stepped from it onto the pier. It created a few ripples on the smooth water of the lake, and the wood of the pier creaked in the foggy morning air, before everything was still again. Mary drew her shawl closer around her shoulders. It had been too long - she had forgotten what an unforgiving place the Isle of the Blessed was.

A large, ruined castle rose before her. Walls and turrets long crumbled, archways casting deep shadows over overgrown paths and the utter silence made a mockery of what this Isle had once been. She walked along the pier into the ruined buildings, looking around for any signs of life, but her visible breath was the only reminder that she hadn’t joined the land of the dead of her own will. The silence weighed on her shoulders like a chain vest, every step feeling heavy and difficult.

Finally, she reached the open area where the remains of the large altar stood solid on the grass, surrounded by tall standing stones. A woman in a tattered, wine-coloured dress stood by the altar, both palms resting on its weathered stone. Many years ago, before Uther‘s madness, Mary had stood here as a novice, watching the high priestess Nimueh perform ancient rituals of power. Now, she watched her struggling to stand.

Normally, she might have come forward to offer help, but she held her tongue and waited just outside the circle of stones. Nimueh raised her head, her dark hair falling around her bare shoulders, and breathed in deeply.

„I could feel your approach,“ she rasped, then cleared her voice. It sounded cracked, as from long disuse. „It woke me. Roused me. I wasn’t asleep, not really. Just a bit… less here.“

Nimueh turned and raised her piercing blue gaze to Mary. „I don’t remember you,“ she said. „But I do recognise you as one of mine. Tell me why you have come.“

Mary took another step forward, but made sure she remained outside the stone circle. She did rest her hand against one of them, however, to steady herself - she wasn’t as young as she used to be. In comparison, Nimueh looked not a day older than when Mary had seen her last, and even then, she had looked the same as she had when Mary was young. Despite what the neighbours in Camelot thought, there hadn’t been much magic in Mary and Thomas‘ life for many years. Seeing such a display of ageless power struck Mary with awe. „High Priestess,“ she nodded respectfully, „I come with news from Camelot.“

Nimueh‘s eyes narrowed and she made a derisive sound with her teeth. „The tyrant…?“

„He still sits on the throne, I’m loath to say. But there is a boy,“ Mary hastily added. „He is old Gaius‘ apprentice, and I felt an unusual presence of magic in him.“

„A boy…?“ Nimueh came closer, her hand also resting on the stone. She looked tired.

„He’s… quite extraordinary, though he doesn’t know it himself. He helped my son escape from the dungeons after he was arrested for sorcery. He saved him from the pyre and asked nothing in return.“

„How old is he?“

Mary smiled, feeling a little softness in her heart, remembering the naive apprentice with the messy hair. „Younger than the prince,“ she said. “And he seems even younger than he is. My Thomas spoke to me after; the boy can cast spells without speaking, though never having received a druid‘s instructions. In fact, I think he doesn’t know anything about our craft. Gaius certainly doesn’t teach him about it.“

Nimueh‘s palm resting on the stone became a fist. „No… that cockroach turned his back when our brothers and sisters burned. And this boy is his apprentice? That’s a curious coincidence…“ She searched Mary‘s eyes. „I do remember you now, I think. Come, sister, join me in my humble resting place and we shall talk about this further. It seems the time has come to return among the living again.“

Chapter Text

Camelot was a different place than Prince Arthur remembered. When he left it many years ago as a child, to become squire to Sir Ector, the city was a certainty in white rock and bright openness and all things lawful. Camelot now, as Arthur returned to it, was a maze of shadows and secrets, mysteries, and silences. It had transformed into an entirely new place.

At first, it was unclear to Arthur when Camelot had changed. On his few visits in between the squiring, Arthur never noticed anything different. Later, when his life had already taken many unexpected turns and he found himself embroiled in treasonous plots against the king, Arthur knew it all came down to Merlin.

It was not the scrawny physician’s apprentice himself that had wrought this great change. Rather, Camelot had to be different to suddenly accommodate such a person as Merlin. He could never have existed in the Camelot from before, and therefore, Camelot changed. There had to be shadows and secrets to keep Merlin safe, mysteries to bring them together, and silences for all the words they never said to each other.

Merlin would say that their story began much earlier, when he came to live in Camelot whilst Arthur was away, speaking of dragons and destinies. But Arthur didn’t find out about any of that until much later - he certainly didn’t know anything about a dragon! - and Merlin hadn‘t really entered his life for good until the first grand event after his return. Until the tournament.

Morgana brought him the news. Arthur had been back in Camelot barely one day. He’d returned first with a small retinue of knights late in the evening,  the rest of the army being expected to trickle into Camelot in a steady stream over the next few days. There had been a small gathering of peasants and courtiers, celebrating his return, as well as a small, impromptu feast at court, but other than that, Arthur was still finding his bearings. It was strange to be back in his rooms for good - he’d been here a few times to visit during his squiring, but now he was back, no longer a child, but a knight of Camelot. The rooms seemed a bit smaller than before.

 Into these royal chambers his half-sister strode with barely a knock that morning, dressed in a beautiful dark gown, her hair pinned up. She glanced at Arthur sitting at his desk, wished him good morning and then immediately sat down at his table as if he had lived here all this time. Her maidservant, who had accompanied her, poured Morgana some of Arthur’s watered-down wine before she bowed and left.

“Good morning to you, too,” Arthur said, a bit taken-aback. “Thank you for asking - no, I was not busy.” He put down the farewell letter from Sir Ector he’d been reading and got up.

Morgana grinned slyly. “I didn’t think so. Now: I bring news. Do you wish to hear it or will you insist on being a bore?”

 Arthur sighed, but joined her at the table nonetheless. Her directness was something Arthur actually valued and which they had in common. Perhaps they got it from the mother they shared and that Arthur never knew.

“Please, go on,” he nodded politely.

“Uther has announced the annual tournament. One month from now, beginning after Samhain.”

Arthur smiled. “I’m not surprised. Sir Ector mentioned it had been postponed until after everyone’s return to Camelot.”

“There’s going to be not just knights from Camelot this time,” Morgana went on. She gestured in a disaffected way, but there was a hint of excitement even in her smooth voice. “They’ll be coming from all over the isle - champions from the other kingdoms have been called to compete.”

Arthur raised a goblet to her. “The more, the merrier.”

“Oh Arthur, don’t be so dull. I am trying to introduce you to the fine art of court gossip here. Pay attention, you may learn something.”

Arthur huffed a laugh. “I will be asked to fight these knights, not chat to them!”

Morgana rolled her eyes. “All I’ll say is that with not just your own friends to fight, you might actually find this tournament a challenge.”

“Ha! Excuse me?”

“Please. Everyone knows that you were expected to win the tournament last year simply because they couldn’t have you lose during the war. It would have looked bad.”

Arthur’s eyebrows rose. At almost 20 years of age, he was perhaps not yet a man by his father’s laws, but he was the best knight in the kingdom. He was told so by others, and sure, there were some flatterers around him; but he would be lying to himself if he said he didn’t believe it.

“I have spent almost two years fighting the Saxons, defending Camelot’s borders along with Sir Ector, Kay and some of the best knights of the kingdom. I assure you, I would know if someone was trying to let me win. You have a rather poor opinion of the honour of Camelot’s knights.”

Morgana simply shrugged. “True, I may have.”

Confounded witch. Memories of the fighting in the south came to his mind. How the knights and he had stood together, dirty and exhausted, mourning their losses, while Morgana fanned around the safe castle in fancy dresses. He took a sip of his wine.

“Then it’s good thing the knights and I are back in Camelot, if this sort of thing passes for court gossip around here. And I have no doubt my performance in the tournament will make you reconsider your misapprehension.”

Morgana rose gracefully and tilted her head. “How gallant of you. Well, if it means I don’t have to be escorted to the victory feast by some uncouth northern brawler, I’m all for it.”

She strode over to the door, then turned back. “But don’t strain yourself on my account.”

Arthur shook his head in disbelief. “Did you come to tell me the news or just to vex me?”

“Both, of course. Do keep up, brother. Courtly life will be much more interesting now that you’re back. Good day.”

Morgana slipped out the door and Arthur could just hear her beginning to whisper and giggle with her maidservant while their steps receded down the corridor. He grinned and went back to his desk, but found he couldn’t quite concentrate on the letter any longer. The tournament! The year before, Arthur was named the youngest champion in the history of Camelot, and his father had been most pleased. He knew his abilities had been sharpened and tested in the war and he felt more than ready to show them off.

Sir Ector had taught Arthur all the knightly virtues which Arthur believed in with all his heart; things like honesty, justice and mercy. But he hadn’t found many of them on the battlefield. In the fights against the Saxons, other qualities had often prevailed: subterfuge, painstaking tracking, spying and ambushes. Arthur liked it as little as he knew Sir Ector did, but he had to admit they were effective.

Arthur also enjoyed the technique of fighting, the strategy, the courage displayed in single combat. And while he was a good soldier, he knew he would be an even better prince. Representing his people, standing tall in front of them, proving his mettle in courtly tournaments - surely, this was his purpose. With a smile, he put down the letter and made his way to find his father.

The guards respectfully straightened their backs when he entered the king’s council chamber. Aside from Uther, an old man sat at the table with several large maps spread out in front of him. With an easy smile, Arthur strode forward. “Good day, father.”

The king smiled as well. “Arthur! Good to see you.”

Arthur wasted no time. “I hear the annual tournament has been announced,” he said. “I wanted to personally assure you that I have every intention of defending my title as champion this year.”

There was a pause as Uther chuckled a little. “I am pleased to see such enthusiasm,” he said. “Geoffrey, we will continue this later.” He waved at the old man sitting at the table, surrounded by scrolls and a large map of Camelot.

Arthur’s good breeding finally kicked in a few minutes too late. “Forgive me, father, I did not stop to ask whether you were busy. Please don’t let me interrupt you.” He nodded at Geoffrey, which he recalled to be Camelot’s librarian and sage. However, the old man did not deign to reward Arthur’s politeness with friendly remarks; he just mumbled something under his breath while he gathered up his things.

“Nonsense,” said the king. “Geoffrey and I have all the time in the world to pour over dusty old maps. But I have not been able to talk with you since your return. Come,” he gestured over to a servant hovering around the edges of the room. “Have a drink with me.”

As quickly as Geoffrey disappeared from the room, a cup of fine wine appeared in Arthur’s hand and he was seated to the king’s right. Uther looked him over. “I’m glad you’re back, so we can have the tournament before the winter sets in. It will be a great test of your mettle and show everyone - me included - who you have become.”

“I am looking forward to it, father,“ Arthur said. He had no doubt that he would exceed expectations in this tournament - in fact, his father had definitely put it on to give Arthur a chance to win and increase the glory of their name. A niggling voice in his head reminded Arthur of Morgana‘s words. But he was sure it was nonsense - if anyone was letting him win or was only fighting for show, the king would be very displeased and react accordingly.

“I remember when I fought to prove myself to the people of this kingdom,” Uther continued. “It is a feeling unlike any other: only your wits and your blade to defend yourself, to win your goal. I was not much older than you are when I conquered Camelot. Sir Ector tells me you had some similarly memorable experiences on the campaign against the Saxons.”

“Memorable they have been,” Arthur said, and laughed. „Though I think what Sir Ector finds memorable might sometimes differ from my own recollections.“

It was perhaps not the most proper thing to say, and could draw all sorts of implications, but Arthur had learned enough about his father’s character over the years.

Thankfully, Uther laughed as well. „Well, you are young and vigorous - I’m sure Ector appreciates that. I’m told you saved his life?”

His father spoke casually, but Arthur was sure he was quite keen on the details. Arthur modestly lowered his head, hoping to disguise some of the discomfort the memory raised. “It was nothing any of the men wouldn’t have done.” In fact, it was something Arthur didn’t like to dwell on.

Uther raised an eyebrow. “Now, Arthur, I understand this feeling of companionship and equality served you well on the battlefield, and your men will have repaid it to you in loyalty. But from now on you will learn to speak proudly of your accomplishments.” He waved a hand, indicating the room. “Camelot is a great and noble land and I would see it grow further in size and prosperity. None other than a formidable warrior would do to succeed me.“

Arthur’s shoulders sagged with some relief at the change of subject. He smiled genially at his father and raised his cup. The past was the past. Arthur was that man now.

“I will win the tournament for the Pendragon name,” he said. „For Camelot.“ He lifted his wine and drank. His father smiled and returned the toast, draining his cup. He knows I will make him proud.

Arthur redoubled his training throughout October. He got into a good rhythm training with the castle’s battle master. Ifan was a grizzled, tall man who cared not one bit that he was the Prince, but cared entirely about his abilities. Even as Arthur was relieved to be back home, he appreciated this daily reminder that first and foremost, he was a knight.

His return, overall, went great, with one minor hiccup: his father had arrested a man for sorcery, but the man mysteriously escaped from the dungeons right after Arthur’s return. Arthur had to take some men to scout the surrounding countryside for hours, his arms and legs sore by the time he returned empty-handed. On top of this, he found himself being insulted and challenged by the physician’s apprentice, an experience so baffling that Arthur had no idea what to make of it.

The boy was gangly, all limbs and a thin, angular face, with a mop of dark hair and an incredibly inappropriate cheekiness. Much like Ifan, was one of the few people in Camelot who just seemed to ignore the fact that Arthur was their prince. After two arrests, Arthur decided Merlin was simply not worth the effort and tried to put the incidents out of his mind - there were more important things to think about. The escaped sorcerer had put his father on edge. Up until the tournament, arriving challengers and visitors were checked more thoroughly at the gates, and patrols to the outlying villages were doubled. Arthur was determined more than ever to put his father’s mind at ease by becoming the champion. What sorcerer would dare practise their vile magic in Camelot at the height of its strength?

The tournament began on a cold, but sunny November morning. The sky was a bright, wintry blue and crisp air blew into his face. The grass on the tournament ground was crunchy with frost when Arthur stepped up to meet his first opponent in front of a cheering crowd. Arthur studied the young knight, circling him and clashing swords a few times to gauge his strength. He didn’t know him very well, but he could tell he had a good footwork and carried himself confidently. After a few minutes, Arthur made his move and drove into the knight. He parried Arthur’s blows well enough, but wasn’t prepared for Arthur to feint; after he caused a slight stumble, Arthur drew back and circled him again. The knight seemed perplexed that Arthur didn’t immediately continue his assault and made the rash decision to press forward. He moved more clumsily, going in against his better judgement, trying to use the presumed opportunity. Arthur smiled and stepped deftly around him, parrying his sloppy blows. After a few ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’ from the crowd, Arthur knew he had him where he wanted him; with a quick succession of moves, he lunged forward and disarmed his foe. Slamming into him with his shoulder, he pushed him to the ground. Arthur raised his sword and pointed it symbolically at the knight’s neck, who raised his arms in surrender.

The crowd cheered, some people jumping to their feet as Arthur took his helmet off with a grin. His opponent got up and did the same, looking exhausted but actually quite happy. He nodded to Arthur, a look of respect in his eyes that made Arthur’s chest swell. Arthur looked to the king, who sat on his elevated throne on the stand, clapping politely, granting Arthur a pleased nod.

As expected, Arthur defeated his following opponents with ease. The first couple of encounters of the tournament went by, quickly eliminating the weaker fighters. It made for an enjoyable morning. The second half of the day, however, did not pass so flawlessly. The rounds of fighting were now more in earnest; the combat was tougher, the knights all tired, and there were injuries. Most notably young Sir Ewan - He was one of Camelot’s knights and a friend of Arthur’s. They had trained together frequently, and Arthur knew him as a capable and quick swordsman, but evidently he hadn’t been quick enough. After a tough match, he was defeated by a knight called Valiant and crushed by his shield - injured so much that he had to be carried off to the court physician afterwards.

Arthur had already noted a few warriors to watch out for in future matches. The most capable seemed to be this Valiant. He was a stranger, supposedly from the Western Isles; but neither that nor his coat of arms - three snakes fretted - told Arthur anything about his background. What he did know, was that Valiant was a formidable dueller, relying mostly on his strength. Arthur’s own fighting style, shaped by Sir Ector’s instruction, revolved around adapting to his opponents. It made him slower to begin with, but studying their movements and strategising always paid off. He had more experience than poor Ewan and a bit more muscle besides. He was sure he would be able to outwit Valiant should he fight him, but it didn’t hurt to get some observation in beforehand.

Towards the end of the day, Valiant clearly had similar thoughts on Arthur. He must have realised that his victories put him in a clear path towards a match against the prince, so he sauntered over to Arthur’s tent after the last fight of the day, just as Arthur was getting ready to doff his armour. Valiant was flanked by two companions, giving him the air of a thug who came to collect a bounty. He was tall, about the same height as Arthur, but there was a slight stoop to his posture that Arthur would have gotten told off for as a boy. In fact, there was something about Valiant’s bearing, his swagger, that put Arthur off immediately. Valiant regarded him from narrowed blue eyes, his thin mouth pressed into a polite sneer.

“May I offer my congratulations on your victories today, my Lord?”

The hair on Arthur’s neck stood up. "Likewise,” he said with a nod, studying Valiant’s sweaty face and reddened neck. He had exhausted himself in the match, but he still had reserves for posturing.

“I hope to see you at the reception this evening.” Valiant smiled that nasty thin smile again and nodded. Arrogance seemed to roll off him in waves, and he turned and left before Arthur could think of a suitable slight. He’d definitely have to keep an eye on that one.

Suddenly, there was another voice next to him. “Creep.”

A sudden smile tugged at Arthur‘s his lips at the timely insult, but quickly tamped it down when he spotted the physician’s apprentice Merlin. "Oh great, it’s you,” he sighed.

But Merlin still looked after Valiant and his little gang with a worried frown between his brows. “I need to talk to you,” he said quietly.

Arthur scoffed. “I’m sure you missed it last time due to your complete social ineptitude, but you don’t just go and talk to the son of the king when it suits you. And besides, you’re a servant, you should be working, not talking.”

To Arthur’s surprise, Merlin bowed his head and said in a clearer voice, “yes, sire. Of course.” He then stepped around Arthur and began working on the leather straps holding Arthur’s armour in place. Before Arthur could say anything, a few of the older knights strolled past, greeting Arthur politely. Merlin was clearly putting on a show for them.

When they were gone, Arthur half-turned. “What in the hells are you doing?!”

A flash of a grin tugged on Merlin’s lips, even while he kept unbuckling a pauldron. “I thought you said I should be working,” he said, speaking quietly again. “I’m just helping the son of the king remove his armour and checking him for injuries.”

“But— stop this, I didn’t ask you to help,” Arthur hissed.

Merlin gave him a quick glance, before moving behind him and working on more fastenings. “No, but I don’t see anyone else here serving you at the moment, and I really do need to talk to you.” And before Arthur could stop him, he continued, lowering his voice even further. “The knight who just left, Valiant - something’s not right with him. I think he used magic to cheat in the fight.”

Arthur laughed. “He may be good, but he’s not that good. And no one is insane enough to practise magic right in front of the king. During a tournament! It would be suicide.”

One of the pauldrons loosened and Merlin put it aside. He worked Arthur’s cloak loose next. “I know what I saw,” he said, undeterred by Arthur’s derision. “Sir Ewan is suffering from symptoms consistent with a snakebite. I heard snakes hissing in the armoury yesterday, and when I looked at Valiant’s shield, I swear I saw one of the snakes blink.”

Arthur turned his head to look at Merlin, who wore a pleading, yet determined look. He frowned. “You shouldn’t be so quick to swear on such nonsense. Someone might take you up on it - and falsely accusing a knight carries heavy punishment.”

“That’s not— ugh,” Merlin groaned. “Then how did Sir Ewan get a snakebite in his neck? I’m telling you, it was this shield. We need to do something about it!”

Arthur snorted. “‘We?’ And what exactly did you have in mind for myself, someone with obviously no other engagements or responsibilities?”

Once again, sarcasm seemed totally lost on Merlin. “Tonight, when he’s at the reception, I’ll sneak into Valiant’s room to get a proper look at the shield. I’ll need something of the snakes’ to bring back to Gaius, maybe a fang, so he can extract the venom to brew an antidote for Sir Ewan.”

“Wait… you’re serious?”

“If you’re there, too, we can give some official reason for it, until we can prove he’s using magic to hurt people. Or you can pretend to catch and arrest me and then take what we find to the king.”

Arthur gaped at him, his head spinning. The boy was clearly completely insane and he wasn’t sure whether he wanted to arrest him on the spot for lying to him or in order to protect him from himself and his mad ideas.

He fully turned to Merlin. “Look, I’m not joking: you need to stop. If I or anyone else catches you breaking into a knight’s room, it may be worse than the dungeon for you this time. I’m sure there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation for Ewan’s injuries - and if anyone can find a remedy for him, it’s Gaius.” Arthur took one of the pauldrons out of Merlin’s hands. “Let him do his work and stop messing it up by accusing people of sorcery. And for goodness sake, stop approaching me like this. Now remove the last pieces of my armour and then kindly take yourself somewhere else.”

Merlin’s mouth opened once or twice, then clamped shut. He efficiently unstrapped the plate pieces from Arthur’s chain mail. He sighed. “Seriously, how do you ever get out of these without a team of helpers?”

Did he always have to have the last word? “Oh I don’t know,” Arthur snapped, his voice finally rising, “perhaps when they came up with the idea of armour, they paid more attention to the people inside it not dying rather than making it easy to slip in and out.”

Merlin muttered under his breath, loosening the last buckle and taking away the plate pieces. “Should have done both,” was all he said, before he turned and left.

Throughout the rest of the day, Arthur couldn’t quite escape the feeling that Merlin had looked rather hurt. He thought about what Merlin had said when a random servant washed and dressed him for dinner (Arthur still hadn’t hired a new manservant after the debacle with Morris) and he thought about it on his way to the reception in the great hall. Whichever way he looked at it, he concluded that Merlin must either be out of his mind or playing an elaborate joke. But somehow either didn’t seem very likely.

Arthur also couldn’t stop thinking about the entire way Merlin had approached him. He’d just… acted and existed around Arthur as if Arthur wasn’t who he was at all. As if he was just some person who Merlin had picked to be around. Not a prince, not a lord, not a master to a servant - just a person. This never happened to Arthur, ever. Even if people couldn’t immediately place him as the son of the king, they usually spotted him in the knight’s armour, the Camelot red, or in the company of nobility. Nobody ever treated him like just a man, not his peers and certainly no peasants.

Of course this was a nuisance; criminal, even. His father wouldn’t hesitate… but. It didn’t seem like throwing Merlin in prison again would help anyone, nor would it cure the boy’s insolence. Perhaps it was a test of Arthur’s leadership, his ability to deal with difficult subjects - more so than his experiences on the battlefield. He needed to learn how to govern, his father had said. Surely, if someone could learn how to govern the puzzling insolence that was Merlin, one could govern anyone.

These thoughts slowly meandered around Arthur’s head while he stood in line at the reception. All knights still in the tournament were introduced and honoured for their bravery by the king - not Sir Ewan, of course, who lay in the physician’s quarters, injured and perhaps dying. Arthur should really go and see him, to talk to Gaius and ask about the supposed snakebite. But what could you do, asked a critical voice in his mind. He had no answer, but just standing here seemed so pointless in comparison to pretty much anything else he might be doing. You’re the prince, he’s the physician, let him do his job and you do yours.

Valiant was up next to meet the king, and his father smiled in approval. He couldn’t hear the words, but it seemed like Uther was impressed with the man. Small wonder, seeing as Valiant was an aggressive fighter, bold and ruthless - qualities the king valued in his knights. Arthur frowned as the king clasped Valiant’s shoulder and introduced him to Morgana, who flashed him a charming smile.

Morgana was altogether a mystery to Arthur. She was about three years his senior, but being the king’s daughter merely by adoption, she didn’t have a claim on the throne of Camelot. Regardless, Arthur heard people say that, in the unlikely event of Arthur dying without issue, Morgana could be considered next in line for the throne, seeing as there were no other relatives. Sometimes, people would mention that technically, she was the duchess of Cornwall through her father and Ygraine’s first husband, Lord Gorlois, the former Duke of Cornwall. He’d been Uther Pendragon’s closest friend before he died defending his lands against the invading Saxons. So Morgana technically had a title - were there still such a thing as Cornwall. The recent fighting had been to defend and secure Camelot’s borders, not to reclaim territory lost 20 years ago.

But this sort of thing, the titles, the diplomacy, the court receptions - it was something Morgana was quite good at, he had to reluctantly admit. Standing next to the king, she looked regal, representative, and amiable. He could see why people were glad to have her as a possible heir - it was perhaps the only reason she hadn’t been married off to one of the lord’s sons or the neighbouring kingdoms yet; if she stood to inherit, Uther must have high expectations of her suitors. The only thing Arthur had never heard a single word on was how Morgana felt about all of it. Did she think of the throne as a possibility?

This conundrum of a sister was now giggling with her maidservant about something Valiant said, before the knight strode away. When it was Arthur’s turn in line, his father greeted him with a polite nod, but there was a slight upturn to his lips. “Arthur. The reigning champion performs as expected, I see.”

“Father.” He bowed his head, then turned to his sister. “Morgana.”

Morgana grinned and glanced over at a group of competitors chatting with Valiant. “They all seem rather impressed by knight Valiant,” she said.

Arthur raised an eyebrow. “They’re not the only ones, it seems.”

Morgana put on a mocking sad look. “Aw, you’re not jealous, are you?”

“If you were hoping to be escorted to the feast by anyone else but your brother, you’re going to be sorely disappointed,” he quipped back. From the corner of his eye, he saw Morgana’s maid hide a little smirk. He bowed his head and walked away, but he could still hear them talking.

“Oh, I so hope Valiant wins the tournament.”

“You don’t really mean that, milady.”

Arthur took a goblet of wine offered by a servant and joined some of his knights who were discussing the day’s fights. Sir Bedivere asked Arthur whether there were any news about Sir Ewan, seeing as no one had heard anything since Gaius took him away. When no news were forthcoming, the group began debating Valiant’s skills and where he might have fought before. Sir Geraint, the second-in-command among the knights, turned away from the conversation and spoke quietly to Arthur. “As the lists stand, and with the way he’s fighting, you’ll probably be facing Valiant in the final.”

“I know,” Arthur said. “He’s formidable. But don’t worry, I’ve beaten bigger brutes than him.”

Geraint frowned and glanced over to Valiant. “I don’t doubt it. But there is something off about him, don’t you think? He had Ewan on the ground, there was no need to knock him out so brutally as to require a physician.”

“I’ve been meaning to go and see Ewan,” Arthur mused. “It did seem a bit excessive.”

Geraint clasped his shoulder. “Do. I don’t trust this Valiant to play fair.”

Arthur finished his wine. “You’re not the first to mention this to me. I will keep my eyes open.”

Geraint smiled approvingly. “It’s good to have you back home, sire.”

Arthur strode around the room a bit more and made polite conversation, making a point of avoiding Valiant. When he couldn’t deny his nervousness to himself any longer, he made a quick decision and quietly excused himself from the reception when his father wasn’t looking. He quickly strode down the hallways, intending to visit Gaius, but then paused when a bell rang: Merlin was probably already at Valiant’s quarters, and there wasn’t enough time to go check on Sir Ewan first. Sighing and wondering what in the five kingdoms he was doing, Arthur turned down another corridor and hastened his steps towards the guests’ wing of the keep instead.

At Valiant’s quarters, he stood still for a moment, listening. There were no guards posted at this end of the castle, and all was quiet. He debated with himself one last time, then opened the door. The guest room contained a single bed, a small table with chairs and a weapon’s rack where Valiant’s shield rested. Valiant and the other knights had gone to the reception armoured and carrying their swords, as it was seen as an expression of their rank and status as tournament competitors, but the shield remained behind, as it would have been quite unwieldy. The three snakes were intertwined as always, and unmoving. Arthur sneaked a little closer. Idiot, he chastised himself. It’s not like they’re really going to blink.

“Arthur,” someone hissed.

Arthur looked around, a little startled, his hand on his sword hilt.

“In here,” the voice hissed again, and suddenly, Arthur noticed a small slit in an almost hidden door. He strode over to find a servant’s entrance, tucked behind some ornamental curtains. Some rooms had these access points to make it easier for the servants to carry linen and clothes down to the laundry and such. He wasn’t surprised to find Merlin hiding inside.

The boy gave him a big smile in greeting. “I knew you’d change your mind,” he whispered. “Quick, come in before Valiant returns.”

Arthur squeezed past Merlin into the narrow passage, before Merlin pulled the door closed behind him. Through the small slit in the door, they had a slightly obstructed but decent view of the room beyond. “I can’t quite believe it myself,” Arthur muttered, shoving Merlin’s elbow away where it poked him in the side.

Merlin prattled on. “After seeing him in the armoury, I figured he checks on his shield every so often, so we can catch him in the act. He’s definitely worried someone will discover it. I mean, I would be, too.”

Arthur sighed. “Honestly, Merlin, if this turns out to be a waste of time, you’ll find yourself in the stocks all night and all day.”

Merlin grinned, but now it looked more nervous than before. “What made you reconsider?” he whispered.

“How was Sir Ewan last time you saw him?” Arthur replied, ignoring the question.

Merlin once again took it in stride. “Unchanged. Paralysed, high fever, unresponsive. I think it’s getting worse.”

“What’s Gaius—“

“Shh!”

Merlin held up a hand and true enough, metallic steps were coming down the hallway. The door to the room opened and Valiant strode in. Merlin sucked in a breath next to him and Arthur suddenly had to push down his own anxiety. If they were found, not only would they have a hard time explaining their presence, but Arthur, found in a servant corridor with a servant, would also be utterly humiliated. He tried not to think about it too much and focused instead on the sounds coming from the room.

There was shuffling and a creak, like the opening of a box. Valiant sat down next to the weapons rack, but it was hard to make out what he was holding. He whispered a few words and then, Arthur’s stomach fell: the snakes on the shield actually came to life, winding their bodies off the picture, hissing, and showing large teeth in great, unnaturally monstrous heads. Valiant held up something small and wriggling - a mouse. He threw it, and one of the snake heads snapped forward and caught it deftly from the air, swallowing it whole. As the other snake heads began hissing at each other aggressively, Valiant threw them two more mice, which they devoured eagerly. He watched them for a moment, and then got up again. He muttered something that sounded like “…it would be this much work,” under his breath, and then left the room.

Next to Arthur, Merlin let out a long breath and suddenly Arthur noticed he had held onto his arm, only now relaxing his grip. He snatched his arm away, saying “let go you idiot,” and then opened the servants’ door. His heart was beating quickly in his chest. It was one thing facing a warrior who was simply trying to kill you; quite another to be faced with actual magic.

Arthur stepped into the room and the snakes’ heads immediately turned to look at them. He shied away, making his way to the door walking backwards, keeping an eye on them. They had moved so quickly… trapped on the ground, Sir Ewan wouldn’t have stood a chance. Nobody would have. White hot anger rose in his gut.

Valiant’s footsteps were fast receding. It would be much easier to quickly arrest him for sorcery in the corridor rather than making a scene in front of the king. Even better, slay him where he stood. He grabbed the door handle to leave.

“Arthur, wait!” Merlin hissed. “What about the antidote?” He began looking frantically around the room. “We need something to get one of their teeth, or anything, a head…!” He darted over to Arthur and, before he could react, started yanking on the sword in the scabbard slung around Arthur’s waist.

Quick as lightning, Arthur hand shot forward and gripped Merlin’s wrist tightly, wrenching it away from the sword. Merlin’s head snapped up and his large, frightened eyes met Arthur’s. “What…?”

“Never,” Arthur said sharply, “do that again.” They stared at each other until Arthur felt he’d made his point. He released the thin wrist and drew his sword himself, making Merlin step back in a hurry. In one fluid motion fuelled by his anger, he took a step forward and, before the snakes knew what was happening, cleanly chopped one of their heads off. It dropped to the ground with a splatter of dark blood. The other heads hissed angrily and quickly withdrew into the shield, where, by magic, the original picture of three snakes fretted reappeared.

Arthur looked on the shield and the snake head in disgust. “Right under the nose of the king,” he growled. “We will make sure this sorcerer gets what he deserves.”

Merlin looked at Arthur and then at the snakes, a worried frown on his face. He picked up the head gingerly and wrapped it in a cloth from his pocket. “Let’s go to Gaius first, though, right?”

Arthur took a deep breath. Valiant would be back at the reception now. Sir Ewan came first, and he didn’t want to let Merlin carry the snake-head through the castle by himself.

They dashed along the corridors of Camelot towards the physician’s quarters, and Arthur had no moment to question why Merlin was running ahead and he, the prince, was following. That it saved them time, however, became apparent very quickly, because Merlin took routes that Arthur didn’t know existed. Once, he ran straight at what seemed a tapestry on a stone wall, but just as Arthur wanted to shout a warning to Merlin, he vanished through it, into a secret passage.

A surprisingly short time later, they arrived at the physician‘s quarters, a little out of breath. Merlin strode in without knocking, Arthur on his heels. In the small room that Merlin shared with his master, Gaius sat by a cot with the unconscious Sir Ewan on it.

„We got it, Gaius, we did it!“ Merlin held out the cloth with the snake‘s head in it and Gaius‘ eyes widened. When he spotted Arthur, he stood up. „Sire? What are you…?“ His eyes once again darted to Merlin, and a host of unspoken questions passed between them. It was as if he was intruding on some kind of secret operation that only the old man and Merlin were in on.

„It’s true,“ Arthur confirmed. „The snakes on Valiant‘s shield came alive and I chopped one of its heads off. I hope this can help Sir Ewan.“ Arthur stepped closer to the cot. „How is he?“

Gaius stared one more moment, before he shook his head. „Well, at death‘s door, to be honest.“ He grabbed the snake head off Merlin. „I’ll get started right away.“

Gaius started pottering around on his workbench, arranging glass flasks, lighting a candle and setting down tools; then he carefully lifted the snake head to a vial. He stuck the unnaturally long snake fangs into the glass and gently pressed until a translucent liquid emerged. Arthur watched quietly. The precision of Gaius‘ movements and the fact that he remained so calm in the face of a magical threat was reassuring - it always had been, ever since Arthur had been a small boy with grazed knees and elbows.

When Gaius began his complicated brewing process, Merlin came up next to Arthur to look down at Sir Ewan. The knight‘s skin, usually a warm brown, had taken on a sickly green tint, and his brow was sweaty.

„Show me,“ Arthur commanded quietly, and for once, Merlin actually obliged. He lifted the collar of Ewan‘s shirt, and there, easy for everyone to see, was the snakebite. Arthur‘s stomach did an uncomfortable turn. Merlin was right: it was glaringly obvious that Ewan did not just collapse from a hit to the head or exhaustion after the fight. And yet, Arthur had been ready to completely dismiss anything Merlin said because… well. He was just a servant.

„We used to practise together,“ Arthur said after a while. „I taught him some good techniques.“

„He‘s a good fighter,“ Merlin said.

Arthur huffed. „And what do you know about fighting, Merlin? Big into tournaments, are you?“

Merlin shrugged. „I‘ve seen a few, and usually the knights that are bad at them come back with certain injuries. Ewan is unharmed apart from the snakebite. And I did watch this morning - any idiot could have seen how he held his own against Valiant.“

„Any idiot, huh?“ Arthur said, but his heart wasn’t in it this time. „Well, it didn‘t help him much.“

„No,“ Merlin mused. „Using magic to hurt others, to cheat your way ahead, that’s just despicable.“ Arthur noticed he’d balled a fist, looking resentful as they both stared at the unconscious knight. He almost seemed personally offended, somehow.

„Magic is despicable, altogether,“ Arthur said.

But Merlin said nothing more and they waited quietly for Gaius to finish. Arthur considered returning to the reception, but it was getting late, and arriving in a room where half the people had already gone to bed might raise more questions. He asked Merlin to remove his cloak and armour for him, which he did without complaint, and Arthur refrained from making quips about his fumbling hands and less than reverent way he threw the pieces aside. They both kept watching Gaius work and Ewan stir in his unnatural sleep.

After some time had passed, Gaius finally turned to them. „It‘s ready. This may help him or do nothing, but we will find out fairly quickly either way. Merlin, help me with him?“

They gathered by the cot, and Merlin tried to lift Ewan‘s upper body up. He was clearly struggling, so Arthur put a hand on his arm and just said, „let me help.“

„I‘m strong enough, I can do it,“ Merlin said.

„I know you can,“ Arthur said, lifting his hands. „But he‘s my brother in arms. Please.“

Merlin‘s eyes went round as saucers and he said nothing further as he made some space for Arthur so he could sit down and lift Ewan‘s torso onto his lap.

„Thank you, sire,“ Gaius said kindly and together, they tilted his head back until his mouth fell open. Gaius carefully poured in the liquid he‘d brewed, slowly, so as not to choke him. Sir Ewan made a few rattling noises, but was otherwise still.

For a few minutes, nothing happened. Then, slowly, a faint sigh escaped Ewan‘s lips, and he seemed to stir.

„His skin is looking better,“ Merlin said quietly. He took the vial from Gaius to put away and handed him a damp cloth. Gaius wiped Ewan‘s brow and neck, and the knight responded with a moan.

„He‘s coming to,“ Arhtur said, hope filling his heart. He readjusted his grip and sat Ewan a little straighter.

After a few more moments, Ewan‘s eyes fluttered open for a moment. He moaned and tried to move, lifted his arm a little before it dropped back limply on the cot.

„Gently,“ Gaius said, and took his wrist. „His pulse is steadying,“ he announced. „Ewan, can you hear me?“

Ewan opened his eyes again. „What…?“

„It‘s all right. You‘ve been ill, but you‘re going to be fine. How are you feeling?“

„Mmmh… my head hurts. My neck. Can‘t move my arms or legs.“

Gaius patted his leg. „That is perfectly normal in your situation, but it will get better.“ He looked up at Arthur, and shared a relieved smile with him. „Now, I‘m sorry I have to ask you this right away, but we need your help. Do you remember what happened during your fight with knight Valiant?“

Ewan frowned. „I— I don‘t? I was fighting someone. He was strong, stronger than me.“

Arthur kept perfectly still, trying not to draw attention to himself. He didn’t want Ewan to feel inhibited by his presence, looking instead to Merlin and Gaius‘ lead.

„He pushed you to the ground,“ Merlin said.

„Y-yes, that‘s right…“ suddenly, Ewan‘s eyes grew wider. „Oh, oh no. I— yes, I remember. There were snakes… I know it sounds mad, Gaius, but I swear…“

„It‘s all right, Ewan.“

„No, but… I don‘t understand how they could have been there… but there was a snake in front of me, between us, and it attacked me! That‘s the last thing I remember. I swear it‘s the truth!“

Gaius wiped Ewan‘s brow again. „We believe you, don‘t worry. We know about the snake, but we needed to hear your account of it.“

Ewan sagged a little in Arthur‘s arms. That‘s when he noticed the hands holding him up and he turned to look. „Prince Arthur! My lord, I—„

„Thank you, Ewan,“ Arthur gave him a grim smile. „I‘m glad you‘re feeling better. Wouldn‘t do to lose my best sparring partner.“ He gently laid Ewan down and gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. Ewan just nodded at him, still looking muddled and afraid.

„You get enough rest now. I‘ve got everything I need to speak to the king. Merlin?“

„Yes?“

„Are you coming?“

Merlin blinked at him. Then he glanced briefly at the windows. „Um…“

„It is the middle of the night, my lord,“ Gaius said gently. „I believe the reception has long ended and the king must have retired by now.“

Arthur frowned, feeling like a colossal fool. “Oh, right.” He rubbed a hand across his eyes, as a wave of tiredness suddenly descended on him. His muscles ached from the tournament, and he hadn’t eaten much at the reception. Merlin’s rush to save Sir Ewan had pulled him onwards with a feeling of elation and purpose which he usually only felt on the battlefield. So he knew that after the fighting was over, the body could give in quite suddenly. He needed sleep.

His shoulders slumped, and for the first time since the morning he relaxed his princely posture. “Very well. Merlin, you will meet me in the morning in the king’s council chambers - bring the snake head. Gaius, please accompany Sir Ewan there as well, if he is well enough to walk. If not, please ask the guards to carry him.” He turned to Ewan. “Please get some more rest, Ewan. This is important. Gather your strength.”

“Yes, my lord.” Ewan had a small smile on his face, despite looking so tired.

Arthur turned to leave, but Gaius stopped him. “Sire.” He came around the cot to place a hand on his shoulder. “Arthur. You’ve done a lot today. And you’ve done well. But you’re exhausted - Merlin, please make sure Arthur gets to his rooms alright?”

At the same time, Arthur and Merlin immediately exclaimed, “I’m not an invalid, I don’t need an escort,” and “I’m not a baby minder, surely he can manage,” but Gaius held up a finger to silence them both.

“Physician’s orders. Just… set an old man’s heart at ease, will you, boys? There’s a mad man with magical snakes in the keep. Surely a few precautions are warranted.”

Arthur glanced over at Merlin. “Very well, Gaius,” Arthur nodded. “You’re right, of course.”

Merlin sighed. “Yes, of course,” he said.

“Good night,” Arthur called and the two of them left to wander the corridors back up towards the royal wing.

Chapter Text

It was dark in the keep. Only a few torches flickered along the corridors as the cold night air crept through the cracks of the walls. A few times, Merlin stopped, frowning at the dark corners and corridors as if he was listening to something, but Arthur couldn’t hear anything.

„Never mind,“ he mumbled to himself, before he seemed to shake himself out of his distraction and looked at Arthur. „You’ve known Gaius a long time, haven’t you?“

Arthur inclined his head. „All my life. He’s been here since before I was born. He looked after me sometimes, and help teach me before I was sent to Sir Ector.“

„He looks at you like a son,“ Merlin said, and Arthur had to look over at Merlin to see how he meant it. But he just smiled, clearly being perfectly fine with making such a personal and meaningful statement so casually.

Arthur cleared his throat. He couldn’t deny that the way Gaius had looked at him had made him feel an odd jolt in his chest. For once, he had no snappy retort. „He’s very kind,“ he said, diplomatically. „It was good to see him again.“

Merlin didn’t say anything else for a time, and the silence made Arthur feel uneasy, so he asked, „what about you? How long have you lived with him?“

„Uh, about three years, more or less. My mum dropped me off and said I—„ he paused to smile, searching for words. „I better learn to do something proper. Physician‘s apprentice is very proper, I guess.“

Arthur scoffed. „It’s a miracle he hasn’t kicked you out yet, with your incompetence.“

Merlin scowled. „Excuse me?“

„Come on, Merlin, you run around like a headless chicken and had to be thrown into the dungeons twice already. Gaius must have his hands full!“

„Well I‘d never been arrested before you got here,“ Merlin mumbled, but there seemed to be a small smile on his face again. „And without my meddling, Sir Ewan might still be dying, thank you!“

Arthur shook his head. „It‘s a good thing I stepped in when I did. You would have been caught, arrested, or killed in no time. Or bitten by a snake yourself.“

Merlin gaped at him. „Gods, you really are full of yourself, aren’t you? Half a day ago you told me I was making it all up!“

Arthur shrugged; he had to strain not to laugh - this was just too easy, and riling Merlin up felt like good payback. „And you might well have been. The stories that get handed around by the servants - really, Merlin, you shouldn’t believe everything you hear.“ Merlin looked as if he was about to explode, so Arthur added, for good measure, „the only, surprisingly smart choice really was to come to me with this.“

Just as Merlin started with, „Honestly, you…!“ Arthur interrupted.

„And just a word of warning, Merlin: If you want to take over as king‘s physician one day, I‘d make it a priority not to antagonise your future king too much. Or the current one,“ he added, a little more seriously. „During the council tomorrow, its better if you let me do the talking.“

Merlin huffed angrily and mumbled something unintelligibly. When they arrived at Arthur’s rooms, he still hadn’t answered. Arthur opened the door and stepped inside, then turned to Merlin again. „Understood?“

„…Yes,“ Merlin said, his eyes shooting daggers.

„Yes, what?“ Arthur smiled.

„Yes, Sire,“ Merlin brought out, growing slightly red in the face.

Arthur nodded happily. Then he slammed the door in Merlin‘s face. Behind the door, he could just hear him spit out, „prat!“

Arthur grinned to himself, feeling quite pleased, before readying himself for bed.

In the morning, one of the castle‘s servants came to dress him for the day, and Arthur asked him to arrange an audience with the king before the tournament was scheduled to continue. An hour later, he strode into the council chambers, feeling full of righteousness: his father would approve of him bringing a sorcerer to light and commend his diligence and dutifulness for following a hunch. (He needn’t mention whose hunch it had been, after all.)

In the room, there were a few courtiers, some of the older council members as well as quite a few knights, both from Camelot and elsewhere, already dressed in full armour for the day. Knight Valiant was among them, and his shield rested against the wall next to the other knights‘ crests. Thankfully, Merlin wasn’t entirely slovenly and stood there as well, with a small wooden box, presumable containing the snake head. Arthur gave him the briefest of nods, which Merlin returned. „Where‘s Gaius?“ he asked quietly.

„I don‘t know,“ Merlin said, looking worried. „I got up really early to do some of our deliveries before this, so he and Ewan were still sleeping when I left. I tried not to disturb them.“

Arthur frowned, but walked on, to stand before the king. Uther was sitting down, ready to receive his plea.

„Father, thank you for agreeing to seeing me this early.“

Uther raised an eyebrow. „This better be important, Arthur. You’re meant to be getting ready for the final rounds of the tournament.“

„What I have to say unfortunately affects the tournament, Sire,“ Arthur said with as much gravity as he could muster and stood up ramrod straight. His father looked intrigued and worried now. Good.

The room behind them had quieted down, and everyone looked at them. Arthur raised his chin. „I believe knight Valiant is using a magic shield to cheat in the tournament.”

There was an immediate commotion behind Arthur, and his father stood up from his throne. His commanding voice rang out through the chamber. „Knight Valiant, step forward.“

Valiant didn’t hesitate, but stepped up next to Arthur. He spared him no glance.

The king regarded him coldly. „What do you have to say to this?”

“My lord, this is ridiculous, I’ve never used magic,“ Valiant snapped. „Does your son have any evidence to support this outrageous accusation?”

Uther turned to Arthur. “You have evidence?”

„I do.“ Arthur turned to Merlin, who darted forward and handed him the box. Around them, a number of guards had stepped closer to the king.

Arthur took the snake head and returned the box to Merlin. He then presented it to the king. „The snakes on Valiant’s shield come alive. I cut this snake head off one of them, when I inspected it and it attacked me.“ It wasn’t strictly speaking the truth, but it sounded suitably heroic.

Uther frowned even more, looking in disgust at the snake head. He made a hand gesture, and immediately, a servant appeared and took the head from him with a handkerchief. „Let me see this shield.“

Out of the group of knights, First Knight Sir Pellinore stepped forward and gingerly handed the king Valiant‘s shield, looking glad to be rid of it.

„Be careful, my lord,“ Arthur said quickly, drawing his sword.“ „Their venom is quite dangerous.“

There was more murmuring in the court as Uther inspected the shield. He glanced back at the snake head in the hands of the terrified servant.

Valiant‘s voice was calm and unperturbed. „As you can see, my lord, they‘re just painted snakes.“ Slightly louder, he added, „I inherited this coat of arms from my late father, who wore it with pride when he was a knight in king Alined‘s army. I hoped to honour his name by wielding it in the tournament. I didn’t think it would make me the victim of this unfounded slander.“

The murmuring of the crowd intensified, and Uther glanced away from the shield and scanned the room. He raised his hand and all fell silent again.

„Arthur, you say you cut the snake‘s head off, yet the shield is unaltered. The snakes still have their heads.“

A slither of nervousness crept up between his shoulder blades. He tried to stand tall. „I cannot explain the workings of unnatural magic, my lord.“

„Hm,“ Uther said. “Has anyone else… seen these snakes?“

„Yes, my lord,“ Arthur said, more confidently. He sheathed his sword for now and looked over his shoulder around the room. Merlin looked, for lack of a better word, a mess. He ever so gently shook his head when they made eye contact, and Arthur suddenly understood. As soon as he brought the word of a servant into this, witnessing against a knight, his whole case would be meaningless. He let his glance wander past Merlin, as if he didn’t exist.

„I am waiting for the court physician to bring him. Knight Ewan was bitten by one of the snakes during his fight against Valiant. The venom has made him grievously ill, but he has been given an antidote and should be reasonably recovered by now to tell you his account.“

Uther handed the shield to Sir Pellinore and gestured to one of the guards. „Bring Gaius, and be quick about it,“ he ordered, and Arthur heard the impatience in his voice. This whole case was a nuisance to him and needed to be closed as quickly as possible.

Before the guard reached the doors, however, Gaius entered, by himself. Something was very wrong: his face was ashen, and he looked stricken, as only those did who had witnessed defeat.

„Ah, there you are, Gaius. Step forward.“

Gaius glanced at Arthur as he came to stand next to him, his mouth turned into a grim line. „Sire.“

„My son tells me you have a patient eager to give his account of supposed sorcery at my court. Where is the witness?“

Gaius‘ voice broke a little. „I‘m afraid, my lord, the witness is dead.“

A gasp went through the gathered audience, and Arthur‘s stomach felt as if it had been filled with lead. Ewan…

The king frowned. „Well, how did he die?“

„He had received multiple snake bites to his neck and face, my lord. I believe the venom killed him.“

Uther‘s gaze snapped to Valiant, looking slightly more on guard. Yes, please let this not have been in vain…

Valiant shrugged and looked at Gaius with distaste. „My lord, if you’ll allow: this is pure conjecture. Every child knows there are a number of dangerous snakes living in these lands, and that it is not unheard of for them to seek warmer shelter during the winter months.“

„What are you implying?“ Uther asked.

Valiant spread his hands. „I am merely concerned, my lord, that the unfortunate Sir Ewan might have fallen victim to a common household danger, and this is now being used to frame me.“ He took a step forward and looked at Arthur. „Pardon me, my lord, but might it not be that your son might be afraid to fight me in the tournament today and is too proud to admit it? If this is the case, I will of course overlook this insult and graciously accept his withdrawal.“

Another hush fell over the assembled court. Insulting a knight‘s honour was usually the prelude to a duel, at least. Anger was rising in him, his throat constricting dangerously. He took a deep breath.

Uther narrowed his eyes. He looked at Gaius again, who had lowered his head, looking conflicted. „Is this true, Gaius? Could the snakebites have been an accident?“

Gaius hesitated. „I supposed, my lord, they could have been.“

„Did you see anything that might have hinted at a purposeful attack?“

Gaius‘s eyes flickered to Arthur‘s. „No, my lord. When Sir Ewan was brought to me, he already had the snake bite.“

Arthur‘s thoughts raced. „But,“ he said quickly, „he only had the one bite before, and now he died from many? And, father, have you ever seen a snake in Camelot that looks like this?“

It was the wrong thing to say. Uther looked affronted. „Camelot takes the evils of magic very seriously, Arthur. Or are you implying otherwise?“

„No, of course not, but—„

„It‘s your word against another knight‘s, Arthur. And you bring no evidence, whilst Valiant has been blameless in the tournament so far,“ Uther added, raising his voice.

Valiant stepped forward, with a pleading look. „My lord,“ he announced loudly, „I understand that it is unfair to ask you to believe my word over that of your own flesh and blood. I am here, competing like every other knight, because we know you to be a fair ruler. Even though your son is the defending champion, it never crossed my mind to worry that this tournament would be anything but just and equal.“

Again, there were murmurs of assent behind them. Arthur cursed everything he knew to curse in his mind, and said nothing. Uther held up a hand and spoke up clearly. „We cannot convict a knight of upstanding reputation and prowess on the hearsay of one person, be they the prince or not. Unless there is evidence of his wrongdoing, Valiant is free to go and compete in the tournament.“ Uther stepped a bit closer to Arthur and his tone was quieter, with a menacing sharpness to it. „However, should you, personally, wish to forgo the challenge of facing him, that is your own responsibility to bear. And you alone shall suffer the consequences of it.“

Arthur swallowed. He let out a breath. „I understand, my lord. I— withdraw my accusations, and will face knight Valiant in the tournament.“

Uther nodded grimly, then sat back on his throne. „Court dismissed.“

Arthur stood rooted to the spot as the courtiers and knights filed out of the room amongst loud murmurs. He heard his father speak a few quiet instructions to the guards and Sir Pellinore before they left, but Arthur couldn’t look up. Arthur‘s throat was dry; he’d never felt so humiliated before. He couldn’t even properly think about poor Ewan, and it seemed like nobody else did either; was Arthur the only one who was shocked that he was dead?

Gaius stepped closer to Arthur and said „I’m sorry,“ and then he left, presumably taking Merlin with him.

Shortly after, only Arthur and a few guards remained in the room. Uther looked at Arthur a long while. „Leave us,“ he said, and the guards obeyed.

Once the council chamber was empty, Uther got up from his throne again. He heaved a big sigh and stood next to Arthur, not looking at him.

„Arthur… are you sure you couldn’t have been mistaken about the shield?“

„I know what I saw, my lord,“ Arthur said, realising his voice was wavering.

Uther looked at him angrily. „Stand up straight when you speak to the king, boy.“

Arthur‘s back immediately snapped to attention. Uther walked around him, his hands clasped behind his back. He stood at one of the slanted windows and looked out at the pale daylight. „You realise I didnt have a choice,“ Uther finally said.

Arthur turned. „What?“

„You have to admit it’s highly unlikely for a knight to use magic. Why would he waste his reputation and threaten his standing? No,“ he waved a hand as he turned back to the room. „You will soon see that it‘s mostly wretched criminals and undesirables who, having been shunned by society already, turn to magic to change their fortunes.“

Arthur frowned. The man who had escaped from prison only a few weeks before, while he didn’t know much about him, had been a commoner from the disreputable side of the lower town, so Uther seemed to have the right of it. However, that was as much contact as Arthur had ever had with sorcerers - at Sir Ector‘s estate there had never been any sort of magical threat. And when he was fighting the Saxons, magic hadn’t really been an issue either. Most of them followed a new religion, but unlike the druids, their god didn’t appear to endow them with special power.

„What was at stake here, Arthur, was all that I‘ve built over the years,“ Uther continued and balled his gloved fist. „Camelot is a fair and just court. We eradicate sorcery for the safety of the people, not to unjustly get rid of people we don‘t like.“

He strode over to Arthur and fixed him with a piercing look. „Favouritism is an accusation that you never want levelled against you, Arthur, trust me. You need the support of your council and your knights in order to rule. Should they suspect you of injustice and acting on a whim, they will quickly find someone else to fill the throne.“

Now it was Arthur‘s turn to be affronted. „Father, I… I may not have been present at court these past few years, but I heard enough amongst the army and the nobility that your standing has never been in question. The people trust you to keep them safe.“

Uther smiled. „Then lets make sure it stays that way, shall we?“ He patted Arthur‘s shoulder, then turned away to leave. „Oh, and incidentally,“ he said, looking back. „If it should turn out during your fight that knight Valiant is using magic after all, then you may prove your strength by executing him on the spot. That would certainly show your value to the court.“

And to me, Arthur heard. He nodded curtly, before the king left the room with a final sweep of his cloak.

The second day of the tournament began properly under an icy bright blue sky, as if nothing extraordinary had happened that morning. Nobody approached Arthur about his accusations, and nobody treated Valiant any differently. The king’s word was law, after all. As far as Arthur could tell, the news of the impromptu hearing hadn‘t even been widely spread around yet, as the crowd watched their respective duels with the same enthusiasm as before, no more, no less. However, it would only be a matter of time. In the arena, Arthur and Valiant defeated their first opponents of the day, which meant they would each fight a second duel in the afternoon. The winners of those were to meet in the final the following day.

Whilst the fights had become more challenging, Arthur was actually looking forward to the next one; Sir Leon was a knight who had spent a lot of time as part of Arthur‘s personal retinue, first at Sir Ector‘s household and then in the battles against the Saxons. He had fought and trained at Arthur‘s side many times and it would be a welcome challenge to face a friend rather than a stranger in this tournament.

Before the match, Arthur was sitting in his tent at the tournament grounds, staring at the red canvas around him, brooding. He wasn’t usually one to waste his time with overthinking; he was a man of action. But now he couldn’t help but go over the morning in his mind. Could he have said something different? Watched over Sir Ewan that night? Woken his father up in the night to hear the testimony himself immediately? Could he have just confronted and killed Valiant right away and argued his case after? Would Ewan have lived?

It was during this pensive moment that Morgana suddenly paid him a visit. She swept into the tent in a stunning lilac gown, a fur draped around her shoulders against the cold, and nodded to her maid to wait outside. Without any preamble, she began: „I’ve been to see Gaius. And Ewan.“

Arthur didn’t respond, just waited for her to continue.

Morgana seemed to assess him, making up her mind. Finally she said, a bit more gently, „I’m sorry he‘s dead. I heard you were friends.“

Arthur sighed. „I didn’t have time to see him after the council.“

Morgana sat down next to Arthur and lowered her voice. „I saw his wounds.“ When Arthur looked at her in surprise, she straightened a little, lifting her chin defiantly. „I believe you were right. Your father was wrong to dismiss you.“

Arthur finally looked at his sister properly. Her skin looked paler than it already was, and the dark circles under her eyes seemed more pronounced in the bright light that spilled into the tent. It was disconcerting seeing her not her usual perfect self. Arthur shook his head.

„Morgana… thank you. But— he was right. The evidence against Valiant was inconclusive, and the king‘s honour is at stake.“

Morgana looked affronted. „What? What about your honour? You knights keep going on about it. And please, anyone could see that Ewan’s death was unnatural if they only bothered to look.“

Ewan… with his pallor and weak limbs, lying in Arthur‘s arms… had he died quickly and without pain, in the end?

„It doesn’t matter now,“ Arthur said. „Whether or not Valiant is using magic, I will defeat him in the final, and that will be that.“

Morgana scoffed and got up. „That’s right, just go back to solving every problem by hitting it with a stick. And this morning I thought you might actually have some brains, too.“

She strode past him, but then stopped at the opening and gestured to by her maid. „I know you probably don’t want to hear it, but Gwen has spoken to Gaius‘ apprentice. I believe they‘re trying to find a way to help you.“

When Arthur looked over, his eyes met the maidservant’s, and she didn’t immediately look down as she was supposed to. Her eyes radiated concern, and Artur was suddenly struck by how pretty she was. But before he could say anything else, the two women left.

Arthur ruminated on the sudden solidarity from Morgana, of all people, all the way until it was time for the next match. He returned to the arena to see the tall, curly-haired Sir Leon waiting for him a little to the side, getting his shield and sword readied by a servant. Arthur nodded to him, and Sir Leon smiled. „I’m afraid I’m not going to go easy on you, Sire,“ he said.

„Oh, and why is that?“ Arthur grinned but also cast a look at the servants milling around. Somehow he had expected Merlin to be around, but he was nowhere to be seen.

Leon stepped closer, his helmet under his arm. „I believe what you said about Valiant,“ he said more quietly. „I will do whatever I can to make sure he doesn’t get a chance to attack you with his magic. Count on it.“

Arthur swallowed. Leon had always been the protecting type, but sometimes these sudden displays of loyalty seemed to come at Arthur when he was least prepared for them. And Leon‘s first duty was to the king, as it was Morgana‘s. What were they all doing, whispering to him behind his father‘s back?

He simply nodded and received a brotherly pat on the shoulder in return before Leon put his helmet on. When they strode onto the field, Arthur realised that here was actually an out: He could lose the fight to Leon and not have to face Valiant‘s murderous snakes. The stern face of the king appeared in his mind, let down by Arthur, who wouldn‘t be champion. Leon could become champion, and he would have earned it, too. Or Leon could be dead.

Arthur gritted his teeth and put on his helmet. It really wasn’t an out at all.

As they readied their swords, Arthur glanced to the king, waiting for the signal to begin the fight. And for a moment, a hot anger flared through him: how self-satisfied Uther looked! His expression, which he had formerly read as confident and regal, now seemed fake. A mask, put on his face by what he wanted the court to see, while he turned a blind eye to a real danger.

The king signalled with his hand and the fight began. Arthur didn’t hesitate or study his opponent this time. He immediately clashed their swords again and again, relishing how much Leon was able to parry and keep up, their training serving them well. But Arthur could find no enjoyment in the fighting, chastising himself for not handling the situation better.

Arthur had to concede with gritted teeth that he had blindly, faithfully, believed that if he brought a case of sorcery to his father, he, of all people, would take over and arrest the culprit immediately. Never had it occurred to Arthur that his word would be questioned. Now, if he was a liar, he might have been better prepared, better equipped to spin the story to his own ends. In fact, he now realised what an accomplished liar Valiant was; his outrage at being accused seemed so real, his fake humility only infuriating to those who had seen the truth. But Arthur had never needed to lie about anything. People trusted him, they knew he was an honourable man - that was the whole point of being Arthur Pendragon, after all!

Arthur only noticed he had let out an almost guttural yell with a particularly vicious blow, when Leon staggered back. He was breathing heavily, sweating under his gambeson and chain mail. He took his helmet off, and following his lead, Leon did the same. The crowd was cheering them on wildly, as Arthur tossed his shield aside and gripped his sword with both hands. He advanced on Leon, and when he was close enough, he said: „Unfortunately, my friend, the same goes for you, too.“

Leon‘s jaw clenched and he frowned, looking determined still. „Very well,“ he said.

Arthur only needed a few more steps and lunges before he disarmed him.

When it was over, he helped Leon up and quickly checked if he was injured. „I‘m sorry,“ Arthur said, still clasping Leon’s arm as the crowd was exploding in clapping and yelling. „But no one will face that murderer but myself.“

Leon looked at Arthur and nodded; he would never forget that look. He had passed an invisible threshold and had stepped onto new terrain. The way Leon so earnestly furrowed his brow and nodded made him feel, for the first time in his life, not just a prince, but a king.

Later that night, Arthur attended the small dinner gathering his father hosted for the tournament knights of the day, but the mood was quite diminished in comparison to the reception the night before. Arthur‘s accusation clearly still lingered in the air, and more than once, the other knights gave him and Valiant surreptitious looks. The king made polite conversation, but nothing more, and the table was mostly entertained by the efforts of Sirs Geraint and Leon conversing with one of the foreign knights. Arthur excused himself early.

When he was back at his room, Arthur let out a deep breath. He poured himself some more watered-down wine, and just processed events for a moment. Camelot truly had changed. The underhanded nature of Valiant‘s deceit, the whispers and talks behind closed doors, the escaped sorcerer… Arthur didn’t recognise the Camelot of his youth. And it somehow felt as if it had all been Merlin‘s fault - he was the one who’d started all that whispering and sneaking.

As if he had summoned him with a thought, there was a quiet knock on Arthur‘s door. Arthur had barely called ‚enter’, before Merlin slunk in, quickly closing the door behind himself. He looked a bit dishevelled and tired, but was otherwise his usual lanky self, dressed in a red tunic, just missing his neckerchief. It seemed to elongate his neck, making him seem even more gangly than before.

To Arthur‘s surprise, Merlin didn‘t immediately start barraging him with insults or questions, but seemed hesitant. He stood awkwardly by the door, glancing around the quarters. When he still didn‘t say anything and Arthur feared that out of nervousness he might start commenting on the size of the room or the fancy curtains, Arthur sighed and waved at him. „Go on then, you might as well come in properly.“

Merlin came forward through the archway from the antechamber into Arthur‘s room. His eyes nevertheless darted from the hearth to the large table, the reading desk, the bathtub and clothing area to the solid four-poster bed. He let out a small whistle. „And how many courtiers frequent this room, then?“ he quipped.

Arthur was ready for him. He raised an eyebrow. „Why, Merlin, are you suggesting the Prince is involved in something inappropriate?“

Predictably, Merlin turned the colour of a ripe tomato. „I— that‘s totally not— oh, you bastard!“ He pressed out the insult when Arthur started laughing.

„You should really watch your mouth,“ Arthur said. „Now, what do you want?“

Merlin wiped a hand over his face, muttering something that sounded like don‘t know why I bother.

„Right, um. So I just thought to let you know,“ he began, „that we asked Geoffrey to look into Valiant‘s claims that he inherited his shield from his father and all that, but unfortunately the records here don‘t cover all knights from further away. So we think he’s lying about his heritage, but we cannot prove it unless someone travels to Dyfed and… asks…“ his prattling trailed off.

Arthur shook his head. He‘d actually gone to all that effort, when the final was tomorrow? „Not likely,“ he just shrugged. „Unless you could fly there, but then I‘m afraid the king would have you executed.“

Merlin looked a bit uncomfortable. „So you‘re really going to face him, then?“ he asked.

„What choice do I have?“

„Withdraw?“ Merlin spread his hands out.

„Obviously I cannot - nor would I,“ Arthur said. „The people expect their prince to fight.“ He looked at Merlin. „And somebody has to stop Valiant one way or another before he kills someone else.“

„But… he might kill you.“ Merlin‘s voice had gone a bit quieter.

Arthur nodded. „Yes.“

„How can you go out there and fight, knowing that you might die?“

Arthur couldn‘t help himself, he smiled a little at the boy. „There‘s no other kind of fight, Merlin. Besides, it‘s my duty to protect Camelot‘s citizens. Valiant will not harm anyone else.“

Merlin let out a deep breath and seemed to be mulling this over. He casually leaned back against Arthur‘s table and crossed his arms.

„Hm. Well, if you put it like that,“ he said. „Gaius and I have been looking into ways to… help you somehow. Trying to find out more about how the magical snakes work,“ he added, glancing sideways at Arthur. „Gaius has some old books about… this sort of thing.“

Arthur rolled his eyes. „No need to be so cagey about it. Gaius is a proper sage when it comes to magical threats. He‘s helped my father many times.“

„Right.“ Merlin paused. „Well, we’ve also consulted another, um, expert on the matter who has some knowledge, but they’re a bit cryptic with their advice. So no luck so far.“

„Who, Geoffrey? Yes, he’s quite rude and unhelpful, sometimes.“

Merlin quickly replied, „—yes. Geoffrey.“ He shifted a little. „So, what‘s your plan?“

„Plan?“

„For the fight tomorrow,“ Merlin raised his eyebrows.

Arthur shook his head, spelling it out slowly. „I will fight him, that’s the plan.“

Merlin pushed himself off the table, facing Arthur, frowning. „But… this isn’t a fight against a bandit or a Saxon raider. This is someone who will cheat to kill you - what will you do when the snakes come out?“

Arthur began to feel a little irritated now. „What do you expect me to do? I will attack them, of course.“

Merlin shook his head in a way that reminded Arthur a bit too well why he‘d thrown him in the dungeon before. „If he reveals the snakes openly,“ he said, „he will put himself at risk of discovery! He wants to walk away with the prize money and his life, right? So he’ll do it hidden, like with Ewan, so nobody sees what happens. He will kill you and nobody will know how it happened until he’s long gone!“

Arthur frowned, thinking about it, playing the fight against Ewan back in his head. „But he only did that once Ewan was down, anyway,“ he said. „I’ll just not let it get that far.“

„Are you sure you can’t stop this? Find a reason to break off the tournament, then arrest him for some made-up reason. You’re the prince, you can do what you like!“

Arthur raised his voice now „No. I can’t. If I stop the tournament - after my accusations - everyone will see me as a coward who didn’t want to face a superior fighter. But I wouldn’t expect you to understand.

Merlin scoffed. „Better a coward than dead!“

„No, it really isn’t.“ Arthur sighed and gestured to the window, thinking of the knights, the army, around them. „How can I lead men into battle if they think I’m a coward? How can I rule anyone if they think I won’t face a challenge?“

Merlin ran his hands through his hair, groaning; he genuinely seemed frustrated by this, which surprised Arthur again. It wasn’t his problem, right? „We’d have to get him to show the snakes earlier,“ Merlin said, staring into space. „We need to goad him into it somehow.“

Arthur narrowed his eyes. „We? What do you mean, we?“

„What? Oh… I was just speaking generally. Don’t worry, I wont run out on the field to throw myself in front of the snakes for you.“

„I wasn’t worried before, but I am now. You’ve clearly given all this quite a lot of thought.“

Merlin shrugged. „Well, you are the prince. I suppose people kind of want you not to die, right? But it won’t come to that, don’t worry. I… Gaius and I will find some way to expose Valiant.“

Arthur threw his hands up. „There you go again - I’m not ‘worried’ about the fight! I will fight him, and if the snakes appear, I will deal with it.“

Merlin smiled brightly at him. „Good!“

And then he just turned on the spot and left. Arthur needed a full minute of staring after him incredulously before he muttered “you’re dismissed” to the closed door.

Long after he laid down to sleep, however, he was still thinking about what Merlin had said. People want you not to die, right?

The morning of the final arrived bright and far too early for Arthur‘s taste. He wouldn’t admit it to anyone, of course, but the thought of being trapped under Valiant‘s shield like Ewan, being attacked by those monstrous snakes, had given him disturbing dreams that night. He was already pacing his room full of nervous energy before the first servants could arrive with breakfast and to dress him for the fight.

When he arrived at the tournament grounds, the stands were already packed with spectators, despite it being so early. The special dais for the king was already filled with courtiers high and low, as well as the Lady Morgana. He looked around the lower stands to the sides and spotted some he presumed to be tradesmen from the town, but also a slightly more cobbled together group of farm workers, soldiers, housewives and children. His people. The harvest was done, the war was over for now, and before everyone had to huddle together for the winter, here was one last big celebration to entertain them all. Except this wasn‘t entertainment any longer. This was about the safety of his people, and most of them didn’t even know it. Arthur glanced at his father‘s seat, which was still empty. The king probably stayed in the warmth of the keep until the beginning of the fight; and he was probably excited to see Arthur facing Valiant, not caring in the slightest that Arthur would be fighting for his life.

Arthur clenched and relaxed his jaw and let out a deep breath. This kind of thinking wouldn’t help him now. He looked around for distraction and at the base of the stands, he suddenly spotted Morgana‘s maidservant, descending from the platform, probably on an errand for her lady.

Making up his mind quickly, Arthur strode over to her. She was walking away from the grounds and Arthur needed to get her attention, and found himself momentarily at a loss. He didn‘t want to draw attention to himself too loudly, and somehow calling out ‚hey you!‘ as he would have done with any random manservant, didn‘t seem fitting to such a sweet-looking girl, and the maidservant of a princess no less.

He finally caught up with her with long strides and settled on a polite, „excuse me?“

The girl startled and turned, and then startled again. „My lord! Apologies, I did not see you approach!“ She curtsied and lowered her head.

Arthur sighed inwardly - her behaviour was perfectly adequate, but seemed strangely ill-fitting to his request.

„No matter, I— could you tell me your name again, I‘m afraid I cannot recall it at the moment.“

The girl looked up, and two very pretty red blushes spread over her cheeks. „I— yes, of course, it‘s Guinevere, Sire,“ she added a little hastily.

Arthur smiled. „Guinevere. Morgana mentioned yesterday that you might be acquainted with Gaius‘ apprentice?“

Now, Guinevere‘s eyes widened. „Merlin? Yes…“ she hesitated a little, and Arthur got the impression she knew everything about Merlin’s two stints in the dungeons. But then she loyally answered: „He is my friend, Sire.“

Despite his situation, Arthur could not help himself. She seemed so sincere - he wanted to tease her a little. „Really?“ He raised an eyebrow. „That is astounding news to me. I hope he treats his friends with more curtesy than he does his royalty; or I would feel very sorry for you indeed!“

To his amusement, Guinevere‘s entire face cringed a little. She bit her lip a little before she said, with a cheeky glint in her eye, „there have been one or two occasions where he really put his foot in, where I wouldn’t have minded to send him to the dungeons myself, if I‘m honest.“

Arthur laughed, which made the blush spread wider across the maid‘s pretty face. „I mean—! I‘m sorry, my lord, I spoke out of turn.“

„I won‘t tell Morgana if you don‘t.“ Guinevere looked up again and pressed her lips together, hiding a smile. „But I came to ask: have you seen Merlin anywhere?“

Guinevere frowned. „Not yet today.“ She seemed to debate for a moment whether she should continue, so Arthur waited until she made up her mind. „He told me yesterday how worried he was about Knight Valiant,“ Guinevere said, lowering her voice a little. „He ran back home abruptly, though, so I assume he had an idea. How to help you, I mean.“

Arthur mulled that over. „I see.“ He glanced around; some of the guards were looking at them. He straightened.

„Well. Thank you. Let us hope Merlin just stays out of trouble until all of this is over.“ He nodded to her. „Please don’t let me keep you from your duties, Guinevere.“

He turned to leave, when she spoke up again. „It’s Gwen, for short. Sire,“ she added with a nod and smiled, before she quickly walked away towards the keep.

Arthur took a deep breath and marched back to the tournament, his chest a little lighter, at least for the moment.

Chapter Text

During the previous night, as Arthur had lain awake, going over possible moves and strategies to face Valiant’s snakes, time had seemed to slow to a crawl. Minutes had turned into hours as he’d tossed and turned, sleep evading him. Now, between the cheers of the crowd, the servants handing him his sword and shield, and him keeping a lookout for Merlin, time raced along faster than it should.

He hardly remembered all the steps he took to get there, but then he stood beside Valiant on the field, facing the king. Uther rose and spoke a few words to the crowd, praising the fighters of the tournament, but Arthur heard none of it.

Instead, he only took in Valiant’s quiet, threatening voice close to him, muffled a little by his helmet. “You can make this easy on yourself, boy,” he sneered. “Let yourself be defeated and I will show you mercy. I have no interest in killing you. I will take the prize and leave.”

Arthur gritted his teeth. And why should I believe the word of a murderer? He didn’t turn his head nor acknowledge Valiant’s words in any way. Valiant huffed a laugh and spun around, moving into position.

The king raised a hand. Arthur readied his sword. Focus.

Let the final begin! The words rang from the stands and time finally fell into step with Arthur. Valiant moved and struck, attacking him aggressively, with no hesitation. Arthur parried and stepped aside. He danced. And watched. He studied Valiant’s footwork, the way he held his shield low to the side before using it in his attack. When their swords clashed, Arthur felt the power in Valiant’s strikes, the strength behind them; but that was also a weakness, as it left him open to overbalancing, and his right side became unguarded.

After a few rounds of circling each other in this way, Arthur glanced at the stands, searching for his father’s face. Uther had no patience for defensive fights, he had mentioned it again at the dinner. He preferred fighters like Valiant: bold and destructive, showing strength; intimidation was as effective as a sword in some fights. But Arthur also saw Morgana’s concentrated face next to an anxious Guinevere; he spotted Leon and Geraint, standing next to Ifan, the old battle master of Camelot.

Ifan had been training with Arthur a lot recently and had continuously worked to refine Arthur’s slow, purposeful fighting style. “Arthur, you’ve learned too much brutality in your war. Too much recklessness,” he would say. “I’ll remind you how to fight single opponents with a cool head. I’ll remind you to be a knight.”

As Arthur glanced at him, he had his arms crossed and to anyone else he might have looked like he was just scowling. But Arthur caught the small, contented smile on his wide, scarred jaw, even as he glowered at the fight. Arthur let his shoulders relax and refocused on Valiant; never mind what his father liked to see. This wasn’t a performance for him. This wasn’t a performance for anyone, in fact. This was Arthur fighting for his life and the lives of everyone Valiant might hurt; this was Arthur proving that sorcery and cheats had no place in his Camelot.

Arthur raised his sword again and finally moved in. He attacked Valiant in his weak spots and forced him back, evading his shield blows where he could. He had found new resolve, but he’d be a fool to get too close to the snakes. Arthur slashed Valiant’s tunic and managed a few blows that could have been lethal if not for the thick armour they were wearing. Valiant hit Arthur a few times, his sword gliding off his chain mail, and then pressed his advantage - only to be stopped by Arthur’s evasion. The strategy was working, but it was tiring; after a few gruelling clashes, both throw their helmets off, to the cheers of the crowd. Judging from his opponent’s face, there was no denying it: Valiant simply had more reserves in physical strength. He was a bit older, his muscles more trained, and his heavier body carried more momentum than Arthur’s younger, leaner form.

As they both caught their breath, Valiant grinned nastily and glanced up at the royal stands. “I see how it is,” he said quietly, so only Arthur could hear. “You cannot lose the fight because this kingdom needs you to be champion.” He advanced slowly, rolling his arm, and casually twirling his sword with it - a show of strength, Arthur understood, as his own arms already protested at the strain. The arrogance of it made his stomach roil angrily.

“You have to be champion, or you’re nothing. Your father only wants the strongest around - you know it as well as I.” Valiant readied his shield again and grinned. “I will spare you the humiliation, then, and end your pathetic life instead - and take your place as the champion Camelot deserves.”

Something feral leapt up from Arthur’s belly up to his throat. Heat coursed through him as he gripped his sword with new strength. Without thinking, he dashed forward and hacked at Valiant’s shield before the knight could raise his sword properly. He drove him back, yelling and slashing at the snakes, trying to get past, to cut the damn liar’s neck. Power gave him confidence, and pure elation at Valiant’s withdrawal, his sword buckling under Arthur’s onslaught.

It was not strategic and it could not last. After a few vicious strikes, Arthur cut Valiant’s leg, making him cry out in pain; but it did not stop him or slow him down as Arthur had expected. Instead, he ignored the wound and immediately used the opening Arthur had foolishly given him. He moved forward with a snarl, bloodied spittle flying from his lips, and struck Arthur’s arm, making him lower his shield. Valiant advanced and stepped on Arthur’s foot, giving him the leverage he needed. He pulled up the snake shield quickly, hitting Arthur in the head and toppling him backwards, into the dirt.

Arthur’s ears rang, and for a moment, he couldn’t breathe. Before Arthur could get his bearings, Valiant yelled and rushed forward stepping on Arthur’s shield so he couldn’t lift his arm where it was strapped on. Having restrained him, he started whaling on him with his sword, so rapidly that Arthur could barely lift his weapon to parry. Just in time, with a loud yell, he tore his arm free of the straps and rolled over, Valiant’s sword hitting the ground right where Arthur’s head had been.

Around them, the crowd in the stands went wild, screaming and groaning at every blow. Arthur jumped up, but he stood unsteadily, his left arm throbbing painfully, his leg bruised from his fall. Valiant advanced, his face distorted unnaturally with a manic grin.

Fear finally gripped Arthur’s heart, and fear what was disarmed him at last. Under another volley of blows, his sword clattered aside.

In a last-ditch effort, without thinking, he threw his entire body at Valiant, trying to stay behind his cursed shield. A wave of nausea hit Arthur as the stench of Valiant‘s sweat and stale breath washed over him. A fist to his stomach slammed him backwards into a stone pillar, Valiant easily gaining his reach back, his strength still formidable. Arthur ducked more than fought his way away from him, trying and trying to think of a way out.

He managed to run a few steps towards his sword, but had to dodge Valiant’s blows again; and now the knight had him on the retreat, walking backwards slowly. He caught the king’s expression – but to his surprise, he looked scared rather than stern. People want you not to die, right?

Usually, this was where an opponent yielded. It would be considered dishonourable for Valiant to kill him after he surrendered. But his pride and honour still thundered in his chest, and Arthur stood tall, taking a defensive position instead. He could not, he would not yield to this monster.

Valiant moved forward, murder in his eyes, when… Arthur wasn’t sure what happened, exactly, but there was an odd tingle on his skin; the hair on his neck stood on end, and when a breeze brushed past his ears, he faintly heard whispered words.

The snakes on Valiant’s shield came alive.

Of the three on the picture, only two remained, but they looked just as vicious as the one he had beheaded, hissing, and baring their fangs at him.

“What are you doing?!” Valiant looked panicked. “I didn’t summon you!”

On the stands, the king had risen to his feet, his eyes widened in shock. “Magic…! Now we see you for who you really are,” Uther snarled.

Arthur regarded Valiant carefully, keeping out of reach, mentally calculating how quickly he could get to his sword, which was lying a few yards away from him in the dirt. Valiant smiled… and shrugged. “Very well,” he said and spoke a command in a strange tongue. The snakes detached themselves from the shield and slid down to the ground; this was how one or both must have gotten to Sir Ewan that night. How foolish of him, not to anticipate that they could leave the shield - but such was the wicked unpredictability of magic.

“Kill him!” Valiant cried, and the snakes rushed forward.

This time, Arthur was ready. He jumped sideways immediately and ran the last few steps towards his sword. He heard the hissing at his ankles and threw himself forward, rolling, gripping his sword, and coming back to his feet in one fluid motion. The crowd cheered louder than before; people were screaming his name. The snakes slithered forward with unnatural speed, but Arthur swung his sword once, twice, and they drew back, and with a third strike, he swiftly beheaded them both.

Without pause, Valiant leapt towards him with an angry roar, sword outstretched. Arthur parried, evaded, and then made a decisive step forward. With no more fear of the shield, he grabbed Valiant by the neck and pulled him off-balance. He didn’t hesitate: before Valiant could use his strength to free himself, Arthur ran his sword through his chest.

Valiant gave a guttural grunt, then coughed up blood and stared at Arthur in disbelief. As his body slid to the ground, Arthur let himself watch him, see the life leave him and his eyes go dull. It was over.

He looked up to the crowd - it seemed everyone had gotten up out of their seats and the cheering was deafening. Ifan, Leon, and Geraint looked proud, and Morgana was holding Guinevere’s hand; they were both smiling. But the most remarkable was the king, who was holding on to his throne for a moment, an indescribable expression on his face. Perhaps it was relief, but Uther suddenly looked older than he had before, as if he had been struck by a powerful blow.

Arthur’s chest was heaving with exertion, and suddenly a heaviness settled in his tired arms and legs; he was sweaty and all he wanted was to sit down on the sand and not get up for a while.

There was one face that Arthur was still missing, however. He let his eyes wander and finally spotted Merlin at the side of the arena. He was leaning against a stone pillar, looking absolutely ecstatic. Where everyone else seemed happy, Merlin somehow tripled that effect; it looked as if he was the one who had become champion, so bright was his smile. It took Arthur aback a little, and he found it quite infectious. He smiled, and lifted his sword one last time to the cheering crowd, then made towards Merlin to leave. As he walked past him, he couldn’t help but send Merlin a wry grin, which Merlin happily returned, none of their usual animosity present. Arthur shook his head and ruffled Merlin‘s hair in passing. Merlin looked rather out of breath, as if he’d been running. Figures that the idiot would be late.

When Arthur emerged from his tent in a fresh tunic, he was glad he‘d taken a moment to rest and splash some water on his face, seeing as he was immediately accosted by his fellow knights. Leon, Geraint, old Bedivere and Owain, their youngest, as well as Ifan and a few others cheered when he stepped outside, and for a few minutes, Arthur got slapped on the back a lot, told what a great fight it was and what a spectacular, last-minute save.

Finally, after all the congratulations were out of the way, Geraint said what everyone else had probably been thinking. “I knew you had the right of it, Arthur. It was the courageous thing to do, bringing it before the king.” He looked down, and clearly wanted to say more, but a now familiar nervousness spread: they couldn’t very well say that Uther had been wrong, that would be… well. The truth, said Arthur’s treacherous mind. But it wouldn’t help anyone to accuse the king of being wrong, now, would it?

“Valiant got what he deserved,” Arthur said diplomatically and Geraint looked a bit relieved. Arthur also couldn’t quite forget yet that while everyone was very congratulatory now, Sir Bedivere had been admiring Valiant’s sword technique on the first day of the battle, and some of the younger knights had been looking up to the man who bested so many - even after Sir Ewan had fallen. Thinking of Ewan sobered Arthur more than anything else, and he thanked his friends before he excused himself to go back to the keep.

In his room, Arthur fell gratefully back onto his bed as soon as he was alone. The attention was nice, of course, but something was different. He brushed his hands across the velvet bed cover and stared up at the fabrics hanging above him. Dust motes danced in the chilly air - somebody had lit a fire for him, but it was taking time for the room to warm up. When he’d been champion last, Arthur had practically sunned himself in the warm adoration from all sides. He had sought out the flattering courtiers and the praise of his fellow knights. He struggled to remember what that had felt like. Weightless, careless, just… altogether less, he realised. Less burdened by knowledge. By responsibility.

There was a knock on the door. He groaned, but found it was only a servant who entered quietly and brought him a platter of dried fruit and a drinks carafe. “I’m sorry to disturb you, Sire,” the servant said very politely and placed everything on the table. “With congratulations and compliments of the king.”

Arthur sighed. “Thank you—“ he looked up. The boy was the same one who had been serving him these past few days. He remembered him, because he bore a strange resemblance to Merlin. “Excuse me, what is your name?”

“George, my lord.” George bowed.

Arthur nodded, suppressing a chuckle at the very formal mannerism. He bet his father loved this servant. Well, that is, he would, were he to ever actually take note of who served him. “Thank you, George.”

The boy nodded stiffly and left without fuss. Perhaps the similarity to Merlin was more superficial than Arthur had thought.

He strayed to the table and idly picked at some dried apple pieces. Merlin had been sweaty, like he’d been running. He had told Arthur he would find a way to make the snakes come out. And hadn’t he felt a strange whisper on the wind?

Arthur popped another dried apple into his mouth. Maybe Merlin had found out the command word that Valiant used? It might have been in one of Gaius’ books. Uther was not… open about it, but Gaius had to have vast knowledge that he put at Uther’s command. Even knowledge of magic. Fight fire with fire, wasn’t that the saying?

Suddenly, Arthur laughed out loud. Merlin, saving the day with a magic word in sight of the king! How ridiculous. And criminal; but that would fit Merlin, wouldn’t it? Regardless, it was most likely he had just been late, only to see Valiant lose control of the shield.

Even so, Arthur felt a strange pull to go and see Merlin again. There was perhaps a conversation they were meant to have, or maybe he should… thank him for his efforts nonetheless? Pah, if he did that, Merlin would only disrespect him more, and he couldn’t have that. But perhaps it was the regal, nay, the honourable thing to do, to at least deign to speak to the peasant who had pointed him at Valiant. Yes, that makes more sense.

After some rest and a wash, Arthur didn’t bother to get dressed, and just headed straight to the physician’s quarters in just his trousers and loose tunic. After a few days in armour, it was welcome to be a bit more comfortable. When he knocked, there was no answer, but Arthur was sure he heard talking and some other raucous sounds coming from inside, so he entered, and then immediately stopped short.

The main physician’s quarters were a complete mess. One of the beakers had tumbled off the table and lay in a heap of shards on the ground. The blankets off Gaius’ bed were strewn all over the floor. A bucket of water had been spilled. There was no sign of Gaius, but from what Arthur assumed to be Merlin’s room, he heard laughter and… barking?

He stepped around the mess and made his way over to the room, listening bemused to the sounds inside. After a moment, he loudly knocked on the door. The giggles inside immediately stopped, and were replaced by a definite, loud growling. Arthur opened the door cautiously and was glad he did a moment later when a large dog jumped up towards him.

“Dog, down!” called Merlin’s voice from inside, and the dog let out one last warning growl before retreating.

Arthur glanced inside. The dog went to Merlin, who was sitting on the floor and welcomed it with a friendly pat on its head. It was black and brown, with soft floppy ears and looked strong; the type farmers used for cattle. On Merlin’s bed, Arthur was surprised to find Morgana’s pretty maidservant Guinevere. She immediately stood up, her face colouring a little when her eyes travelled down his hardly-dressed body. “My lord!”

Merlin, of course, remained on the floor, petting his dog. “Arthur! The champion of Camelot!” He made the announcement in a grand, posh voice. “Come in!”

Arthur raised an eyebrow towards the dog.

“Don’t worry, she’s harmless,” Merlin grinned. The dog now sat next to him, still keeping its eyes on Arthur. “Please excuse the mess. She’s proving a bit stubborn.” Again, he ruffled the dog’s head, sounding not in the least bit bothered about having a stubborn dog.

“If she gets any ideas, she can share your next cell,” Arthur groused but stepped inside, looking around. The room was tiny, with the distinct air of having once been for storage; it contained the bed, a small table and chair and a wardrobe, and was an even bigger mess than the outer chamber. Broken candle sticks, clothes, blankets, and bits of food were scattered all over the floor, bed, and surfaces.

Guinevere coughed uncomfortably. “Congratulations on your victory today, Sire,” she said.

“Thank you.” Arthur smiled and nodded, but then his heart did a little flip at the unexpectedly fierce look in Merlin’s eyes. As before in the arena, there was some kind of fire lit behind them. It was over in a second, as Merlin smiled and lowered his eyes to his dog again.

“Yes, well done,” he said in an entirely unconcerned voice, as if the moment had never happened. “Now, did you need something?”

Gwen’s eyes snapped to Merlin’s, completely scandalised. Arthur cleared his voice. “I was—“ Arthur’s eyes rested thoughtfully on Merlin’s cheeky smile. He knew so much more than he let on, didn’t he? He glanced at Gwen, who was once again quite endearingly red. “I was looking for Gaius, actually.”

Merlin shrugged. “He’s doing the rounds among the injured from the tournament. He’ll be back shortly, I think.” Then he grinned. “But more importantly, this good girl here needs a name! Gwen dropped by to help me decide on one, perhaps you’d like to join and offer some suggestions?”

Arthur shook his head. “You’re unbelievable. Where did you even get a dog so suddenly?”

Merlin’s eyes shifted around, looking unsure, and he finally looked at Guinevere. “Um, well…”

“My father had to get rid of her, unfortunately,” Gwen said quickly. “He said she was too boisterous to work in a forge, so Merlin… decided to adopt her.”

Arthur raised his eyebrows at what was obviously a very quick lie. A servant lying to the prince - his father would not stand for it for one moment. And why lie about something so unimportant anyway? But here was Gwen sitting so easily on Merlin’s bed, as if she was used to it… Had he underestimated the charm of Merlin’s rudeness and bumbling? Perhaps he better not pry, so as to respect the girl‘s modesty.

Merlin easily fell into the story. “Yes, that’s right, poor thing,” he crooned and scratched the dog’s ears, which it seemed to appreciate.

Arthur raised a dubious eyebrow. “And what use will a person who doesn’t farm, hunt, nor haul heavy loads possibly have for a dog?”

Merlin shrugged, trying to remain aloof and failing miserably. “I— I just thought I deserved a little companionship.”

“Interesting choice.” He was going to insult Merlin’s choice of partner further, but his eyes strayed to Gwen again, and he refrained.

Merlin, once again, ignored Arthur’s tone. “Thanks! Now, any good ideas for a name? You must know many fancy ladies at court?” Merlin wiggled his eyebrows.

Arthur rolled his eyes. “First of all, I do not, and secondly, she doesn’t exactly strike me as a courtly lady!”

Merlin pulled a mock-insulted face and put two hands over the dog’s floppy ears. Its eyebrows rose and it actually looked a bit offended. “Now don’t hurt her ladyship’s feelings, Arthur.”

Both Arthur and Merlin looked over when Gwen snorted a laugh. She immediately stopped and mumbled a self-conscious sorry.

She was laughing so much more when I wasn’t here. Merlin had a strange way of making Arthur forget he was a prince, but Gwen’s behaviour was an effective reminder of who he and Merlin were.

Arthur exaggeratedly stretched his shoulders. “If you plan on training that dog, make sure she learns better manners than you,” he said, trying to sound unaffected. “Seeing as you think I’ve got nothing better to do than sit around all day.”

Merlin’s eyes flashed angrily. “Sit around?” The dog let out a matching, low growl.

“And you should probably clean this mess before Gaius returns. So disrespectful. He is the king’s physician after all.” From the corner of his eye, Arthur saw that Gwen was pressing her lips together hard, trying not to smile. “If you’ll excuse me, some of us have a victory feast to attend.”

Arthur didn’t wait for a reply and left, closing the door behind him. As he was leaving, he could clearly hear Merlin complaining loudly, and the dog began barking in unison. He chuckled, but there was a part of him that wished he could have stayed a bit. Despite Merlin being obviously mad, his room had seemed the most welcoming place in the keep after everything that had happened.

In the evening, George silently reappeared to dress him in a fine red shirt and bejewelled jacket. He clasped the red cloak around his shoulders and placed his princely circlet on his head, adjusting it a little before he stood back, looking on with satisfaction. Arthur nodded, then made a quick decision. “George, you may be aware that I haven’t got a personal manservant at the moment.”

George drew himself up straighter. “Yes, my lord.”

Arthur smiled. “You have been doing an adequate job these past few days.”

George seemed to grow another inch. Yes, he would do nicely. “You may attend me from now on,” he said casually, and George looked like he was going to burst.

“Thank you, my lord. Does my lord require anything else?”

Arthur waved a hand, feeling a lot better somehow. It always helped to be reminded why it was far better to be the Prince, rather than sit in a servant’s dirty little room, playing with an untrained dog. “No, that is all for today, you may leave.”

How refreshing, to interact with a servant who actually listened to his commands, rather than just did what he pleased.

Arthur then made his way to his sister’s rooms, to escort her to the feast. When he got there and knocked, Guinevere opened the doors. She smiled, this time a little less timidly, which suited her very well. “Please come in, my lord, we’re nearly finished.”

Arthur inclined his head politely as she led them inside Morgana’s spacious quarters. “I see the dog hasn’t ravaged you, then?”

Gwen grinned. “Oh no! She is quite docile, my lord.”

“Have you settled on a name?”

“Merlin named her Branwen,” Gwen said. “She’s really sweet.”

From behind a decorated screen came Morgana’s voice. “Excuse me? Arthur, stop flirting with my maid and let her finish dressing me!”

Arthur sighed but Gwen turned away, a bit flustered. “I’m sorry Milady!“ she said and disappeared behind the screen.

“Don’t worry about my brother,” Morgana said. “He’s not half as important as he makes everyone think!”

“I heard that,” Arthur called, but he smiled as he wandered around the room a little. It was tastefully furnished, of course, and the number of dried flowers and draperies as well as a general sweet smell in the air immediately testified to it being the Princess’ rooms. It also looked quite comfortably lived in. Morgana had spent most of her life in Camelot, after all, and her rooms were far less austere than Arthur’s.

Morgana finally emerged from behind the screen, dressed in a long, maroon gown, with a warm, dark blue shawl draped artfully around her shoulders. She wore a gold necklace and her thin golden princess’ circlet.

“You look nice,” he managed, and Morgana rolled her eyes.

“Yes, yes, you scrub up well too, brother, once they peel you out of your chain mail. I hardly recognise you. You seem to wear little else!”

“Are you upset it’s not Knight Valiant escorting you, then?”

Morgana raised an eyebrow and said drily, “turns out he’s not champion material, after all.”

Arthur hesitated, he wasn’t even sure, why. An uneasiness roiled within him.

Morgana lowered her chin a little and gave him a look. Then she turned to Gwen. “Thank you, Gwen,” she said quite warmly. “I will see you at the feast.”

Guinevere gave her a smile and a little curtsy and quickly left the room.

“So you two met, then?” Morgana smirked.

“She’s a bit hard to miss, being your maidservant.” Arthur huffed a laugh.

“Now make sure you keep your hands off her, she’s all mine,” Morgana retorted with a little pout. “We don’t need any of that handsome knight routine.”

Arthur sputtered. “I’m sorry, what routine?”

“Hah! Don’t give me this innocent face. I know all about Sir Robert’s bastard down in the kitchen - your knights think the maidservants are like game. To hunt and to spoil!” She had a mocking tone, but Arthur could tell there was a hardness to it. Sir Robert probably wasn’t the only one with a bastard in the castle.

He sighed. “All right, you’ve made your point. But I assure you, I am just being polite and have no intention of fathering any bastards just yet,” he said. However, Morgana continued to stare at him thoughtfully, before abruptly changing the subject.

“Have you spoken to Uther yet?”

Now that was what was on her mind. Arthur didn’t immediately respond, and turned away, walking over to the window. It opened up to the outside of the keep, unlike his room which lay next to the courtyard. From here, he saw rolling forests and hills, stark contrasts of light and shadow under the cold sickle of the moon. The very countryside he’d scoured for an escaped sorcerer not too long ago.

“Yes,” he finally said. “I met him downstairs, briefly, when he was leaving the council chambers.”

“And?”

“I—“ Arthur hesitated. But if anyone, Morgana would perhaps understand. “I didn’t bring up Valiant again. But father… he said he’d believed me the whole time. That his belief was well-founded and… well. He was grateful I killed Valiant.”

“Another sorcerer punished,” Morgana mused quietly. She joined him by the window and looked out over the dark hills. Neither of them said anything about what a strange way that was to show someone you believed in them.

Arthur shook his head. “He wasn’t even a real sorcerer, was he?”

Morgana remained silent and regarded him with a quietly curious look.

“He was just a brute with a cursed shield.” Arthur lowered his voice.

Morgana cocked her head. “Well, that’s neither here nor there, of course. We can’t let anyone slip through our fingers, can we?”

Arthur did not miss the sarcasm in her voice. How could she always mock Uther like that? Did he let her get away with it? Or did she never do it to his face?

Morgana finally let her proud face show some concern. “I understand, you know. It’s very difficult to speak your mind against him. He’s got that… presence. But I feel the same way - it seems odd for him to be so arbitrary; I thought he’d believe you instantly, especially over...”

She was avoiding saying magic. Arthur frowned. “Has something like this come up before?”

“Not really… it’s just, since that sorcerer escaped from the dungeons, I’ve noticed him behaving a bit more... I don’t know, exactly. It’s like he’s nervous.” She looked out over the land, as if the dark trees could tell her the answer. “There’s something eating at him, but I haven’t heard of anything else that might be going on in the kingdom. Apart from your return.”

Arthur was silent for a moment. He got the impression that Morgana usually liked to be well-informed about everything that was ‘going on’ and she seemed annoyed that she might not be. “Well, it is my birthday next month,” he said, lowering his head. The day the mother he’d never known had died. Nobody must be more aware of the significance of the days growing darker than his father.

“Yes… the darkest night. Twenty years to the day,” Morgana said, quietly. “Perhaps that is all it is.”

Arthur drew himself from his musings when he heard the faint sound of a bell. “At any rate, we shouldn’t speculate. If something bothers him that affects the kingdom, father will discuss it with us eventually, I’m sure.”

Morgana didn’t look so sure, but she let out a sigh and dropped the matter. He held out his arm gallantly, and she took it, drawing herself up and replacing her thoughtful expression with her usual aloofness. Together, they made their way to the great hall, to join the victory feast.

Say what they might about the king, he certainly made sure it was a suitably decadent victory celebration.

“People of Camelot, honourable guests,” he announced grandly, holding up his cup. “I give you Prince Arthur, your champion!”

Amongst cheers and clapping, Arthur led Morgana around the room in a little parade, both of them smiling and graciously nodding. Uther came towards them and slapped Arthur on the back with a proud look. His cheeks were reddened from wine and he looked a bit tired, but his naturally gregarious manners were hiding it well. He let his arm linger and led them over to a group of nobles. “Lady Astolat, have you met my son? Arthur, may I present the Lord and Lady Astolat, their daughter Elaine, and their household knights. I believe you fought Sir Bors in the tournament?”

Arthur greeted them politely. The girl, Elaine, looked to be about 16 or 17, and curtsied demurely, stealing glances at Arthur with a shy smile. Lord Astolat and Sir Bors shook Arthur’s hands excitedly and began talking to him about the duels – conspicuously avoiding talking about Valiant. Morgana was immediately drawn into a conversation with Lady Astolat and Elaine, the latter contributing little, while the former hogged Morgana’s attention, letting her hardly get a word in.

Another few knights soon joined in the small group, and Arthur was doing his best to be as sociable as his father, but every single muscle in his body ached, and even holding a wine cup was tiresome. It was difficult to extricate himself, however, because whenever Arthur was flagging too obviously, Uther drew him back into the conversation. He was boasting, pointing out specific fighting moves Arthur had done and comparing them to his own. But Arthur found the display of fatherly pride a little off-putting; he couldn’t quite say why, because on the face of it, his father’s praise meant everything to him. But somehow, tonight, he could not feel it.

Finally, when he spotted Gaius standing to the side of the celebration, with Merlin somewhere behind him, Arthur excused himself, promising to greet the other nobles and knights, and not just hog the poor Astolats. Lady Astolat and Elaine giggled as he walked away and he heard the lady comment, “he cuts such a nice figure, doesn’t he, darling,” which made Arthur doubly glad to leave.

He meandered past other guests, making polite small talk, but steering in Gaius’ direction. When he finally reached him, away from any loud, chatty groups, Arthur managed to let his guard down a little. Gaius laughed and raised his cup at him. “Relax, Sire, I won’t accost you with any more gossip. But may I say, congratulations.” He drank, then glanced over his shoulder to Merlin, who was leaning against one of the pillars, a cup in his hand as well.

“Merlin, don’t slouch back there, show some manners!”

Merlin smirked at Arthur and stood up. “Sorry, Gaius. Congratulations on your victory, my lord,” he said in an overly slow, posh voice, bowing his head in the most mocking gesture Arthur had ever seen.

He shook his head. “Unrepentant as always, I see,” he said.

Gaius gave Arthur a wary look, but before he could scold Merlin again, a noble lady approached them. “Excuse me my lord, but may I borrow Gaius for a moment?” She grabbed Gaius by the elbow and hooked her arm under his. “It’s my husband, you see, I think he’s eaten something that doesn’t agree with him…” she prattled on, and before Gaius could protest, he was dragged away, looking decidedly unhappy.

“Poor Gaius, he never gets a night off,” Merlin said, with feeling. Arthur looked him over. He stood leaning against the pillar again, just so that he evaded the light from the candles around the room. Only small patches of warm orange on his cheek and shoulder gave him form, while the rest of his body melded into the shadows. Somehow, it suited him, and he seemed less like a clumsy boy and more like a mischievous spirit from an old tale.

Arthur shook his head. He must have had a little too much wine. He turned away, standing next to Merlin, surveying the room. The celebration was getting louder and wilder around them, but here with Merlin, Arthur was more at ease than he had been all evening.

“Has your father apologised to you?” Merlin asked.

Arthur snorted. “He’ll never apologise,” he said, surprising himself with his honesty. And suddenly, what he had been meaning to say actually came easily.

“I wanted to thank you,” he said, his heart beating a little faster. Merlin went still next to him. “If you hadn’t come to me, Valiant might have killed more people. It was a good thing.”

Merlin took a moment, but then he said, “I’m glad. You’re welcome.” When Arthur glanced over, there was a small smile on Merlin’s face, illuminated by candlelight.

Chapter Text

Nimueh pulled the thick bearskin cloak tighter around her shoulders as the cold wind crept into every seam. “Léoht,” she whispered, her eyes taking on the golden hue of magic, and produced a small, yellow-glowing orb in one hand. Warmth immediately began spreading down her hand and arm, and she hovered the ball quickly over to her other hand, to warm up the fingers that clutched the reins of her horse. The big palomino was ploughing steadily through the deep snow, slowly but surely carrying her closer to Lake Avalon.

She could see it now, through the trees, though the short day‘s light was already waning. She lifted her hand and the small ball of light and warmth floated higher above her head, bobbing along with the horse‘s steps. At the edge of the tree line, a thick fog seemed to lie above the ground, seeping into the trees. As she got closer, Nimueh felt the air growing warmer, and soon her horse tread on gravel, sand, and fallen leaves instead of snow.

She halted, and took in the stillness. Lake Avalon lay before her, tepid even in the midst of winter, never frozen. Warm steam was curling up from the water, almost entirely obscuring the surface and the island Nimueh knew lay in the centre of the lake. The fog crept over the shore with eager tendrils, carving out this space from the snow and ice around. The horse shuddered a little at the sudden warm air and shook out its mane, snorting gently and shuffling around. Nimueh gratefully patted its neck, a small smile on her face. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and took a moment to let her gift reach out across the lake. Her heartbeat sped up as abilities long unused came to the surface, and she gasped when the magic of Avalon touched her own. The time that had passed since she was here last weighed heavily on her shoulders. The magic felt thicker, more unruly; a neglected animal badly in need of some attention.

Nimueh exhaled and the ball of light disappeared. She climbed off her horse, and the animal nuzzled her cheek before starting to look for spare grass on the rough bank. Nimueh stepped closer to the water, until her thick winter boots touched the water. She held out a hand and whispered. Onwrēoþ.

Nothing happened.

She shrugged a little to herself - it had been some time. Until that old druidess, Mary, had come to see her, she had hardly used magic at all beyond what her daily survival required. Now, she reached further into herself and spoke the word with more conviction, and a bit louder. Reveal yourselves!

It rang out over the still lake, yet nothing stirred. Nimueh frowned. The silence wasn’t entirely without substance. The quietness was artificial, even more unnatural than was normal for this place. There was something in the air… almost mocking her. It wasn‘t her powers waning - she was being ignored.

That changed things somewhat. Nimueh raised both hands and glared at the lake. She intoned her next spell forcefully, biting out each word with utmost clarity. Obey me, she thought, her intent more than clear.

Finally, the lake in front of her began to shimmer in a blue glow. It started at her feet and radiated outward across the water; the surrounding forests seemed darker and more foreboding because of it. Nimueh waited, and she understood that this, too, was intentional. However, she did not give in to the temptation to cast a more powerful spell or demand to be heard. Now, she simply waited.

After a few moments, they emerged from the lake.

Several small, blue creatures shot up from the water and raced towards the shore, almost too fast to make out. When they reached Nimueh, they slowed, hovering in the air. Nimueh recognised the fluttering faerie wings, raggedy clothes, and nasty scowls on their otherworldly faces - and she knew of their reputation for wickedness. Nevertheless, she decided to be civil.

„Honoured Sidhe,“ she gently inclined her head, but not too far. „You have not changed over these many years that we have not seen one another.“

A Sidhe with a wrinkled and sour looking face flew forward. He was wearing a complicated little headdress and seemed the oldest - she recognised the Elder of the Sidhe from the old Druidic tales. The other Sidhe flew into formation behind him, three males on his right, three females to his left, a magical symmetry in all their movements.

„The years have not been so many to the immortal Sidhe,“ the Elder sneered. „But neither of us has changed, high priestess.“ He at least acknowledged her with a nod as well, which Nimueh took as a good sign. „We know of you, yet you never sought us out directly,“ he continued impatiently. „Why come you to us now?“

Nimueh spread her hands, indicating the lake. „I have come to visit one of the focal points of the ancient magics of the land, and the door to Avalon. I have come to awaken many powers that have slumbered for twenty years, you among them. It is time.“

The Elder scoffed. „We have not slumbered! While you druids cowardly perished or went into hiding, the Sidhe alone kept watch over the land. All around us, magical creatures were hunted and murdered and driven away from these sacred grounds. We alone withstood the tyrant‘s purge!“

Nimueh felt a stab of anger, but tried to school her face into an impassive mask. He was not wrong, of course, but it hurt to be reminded of all they had lost. It had not been the druids’ choice to abandon anyone. If they had not hidden away, they would have all been killed, and no one would remain to take revenge…. Perhaps this was her way to sway them to her side again.

„It is of Uther Pendragon we must speak,“ she said, and saw several of the other Sidhe curse or spit as the name was mentioned. „I believe it is time for him to fall.“

The Elder regarded her for a moment. „His time has been long overdue. Why think you now is the time for action?"

She hesitated. “Magic has once again become active in Camelot,” she said. “I come to rouse the land, as is my duty as high priestess. I shall take up residence in Camelot to investigate the new power that awakened there.” Nimueh inclined her head again, giving the Elder a friendly smile. “Will the Sidhe honour their old allegiance and join me in this venture?”

There was a moment of silence. Then, a nasty snicker broke from the Sidhe Elder. His laugh spread to the other blue spirits hovering in the air around him. “So the great high priestess comes to us for aid?” He laughed again.

Nimueh felt a cold shiver run down her spine and she balled her fists. She knew it was going to be hard to bend the Sidhe to her will after all this time, but she hadn’t exactly expected this level of insolence.

“Your aid is not required,” Nimueh said coldly. “I am merely graciously reminding you that it is due, that is all, Elder.”

His face twisted into an angry snarl and he seemed to glow a little brighter. His power swirled around him, great tongues of fire bathing him in a threatening haze. It hurt Nimueh to look at him too closely.

“You no longer hold any power over my people.” Every word was punctuated by the glow of magic surrounding him. “You’re a fool, Nimueh of the humans, if you think your kind have ever ruled over us or this land. It belongs to the fae, and we shall kill the tyrant and his spawn and take back what has been stolen. And we do not need to grovel for help from anyone.“ His retinue laughed again and he turned to fly away.

After a moment, he looked back over his shoulder, and Nimueh got the impression she was being condescended to.

„I supposed I should thank you,“ he said in a mock-friendly tone. „For coming to let us know the time is right. You may make your seat in Camelot to watch, at least.“

Nimueh stood rooted to the spot, seething as the Sidhe flew away over the lake. When they were mere blue specks in the distance, she let go, releasing her fury in a scream that echoed through the forest. A flock of birds, startled, flew up into the sky, but after a moment, all was quiet again.

Nimueh felt the cold rise into her now from the frozen ground, and she stomped her feet for a moment to get back the feeling in her toes. She saw that a large circular area on the ground where she was standing had been cleared entirely of snow. „Well“, she said, contemplating the circle. „My power is still great, and I have no need for their ridiculous posturing. They always were more bark than bite.“

Her horse gave a little snicker when she approached. „Thank you,“ Nimueh said. „I thought you‘d see it my way.“

She brushed some fallen snow off the saddle and mounted again. She gave one last look over Lake Avalon. It looked as still as before, but now it seemed not so much like it was asleep, but rather, the quiet before a battle. She needed to be ready… she needed more information.

She turned her horse back towards the road and gently pressed the mare with her heels. „To Camelot.“

—————————————

It had been 25 years or more since Nimueh first set foot in the town of Camelot. It had been a bit smaller and emptier, but much of the houses and little streets were still familiar to her. She navigated her horse through the hovels at the lower end of town, the large keep‘s wall always in sight, looming over her. But Nimueh felt at ease - the feeble displays of power of Uther‘s court had long lost their power over her.

Nimueh reached a row of smaller derelict hovels. The harsh weather had not been kind to them, and where elsewhere, proper trenches had been dug for horses and people to pass, the path here was still covered in snow. She approached the last hovel in the row and dismounted. Nobody would bother her here…

„You‘re not Mary.“

Almost nobody.

Nimueh sighed and turned to the man who had spoken. He was looking out of a half-open window in the hut next door, clearly having nothing better to do than watch the path. He was looking at her intently, scratching his beard.

„She doesn‘t live her anymore, pardon, my lady“ he added helpfully, glancing at Nimueh’s fine travelling cloak and her elegant horse. „Left a few weeks back, sorta’ sudden.“

Nimueh smiled. „I know, but thank you for your assistance. I am a friend of Mary‘s, and she came to see me. She is well, and she has permitted me to use her home as lodgings for the winter.“

The man narrowed his eyes, thinking. „Oh well,“ he finally said. „None of my business, my lady, but it mightn’t be up to your standards, if you pardon me saying so. They’ve got some nicer inns in the upper town.“

Nimueh nodded. „Thank you,“ she said with a finality that the man understood. He shrugged and removed himself from the window. Nimueh dismounted, her boots crunching deep into the fresh snow. She stroked her horse’s mane, then thought for a moment, taking in the small door of the hut. Then she glanced around the empty, snowy path. She breathed out and said quietly, „Geīeċ þisne dúru, rýme hūs!“

The magic flowed through her effortlessly, and it warmed her to her core. The air around the little hut shimmered briefly, but outwardly, nothing seemed to have changed. Regardless, Nimueh didn’t hesitate and took her horse‘s reigns, walking slowly through the snow towards the small door. She pulled it open, and if the old neighbour had still been watching, he would have had to doubt his senses; Nimueh and the horse walked through the open door without a problem, even though the horse was most definitely too large to do it.

Inside the hovel, Nimueh now found quite enough space to comfortably lodge herself and stable her horse. It nuzzled her cheek and she gently stroked its soft fur. It wouldn’t have done to leave the poor beast out in the cold, after all.

———

The next day, well rested and dressed in the garb of a commoner, Nimueh left her new home again, to make her way to the keep. Predictably, when she stepped into the snowy road, the neighbour was poking his head out of his window again.

„Good morning,“ he greeted, friendly, but wary.

Nimueh waved, letting magic infuse her words. „I arrived yesterday with my aunt,“ she explained calmly. „I have been offered a position to serve at court, and will be out all day learning my tasks. We haven’t met before.“

The man‘s eyes glazed over for a moment. Perhaps this was a little too much effort for one man, but Nimueh decided this was not a time to take chances. She had changed her face in subtle ways, carefully checking herself in a mirror that morning. Her cheeks were a bit ruddier, her skin radiating the freshness of youth, rather than the pale, smooth agelessness she was used to. She’d wrapped her hair in a long blue scarf and glamoured her hands to mimic the hardship of manual labour, and for good measure she‘d given her horse a tight hug for a bit of believable body odour.

„Ah, of course,“ the man said vaguely. „Nice to meet you, miss.“

„Nice to meet you,“ Nimueh said, demurely lowering her head, and starting to make her way towards the upper town.

Chapter Text

“Merlin, we need to talk.”

Merlin let his forehead sink to the page he’d been studying. He was lying on his bed when Gaius knocked. He’d been trying to catch him all day, but Merlin - skilfully, he felt - had avoided any notions of talking by constantly finding something to do. Unfortunately, his sudden productiveness did nothing to deter the old man, so he sat up with a sigh and closed the heavy magic tome lying on his bed. As the leather cover slammed shut, Branwen raised her head with a start where she had been dozing next to Merlin.

“I was just reading something about curses,” he said.

“I’m glad you’re finding the book so enthralling,” Gaius said, his eyebrows raised. “But we need to talk about what happened last week. We never really got the chance.”

Merlin got up, and Branwen followed. Gaius eyed the dog unhappily. “I’m not sure she should be sleeping in your bed, Merlin. This is the home of the king’s physician, not the stables.”

“Yes, well, I told her to stay off the bed, but she disagreed,” Merlin shrugged and went into the main room.

“When training a dog, I believe it is customary to use some sort of reward and punishment system,” Gaius insisted. “Not to ask the beast its opinion!”

Branwen jogged around Gaius, ignoring him completely, and lay down under the bench by the table, where Merlin took a seat. He felt like he was on trial, so his new friend’s unspoken support meant a lot. Perhaps that’s why he was a bit soft on her. “I don’t ask, Gaius, I just discuss things with her and take her wishes into consideration. She didn’t ask to be here, so the least I can do is make some compromises. Besides…” he spread out his hands, but then hesitated. He knew Gaius didn’t like it if he, in his mentor’s words, “flaunted” his magic.

“Besides… what?” Gaius sat down with his distinct old-man sigh.

Merlin studied the tabletop. “Well… she seems to respond to me… differently.”

Gaius sighed. “You mean…”

“She was created from my magic,” Merlin said reluctantly. “I don’t know exactly how that makes her different, but… she is. Like me. A bit different.”

Gaius studied him for a while. “Yes, I suppose she is, my boy,” he said softly. “I guess I can’t begrudge you the company.”

“No,” Merlin said, a bit more sullenly than intended. “Exactly. Don’t begrudge.”

Gaius smiled. “Which brings me to the other company you’ve been keeping recently.”

Merlin looked up. “I haven’t exactly kept his company. I just went for some advice.”

“The Great Dragon is no mere old sage, Merlin,” Gaius said, his eyes now looking more serious. “He is powerful and ancient. Please promise me you’ll keep your guard up when you speak to him.”

“Why didn’t you come with me, Gaius? You’d see it was only a friendly chat,” Merlin said, although he had raised this point before. Gaius said that the dragon probably didn’t like him very much, and the dragon agreed, and that seemed to be the end of it.

Gaius sighed again. “I understand he helped you with Valiant, and that makes it seem like he’s on your side. But the only cause he’s truly interested in is his own.”

“He helped me free Thomas! He helped me save Arthur’s life!”

“Because it aligned with his interests, at that moment. Did he tell you anything about any prophecies?”

Merlin thought back. “Well, he said I was important somehow and that we all had a destiny.”

Gaius nodded. “We do. From his point of view. Do not think of the Great Dragon as just an impartial mouthpiece for a fixed fate that has been written in the stars. He is a living being with his own agendas and wishes. What do you think he wishes for more than anything?”

Merlin looked down again. That one wasn’t difficult. “His freedom,” he said quietly. It weighed heavy on his heart that the majestic beast was imprisoned. Underground seemed such a wrong place for him… he couldn’t fly free, couldn’t just live his life. Something about it all tugged on Merlin’s heartstrings, like he was connected to the dragon, even though he didn’t know why. He felt a kinship with him, and just as he had freed Thomas, Merlin had dreamed up scenarios more than once of how he could free the dragon.

Branwen suddenly came up from beneath the table and put her head into Merlin’s lap. He began stroking her ears and felt a little better.

“He hasn’t asked me to free him. He hasn’t asked anything of me in return for his advice, actually.”

“His advice helped shape the very future he can see bits and pieces of. He has his own ideas which of these pieces should come to pass, and how.” Gaius’ voice softened and he caught Merlin’s eye again. “He may be helpful, but please, Merlin. Please never forget that you alone choose your actions. You alone are in charge of your destiny.”

Merlin swallowed. When Gaius got like this, he couldn’t fight with him any longer. “All right. I will be careful.”

“Thank you.”

Merlin cocked his head. “How do you know so much about dragons, anyway? Do they all have this gift to see the future?”

Gaius shifted, his eyes taking on a pained edge as he studied Merlin’s face. “I don’t have much personal experience with them,” he said finally. “But… someone stayed with me, once. He knew a great deal about dragons and chose to share his knowledge with me.”

The memory seemed to pain him, but Merlin couldn’t deny his curiosity was thoroughly roused. He knew Gaius had probably used magic in the past… “Did… that person also use magic? Was he a sorcerer?”

Gaius looked away. “No, he wasn’t,” he said sadly. “Not in the way you think. But this is a conversation for a different day, Merlin. You don’t want to hear about an old man’s even older friends that have long gone.”

Merlin sighed but accepted that he wouldn’t learn more today. “Well… if there’s nothing else, I’ll get back to my book,” he said and got up. Branwen trotted along, back to his room.

Gaius stood up as well, but called him back when he was nearly at his door. “Merlin… the book. Please remember that using your gift is only for emergencies. What happened last week shouldn’t… What I mean is, don’t let it give you the wrong idea.”

“But… I saved people with it, Gaius. My magic a good thing, don’t you see that?”

Gaius just shook his head and turned away, looking even more pained, and somehow older. “Yes, I see it, Merlin,” he said quietly. “I just worry the wrong people will eventually see it, too.”

In the weeks following the tournament, Merlin found it difficult to put the events out of his mind. He kept reading the magic grimoire, and every day, it introduced some new, horrible magical threat to Merlin’s overactive imagination. There were different kinds of poisoning, or ways to put another person under your control; an entire menagerie of mystical creatures was apparently only waiting for you to get lost in the forest to make you their next meal; and any spells that healed or helped or magically solved a problem came with dire warnings how dangerous and difficult they were. And if you made a mistake, horrible consequences would be imminent.

The days grew shorter, the nights longer, and heavy snowfall descended on Camelot. Winter had the castle firmly in its grip - there was little to do but huddle inside, light fires, and read. From being practically forbidden to even think about his magic for the last few years, within a few weeks, Merlin went to being overwhelmed by everything magical he hadn’t known could kill him.

The only consolation seemed to be Branwen, who became his steady companion whenever he wasn’t directly in the castle. He had once taken her on his rounds, but the courtiers complained; since then, she usually waited in his room until he had to go out to the lower town or into the forest. She made Merlin feel safe and not quite so lonely, which made up for the reduced space in his bed. Whenever he’d read too much of his book, he stroked Branwen’s floppy ears and thought: my magic created you when I really needed it to. So it can’t be as difficult as all that.

On his rounds, Merlin now had a new regular delivery to make - to Princess Morgana. Today, as on every previous day for a week, Merlin knocked as politely as possible, and Morgana called him inside. He actually observed all the required courtesies that he usually denied Arthur. Partly because she was a princess, and that was different, and partly because he knew it would wind her brother up, if he knew.

“With compliments of Gaius; he says the taste should have notably improved.”

Morgana stood up from her desk where some papers rested in neat piles. She wore a beautiful dark blue gown that highlighted her pale skin, and her dark hair fell around her shoulders. Merlin couldn’t deny that her appearance was striking - and a little intimidating.

“Thank you, Merlin,” she said, with no hesitation. She was by now familiar enough with him to know his name - and to use it. Not all courtiers did. She placed the bottle on her nightstand, and Merlin turned, intending to leave.

“Guinevere speaks quite highly of you, Merlin.” Morgana’s clear voice stopped him.

He turned back, surprised, and forgot his courtly manners immediately. “Really??” he asked, and a moment later, he lowered his eyes again and added, “I mean, I’m sorry milady. I didn’t mean to…”

Morgana chuckled. “Please. Won’t you do me the same courtesy as my brother? I hear you’ve been keeping him on his toes.”

„I have?“

„I like to stay informed about what goes on in the castle. I believe you said some very unkind things about certain court attire.“

Merlin blushed as he remembered. Arthur had been dressed up for some formal event, and Merlin had taken every chance he found to let Arthur know how silly he looked in embroidered velvet. It was a bald-face lie, of course - Arthur would cut a fine figure in sack cloth.

„Oh, that, well…“ Merlin smirked to himself. „I mean, you should have seen it…“

„There it is,“ Morgana said with a glint of triumph in her eyes. „You see a horrible piece of clothing, you point it out. The lot of us could do with more people this honest, Merlin.“

Merlin looked up now, smiling. “I… I think I would find it a little more difficult to… er…”

“Insult me to my face?”

Merlin adjusted his neckerchief, feeling genuinely embarrassed all of a sudden. “I fear that a worse fate than a night in the dungeons would await me, milady.”

She caught his eyes and gave him a shrewd look. “See, Merlin? You’re cleverer than you look!“

Merlin allowed himself to smile back. Tormenting Arthur was not a bad thing to have in common with someone. He decidedly liked the Princess more and more.

“Now - don’t let me keep you,” Morgana said and gave him a nod of dismissal. Merlin bowed and left, a smile still on his face.

A few days later, Merlin and Gaius were tidying up the workshop, when Arthur came by - accompanied by a young lady. He was still in his riding gear and had merely taken off the chain mail so he could present his arm, or rather, the very large gash on it.

„I‘m afraid I require some patching up, Gaius,“ Arthur said and leaned against their table, looking equal parts in pain and strangely smug. He pointedly ignored Merlin.

Gaius examined the presented arm and tutted appropriately. „Goodness me, Sire, what happened? And if I may be so bold, with whom do we have the pleasure?“ He bowed his head politely towards their new guest.

Merlin began gathering a few bandages, a bowl of water and some herbs. As he set them down near Gaius, he glanced at the girl. She appeared to be about Merlin‘s age, with a beautiful mellow face, and long, golden hair. She wore foreign-looking clothing and jewellery and kept her head demurely lowered.

As Gaius started cleaning the gash on Arthur‘s arm, he winced, but then began talking.

„Gaius, allow me to present Sophia of Tir-Mor. She and her father are our guests at the moment.“ Arthur grinned genially. „I happened to come across the Lady Sophia on my hunt this morning, when she was beset by bandits!“

Lady Sophia nodded. „Prince Arthur was incredible,“ she breathed. „He fought off five of these ruffians by himself, and I‘m afraid he got injured in the process!“

Merlin took the bowl from Gaius and brought him fresh water and some salve. He noticed that Arthur had introduced only Gaius and kept ignoring him. Moreover, he seemed only mildly injured, yet he acted as if he had sacrificed a leg. He was wincing a little more than was perhaps strictly speaking necessary, but any bad acting on his part seemed to only enhance Sophia‘s rapture.

„It‘s no matter,“ Arthur said, holding out his arm for Gaius to wrap in a bandage. „Anyone would have done the same.“

„And we‘d lost our way in the snow, too!“ Sophia sighed. Her voice had a strangely melodious quality to it. „We would never have found Camelot, and probably would have frozen to death, had not Arth— Prince Arthur rescued us.“ Sophia accompanied her slip with an enchanting look from under her lashes.

Arthur preened, and Merlin couldn’t help himself; a snort escaped him. Arthur‘s happy face slipped a little into annoyance, but was quickly replaced by his usual arrogance.

„All is well now, Milady. And you can see that my arm will soon be as good as new. Right, Gaius?“

„Er, quite, Sire,“ Gaius said with an attempt to equal Arthur‘s gravitas.

„Thank you,“ Arthur said. „May I escort you back upstairs, Milady?“ He held out his uninjured arm for Sophia and she took it graciously. „The servants,“ he said this with a pointed look in Merlin‘s direction, „will have prepared rooms for you and your father.“

She bowed her head to Gaius. „Thank you,“ she said airily, and the two left.

As soon as they had gone, Merlin let his laughter break free.

„Merlin!“ Gaius admonished. „You really should control yourself more in the presence of the Prince. And especially with a foreign lady! It isn‘t proper.“

Merlin held up his hands. „I‘m sorry, Gaius. But did you see the way he acted in front of her?“ Merlin dramatically held out his arm and pretended it was falling off. He was gratified by a small smile that graced Gaius‘ lips.

Gaius raised his eyebrow. „I shall remind you of your words the next time you‘ll try to impress a girl, Merlin. Or perhaps when Guinevere comes to visit?“

Merlin started. „Me! Gaius, I don‘t think I‘ve ever had a chance to try and impress anyone, let alone a girl. And leave Gwen out of this, she is just a friend!“

„If you say so, Merlin.“

„Gaius!“

„I merely note that you two spend a lot of time together, that‘s all.“

Merlin only tutted, but was glad Gaius was smiling. Merlin had his own ideas about impressing girls, namely that he didn’t really want to, but he wasn’t going to discuss that with Gaius. At least being teased about girls was still more agreeable than being told off about magic.

Merlin awoke very early the next morning by voices in the next room. The light of the winter dawn was still a few hours away, and at first, he intended to simply turn over and ignore whatever medical emergency was happening. But then he thought he recognised the woman speaking.

„…come back later. I’m very sorry for waking you…“

„Nonsense, my child,“ came Gaius‘ quiet, reassuring reply. „My favourite patient is always welcome. What ails you in this dark night?“

There was a pause, and Merlin threw back his blanket and sneaked over to the door, to listen more closely.

„I had another dream,“ said the woman, and now Merlin was sure it was Princess Morgana.

He shifted, and the floorboard under his left foot creaked ominously. Branwen was sitting up in bed, too, and gave an inquiring whine. Merlin quietly shushed her and she shuffled gratefully back into the covers, probably glad this didn’t concern her.

„This was… new, Gaius. I usually dream more abstract things. But this was…“ There was a rustling sound, like someone with several layers of clothing pacing around. „I saw Arthur lying under water, drowning, and there was a woman standing over him, watching him die. And she's here in Camelot.“

Morgana spoke quickly, and Merlin held his breath.

„The mind plays tricks,“ Gaius said somewhat dismissively. „It borrows from everyday life: people and places, common fears, and plays them out in its own fantasy.“

„No,“ Morgana insisted. „I had this same dream once before. The night before she came to Camelot.“

„You must be mistaken. Perhaps your mind added in someone you know after the fact.“

„I know what I saw! It was vivid, Gaius. I saw Arthur die, this woman… this foreign princess, has come to kill him.“

There was some more rustling and another pause.

„Morgana, I have looked after you a long time. You were always an imaginative child. These are mere dreams, nothing more. Are you taking the sleeping draught I made up for you?“

A sigh. „It doesn’t help. It used to, but lately…“

There was more movement and some clinking of bottles.

„Here, try this. This is a stronger dosage of a similar herb. It will induce a deeper sleep and stop your dreams.“

„…Thank you, Gaius.“

There was a distinct note of disappointment in Morgana‘s voice.

„Oh, and Milady? Best not worry the king about this.“

Moments later, the door was opened and shut again.

Merlin waited, his mind whirring. But before he could make up his mind about what he should do, Gaius called from the main room.

„You can come out now, Merlin.“

He did, twisting the hem of his nightshirt between his fingers. „I… uh, I’m sorry, Gaius. For eavesdropping.“

Gaius merely sighed. „Go fetch some fresh water my boy, and then we‘ll talk.“ He sat down at the table and looked entirely content to sit there and wait until Merlin was back.

When he returned to the physician’s quarters, Merlin took his thick winter cloak off and brushed the snow from his gloves; he was sweaty after breaking the ice on the well and stomping through the snow. By the time Merlin had hauled up the water, started boiling it and prepared two bowls of oats for porridge, a faint slither of light was finally creeping up in the sky.

He handed Gaius a bowl, who acknowledged his hard work with his customary nod and began eating. Merlin ignored his own bowl completely.

„Now will you tell me why you‘re sitting there so calmly after we just heard there might be another attempt on Arthur‘s life?“

Gaius swallowed his mouthful and regarded Merlin thoughtfully.

„What do you know about seers?“

Merlin considered it. There hadn’t been anything so far in his book about different kinds of magic abilities.

„Not much. They're…supposed to be able to see the future? Like prophecies?“

„It's said to be an innate ability. Those who have it are born that way - much like yourself.“ Gaius ate another spoonful of his breakfast. „Some aren't even aware that what they see is the future. It comes to them in their dreams.“

Merlin frowned. „Morgana is a seer?“

Gaius nodded. „I've been watching Morgana since she was very young. And though I tried to persuade myself otherwise, I realised that some of the things she said she'd dreamt came to pass.“ He shrugged a little helplessly. „Though I think this is the first time she has properly noticed its significance. I kept it secret from Uther, of course. Seers are, essentially, practitioners of the magical arts.“

„Practitioners?“ Merlin was taken aback. „But she clearly hasn‘t got a choice - if it comes to her in her dreams?“

„Uther surely wouldn’t see it that way, my boy. Why do you think I am always warning you to be careful? The king is not known for his subtlety or mercy.“

Gaius‘ voice had hardened at the end. Merlin wondered whether his subtlety might not increase were the case made against his own daughter, but he kept quiet.

Instead, he asked, „so… you think she‘s right, then? Arthur is in danger?“ A slither of panic gripped Merlin‘s heart. Why where they sitting here, calmly discussing this? „Shouldn‘t we tell the king? Or arrest this woman, whoever she is?“

„As far as I understood Morgana, I believe she thinks it is the newly arrived Lady Sophia of Tir-Mor. But — for goodness’ sake, Merlin, sit down.“

Merlin begrudgingly obeyed, picking at his porridge again.

„We shouldn’t be too hasty, Merlin. Not every prophecy a seer dreams of comes to pass. And they are usually shrouded in metaphors…“ When he saw Merlin‘s face, he added, „that is, imagery not necessarily meant literally.“

„So, what, this Sophia will only drown Arthur… figuratively speaking?“ Merlin frowned. „That doesn’t make any sense! We need to warn him, before she tries anything. I might not be there to save his royal backside when she does!“

Gaius held up his hands. „We will, Merlin. But I thought you’d learned your lesson from knight Valiant: The first thing we need is more information. On your rounds, see if you can find anything in Sophia and her father‘s rooms. After breakfast, they will most likely be attending the king’s court, so that should be a good time.“

„Well... good, at least we‘ll be doing something,“ Merlin grumbled. „But what about Princess Morgana?“

He looked up from his porridge, and saw at once how sad this question made Gaius. In fact, he had the same look on his face as Merlin‘s mother always used to when she was worried the neighbour‘s kids would chase him again, knowing she couldn’t do anything to stop them. In a way, Gaius was as close as Merlin had ever gotten to having a genuinely worried father. The same was probably true of the Princess.

„The sleeping draught I gave her should keep her from having any more dreams for now.“

Merlin considered for a moment. He ate a spoonful of porridge and tried to pick his next words carefully.

„So, you are… helping her suppress her gift.“

Gaius held his gaze. „That is correct.“

„Have you considered telling her what…who she is?“

„Merlin…“ He sighed. „I cannot tell her the truth. She is far safer so long as she remains ignorant of her powers. Safe,“ he added with emphasis, „from Uther, who would burn her as a sorceress.“

„But surely he wouldn’t kill his own child!“

Gaius pursed his lips, considering. „I have known the king for a long time, Merlin. I knew him before his… purge against magic users began, and even then, he was an efficient and ruthless ruler. I fully believe he would put even Arthur on the pyre should he decide to practise magic. And Arthur is of his own blood, Morgana isn’t.“

Merlin looked at him in astonishment. „She isn‘t?“

„It‘s common knowledge, but I suppose you didn‘t grow up here. People tend not to mention it anymore, since Uther took her in as his own when she was very little.“ Gaius‘ eyes seemed to wander, looking past Merlin at people only he could see. „She is the late Queen Igraine’s daughter, from her first marriage.“

When he spoke the name of the Queen, Gaius‘ voice had become hushed, as if he wanted to be extra careful with it. Nobody had told Merlin her name before, and nobody had ever mentioned Morgana‘s heritage. He was surprised: down in the kitchens or the laundry rooms, the castle servants were usually almost as busy gossiping as they were with their chores. He‘d been told about various courtiers‘ bastards, which arranged marriage was happening next, and sometimes even of the odd illicit affair around the place. But nobody ever gossiped about the king and his children.

Normally, Merlin would assume it was a sign of respect, but in the case of Uther Pendragon, it was more likely out of fear.

Gaius was silent for a few moments, lost in his memory; then he seemed to come back to himself. „The king loved the Queen very much, and I’m sure he also cares very much for Morgana. And yet I have no doubt he would punish her with the same laws that govern everybody else. Perhaps even more so.“

Merlin threw up his hands. „But why? No one ever talks about Uther’s laws - what, he just doesn’t like us?“

Gaius frowned. „Us? Merlin, there isn’t any ‚us‘.“ His voice lowered. „Not anymore. And why? Well… I don‘t think that’s how things started, but by now…?“ Gaius let out a heavy sigh, as if he was forced to say something that haunted him. „Uther believes that possessing or using magic corrupts the soul. He thinks it makes people wicked. It destroys you from the inside out.“ His eyes met Merlin‘s and he looked older and more tired than ever. „That‘s why he wouldn’t hesitate to burn Morgana. Because he‘d probably believe he’d be doing her a service.“

Merlin was quiet for a moment, and when he spoke, he felt his hurt grow. „But… but he need never find out! Gaius, it‘s not like we would advertise her abilities to the entire court.“

„The answer is no, Merlin.“

Merlin bristled, anger bubbling in his stomach. „I hadn’t asked anything,“ he said. „I’m only saying that Morgana deserves to know the truth about herself.“

„Sometimes we don’t get what we deserve, Merlin. Sometimes it‘s safer that way.“

Gaius stubbornly finished his porridge and didn’t say anything else. Merlin left his bowl where it was, instead of washing it up; normally Gaius was very strict about the cleanliness of the place. This time, he didn‘t say anything when Merlin got up, went back to his room, and slammed the door.

For the remainder of the day, Merlin was sullen and withdrawn. He kept making mistakes in his duties, forgot deliveries or displeased a courtier with his clumsiness. He kept stopping by the rooms that the guests from Tir-Mor had been given, to snoop once they were unobserved; unfortunately, there was always a guard in that hallway, or courtiers or knights passing. He went by so often that one knight asked if he was looking for their rooms, and Merlin had to make up some excuse. He’d forgotten to bring a fake medicine bottle to deliver and had no other ideas why he would be allowed to go in. Eventually, he gave up that particular strategy.

In his loitering, however, he did manage to pick up a bit of castle gossip. It appeared that people had seen Arthur take the Lady Sophia for a nice walk through the snow, showing her the castle grounds and the views from the walls. At least there wasn‘t a single body of water around - to drown someone in - that wasn’t entirely frozen solid. Perhaps Sophia planned to drown Arthur in a laundry vat. Somehow, Merlin doubted it.

On his way back home, Merlin ran into Gwen. She‘d come from the direction of the Princess‘ rooms, and she looked distraught. Merlin immediately went to her to ask her what had happened - although he could already guess; but Gwen just shook her head meaningfully and pulled him along into one of the secret passages covered by a tapestry.

„I‘ve just come from Morgana. She is not at all well,“ Gwen began, whispering, even though the tapestry should have been thick enough to muffle their voices. „She suffers from her nightmares again. Whatever Gaius gave her is not working!“ She hissed out the last words, her frustration evident on her face.

„I heard. I thought he gave her something stronger this morning,“ he whispered back.

„Yes, and she took it this afternoon because she was too exhausted and needed sleep. She had perhaps two hours before she awoke - it was a good thing I was the only one nearby to hear her scream!“

„I—,“ Merlin breathed, „I didn’t know it had become that bad.“

Gwen gave Merlin a long, intense look. After a pause, she spoke even more quietly, her voice barely audible. „You know something about this, don‘t you? About what‘s causing it?“

Merlin frowned and held her gaze. He nodded.

Footsteps echoed through the corridors, and Gwen halted. They listened for a moment, until all was quiet again. She leaned closer again. „Morgana is smart. She is beginning to realise… she asked me questions about my mother. And she is scared. Scared for her life.“

Merlin‘s eyebrows rose. „Your mother…?“

Gwen allowed a small smile. „How do you think I recognised you for what you were so quickly?“

„I’m not very subtle, according to Gaius,“ Merlin whispered. Gwen shook her head fondly, probably remembering how they had met. It was Merlin‘s first large feast in Camelot, and Gwen‘s first evening serving at court, and a goblet of wine had nearly spilled all over them both, had Merlin not briefly stopped time. It had been an incredible stroke of luck that only Gwen noticed the oddly averted accident and the glow in Merlin‘s eyes.

Gwen sighed. „My mother could do certain things… Before the purge, it was a natural part of our lives, my dad said. I only have a few memories of her from before she died, so I can‘t help Morgana… but…“

She looked imploringly at Merlin. „Merlin, you have Gaius, but Morgana has no one she can talk to about this. And if it gets worse, and the king finds out… he would know enough to recognise the signs as much as we can.“

„Gaius believes she is a seer,“ Merlin whispered. Gwen gasped a little. „But I know nothing about seers and I don‘t have that kind of power,“ he added. „Gaius wants to keep it a secret from her… I think he‘s worried we‘d just make it worse.“

Gwen led out a little huff. „It will definitely get worse if we don‘t find a way to reassure her. She‘s becoming more and more anxious - I think it‘s making her nightmares far worse.“

Merlin nodded. „I… I think you‘re right. But there‘s more. Morgana had a vision of Arthur drowning.“

„What? She didn‘t tell me!“

„Gaius said it was only a dream, but she saw the visitor, this Lady Sophia, drowning Arthur!“

„By the goddess,“ Gwen whispered. „What are we going to do?“

„I‘m trying to get into their room to find any evidence, but I haven‘t any reason to go in there. And Arthur is out with Sophia, I can‘t just run up to them,“ he huffed in frustration.

Gwen narrowed her eyes. „I‘ll do it,“ she said. „I‘ll get laundry and do some tidying. The guards never look at me twice.“

„But be careful!“

„I will. And when you next find a way to see Morgana, please do. Speak to her!“

„But—„

„Shh,“ Gwen stopped him. Footsteps came closer again, this time down their corridor. They waited, tense behind the tapestry. When the halls were empty again, Gwen glanced out. In the distance, they heard more steps and voices.

„It‘s getting late, I need to get ready to attend Morgana at dinner soon.“

„Should she be out and about? Surely the king would excuse her if said she wasn‘t feeling well?“

Gwen shook her head. „That would only draw attention to it.“ She grabbed his jacket and gave him a determined stare. „Let me worry about keeping her secret, and you worry about how to approach her about it, agreed?“

Merlin figured it wasn‘t really a question. „Agreed.“ He felt almost elated saying it - he didn‘t care what Gaius thought, this was the right thing to do.

Chapter Text

Merlin spent the rest of the early evening prowling the castle, looking for Arthur and Sophia. Eventually he caught sight of them when Arthur escorted the lady to dinner with the king and various noble courtiers. Sophia was quiet and demure as before, but she appeared to be smiling at Arthur quite a lot. From the snippets of conversation Merlin caught, Arthur was being a genial host, relating some story about a hunt. Sophia was definitely not interested in it. Perhaps she was already daydreaming about drowning him; but apart from his poor conversation, Merlin couldn’t see any reason why she should hate Arthur so much.

Outside the great hall, when the doors had closed and the candlelight, sounds of a lute and the clinking of goblets and cutlery were shut away, Merlin ran into Gaius.

„Ah Merlin, good,“ he said, sounding a bit out of breath. „Please attend the physician‘s quarters tonight.“ He looked around and pulled Merlin along to walk down the hallway. „I’ve just had word from Geoffrey.“ He lowered his voice. „I made inquiries, discreetly, about the country of Tir-Mor. I’m going to look at some genealogy books down in the library with him.“

Merlin frowned. „What will that accomplish? She’s not planning to marry him; she’s planning to kill him!“

Gaius sighed. „Do keep up, Merlin. If you or I accused a visiting princess of treason, what would the king demand?“

Merlin cringed. „Proof. Evidence.“

„Exactly. Think of what happened with Valiant. But if I can confront the king with the fact that there are no Sophia and Aulfric of Tir-Mor, we might stop her before… something happens.“

„Well, I‘m… still working on getting into their room. It‘s been under guard. And— Gaius. About the Lady Morgana…“ Merlin began.

Gaius abruptly stopped walking and looked around anxiously, but there was only a serving girl that just turned the corner. As her footsteps receded, Gaius pulled Merlin aside. „No, Merlin. It‘s too dangerous, I don’t want you to get involved. Please promise me you‘ll leave Morgana be.“

Merlin‘s mouth set. He felt a pang in his chest as he considered Gaius kind eyes, his worry for his safety apparent. His fear.

„I— I can‘t, Gaius. I‘m sorry, but it‘s wrong,“ he said quietly. „I believe she will work it out sooner or later, and when she does, she‘ll have to struggle with it all alone.“ As I had to.

Gaius lowered his head. When he looked back up, he shook it briefly. „I‘ve said all I can about it. I am your guardian, but I cannot give you orders.“ His voice had a finality to it. „I will probably be back late; those books will take time to work through. Please be at hand if any courtiers require medical care.“ With one last stern look, Gaius turned and strode away.

Merlin stood in the corridor alone for several long minutes, trying to untangle the knot in his chest. Then he dragged himself back the way they‘d come.

Before he returned to their rooms, he made another detour around Sophia and Aulfric‘s quarters, but couldn’t really think of any more excuses to tell the guards than before. Dejected, he made his way back to the physician‘s quarters, where Branwen was waiting for him.

When he came in, she wagged her tail enthusiastically, but also whined a little, moving around restlessly. Merlin sighed and put on a protective woollen shawl and his winter cloak and went outside, Branwen on his heels. If there were any courtiers in need of potions, they‘d just have to wait a bit.

Branwen bounded down the stairs to the courtyard happily, and jumped head-first into a pile of snow. The snow blew up into a big white cloud that slowly settled, glittering in the light of the few braziers lit around the keep. Merlin smiled at her energy. Normally, keeping a dog inside your rooms would be ridiculous - the other dogs in the keep were all useful somehow and pretty much lived outside all day. They pulled carts or hunted vermin or guarded their owner‘s houses. Branwen… well, there weren’t many rats around Gaius‘ meticulously kept workrooms but she sort of guarded the door? Presumably. There hadn’t been a situation yet where that might have been needed. Gaius had called her useless, but agreed that since she was of magical origin, it would be too dangerous to give her to someone else. After all, what if she suddenly reverted back into a statue – that might paint a target on an innocent person’s back.

Not that Merlin would have permitted it. He‘d come to care for her soft, understanding look and her silly ears. Walking around the silvery snowy grounds with her gave Merlin a welcome respite from his anxious fretting, and seeing the dog so care-free and happy took some of the weight of his chest.

When he was fairly sure his toes and fingers were about to freeze off and Branwen had marked about every single stretch of the keep‘s walls, they returned home. As he opened the door, he immediately knew someone was here: a small candle lit the room, there was an audible gasp, and then a shuffling and rustling as of fabric brushing against furniture.

„Hello?“ he asked cautiously.

Branwen immediately took off and wove through Gaius‘ workbench and chairs and bed and gave a single whine.

„No! Shoo,“ someone hissed.

„It‘s all right,“ Merlin tried, even though he had no idea if it was. Was someone stealing? He stepped in properly and closed the door. Branwen was sitting in front of a large bookshelf behind which a bulk of beautiful fabric was poking out.

With a sigh, the owner of the dress leant forward and a curtain of dark hair spilled out, followed by the entirety of the Lady Morgana stepping out of her hiding place.

„Oh,“ Merlin said somewhat dumbfounded. „Milady, er… can I help you?“

Morgana looked at Branwen accusingly. „You‘re very good,“ she said, sounding rather like the thought the opposite. Branwen got up and wagged her tail, ignorant of any double meaning.

„No, I was just looking for… a book. On herbs. Gaius mentioned it, something about the sleeping drought. I was wondering… what was in it, that‘s all.“

Merlin smiled and patted Branwen‘s head. „You won’t find it in any of our books, I can tell you that. It‘s Gaius‘ own recipe - he taught me how to make it for you. There’s Valerian and Skullcap to alleviate restlessness and help you sleep, if that means anything to you; some chamomile to make it easier on the stomach, and some mint for the taste. Not too complicated… er, apologies if I am undermining Gaius‘ reputation here…“ he trailed off. He began to see how worried Morgana looked. She was dressed in her finery and must have come here directly after the dinner with the guests from Tir-Mor, if it wasn’t even still ongoing. She had dark circles under her eyes and a wild, scared look about her. No wonder Gwen was so concerned.

And then Merlin suddenly realised: they were alone. The chance to talk to her had come sooner than he‘d hoped. His heart began to beat a bit quicker.

„Oh no, Merlin, don‘t worry, it‘s perfectly all right,“ Morgana was saying politely, but Merlin barely heard her.

„I need to speak to you,“ he said abruptly, forgetting to address her properly in his haste.

She looked taken aback. Wary. „What is it?“

Merlin nodded to affirm his own decision. „First, I need to tell you that Gaius disapproves of this. He doesn’t want me to concern myself with it, he believes I shouldn’t get involved. So before I go on, you need to think whether you want to go against the orders of your physician.“

Morgana frowned. „You know something,“ she said. „You know what‘s wrong with me?“

Merlin made a pained face. He didn‘t want to commit to anything before she had decided. She needed a way out as an option; so she could choose to stay ignorant and put it out of her mind.

The princess stepped forward, looking every inch her rank. „I wish to know the truth. If it concerns my… health,“ she said with a slight raise of her eyebrow, „it is my right to know exactly what is happening. You may consider this a royal order, if you like, Merlin. Gaius‘ wishes have been noted, but I am ordering to tell me all you know.“

Merlin nodded, somewhat relieved. He always liked Morgana best when she was commanding and self-possessed. Somehow it made him feel stronger and inspired, the way she stood up for herself.

„I‘m glad,“ he said. „Follow me.“

He turned and went to his room. Morgana picked up the candle she‘d carried in a small lantern and joined him. There was a part of him that insisted how incredibly inappropriate and downright scandalous this was - a part that sounded equal parts Gaius and Gwen. He usually eschewed propriety wherever he could, but even he had to admit this would look wrong if someone found out about it. Then again, it would look equally bad were someone to find out about their magic.

As soon as they were up the steps, Branwen got comfortable on the bed and watched Merlin attentively. „Please excuse the mess,“ Merlin said. „I didn‘t expect… well,“ he said awkwardly and laughed a little. Morgana looked incredibly out of place, but she seemed not uncomfortable.

„Never mind that,“ she said, not taking her eyes off Merlin.

Merlin felt his throat close up. It was one thing for Gaius or Gwen to find out about his magic accidentally, but quite another to confront a member of the royal family with it. But the earnest, searching look Morgana gave him made him feel buoyed: he could help her, where no one else would.

„Your dreams,“ he began. „I‘m afraid I overheard you speaking to Gaius early this morning.“

Morgana took a sudden step towards him, her eyes wide. „About Arthur…?“

„Yes. And I believe you. And so does Gaius, by the way. We started looking into Sophia and her father today. He should still be in the library,“ he added.

Morgana shook her head, making her dark locks dance in the dim candlelight. „But then… why wouldn’t he tell me that? He said it was just a dream!“

Merlin held her gaze. „This was what we disagreed on. He thinks you‘ll be safer not knowing. And… he might be right, in a sense,“ Merlin allowed. „Knowing more puts you at risk. You can still leave and pretend you were never here.“

Morgana‘s face hardened. She huffed and turned around. She took a step towards Merlin‘s single window, which was mostly boarded up against the winter cold. A think sliver of moonlight was shining through a gap in the wood, illuminating her profile as she gazed at it. „It would be more plausible,“ she said quietly.

Merlin took a step closer, but refrained from speaking, nearly holding his breath.

She finally turned to him again, the moonlight still framing half of her face.

„Were someone to ask,“ she continued, „it would be easier to deny it if I didn‘t actually know.“

Merlin nodded. She knew, of course.

„Magic?“ she breathed, the word too dangerous to give it voice.

Merlin swallowed, his heart thumping in his chest. He nodded.

„I hadn’t gotten that far yet, in the book…“ he said. „Until Gaius explained it…“

He leant down and crawled half under his bed, pulling up a loose floorboard. When he came back up, he was holding the massive grimoire Gaius had gifted him. Morgana stepped next to him as he laid it on his bed. Branwen sniffed it and gave a gentle whine and buried her nose back under a blanket.

Merlin flipped the book open at a marked spot, the thick leather binding thudding on the bed. The page had an illustration of a woman with hair flowing to her ankles, sleeping, and a mirage of images swirling around her head. There was another image of the same woman staring into a bowl of water and one glancing into a mirror.

Morgana read out the ornate writing at the top of the page. „The Seer.“

She glanced at Merlin, then back at the page, and her eyes moved over the slanted script. „…manifold imagery and visions from the triple goddess our mother…“ she murmured. „A warning of dangers to unfold often occurring first in dreams upon the seer‘s awakening… frightening, as it most commonly first manifests in childhood…“

She huffed out a slightly manic laugh. „I must be a later bloomer, then…“

Merlin allowed a smile. „Nothing wrong with that,“ he shrugged.

„Nothing wrong…!“ Morgana gave him a disbelieving smile. „Merlin, I am beginning to see why you vex my brother so. I was brought up to think there was plenty wrong with everything you have just shown me… It’s… vile and evil… if Uther finds out…“ she swayed a little, looking light-headed all of a sudden. Merlin grabbed her am to steady her, and sat her gently down on the bed.

„He will not,“ he said. „And it‘s not evil. You‘re not evil.“

Morgana looked at him, equal parts bewildered and grateful. „What do I do now…?“ She asked, and then her eyes suddenly widened. „And why do you even have this book? Merlin, this alone is treason… Oh!“ Her voice was still merely a whisper, but now she clasped her hands in front of her mouth, as realisation hit.

Merlin held her gaze steadily, and nodded. She shook her head, perhaps in disbelief.

A low growl escaped Branwen, and she jumped up from the bed and stood facing the door. Suddenly, Merlin could make out faint footsteps coming along the corridor to the physician‘s quarters. They were too fast and heavy to belong to Gaius, and the guards didn‘t usually patrol this far away from the main courtiers‘ rooms.

A cold dread ran down Merlin‘s spine. He got up and looked around. „Someone‘s coming,“ he whispered, and Morgana got up, too. She stood close to him, the fear in her eyes evident.

„We… I must not be found here,“ she breathed.

Merlin looked around, desperately thinking. His eyes fell on Branwen. He didn‘t permit himself to think too much about whether or not the dog would understand him - it was his only idea. He quickly walked over to her and took her head in his hands, speaking closely to her. „Go to the door and act as if I am gone. Good girl.“

Branwen made a little whining noise and silently slunk out of the room. Merlin closed the door behind her and slid down to sit leaning against it, trying to get his breathing under control.

Morgana quickly blew out her candle and looked around - there was nowhere to hide, so she sat down on the bed. She held Merlin‘s eyes, fearful, but also blazing with intensity; she seemed to have accepted there was nothing else she could do and if they were discovered she would meet that challenge head on when it arose.

There was a short, perfunctory knock and then the door to the outer quarters was opened.

A voice called out. „Gaius?“

Morgana’s eyes widened. It was Arthur.

Merlin closed his eyes and silently cursed his terrible luck.

„Oh, hello,“ the prince said, and they heard a soft whine from Branwen. „Are you waiting for Merlin?“

A low growl could be heard. „Hey, I‘m not intruding,“ Arthur said, a bit affronted. „I was just looking for Gaius. Here, look. My bandage needs changing.“

There was a moment‘s silence. Merlin wished he knew a spell to look through walls. He could not guess what Arthur was doing.

Finally, he spoke again. „Yes, well… oh, you want me to…? All right… er thank you…?“ Arthur said, a little unsure, but with a slight laugh. „Oh dear, why am I even talking to you? Must have had too much wine.“

There was another little chuckle. „You like that, huh?“

Suddenly realisation hit Merlin: Arthur was petting the dog.

Arthur. Prince of Camelot. Petting his dog.

Merlin was staring at Morgana. Her eyes were nearly popping out of her head and she had both hands pressed against her mouth. Merlin wasn‘t sure if she was still scared or if she was trying not to laugh. All he could think was that he‘d never heard Arthur sound quite so… endearing.

„Well,“ Arthur said. „I‘ll just have to send for Gaius later. And you tell your master that it‘s very irresponsible to leave the physician‘s quarters unattended.“

Branwen gave a short bark. Arthur chuckled again. „Good night,“ he said, and then the door was closed again and his footsteps receded back down the corridors.

Merlin waited a few more heartbeats before he audibly let out the breath he‘d been holding.

A high-pitched laugh escaped Morgana. „I don‘t believe this. This is fantastical, all of it,“ she whispered, sounding a little hysterical. Merlin could hardly blame her.

He got up and quietly opened the door again. Branwen came jogging back from the front door and gently bumped her head into Merlin‘s hands. He gave her a good scratch and a hug. „You are the cleverest, Branwen. The absolute best.“

Branwen looked up, her tongue lolling out happily. She hopped over back onto the bed, where she sniffed Morgana tentatively once more. Morgana smiled as well. „Yes, well done,“ she said regally, and Branwen looked even happier. She put her head down next to Morgana, who graciously bestowed a gentle head pat. Then she got up and smoothed down her dress.

„I need to go, before someone else comes by. But Merlin,“ she came closer. „Thank you,“ she almost whispered. „Your secret is safe with me.“

„As yours is with me,“ Merlin smiled.

„I have many questions,“ she said. „But it feels good not to be alone with this.“

„What will you do now? About the dreams?“

Morgana‘s eyes became determined again. „I will not take the potion any longer. I will try and glean more from my… visions, should they return.“

„That’s… um, very brave of you. But I think you’re right.” Merlin felt a bit embarrassed, but Morgana nodded. “I will let Gwen know where we can meet and speak again. Tomorrow?“

„Yes. We need to stop Sophia as soon as possible.“

Morgana made her way back to the front door. Before she left, she looked at Merlin again and softly shook her head.

„I still cannot believe you have magic, and you work in the castle! Goodness,“ she suddenly added. „You have magic and you spend time with Arthur of all people!“

Merlin bristled. „What? I don‘t spend time with him,“ he stammered. „He‘s just… difficult to avoid.“

Morgana looked at him as if he was a bit slow. „Of course you do, it‘s been the gossip amongst all the servants, the way you always seem to be around, winding him up!“

„I, uh…“

„I will see you tomorrow,“ she smirked.

That night, Merlin didn‘t sleep well. He awoke from a confusing and half-remembered dream about Arthur and Morgana turning their backs to one another. He lay awake, pondering Morgana‘s reaction to everything. He envied her poise and resilience in the face of the revelation that she had magic. She hadn’t panicked or reacted rashly in any way. If she had to, she could probably lie to people‘s faces about it quite easily - unless someone made her angry…

More and more though, Merlin‘s thoughts swerved to Arthur. How he smiled at Sophia and escorted her around. How he‘d petted Branwen, even though he‘d previously pretended the dog didn’t exist. How kind he could be when no one was looking. And how aggravatingly handsome he was when he was kind.

Merlin rolled over and tried to go to sleep again. He was only thinking about the prat so much because his life was in danger, that was all.

The next morning, Merlin awoke with a start and the strange feeling of having overslept. His body was immediately alert and his heart thumping in his chest, and he stumbled out of bed and began pulling on his clothes before he even knew what he was doing.

A small whine brought him to his senses. Branwen was standing on his bed, looking alert, but confused, her head tilted sideways.

Suddenly, Merlin noticed that there was hardly any light coming through the gap in his shutters and there was no noise of activity to be heard from anywhere. He sat down and let out a deep breath. Morgana, Arthur, Sophia… whatever was happening exactly, it was all happening too quickly. There was a knot in Merlin‘s chest and he rubbed at it; an uneasy feeling that seemed to be lodged right between his ribs, hard to shake off. Branwen gave him a friendly lick and then jumped over to the door expectantly.

Merlin smiled and got dressed in all the layers he had, pulled some woollen socks on before slipping into his boots and threw on his warm cloak. He found Gaius still barely stirring as he stepped through the main room, grabbing a bucket. He might as well make himself useful if he was awake.

Outside, a thick new layer of snow covered every wall and roof. The air was still and everything was tinted blue by the pre-dawn. Even the dog’s sounds and his footsteps seemed to be swallowed up by the snow, as if it was trying to preserve the silence. For the second time in as many days, Merlin found himself hacking at the ice on the well before the sun had risen. Only a few guards and other early risers could be occasionally seen around, but other than that, the keep‘s courtyards were empty snowy landscapes, looking as if they were frozen in time.

When they returned, Gaius was up as well. With a few candles lit, he now saw the stack of books on the table.

„Ah, well done, Merlin, thank you,“ Gaius smiled. „You were up early today.“ One eyebrow went up. Gaius placed a fatherly hand on Merlin‘s arm. „Are you feeling all right?“

The lump in Merlin‘s chest gave a painful throb. He had to tell him, sooner rather than later.

„I‘m okay… I just didn‘t sleep well. Um… Gaius…“

„Oh, yes, the books,“ Gaius said, misinterpreting Merlin‘s hesitation. He turned and got some bread and dried fruit from their cupboard. Merlin, with the force of habit, grabbed two plates and helped set up breakfast. All important things had to wait until you had some food, Gaius firmly believed that. Perhaps that was the kind of attitude that got him through the last twenty years under a magic-hating king.

Somewhat refreshed, Gaius gestured to the books. „I thought these might help, they‘re maps of the areas surrounding Camelot. Unfortunately, there is precious little information on Tir-Mor‘s history or ruling house, and we have heard reports that it was not too long ago overrun by Saxons. It was a small realm and the nobility there presumed slain or enslaved…“ He sighed. „So it would be absolutely credible for Sophia to be an escaped princess, or at least a noble lady of some kind. Credible enough for Uther to be courteous.“

„But couldn’t they simply be imposters? Dressed-up bandits?“

Gaius tutted. „Merlin, surely you have lived at court long enough to tell gentlefolk from mere bandits? They certainly speak and look like nobility. Their hands or faces would show signs of it if they usually lived in the forest.“

„What if they’re sorcerers?“

„I suppose that’s possible, as it always is. It would explain why they‘d have a grudge against Camelot. They might be druids… but I somehow don‘t think so,“ Gaius was looking thoughtful.

„And… the books are maps?“ Merlin took one down and started to flip through it. A small cloud of dust flew up and made him cough. „Gaius, do we really have time for this? I got… I don‘t know…“

„What is it, my boy?“

Merlin rubbed his chest. „I just got this funny feeling that we‘re running out of time.“

Gaius‘ frown deepened. „You might be right… but as long as we don‘t know more about them, we can‘t stop them. Provided Morgana‘s visions are true.“

Merlin looked up sharply, guilt rising up again. He wanted to say something, but somehow, he couldn’t bring himself to tell Gaius that he went against his wishes so quickly.

„It is a… potent time of the year, magically speaking,“ Gaius went on. „The longest night approaches. The druids celebrate the solstice 2 days hence.“ Gaius sighed. „Dark times, but we‘ve always weathered it before…“

„What do you mean?“ Merlin tried to focus and pushed down the guilt for the moment.

 „If Samhain is the time where the veil between life and death is thinnest, the winter solstice is the day when the darkest powers of Albion come to the fore. If ever there were evil spirits or malignant magics in this land, this is when they would be strongest.“

„And Sophia and her father may use that magic against Arthur?“

„Perhaps.“ Gaius picked up one of the books and gave it to Merlin. „But Morgana‘s vision showed Arthur being drowned…“

„Seeing as I have to use a pick to get at the water in the well every morning, that seems a bit unlikely at the moment. Unless water can be thawed by magic?“

Gaius gave a wry smile at Merlin’s sarcastic tone. „Absolutely, but I remembered some old tales about a lake nearby… I was hoping we‘d find something in these.“

He picked up a book himself. „Let‘s get to it.“

Merlin was glad he had a task to focus his attention on; it helped to quiet his mind, which was otherwise churning through his conversation with Morgana over and over again. He‘d been reasonably comfortable talking to her at the time, as he was comforting her, but now that some hours had passed, he was starting to obsess over how little courtesy he‘d shown her. He‘d asked the princess - The Princess! - of Camelot to his room, his messy little servant‘s room; she had sat on his bed! Her royal clothes crinkling… And then Arthur had petted his dog! And he was lying to Gaius…!

Merlin shook his head and re-read the page in front of him for a third time.

It took them nearly two hours to get through most of Gaius‘ stack, but they finally found something. „Ah here it is,“ Gaius declared and showed Merlin a very old map, carefully painted in faded ink. It showed a lake near Camelot labelled „avallen“. Gaius folded out a piece of parchment that had been attached to the map with tight writing on it.

„Avallen llyn… that’s Lake Avalon, indeed. It says here that the druids revered this place, as something to do with a passage… I‘m not sure. This is very old local dialect. I shall have to ask Geoffrey, though he prefers everything in Latin, of course. There‘s something dangerous at this lake, this person is quite clear about that; they tell you to avoid it as a regular traveller.“

„Oh, wait,“ Merlin started flicking back some pages of the volume before him. „There is something similar mentioned here. Not by name, but they say… ah yes. ‚The lake lies to the north of the city. Old wives threaten misbehaving children with taking them to the lake to be given away to… someone. Can‘t read that part.“

Gaius nodded. „Yes, and listen to this: ‚The lake must be avoided at all times, but especially in winter, as it is the only water that freezeth not over, even if deepest frost occurs‘.“

„That must be it! That‘s the lake from Morgana‘s vision!” Merlin marked the page in his book with a strip of cloth. “But… no matter how much Arthur fancies Sophia, he‘s hardly going to agree to ride through the deepest snow just to go for a romantic stroll round a lake.“

Gaius raised an eyebrow. „No, Prince Arthur is not quite as dim-witted as you sometimes make him out. Naturally, he would have to be either unconscious or compelled somehow. Perhaps a potion, or even an enchantment – if they are sorcerers.“ Gaius closed the book. „We will need to gain access to their quarters quickly, to find what their methods are so we can counter them.“

„I… might have a way in,“ Merlin said reluctantly, not wishing to expose Gwen‘s possible involvement. „I will find something.“

As soon as dawn had finally crept over the walls of Camelot, Merlin made his way towards the visiting courtiers‘ quarters. To his surprise, Gwen came hurrying down the corridor in the opposite direction, carrying a large basket.

„Oh Merlin, good,“ she said, sounding out of breath. She spoke a little too loudly to be considered normal, too. „Help me carry this, please? I‘ve been gathering laundry all morning and my arms are tired,“ she said, pronouncing every syllable with utmost emphasis and again, rather loudly.

Merlin took the basket that was thrust at him. Just as he looked up, puzzled, did he catch a glimpse of Aulfric‘s face disappearing back into his room. Gwen had obviously come from there.

He gripped the basket and turned to walk alongside Gwen. „Yes, of course,“ he said a little too loudly as well.

Together, they hurriedly walked down the hall and turned into the royal corridors. In a few steps, they reached the lady Morgana‘s quarters and rushed inside.

Gwen was breathing hard as she leaned against the closed door. Merlin put down the washing basket and placed a hand on her shoulder. „Are you all right?“

„Gwen!“ Morgana rushed over to the door and enveloped her maidservant in a firm hug. „What happened?“

She glanced at Merlin, and Merlin‘s heart gave a little jolt when their eyes met; she knew his secret now, and about her own powers. Everything had suddenly changed. With Gwen it was different: she was a friend and a commoner like Merlin. But to have the Princess of Camelot in on it seemed a whole new kind of serious.

The air was charged for a moment, and Morgana‘s lip curled into a small, private smile. She gave a barely noticeable nod, acknowledging him.

Together, they managed to manoeuvre Gwen to sit at the table and have a sip of Morgana‘s wine. Morgana was gently rubbing Gwen‘s back. „What happened?“

Gwen looked quite helplessly at Merlin, who spoke up.

„I asked Gwen for help, seeing as I had no idea how to sneak into Aulfric and Sophia‘s rooms without rousing suspicion.“

Morgana’s eyebrows rose. „She knows… what’s going on?“ She looked worried, keeping her words vague.

Gwen looked between them both again. „Well, technically, I volunteered my help… What… exactly is going on?“ she said, trying to sound as neutral as possible as well.

Merlin smiled. „It’s okay,“ he said, and sat down beside her. „I did what you asked me for. I spoke to Morgana last night.“

„Oh,“ Gwen breathed with relief.

Merlin looked at Morgana. „Gwen has known about… what I can do almost since I came to Camelot.“

„She is a most trustworthy friend,“ Morgana said, smiling. She looked kindly at Gwen. „And I will gladly add my secret to Merlin‘s. I know it is safe with you.“

„Oh my goodness, Milady… how do you feel? You‘d guessed it already, didn‘t you?“ Gwen looked a bit chagrined.

Morgana grimaced. „I am still adjusting to several different revelations, but… let’s say it’s good to know I am not alone.“ She placed a hand on Gwen‘s shoulder. „And I‘m not surprised Gwen already knew about you, Merlin. You‘re about as subtle as a cart on fire and Gwen is one of the smartest people in this court.“

Gwen lowered her head with an embarrassed smile, her cheeks reddening. „Morgana…!“

„Did you really ask Merlin to speak to me?“

Gwen looked up again and nodded. „I saw what was happening to you and thought I knew what it meant.“

„Thank you,“ Morgana said fondly, sitting down with them at the table. „Now, what did you see in Aulfric‘s quarters? How did you get in?“

Gwen gestured to the washing basket by the door.

„I went through all the visiting quarters and collected the bed-linen - it wasn‘t even an excuse,“ Gwen started haltingly. „It needed doing, so I thought that would be as good a chance as any. I took my time stripping his bed, so I could look around. I found a note under some stuff and I threw it into the basket. Also… I saw a staff he had.“ She looked at Merlin. „It had this weird writing on it. I couldn’t read it, but I think they were runes.“

Merlin and Morgana exchanged a glance, and Merlin was pleased to note they seemed to think alike; Morgana went to her writing desk and produced parchment, ink, and a quill. She placed it in front of Guinevere, but then waited patiently.

„I was just looking at the staff when Aulfric came in and caught me, and I tried to make it seem like I was just picking up a towel I’d dropped, but…“ She looked imploringly at Morgana. „I’m just not sure if he believed it, he looked so angry! For a moment, his eyes glowed red and I… I think I must have made a noise, he startled me… and then he looked away and I just made an excuse and took my basket and ran away…“

Morgana sat down next to Gwen again and handed her a handkerchief. Gwen took it and dabbed at her eyes, smiling gratefully.

„You did great, Gwen. That was really brave,“ Morgana said.

„I feel awful for asking you to help,“ Merlin said. „I think he was probably going to…“ Merlin’s eyes strayed to Morgana, not used to speaking so freely in front of her, „…use magic on you. The eyes changing colour - he must be some kind of sorcerer.“

Gwen also glanced at Morgana, then at Merlin. „Like I said, you didn’t ask me, I offered. And your eyes never turned red. Or not that I’ve seen. What does that mean?“

Merlin let out a breath. "I don’t know. I actually hardly know anything about it all.“

Morgana gave Merlin a kind look, and once again, he felt that instant sense of relief: here was someone who had the same problem, the same lack of information.

She gently touched Gwen’s shoulder. „If you can remember any of the symbols, these runes on the staff, do you think you could copy them down?“

Gwen nodded. „I think so. They were pretty striking.“

She pulled the parchment towards her, dipped the quill in ink and began carefully painting, slow brushstrokes revealing the unfamiliar script.

„I‘ve never seen these before,“ Merlin mused. „They don‘t look like the Druidic runes in my book.“

„No,“ Morgan said, „they‘re usually more angular. Less rounded?“

Merlin raised his eyebrows in surprise.

„When I was a girl,“ Morgana explained, „I had to sit with a governess and learn to sew and embroider.“ She chuckled. „I haven‘t experienced a more boring winter since. A servant brought us heaps of embroidered gowns and tunics one night and told us all of the stitches had to be taken out, as it was discovered to be Druidic rune work. She was terrified; she really believed the clothes had been enchanted and would ignite when worn or would put the wearer under some sort of control. So I know what those runes look like, quite closely,“ she added. „I’ve always wondered: do they really enchant clothes with runes like that?“ She suddenly looked at Merlin with interest, as if it once again occurred to her that she had someone she could ask now. But Merlin just shrugged. He didn‘t exactly have anyone he could ask, either.

Gwen shook her head with a grim set in her jaw as she put the quill down. „Most of the so-called enchantments people stitched into their clothing were only good-luck charms or boons to fertility. Like small prayers.“

She hesitated a little; speaking about this openly was still difficult.

„To the triple goddess,“ he said.

Gwen smiled sadly. „My mother used to tell me stories when I was very little. We even had some small trinkets she used to wear, always hidden. After her death, my father melted it all down.“

Morgana looked uneasily over her shoulder, as if expecting a guard to break the door down and arrest them all at any moment. Merlin supposed it wasn’t exactly unlikely. Still, he felt a new curiosity take hold of him - he‘d never thought to ask Gwen anything, and she hadn’t offered. She‘d known about his magic, but beyond that they never mentioned it; too great was their fear that someone might be listening.

The three of them shared a momentary silence, perhaps grieving for all the small wounds Uther‘s hatred had inflicted upon every citizen of Camelot. After years of shutting down anything to do with magic, there was no knowledge left, nor anyone brave or stupid enough to share it. Nobody left to combat magical threats when they occurred. Nobody - except perhaps Gaius, who, aged as he was, still tirelessly worked his way through half-forbidden books in secret, always a step behind, trying to protect the royal family who would burn him for his actions. Merlin balled a fist.

„We’ve got to take this to Gaius. He thinks we found the lake from your vision,“ he looked at Morgana. „Lake Avalon is said to never freeze over, not even in the deepest cold.“

Gwen said, „I‘ve heard that about a lake before. It‘s just an expression people use, but I didn‘t know it was nearby!“

Morgana nodded grimly. „I did. It’s a bit secluded, to the north. I’ve ridden that way before, but only in summer. That must be where Sophia plans to take Arthur. In my vision, they were definitely outside, and he was wearing his full set of armour.“

„Was there snow?“ Merlin asked.

„I‘m not sure…“ Morgana frowned and rubber her temple. „I only saw myself… I mean, Arthur, in the water. It was as if, in the dream, I was seeing it through his eyes…“ she trailed off and sighed.

„Nobody leaves the castle at the moment because of the heavy snow,“ Gwen said and got up. She rolled up the paper with the runes. „The guards wouldn’t let them. The prince would either need a good excuse or they’d have to sneak out.“

„Well, he seems to be interested in her enough,“ Merlin groused under his breath, and Morgana rolled her eyes in sympathy.

„Not even he is that stupid, Merlin. But you‘re right, the faster we get Gaius to look at these, the better.“

Morgana turned to Gwen. „Perhaps it‘s best if you stay, Gwen,“ she said softly. „I don‘t want you to be dragged into this any further. It‘s dangerous for you to know so much.“

Gwen straightened up and clutched the parchment tightly. „It’s already dangerous, just to be in the castle these days. I want to help!“

Morgana took her free hand in hers. „Please, Gwen, stay here? For me? You‘ve already been seen by Aulfric… I worry he could use this as an excuse to go to the king. If you‘re just tidying up in here, you‘re under my protection. I will vouch for you. Please?“

Finally, Gwen sagged a little and lowered her head. She quietly handed Morgana the scroll. „Very well,“ she said quietly. „But please let me know what you discover, and if there is anything…“

„We will tell you,“ Morgana promised, looking relieved.

Chapter Text

Walking through the corridors of the keep, Merlin kept one stride behind Morgana as propriety decreed, and she led the way in a dignified manner, even as they both would have preferred to break into a run. Merlin had hidden the parchment in his pocket and kept his head down. For all bystanders it would look as if Morgana had ordered him to follow her to a task of her choosing or to escort her to the physician‘s quarters. Thankfully, the halls were relatively deserted at this time of day, as a lot of courtiers would still be in their rooms.

Perhaps that was why they weren’t the only ones using this opportunity; at a juncture, Morgana suddenly stopped and pressed herself against a wall. Merlin nearly collided with her before he stood aside and listened. Voices could be heard around the corner, faintly, still a little away.

"…try, father. I nearly completed… stupid knights… weather…"

"They will not wait on us, dearest… must prepare… our return."

Morgana glanced at Merlin and noiselessly mouthed, "Sophia?" at him. He nodded and listened. Sophia and Aulfric were slowly moving away, but he just caught Aulfric say, "…to the lake and speak to the elders tonight, to prepare for our arrival… day of great significance…power…"

The voices receded, and they could hear a door being closed.

Morgana let out a breath.

"Tonight…?" Merlin whispered.

"Of course…" Morgana said, her eyes suddenly wide. "Come, we must hurry."

Before Merlin could say anything, she rushed off, all sense of keeping up appearances forgotten.

Merlin was still a few strides behind Morgana when she swept into the physician‘s rooms without knocking. By the time Merlin came in and closed the door, Morgana had brushed past Gaius‘ attempts at politeness and simply confronted him.

"We need to do something, Gaius. They‘ll be taking Arthur to the lake tomorrow."

Gaius immediately looked at Merlin, who hesitated a moment, before he stood demonstratively next to Morgana, squaring his jaw. He tried to brace himself against the disapproval.

There was a moment‘s silence, as Gaius read in Merlin‘s eyes everything he needed to know.

"Merlin, what have you done?"

Gaius‘ voice was not accusatory… merely very, very tired.

Any reply stuck in Merlin‘s throat and refused to come out. He could not apologise for something he meant to do and would do again. But it still wrenched his heart. Branwen sat under the table, her head tilted sideways, looking at Merlin, Morgana, and Gaius in turn. She gave a quiet little whine.

"What I asked him to," Morgana said, drawing Gaius‘ eyes back to her. "I had an inkling about what was wrong with me, and came looking for help. Merlin found me and I ordered him to tell me what he knew."

Gaius frowned and looked between the two of them. "I get the impression you didn’t exactly have to force it out of him, Milady."

Merlin‘s voice finally decided to function. "I— she—" he spluttered. "Gaius, she‘s not Uther!"

"Isn‘t she?" Gaius asked sharply. "How do you know?" Merlin’s jaw fell. Morgana kept her poise, her eyes merely narrowed.

Gaius looked at Morgana. "And for that matter, how do you know Merlin isn‘t a spy for the king?" Morgana had the decency to scoff. But she looked away a little chastised. Gaius had hit a nerve.

"Both of you! Don‘t you know how quickly it can all be over?"

The silence in the room was palpable. Merlin swallowed, feeling the knot in his stomach return. But then, it seemed, Morgana‘s good breeding kicked in.

She leaned forward a little and briefly placed her hand on Gaius‘ shoulder. "I know you’re worried about me, Gaius. And about Merlin. But he did the right thing. I was… going mad with the uncertainty. He took a chance - and we‘re both better off knowing about each other. Better than we were before." She looked over at Merlin. "I think it was very brave."

Merlin‘s heart beat a little faster at the blatant praise, but he couldn’t avoid how Gaius‘ eyebrows shot up.

"About each other…? MERLIN!"

"It wasn‘t my fault!" Merlin threw his hands up. "Arthur showed up unexpectedly and we had to hide—"

"You were hiding together? From the Crown Prince of Camelot? Of course!" Gaius rarely raised his voice, but this time, Merlin couldn’t even blame him. He shook his head. "I‘ve cared for both of you like my own children over the past years, and all I wanted was for you to be safe…"

"We‘re not safe until we learn all we can," Merlin said. "And I trust the Lady Morgana as much as I trust Gwen and you."

Morgana waved this away with her hand. "Gaius, this isn‘t important right now - we need to keep Arthur safe from that witch! The runes, Merlin?"

Merlin nodded and pulled out the parchment. "Gwen went into Aulfric‘s room. These runes were on a staff she saw there."

Gaius looked between the two of them for another moment, before he sighed and sat down at the table with a groan. He took the parchment from Merlin and scanned the symbols. His face immediately fell and he looked even more stricken than before.

"This is bad," he said. "We are up against the Sidhe."

Morgana looked askance at Merlin, but he shook his head - the name sounded familiar, but he couldn‘t place where he had heard it before.

Morgana sat down at the table to face Gaius. "Whoever they are, they will attempt to take Arthur to the lake tomorrow," she said with emphasis. "At Midwinter."

"You‘re sure?" Gaius replied quickly.

"We overheard Sophia and Aulfric in the corridors. He spoke of a day of great power and significance."

"The midwinter festival?" Merlin mused.

He had attended the small celebrations of the summer and winter solstice down in the lower town every year since he‘d come to Camelot. From his childhood, he remembered the stories about the Oak King, victorious over the Holly King at the midwinter turning of the sun, bringing with him the new year and the lengthening of days. Sprigs of evergreen were hung above doors and hearths, and many people still gave small, sacrificial offerings in secret, even though this particular practise was forbidden in Camelot: it was too close to the ways of the druids. But Uther had not been able to stamp out such an established festivity entirely, so in the public squares, fires were lit and the tavern prepared special spiced ale, which kept people fairly happy. Most importantly, a lot of the servants at the castle usually got the day, or at least the afternoon and evening, off work.

Gaius nodded. "It is not only a festival. It is the longest night of the year - as the darkness lingers, so the veil between worlds is thinned." He sighed. "It is also Prince Arthur‘s birthday."

Merlin frowned, momentarily distracted by this new piece of information. "His birthday? But nobody at the castle is preparing any celebration! He‘s the crown prince, you‘d think they would remember his birthday?"

Morgana wore a sad smile. "It is also the day our mother, Queen Igraine died… giving birth to Arthur."

"Oh." Merlin felt heat rise in his cheeks. "Oh… Milady, I’m so… sorry. I didn‘t know."

Morgana said kindly, "you’re not from here, you couldn’t have known. Nobody ever speaks about her, by order of the king." She scoffed, and an angry tear escaped her eye. She quickly wiped it away. "It‘s like Uther is erasing her memory… the bastard." She added the curse very quietly, almost under her breath.

Gaius carefully reached out and placed his hand on hers where it lay on the table. Merlin looked at them both and felt a pang. They had known each other a lot longer, had had to live with Uther‘s oppression that much longer… all the while mourning a mother and a beloved Queen, unable to do so openly.

Morgana smiled gratefully and briefly squeezed Gaius‘ hand before pulling back, composing herself.

"Well, at any rate, nobody has ever celebrated Arthur‘s birthday," she said. "Nor mine - out of deference, no doubt. Or perhaps they forgot. Typical," Morgana gave an irritated flick of her head, making her dark hair sweep over her shoulder. "If he can‘t have a celebration, nobody can."

"So…" Merlin tried to focus on why they were talking about this. "Wait. You think Sophia is going to try to drown Arthur tomorrow?" His voice seemed to have reached a new pitch range towards the end of his statement, as horror crept through his body. Tomorrow. "And we still don’t even know why? How can we stop them??"

"Remember, Aulfric said he would speak to someone tonight, at the lake, to prepare for their arrival. We need to follow him and find out who he‘s talking to."

Gaius nodded. "That will probably be the Sidhe who reside around Lake Avalon. It is said to be a place of magical significance. I spoke to Geoffrey - he kept one book on the lore of the old religion safe from Uther. Lake Avalon is allegedly home to the gates to the land of eternal youth. Avalon is also the name of the afterlife in the Old Religion."

"What?" Merlin stared. "The afterlife? The literal gates to the afterlife?"

Morgana took it in stride. "And you believe the legend is true?"

Gaius hummed a little uncertainly. "I‘ve never been there or seen them personally, but someone I knew did. And back then it wasn’t something I would have questioned." He looked up at Merlin, who was still reeling. "You have to remember that these things were far more common knowledge before Uther began his fight against magic."

"His war," Morgana hissed. Her hands were balled into fists. "We‘re going to the lake to find out who these …Sidhe are and what they want with Arthur."

"Milady," Gaius said kindly, "You cannot leave the castle. It‘s dangerous enough with the snow - the guards would never let you leave."

"We‘ll just have to sneak out," Morgana said haughtily.

"With all due respect, that would be a very foolish thing to attempt.” Gaius’ eyebrow went up. "If you fail, there will be questions you cannot answer. If you succeed, it will only be a matter of time before someone reports you missing, especially in the evening."

Morgana huffed and Merlin took a step towards her. "I will go. I know ways to get out of the castle, and I won‘t be missed. I‘m just a servant - Gaius can always make an excuse."

Morgana got up and met his eyes. After a moment, she sighed. "But be careful."

Gaius got up too and faced Merlin. "I don‘t like the idea either of you going anywhere alone. But it seems it cannot be helped. Keep your distance and come back as quickly as possible. Don’t let them see you."

"I won‘t! I‘ll be careful. It’s not like I‘m eager to see the afterlife," Merlin stuttered, a little uncomfortable from their scrutiny.

Branwen got up and trotted over to Merlin. She leaned against his legs and gave a little whine. Merlin smiled and patted her sadly. "You can’t come, I’m afraid. Gaius will look after you,” he added, and Branwen looked up at Gaius with what could only be described as a doubtful look. Gaius glowered. "I told you, as long as you don’t eat my potion ingredients, we can be friends.”

Branwen huffed, then yawned. She went back under the table and laid down, content in the knowledge that tormenting Gaius would be her entertainment tonight.

"I swear you told her to be like this, my boy, no matter what you claim.”

Merlin chuckled, and with relief he saw Morgana smile as well. Perhaps he could do this. He would do this. Properly. "I’ll have to take a horse,” he said, looking at Morgana. "Are there any in the stable that aren’t used that often, that won’t be noticed to be missing immediately?”

Morgana thought for a moment. "Take Llamrei. She’s one of Arthur’s, but he favours another horse for hunting. He won’t notice tonight. You’ll just have to distract the stable hand a little.”

Merlin nodded. "Easy,” he said.

"And… Merlin,” Gaius added, and placed a hand on his shoulder. "When this is over, we’re having a talk.”

That night, Merlin wrapped up in his warmest clothes, threw a fur cloak over the top and made his way to the stables. He took nothing with him but his customary knife for emergencies and an extra blanket for the horse. It wasn’t hard to find out which horses belonged to the prince; not only were they well looked after, but they were also easily the best-looking beasts in the stables.

The stable hand looked so tired, he might not even have needed Merlin’s whispered spell to give in to sleep. Merlin walked over to where Arthur’s stallion, a dark bay called Hengroen was kept. Next to him was Llamrei, a lean black mare. Merlin held out his hand as he approached her, and she nuzzled it curiously. He’d never had much chance to get close to horses until now - the only horses he’d known in Ealdor were working farm horses - and he hadn’t been entirely sure how he felt about basically stealing a horse and then having to ride it through a snowy, dark forest. He had sat on one before, but he never had the need to make it move, least of all in a direction he picked and at speed.

With one hand, Merlin gently caressed Llamrei’s soft snout, and with the other, he produced an apple. It was a little wrinkled from having been in the larder for a few months, but the horse didn’t care. She eagerly devoured the fruit and snorted at Merlin happily.

"Oh, so all it took was a little treat?” He smirked. "I can relate,” he whispered and patted her indulgently. "Now, you’re Arthur’s horse, so I’m sure your training will make up for my complete lack of experience.”

Llamrei snorted again, and Merlin fancied she understood him well enough.

"We need to ride fast to get to this lake, and wait for someone there. Can you do it?” He stroked her nose again, and she pressed into his hand. Perhaps she was a little starved for attention with Arthur so often choosing his stallion for hunts. It served Merlin well, and he quickly went about saddling her. The mare let him do it with no complaints, but when Merlin finally climbed onto her back, she wouldn’t move. He pressed his heels into her, as he’d seen the knights do. He tried several sounds or words to make her move - nothing.

Merlin sighed. He had looked up a spell in his book that might work to make the horse do his bidding, but he felt bad about using it. She seemed nice, and he didn’t want to force her will - but he had to get going somehow.

He got off her back again and took her head in his hands.

"Look, I know the stable is nice and warm and it’s dark and cold outside. But if I don’t get to this lake, we won’t know what’s going to happen to Arthur. That’s what we want to do: protect Arthur, right?”

Llamrei was silent. Merlin stroked her mane. "Right, here is my offer: I will come and look after you and make sure you get an apple every day, if you can help me get to Lake Avalon and back.”

Llamrei turned her head and nuzzled into Merlin’s chest, snorting a puff of warm air into him. Their eyes met, and Merlin felt a strange tugging in his body; a feeling he normally associated with his magic. He hadn’t cast a spell, but something was at work, he knew.

The horse actually lowered her head and gave a quiet whinny. "I think… you understand now,” Merlin whispered gratefully.

When he climbed onto her back again, Llamrei trotted out of the stable and into the night without hesitation. Merlin allowed himself a smile, and bowed low over her neck, holding onto the reigns as tightly as he could.

Later, on the road, Merlin couldn’t quite explain how they had made it through the gates just before they were closed. He only knew that the guards had all looked the other way just as he approached, befuddled looks on their faces. On the road, Merlin also found that Llamrei‘s step was sure and strong on the packed snow. He made quick progress, despite being an inexperienced rider and knowing nothing of the dangers of winter travel. Perhaps it was for the best that Merlin wasn’t aware just how many sudden holes in snow drifts or treacherous icy paths the sure-footed mare avoided, because it would have made him far more scared than he was.

In fact, the magic easing his way made Merlin more and more confident, the closer he got to Lake Avalon. He was carried by a growing power within himself, and he felt good about going on this tricky journey to save the prince. Surely, after what happened with Valiant, his magic would come to the rescue one way or another once again.

At last, Merlin felt that he was approaching the lake. His sense of direction, and probably more importantly, his skilled horse, had led him straight to his goal. Through the trees he saw the land quickly descend, towards a smooth, misty surface, stretching further than he could make out. The steam coming from the water curled along the shore, hemmed in by the snow that began a few paces off the water. Between drifting fog, Merlin could clearly see an unfrozen water surface.

He dismounted and gently patted Llamrei on her flank. He tied her reigns to a branch and waited, listening. Somewhere ahead, he could hear boots trudging through the snow. He followed, trying not to make a sound, but now that he was off the path, his boots sank into the deep, fluffy snow. Merlin pulled his cloak closer around his shoulders and the hood over his head.

Some paces further, he spied another horse tied to a tree, and he clearly heard a male voice ring out in the stillness. Aulfric must have arrived only shortly before Merlin.

"Honoured Elders, hear me! Grant me an audience, your lowest and most pitiful of servants." After that followed some words in a language Merlin had never heard before, bellowed across the lake.

Merlin crept a bit closer so that he could see Aulfric stand by the lake shore, only clad in his blue robe, his arms outstretched in supplication - one hand grasping his staff. The gem at its top glowed blue, and a cold wind suddenly picked up around him, whirling up puffs of snow. For long moments, there was no answer, and Merlin only watched his breath fog in the air, trying not to move.

There was movement in the fog. One moment, Aulfric was alone. The next, glowing shapes were flying before him, flitting around so rapidly that he couldn’t make out an exact form. The lake behind them gleamed with an otherworldly light.

Merlin stared and stared, and within a heartbeat, his magic welled up and warmed his very core. The rustling in the plants around him seemed to cease, the small dusting of snow falling off a branch almost stopped in mid-air; and Merlin felt only wonder. The creatures his magic allowed him to see were tiny blue faeries, their skin shimmering, their wings fluttering like butterflies. He’d never seen anything so beautiful and so strange.

"I come before you to plead!” Aulfric stood firm amidst the fluttering creatures. "For the chance to win passage back to Avalon! And a life of immortality!

One of the creatures hovered in front of Aulfric. A voice rang out - sneering. "Your punishment for killing another Sidhe is a mortal body and a mortal life. You will never be able to return to Avalon.”

"That crime was mine. Not my daughter’s,” Aulfric pleaded.

"The gates of Avalon remain closed to your daughter,” the Sidhe said. "Unless the soul of a mortal prince be offered up to them.”

Aulfric laughed. "Thank you! An immortal life for my daughter is all that I desire. So I promise you the soul of the greatest Prince of all: Arthur Pendragon!”

"No!” The shout broke out of Merlin before he could think. He stumbled out from behind the tree and ran forward, standing a few paces from Aulfric and the Sidhe. "You cannot take him! He…” Merlin faltered. He hadn’t exactly prepared a speech. "He… you cannot take him; I won’t allow it!”

Aulfric looked both outraged and amazed. "You’re a servant from the castle! What are you doing here!” He gripped his staff with both hands and aimed it at Merlin, who quickly took a step back. He raised his hands in defence. "Stop, please,” he said. "I don’t wish to fight you.”

Aulfric’s expression now morphed to complete amusement. He threw his head back and laughed loudly. But Merlin noticed that the Sidhe fluttering around him by the lakeside weren’t laughing. In fact, the one that had spoken before now flew forward and hovered in the air before Merlin. He could now see that their skin was entirely blue and they had large, pointed ears, and wore ragged scraps of clothing. The face of the Sidhe seemed old, with deep wrinkles and strange protrusions giving him a nasty, mean-spirited look.

"Now… who is this?” The Sidhe tilted his head curiously. "No mere servant followed you today, Aulfric the fool. No mere servant, indeed…” he mused, and flew around Merlin once, examining him.

Merlin stood up straight and tried not to take his eyes of the tiny creature. He felt his magic simmering close to the surface, and he was scared. This was going all sorts of wrong. He was supposed to listen in, not meddle. Why did he always meddle?

"I’m Merlin,” he said, sounding braver than he felt. "And who might you be?”

"Ha!” The Sidhe laughed. As if on cue, the others, still hovering over the lake, laughed as well. A chorus of tittering voices rang out in the stillness, then stopped abruptly.

"He speaks as if he does not know us! Honoured council of elders: Emrys the meek has returned! Emrys the failure! Ha!”

Aulfric looked between Merlin and the Sidhe in shock. "Honoured Elder… are you certain?”

Merlin frowned, even as a strange feeling twisted his stomach. He took a deep breath and tamped down the sensation. "You must have mistaken me for someone else. My name is Merlin, and I don’t think we’ve met.”

The Sidhe laughed again their strange, choreographed giggles.

"You think simply calling yourself a different name would trick us? You did not even alter your appearance much, though you put on this naive demeanour! We assumed you dead, but never did your soul pass the Gates of Avalon. And so here you stand before us again." He sneered nastily at Merlin. "What do you want, Emrys the traitor?”

Merlin’s eyes darted again to Aulfric and the staff that was still levelled at Merlin.

"I… come to tell you that it is not yet time for Arthur Pendragon to join the afterlife,” Merlin said, hoping to infuse his words with as much authority as he could. "I will not let you take him.”

The Sidhe Elder narrowed his eyes, and his entire visage became an angry mask. "You are just like your impertinent high priestess. It is not Emrys who guards the gates. Therefore it is not for Emrys to decide who joins your honoured dead."

Merlin balled his fists. He felt an irrational anger at the way the little fae spat out the name Emrys with such disgust, as if it was an insult specifically for Merlin.

"You guard this gate, you say," he began with a tremor in his voice, then gestured to Aulfric. "But it is this man and his daughter who plan to murder the prince. That isn‘t fate! What gives them the right? If they can decide to kill him, then I can decide to save him just as well!"

"They are Sidhe!" The Elder snapped, as if this was explanation enough. "You think you can dominate us? Make us your slaves again? We remember a time when we were not trapped here to guard the spirit realm. We used to roam free and take what we pleased from the land!”

He flew closer and pointed at Merlin accusingly. "You took that from us! But we need no longer bow to your kind. You are proof: even gods can die, at least for a time. And it will be enough time for us to take back what is ours by ancient right!”

Merlin drew back from the angry fae, whose body had started to glow and spark. The Elder whirled around and screeched at Aulfric. "Kill him!”

Aulfric frowned. "But… if he is truly Emrys, as you say…”

"He died before, fool! He is not invincible!” The Elder was now surrounded by the other Sidhe, fluttering angrily faster and faster.

Merlin retreated another few steps and raised his hands again. He felt the power welling up in his very fingertips. "Wait, please! I will defend myself, but I can’t fully control it sometimes, and I don’t want to hurt you! Why do you listen to them? They don’t seem like they will let you go back? Will Sophia go alone? You… you could have a home together in Camelot instead!” Merlin babbled, trying to think of anything he had to offer as a bargaining chip. This was all going wrong. If only Morgana had come, she surely would have known what to say.

Aulfric pointed the staff straight at Merlin’s chest. "A home? With you mortals? Ridiculous,” he muttered. "I will not let my daughter suffer such a cruel fate.”

He spat out a single word in his own tongue, and lightning sprung from his staff. Merlin cowered in horror, but his magic leaped outwards to meet the attack. A golden glow surrounded him and for a moment, he saw nothing but a haze, and felt his own thundering heartbeat. Was he dead? Was this the path to the afterlife?

Suddenly, he could hear angry hissing in that odd language. He looked up. Where Aulfric had stood, nothing remained. The staff lay undamaged in the underbrush, but the man… was gone. A cold shiver ran down Merlin’s back. But before he could think about it, the Sidhe all fluttered around him, like a storm with him at the centre.

"And thus you reveal your true nature,” the Elder screeched. "You are strong in your power, despite your claims to ignorance! But it is no matter: you weaken yourself by associating with mortals - and it will be your undoing!”

"I’m sorry, I… didn’t mean to…! I didn‘t mean to kill him,” Merlin cried out, holding his hands over his head. The rushing of the wings and the howls of the creatures were cacophonous.

"Your kingdoms are made of sticks and their people are but mayflies. We shall wash you away like the tide and take back the land. The waters of Avalon will cleanse all. You will rue the day you chose to oppose us, Emrys!”

The last words rang in Merlin’s ears like thunder. Then, as suddenly as they had appeared, the Sidhe disappeared, rushing back to the lake. There was a fluttering of many wings, and then silence. They were gone.

Merlin’s breath came only haltingly, and he slowly stood back up, looking around. He pressed a hand against his chest, where a knot of pain had formed.

What have I done?

Morgana had slipped away from the gaggle of courtly ladies that always tried to trap her with embroidery and tepid gossip as soon as she was able.  It was the evening, and a cold, icy wind blew over Camelot. Merlin had left for the lake, and as soon as Morgana walked into the physician‘s quarters, she saw that Gaius was having similar difficulties focusing.

She gave him a smile and quickly sat down at the worn table, fidgeting with one of her rings. "I can‘t stop worrying," she admitted. Gaius put down a flask with something that looked like dried beetles in. From the looks of his workbench, he hadn‘t really been working on anything either.

He joined her, sitting down with a heavy sigh. "Now you have an inkling of how I feel every day, Milady," he said, smiling kindly. Morgana let out a breath; she only just realised how nervous she was to speak to Gaius alone. But it seemed in the face of the present danger, he wasn’t so angry about her and Merlin any longer.

"How long has he been gone?"

Gaius shrugged. "About half an hour. He‘ll need a little while to get to the lake, especially in this weather."

They lapsed into silence again.

"How is Arthur?" Gaius finally asked.

"Well and truly besotted," Morgana said, rolling her eyes. "It‘s disgusting. At dinner, he couldn’t take his eyes off Sophia. I’m sure Uther has noticed by now, but he says nothing. Arthur displaying a bit of courtship is not considered a bad thing."

Gaius shook his head. "No, I can see that. But is any of it particularly… unusual so far?"

Morgana huffed a laugh at Gaius‘ old-fashioned reluctance to call things by their name. "Do you mean, is he always this keen on visiting ladies? No. Perhaps that’s just Sophia."

"Or perhaps it’s an enchantment. We need to be careful."

Morgana looked away, feeling a pang in her chest. "Gaius… what if there is no way to reverse my… my vision? What if they always come true?"

"Prophecies and visions… were always the least certain aspects of the old religion," Gaius began, still hesitant. "I— forgive me, Milady, it feels difficult to speak about these things to you."

Morgana frowned, and a coldness entered her voice. "You really weren‘t ever going to tell me, were you?"

Gaius lowered his head, looking old and worn with sorrow. "You young ones don’t remember what it was like, when Uther first began… you cannot understand how many people were lost.”

"Why?"

"What?" Gaius looked up.

"Why?" Morgana repeated. "Why was Uther‘s purge so effective? They were sorcerers! Over the years, I‘ve seen my fair share of them: a real, proper sorcerer or witch or priestess… wouldn’t they have just magicked themselves off the pyre? Or doused the flames?" She sighed, and deflated somewhat. "It never made any sense. I thought then that a lot of the people who burned weren‘t sorcerers at all."

Gaius nodded. "Unfortunately, yes. A lot of people just practised the old religion, giving sacrifice to the gods. They weren’t in possession of real power, and a few spells to stop food from going bad won‘t save you on the pyre."

Morgana shivered as she listened. She had never heard Gaius so dejected before.

"The real sorcerers that were executed were usually the victims of carefully planned raids and abductions. Tip-offs are still common these days. They were unprepared and then beaten and kept drugged… it…" Gaius wiped a hand down his face. "It was a simple, but effective way to keep them from casting any spells to save themselves."

While Gaius visibly mourned the friends he had lost over the years, Morgana could only think of herself. Would Uther sedate her and put her on the pyre? Would he look on with badly-suppressed satisfaction, as he had done so many times before, while his step-daughter burned?

"I wonder if I‘ll see it coming," she muttered.

Gaius leaned forward. "Listen, Morgana, now that you know: I cannot tell you enough how careful you need to be around the king. He has become adept at spotting people acting guiltily – surely a side-effect of his growing fear."

"His paranoia, you mean."

"Your magic is a rare gift," Gaius said with feeling. "There weren’t many like you back in the old days and there will be next to none now. Your kind of abilities were met with caution even by the high priestesses and priests."

"I can see how it would cause people to be scared… I am scared of it, too."

"No, Morgana. Do not be scared of what you can do." Gaius took her hands in his. "Your magic is an innate power, you haven‘t just learned it from books as I have. Trust your instinct. Be cautious around the court, but always know that your magic is on your side."

Morgana pressed her lips together as she felt her eyes moisten. "With horrible visions of death?"

"Not all visions come to pass in the way we think, Milady," Gaius reassured her. "And not all are ill omens."

She sniffed. "And what about Merlin? Did you give him the book so he could learn?"

Gaius leaned back and sighed. "Merlin is… something altogether different. His power is innate, like yours. He must learn to control it, because it tends to just happen when it needs to. I live in constant fear of him accidentally performing magic at court."

"And Uther wouldn’t hesitate." Morgana‘s shoulders fell a little, suddenly sharing Gaius‘ worry for this unusual boy. Uther didn’t respect someone like Merlin, even though Merlin was probably braver than any of his knights.

"No," Gaius said simply.

Morgana fixed him with a hard look. "Why do you serve him?"

Gaius‘ face hardened. "He is the king. I swore to serve the crown when I took this position."

"Even when he kills people you wish to protect?"

"I compromise more than you know, Morgana – beyond that, I see no alternative, if I wish to keep my head."

"But why would you choose Uther in the first place? You do not agree with his way of thinking!”

Gaius’ eyes took on a faraway look. "He wasn’t always like this. When I came to Camelot… things were different. It seemed a good place for me to help people.”

Morgana was silent for a moment. There was an accusation hanging in the air, that she could not voice just yet. Gaius’ relationship to her had always been firmly that of a kindly healer, almost an uncle, a familiar presence in her life. Now that he had, for the first time, openly acknowledged that he could have easily kept the knowledge of her true nature from her… forever? Morgana wasn’t so sure any longer. She wanted to challenge him further: why didn’t you help more people? Why didn’t you save them? But their current peace was too brittle, too tenuous for her to test it just yet.

Gaius looked at her sadly. He seemed to understand, at least in some way. "I would like to say I carry no… regrets, but that would be a lie. It came with the job.”

"I suppose it does,” she said quietly.

He sighed again. "It is easy, in hindsight, to see one‘s mistakes. Easier than when you‘re in the middle of making them, Morgana."

Chapter Text

It was past midnight when Merlin finally stumbled back into the shared quarters, pulling off his cloak with a shaking hand. He wanted to put the heavy Sidhe staff down, but found he was unable to let go of it. His hands were icy, yet the wood had been warm to the touch the entire time. Why did he bring it? He must have picked it up from the forest floor.

Where Aulfric had stood, moments before.

Merlin's skin buzzed. He vaguely recalled getting back to Llamrei, but not much more of how he got home - the horse had clearly done her best to convey him safely back to Camelot. He moved like in a dream, as if everything surrounding him was slowed down; his senses picked up the details of everything, the wood grain, the runes under his fingers, the warm air on his wet cheeks.

He felt someone stir in the room: Gaius waking up from an unintentional nap. He would have waited up for Merlin, but he might have been too exhausted to keep his eyes open, and nodded off sitting at the table. The single candle had burned down low.

Merlin's fingers brushed over the runes once more and he suddenly understood what they meant. A shiver went down his spine. How could he know? Why did the Sidhe think he was someone else? Did they look the same? Had they tried to enchant him, to make him believe he was this other sorcerer? Why? And who was he? He must have died at some point…

Emrys the traitor

Merlin swallowed hard against the lump in his throat and finally leaned the staff against the wall. When he let go of it, he shuddered with the sudden relief.

"Merlin?" Gaius was standing next to him and time seemed to have caught up with them. "What happened?"

Merlin sniffed and wiped his face on his sleeve. "To hold life and death in your hands," he said.

"What?"

Merlin kept staring at the staff. "That's what it says, the runes on the staff. Did you know?"

Gaius didn't answer for a moment. Then he said, "I cannot read them as such, I only recognized the symbols. You can read them?"

Merlin finally looked at Gaius, his eyes filling with tears again. "Yes, but… I don't know why!"

"Oh, my dear boy," he said and enveloped Merlin in a hug. He didn't do this often, but there wasn't usually such a need. Merlin wished he could see his mother.

After a long moment, he steadied himself with a deep breath, and Gaius led him to their table. He didn't ask Merlin anything further, he just sat down, lit another candle, and waited.

Merlin felt his breathing slow down as he fiddled with the cuffs of his tunic. The knot in his chest remained, and he found it difficult to grasp the right words.

"Aulfric is dead.”

Gaius' face remained calm. "Did you follow him to the lake?"

Merlin had to force the words out slowly. "I think… I killed him." His chest lurched with the admission even as everything seemed numb and unreal.

Gaius was silent, simply frowning, trying to understand.

"I— I didn't mean to," Merlin sniffed. "It all happened really quickly."

Gaius leaned forward. "Merlin…"

"I followed him all the way," Merlin said. "And they were there, these Sidhe. They came from the lake, and they said that Aulfric and Sophia were Sidhe, too, but they were exiled. Sophia would only be allowed to go back if they sacrificed Arthur!"

Gaius just let Merlin ramble as the words haltingly stumbled forth.

"And— and somehow they knew I was there and this Elder… he said some things I didn't really understand. I think they thought I was someone else who had died? And then he told Aulfric to k—kill me, and he used the staff… but my magic did something and Aulfric was gone. He was just gone, Gaius."

"Merlin, take a deep breath. Right, now. Let it out slowly. Slowly." Gaius' voice was calm, the way he spoke to patients sometimes. When Merlin had calmed his breathing somewhat, Gaius sighed. He looked incredibly sad. "My boy, I am sorry this happened to you. But your magic clearly protected you from an attack that would have probably killed you!"

Merlin shook his head slowly. "I lashed out," he mumbled.

"Aulfric's death was a consequence of his own actions, Merlin. You didn't kill him. You couldn't have known what would happen!"

"But Gaius, I did know! I warned him, even. I don't always know what my magic is doing, but I knew I wanted to… and was going to defend myself." Merlin sniffed and felt anger knot in his gut again. "Why didn't he listen? I told him to stop and he didn't hear me at all!"

"Merlin…"

Merlin pushed the balls of his hands into his eyes and rubbed away the stubborn tears. "Why is death the only option, Gaius? People like Valiant or Aulfric — they show up and the only thing we can do is fight them until they die??"

Gaius' mouth moved as he silently tried to find the right words. But in that moment, Merlin already knew exactly what Gaius was going to say.

"Sometimes that is the way of it, my boy," he finally said. "Sometimes you can only counter power with power so evil does not triumph. And I'm glad your magic protected you tonight."

Merlin stared at Gaius, another tear escaping him. "I am glad, too. But there has to be a different way to end this. I didn't want to kill him. I don't want to kill anyone else." He clenched his fists, trying to force his magic to listen.

The next morning, Merlin was awoken by loud calls from the main room. He'd slunk off to bed after his talk with Gaius and had collapsed on the bed fully clothed, completely exhausted, next to Branwen who was slumbering peacefully. Now, he felt sticky and uncomfortable and not at all rested.

"…where's Merlin?"

Suddenly, the voice became clearer: Gwen was looking for him. Merlin's first thoughts were of Morgana - had something happened to reveal her to the king? He quickly got up and saw that Branwen was already pawing at the door, whining softly.

Merlin opened the door and hurried out. "Gwen! What is it?"

She spun around, not wasting any time. "It's Arthur! He went to the king this morning and announced in front of the court that he wants to marry Sophia!"

"What?!"

"He seemed completely off! Uther was livid — he threatened to have Sophia and Aulfric arrested before Arthur had the chance to elope with her!"

Merlin's stomach sank, and he shared a look with Gaius. "What did Arthur say?"

Gwen shook her head, a big frown on her face. "He gave in when Uther threatened Sophia, but I'm worried — she must have enchanted him, so surely he will go with her one way or another!"

Merlin looked pleadingly at Gaius. "Isn't there a way to remove this kind of enchantment? A spell or a potion, anything?"

Gaius rubbed his temple. "Not that I know of, or at least not so quickly and easily. Unless you want to try and knock him out."

"Perhaps you could talk to him?" Gwen suggested, before Merlin could seriously consider knocking Arthur over the head with a broom. "You and Morgana? There may be a part of him that hasn't entirely fallen under Sophia's spell!"

"That's a good idea for a start," Gaius said. "But I will search my books for ways to undo enchantments, just in case."

"Arthur went back to the royal wing," Gwen said, and she and Merlin took off.

The castle was strangely quiet. Merlin and Gwen rushed through the corridors, taking as many of their shortcuts as possible. In front of Arthur's rooms, they ran into Morgana, who had come up from the council chambers.

"He won't let me in," she said. "But at least while he's in there, he can't run off to get killed! Stubborn idiot."

Merlin looked thoughtfully at the door a moment. Then he turned to check down the corridors. "Let me try," he said and placed his had on the lock. It was risky, out in the open, in broad daylight. But he needed to get to Arthur - alone - before he just barged past them.

"What are you doing?" Morgana looked worried.

"I'll see if there is anything I can do about the enchantment."

Morgana nodded. "We'll keep a look out for Sophia and Aulfric. Hurry!"

For a moment, Merlin considered telling Morgana what had happened, but there was no time. He tamped down the knot in his stomach that had not lessened since last night. It felt as if the stack of things to make sense of was only growing larger, never smaller.

Merlin sighed and turned to the door, touching the lock again.

"Aliese," he whispered. He felt his chest warm and his hand tingle as the spell unlocked the door. He quickly gave a perfunctory knock. "A message for you, Sire," he called out, and went in.

Arthur's voice from the main chamber sounded angry. "I don't wish to be disturbed. Leave me."

Merlin stepped through the archway. "Not going to happen."

Arthur was in the middle of putting his gloves on, already clad in the rest of his chainmail armour. Merlin felt his stomach sink: didn't Morgana mention that Arthur would drown in his armour? When he heard Merlin, he looked up angrily. "What are you doing here?"

"Checking on you," Merlin said calmly, not letting Arthur out of his sight. "Are you going anywhere?"

"I don't recall that being any of your business," Arthur snapped. "Now leave."

Merlin took a step towards him. Perhaps his magic would feel the enchantment and break it? Would he have to touch Arthur for it to work?

"Did Sophia say where she wants to go?"

Arthur scowled. "I ordered you to get out! Or do you need to be thrown in the dungeons again? Permanently?"

Merlin took another step. "I know what you think you're doing. I know you think you're in love with her…"

"Who are you to tell me what I'm thinking?!"

Merlin swallowed and dared another step closer to Arthur. "I'm your friend, Arthur. I want to help."

Arthur finished tightening his belt and looked at Merlin coldly. "No. You're just an insolent servant I can't seem to shake." He grabbed his red cloak from his bed and swung it around his shoulders.

Merlin took another step and the fabric brushed against his legs. Surely he was close enough now. He searched within himself for the familiar tingle, the warm feeling in his stomach, but there was nothing. He looked into Arthur's eyes and only felt… emptiness.

"Arthur, you don't know what you're doing. Sophia has cast a spell on you. You're enchanted!"

He reached out with his hand to touch Arthur's shoulder, but Arthur immediately batted it away. Then he looked confused for a moment. "What?"

Merlin remembered a spell from his book: it could put Arthur to sleep until after they'd dealt with Sophia. His magic clearly refused to conveniently help by itself, so he had to make do with what he had memorised. He stepped a bit closer.

"What are you doing?" Arthur looked irritated and tried to step aside, but Merlin kept eye contact, the spell ready on his lips.

"I can help you, trust me," he said quietly, and raised his hand slowly.

"I told you people would try to keep us apart," mocked a melodious voice behind him.

Merlin looked around and saw Sophia standing in the room.

"I know," Arthur said mechanically. "I won't let that happen my love."

Merlin snapped back to Arthur. He took him by the shoulders. "Don't listen to her. She's controlling you!"

"We can elope together," Sophia said, unfazed. "Get away from this place, these people. They don't understand."

She came up next to Merlin and he glared at her. "I followed her father, Arthur. She's planning to sacrificing you."

Sophia frowned for the first time. "Where is my father? He never returned. What have you done with him?"

Merlin swallowed hard. Guilt rose in his throat, ready to confess, to apologise, to cry and promise that he hadn't meant to…

…but Arthur was confused and angry, and Arthur needed his help. Merlin pushed down the guilt.

"Arthur, I heard everything from their own admission. They're not human. She's enchanted you. You have to believe me."

Arthur shook his head and glanced at Sophia with a soft, vulnerable look on his face.

"Don't listen to him, Arthur," she crooned. "Let's go, let's leave tonight."

Merlin tightened his fingers on Arthur's arms. "She's going to kill you. She will use your life to buy back her own immortality. If you go with her, you'll die."

"It— it doesn't make sense," Arthur muttered. "We're in love…"

"She's a magical being! Her father attacked me with his staff!"

"What?" Sophia stared at Merlin in utter shock. "Impossible!" For a moment, her eyes glowed red, and it seemed as if she wanted to lunge at Merlin.

"Look! Look at her eyes! Arthur, do you see?"

Arthur turned to look at Sophia, but when he met Merlin's gaze, he was looking right through him. His eyes were red. Before Merlin could react, Arthur tore himself from his grip and stepped to Sophia's side.

"I see everything clearly," he said in a monotonous voice.

Sophia smiled triumphantly. Merlin felt something feral leap up in his throat and he stepped forward aggressively, ready to grab Sophia. She didn't have a staff, after all.

Before he could take more than one step, a sword was levelled at his chest. Arthur had moved so quickly, Merlin hadn't even seen him pick up his weapon. He stared into Arthur's glowing red eyes and knew he was beyond pleading. He wouldn't hesitate to run Merlin through. He slowly backed away.

"Arthur, please." Merlin mumbled the futile words despite himself.

"Leave us," the prince ordered once again. This time, Merlin obeyed.

He almost ran to the door and fell into Morgana and Gwen when he tore it open and then slammed it shut with finality. Before they could ask, he just said, "we need to go. It's too late."

"Wait!" Gwen pulled him back by his jacket. "What about Arthur?"

Merlin shook his head. "Sophia got to him, there is nothing I can do."

Morgana made to open the door herself, but Merlin said "Stop. He's got his sword and Sophia is the one controlling his arm. Don't get in his way."

"But we have got to do something!"

Merlin looked around again at the thankfully still empty halls. "We cannot. Not here, not right now."

Gwen frowned. "She's right, Merlin, we can't just leave him! Can't we all confront Sophia together?"

"NO!"

Gwen and Morgana both stared at Merlin in surprise for a moment. He had never raised his voice like that towards them before. Or towards anyone, really. His eyes widened in shock, and the knot in his chest became more and more painful. Tears pricked at his eyes.

"I will not risk… I will not—" A sob escaped his lips. Gwen immediately put an arm around him and looked around them, worried.

"Shh, Merlin, what—"

"What happened at the lake?" Morgana interrupted in a quiet, clear voice. Something about it brought Merlin back to his senses a little.

He swallowed. "Aulfric is dead. I didn't mean to. I think my… well, something protected me. But I still killed him," he whispered.

Gwen gasped. Morgana kept her poise. "Merlin, he was a sorcerer who was planning to abduct and kill Arthur. If anyone deserved to die, it must have been him," she said with narrowed eyes. "And Sophia will either let Arthur go or she must share her father's fate! Did you find out anything about what she's planning?"

Merlin looked at Morgana, feeling utterly lost. He had relied on her judgement and her practical way with things, without really knowing how she truly felt. Of course, she made perfect sense. Of course Sophia must be stopped. But… why did this thought do nothing to alleviate the tightness in Merlin's chest?

"Not here," he whispered. "I— I don't know how to stop her, but I know someone who might."

"We haven't got much time," Morgana hissed.

"I know. She will take him to the lake soon," Merlin nodded.

Morgana leaned closer, her eyes narrowed. "If you don't have any ideas before they try to leave the castle, I will have the guards arrest her. We have their staff as proof of her sorcery - that will be enough for Uther."

Merlin kept his eyes locked on Morgana's for a moment and knew she was right. If only he could stop Sophia without delivering her into Uther's hands.

"I will be back soon. I'll meet you at Gaius'," he said, before he could change his mind.

Morgana and Gwen still looked unconvinced, but before they could protest, he turned around and quickly walked away.

His steps led him across the castle to the lesser-used passageways and stairs that eventually opened up to the gigantic cave under the keep. The cave with the dragon, or as Gaius called it, the Great Dragon. He descended the last few steps, his torch held high over his head, to find the dragon already waiting for him.

"Your soul cries out in distress, young Merlin. I felt your approach. The life of your prince is peril once again. Never a dull moment, eh?"

Merlin had gotten a bit used to the dragon's way of speaking by now and came straight to the point.

"Did you foresee any of this? The Sidhe are requesting Arthur's life as sacrifice. He is enchanted and I do not know how to break him out of it."

"Yes," the large creature rumbled and shifted a little on his rocky perch. "I felt that the ancient fae of this land were moving to win some power back that they had lost. I have also felt another power awaken. One you are already familiar with."

Merlin frowned. "Morgana? You mean her visions?"

"She will be a powerful sorceress one day," the dragon said and inclined his head. "Though her future is much veiled now to me. I used to see many things and thought that Igraine's daughter had her path laid out to her quite clearly." He sighed, and a puff of smoke curled out of his nostrils. Then his tone became almost curious. "What did you do?"

"I— not much," Merlin said, reluctantly. "I only told her the truth about herself. Gaius wanted to keep her in the dark, but I thought she deserved to know."

"Hmm… perhaps. In the dark she may be no longer, but perhaps she carries it with her still. Even into the light. Be wary of power that has been slighted, young warlock. She is not as innocent as you."

Merlin lowered his head. "I am no longer innocent myself."

The dragon seemed amused. "Oh? And why is that?"

"I killed one of the Sidhe." Merlin paused. "Or, at least, my magic did it, I suppose?"

A rasping snort issued forth from the dragon's great nostrils. "Aah, yes, they are a tricky sort, the Sidhe. As old as the land, they believe themselves to be its owners."

"Their Elder said they had been enslaved."

Now the dragon sounded more derisive than amused. "They have the honour of guarding the gates to your heroes' afterlife — I don't see them in chains, young warlock." He rattled one of his legs and the enormous chains swung, heavily clanging against the rock. "Don't give too much weight to their whining. They are foolish little creatures."

"Even so," Merlin said quietly, almost to himself. "That doesn't mean I want to kill them. I don't know why I couldn't control my powers better."

The dragon lowered his head and peered more closely at Merlin. "Hmm. I see. You pursued the Sidhe to protect the prince, did you not? And you wished to stay alive long enough to ensure he would be safe."

Merlin looked up again, frowning. "I suppose."

"It seems your magic knew exactly what was needed."

"But—no! That's not what I wanted!" Merlin gestured wildly with the torch, sending flickering light around the cavern. "He may have been my enemy, but why did he have to die? Why isn't there another way?"

"Isn't there?" The dragon cocked his massive head, and waited.

"Aulfric didn't want to attack me, but the Sidhe made him!"

"Did the Elder enchant this Aulfric?"

Merlin opened his mouth, then closed it again. "I— not that I— No, I suppose he just ordered him to kill me."

The dragon merely waited. Merlin thought back to the lake. He saw again the expression on Aulfric's face, his disbelief… perhaps he believed it was futile to attack Merlin? They did seem to confuse him with another, far more powerful sorcerer.

…if he is truly Emrys…

….he is not invincible, he died before…

"I suppose he didn't think there was anything else he could have done," Merlin said quietly. "But he could have refused. Dropped the staff. Anything. He just thought he was out of options."

"Why would he think that?"

Merlin frowned. "I guess the Sidhe had… power over him? They might have killed him anyways if he disobeyed…"

The dragon raised his large head proudly. "Power is a dangerous tool, Merlin. You have plenty of it, but you are inexperienced in wielding it. You better learn quickly," the dragon added, and laughed again. "And decide how you plan to use it."

"I don't want to use it like that, to rule over anyone. I don't want to… put pressure on people."

The dragon let out another puff of smoke, like a dry laugh. "Then I believe you have your answer."

When Merlin returned to the physician's rooms, he found Morgana, Gwen and Gaius waiting for him. They sat round the small table, holding small mugs of tea. For a moment, Merlin was sharply reminded of a time in Ealdor when he and Will had somewhat deliberately freed all of the pigs from the village pen. When they'd come home, muddy and laughing and slapping each other on their backs, their mothers had been waiting for them with similar expressions on their faces.

"Glad you could join us," Gaius said, eyebrow raised to his hairline. "Morgana tells me you have a plan?"

Gwen gave Merlin a chagrined, apologetic smile. Morgana, on the other hand, challenged him with a cocky look. It was moments like this when she showed the most frustrating similarities to her brother.

Merlin took a deep breath. "I do, actually."

"Well, I haven't had any luck finding something that can break a Sidhe enchantment, so let's hear it, my boy."

It took a solid half hour, Merlin reckoned, to explain himself. Ultimately, Gwen settled on giving him a critical and worried look - which was not too dissimilar to how she normally looked at him. Gaius looked equally unconvinced but was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. Worst was Morgana.

Merlin pleaded for her to understand that he intended to let no harm come to Arthur, even if it did mean resorting to using his magic against Sophia. He simply didn't want to ride out with the intention of killing her outright. He would have thought Morgana would be more understanding, but for all their bickering, it turned out that she was fiercely protective of her younger step-brother, and resented not leading a more active role in stopping Sophia.

Finally it was Gaius, who once again reminded her of her status, that persuaded her to let Merlin go; though she made him swear to do whatever it took. Merlin felt strange as he held her gaze and promised to protect Arthur. He felt a pang in his chest, a gentle twist, like a soft heartache. He thought of how empty Arthur's eyes were under the enchantment. And he knew, in that moment, that he wanted to protect Arthur as much as Morgana, maybe even more. He would do anything to see his eyes their usual blue again.

Even though it was early, Merlin wrapped up again, ready to head to the stables. He thought it would be better to wait at the lake, rather than follow Sophia; he was worried she might slip away without him knowing. Gwen had returned to her duties - which today was mostly spying for Morgana - and the lady herself went to join the king's meal, keeping up appearances.

Just as Merlin went for the door, Gaius followed him and stopped him with a quizzical look. "One thing, Merlin," he said. "You kept saying that the Sidhe mistook you for someone else."

Merlin nodded. "Yes, they seem to think I'm some sort of all-powerful sorcerer! That'll be part of my bluff."

"Did they give you a name?"

"Uh, yes, it was something like… Amras? No, Emrys!"

Gaius suddenly went pale. He grabbed Merlin's shoulder, and Merlin reached to steady him. "Are you alright?"

"Are you sure that was the name? Emrys?"

Merlin felt a shudder go through the old man. "Why, do you know them?"

Gaius looked at him, and his eyes were full of pain and wonder. He let them wander across Merlin's face as if seeing him for the first time. "I— yes, I think I see… a similarity," he said very quietly, almost to himself. "Remarkable."

Merlin frowned. "Um… so… I do actually look like this Emrys, then? That's good, right? Should help with convincing the Sidhe…" He awkwardly attempted to smile, greatly unnerved by Gaius' reaction.

Gaius dropped his hand and turned away. "Yes. You're probably right," he said, off-handedly, and Merlin knew he was forcibly dropping the issue. Maybe this Emrys and Gaius didn't part as friends? But whatever it was, it would have to wait.

Merlin snuck into the stables again and found Arthur's horses Hengroen and Llamrei still side by side. He greeted Llamrei with a gentle pat, and she snorted and bumped her head against his in welcome.

"Thank you for getting me back safely," Merlin whispered to her. "But I need your help again."

Llamrei snorted, and nuzzled Merlin's cheek. He smiled, and felt relieved despite the situation. "And guess what, we already know the way."

The ride to Lake Avalon was much the same as before. When he arrived, Merlin circled round the side of the lake a little and tied Llamrei to a tree further in the underbrush. Then, he wrapped his cloak tightly around himself and waited, hidden behind some short pine tree saplings.

Over an hour later, Merlin couldn't feel his toes any longer. Just as he cursed himself for not waiting in the warm castle, he heard them: two horses approaching along the road, their hooves heavy in the soft snow. Sophia was leading on a smaller, sturdy horse, followed by Arthur riding Hengroen. He still had that glassy, empty look to him that made Merlin shudder. But he was awake and - presumably - conscious. If Merlin used magic to fight Sophia, Arthur would see… and who's to say he wouldn't remember after Sophia's enchantment wore off? Merlin couldn't take the chance.

He waited for them to get closer. Sophia didn't tie up their horses - she had no more need of them. Without hesitation, she approached the lake and Arthur followed. They stepped up to the shore; Merlin focussed on Arthur and let the magic well up inside him. Swefe nu, he said, clearly, and decisively.

Arthur's eyes rolled back inside his head and he dropped to the floor, his head hitting the pebbles. Merlin winced a little as he stepped forward, out of the underbrush.

Sophia frowned, but then she spotted him and her face distorted into an angry grimace. "You!" She looked as if she had no weapon, but Merlin wasn't sure if she could use her enchantments on him, so he stayed where he was and raised his hands in defence.

"I am truly sorry about your father," he said. "I didn't mean for anything to happen to him."

"Liar!" Sophia snarled.

"Your people forced him to attack me, even though they knew what would happen. They… called me Emrys." Merlin, despite his secrets, knew he wasn't the most accomplished liar. But this was, technically, not a lie.

Sophia's eyes narrowed, then she laughed. "You?! The most powerful sorcerer in Albion? But you're just a servant! Besides, Emrys is dead."

Merlin spread his arms wide. "I'm still here. Your father is not. Why don't you ask your people how he died?"

Sophia still looked angry, but her eyes strayed to the lake. She was hesitating. Merlin's heart beat a little faster: it was working.

He stepped up to the lake, trying to subtly get closer to Arthur, but he kept his focus on Sophia. "I cannot let you take Arthur. He is under my protection."

"It was my father's wish that I should return to an immortal life and not suffer for his actions. I cannot stay here, in this body, in this world!" For the first time, Merlin saw the true Sophia: the beauty of her physical body melted away in the disgust she felt for it. Her face was streaked with tears and marred by her anger and frustration.

"I agree," Merlin said. Then he turned to the lake. "Honoured Sidhe elders," he called out. "Here is one of your people who you put in an impossible position: like her father, her choices are only death."

Merlin's voice rang out loud and clear over the still lake. Nothing stirred. Sophia kept staring at him, but she didn't interrupt. "If she attempts to kill Arthur Pendragon, I must stop her, and she will die like her father. If I spare her, only to put her in chains and take her back to Camelot, the king will execute her for sorcery. Yet I do not wish for her death."

Finally, there was movement around the lake. The swift blue shapes flew up to Merlin and Sophia and once again, Merlin felt his magic swell in their presence. Their fluttering wings seemed slowed down enough for him to perceive them properly.

The Sidhe elder flew to the front of the little group again, sneering. "You killed Aulfric easily enough - why should you hesitate now?"

Merlin smiled sadly. "I regret his death. I'm afraid my powers defended me in a way that was out of my control. But I think Aulfric knew this. You knew this, didn't you?" Even as he said it, Merlin felt sure his hunch was right by the expression on the little blue face. "You thought this was a convenient way to get rid of him. Exile wasn't enough punishment?"

The Sidhe all hissed and tittered angrily. "Emrys you may be, but you do not sit in judgement over how the Sidhe punish murderers."

Sophia visibly winced. Merlin felt a small triumph, giving him the confidence to carry on.

"You punish murderers because you value the life of a Sidhe very highly," he said. "So take back Sophia. Give her her life, or it will be forfeit should she stay here."

"You dare threaten us again…!"

Merlin stepped closer and raised his chin. He now stood directly over Arthur's prone form. "No, I do not threaten you - I am merely stating a fact." He stared down the small creature. "You can either suffer another of your kind to die needlessly, or you can take her back. It's your choice."

There was a moment of pause. The Sidhe was seething, but he did not deliberate long. "We shall not forget this," he said darkly. A shiver ran down Merlin's spine. The Elder flicked his finger at Sophia, and a blue glow seemed to envelop her for a brief moment. She gasped and pressed her hands to her chest, her face lighting up.

The Sidhe then turned around and flew away, disappearing without another word.

Sophia walked a few steps into the lake, and her long dress began to float on the water. She turned around and looked at Merlin, somber now, her anger replaced only by sadness.

She gave him a small nod. "I cannot forgive you for taking my father from me, but I believe now that you told the truth about how it happened. I loved him as you love your sovereign prince. But I am not ungrateful for my life. I hope we will never meet again, Emrys.”

Merlin nodded back and watched her wade into the fog on the never-frozen lake until she was gone.

For a few long moments, Merlin stood and watched the lake, taking deep breaths. When nothing further happened, nobody emerged from the lake, or tried to shoot at him with magic, he let out all the air at once, and collapsed on his knees.

His breathing turned into a choked laughter; a deep gulp of cold air making his throat hurt, and yet he gasped out one shocked laugh after another. Finally, he shook his head and wiped his hands over his face, only to realise he had tears trailing down his cheeks.

Sobering, Merlin looked next to him, where Arthur still lay prone, asleep, and unaware of the states of fear and relief Merlin was going through. Figures, Merlin thought. He's supposed to be the bravest knight in the land, and who gets to face murderous pixies and has to bluff for their life? The physician's apprentice.

Examining Arthur, Merlin let his eyes roam his face, checking for any signs of injury or permanent damage. His skin was a bit pale, but his breathing was regular through his slightly parted lips. Arthur's blond hair lay damp on his forehead; the fog from lake Avalon clinging to his skin and clothes.

Merlin crawled closer and reached out to brush the hair back. His fingers  gently teased the wet strands aside, before, on a sudden whim, he undid his neckerchief and used it to pad Arthur's face dry. Arthur turned his head and took a deeper breath, some of the tension seeping out of his face. But it startled Merlin, and he quickly pulled away and stuffed the cloth into his pocket.

What was he doing? Had he just reverted back to his physician training, looking after a helpless patient? Sophia's words suddenly rang in his ears.

…as you love your prince…

What nonsense. He hardly liked Prince Arthur, in fact, most of the time, he hated the prat. His arrogance! His aloofness! His… surprised laugh, when Merlin said something impertinent. His sincerity when he thanked him for Valiant.

Merlin sighed a little to himself.

I'm your friend, he had told him. And despite how preposterous that idea was, it was true. Merlin didn't quite know how it had happened, but he considered the idiot his friend. He looked at Arthur and he felt profoundly glad he had saved his life - not that he'd ever know.

Merlin sniffed and looked around. Here was another thing: how would he get Arthur home, and how in all the gods' names was he going to explain this to anyone?

The solution came in form of a gentle snort and whinny from the forest. Merlin looked up to see Hengroen nervously crunch his hooves in the snow. The stallion appeared to be watching him and Arthur. Sophia's horse seemed to have made a run for it, but Arthur's horse was clearly loyal and worried about his master - Merlin wasn't even surprised. The prince seemed to inspire this feeling in everyone, otherwise why was Merlin even here?

"It's all right," Merlin said, getting up. He held out his hands. "He's fine, just asleep. I could use a little help getting him home."

Hengroen snorted, reluctant.

"All right," Merlin said. He stepped away from Arthur and went in search of Llamrei behind the bushes. He took her reigns and led her to the lakeside clearing, and upon seeing her, Hengroen came forward. The two horses bumped their heads together, and after this little bit of diplomacy, it wasn't too hard to convince the large stallion to kneel down so Merlin could heave Arthur's prone form onto his back. He made sure he was strapped down as securely as he dared, then tied Hengroen's reigns to Llamrei's saddle.

In this slow procession, they made their way back to Camelot.

Chapter Text

When Arthur awoke in the morning, the first thing he noticed as a shaft of pale winter sunlight crossed his face was a dull headache. He also realised that he was still quite hazy as to what exactly had happened to him the day before. His birthday.

The night before, he had been dragged from what felt like the deepest sleep he‘d had in ages by an insistent Gaius, with Merlin hovering anxiously by his shoulder. The physician had checked him for injuries and then asked some seemingly vague questions that all nevertheless aimed at ascertaining whether he was truly himself.

After reassuring Gaius and a quick insulting banter with Merlin, both of them were convinced, but looked entirely too relieved for Arthur‘s liking. Naturally, he demanded answers, to which they fed him a very rehearsed, very broad–strokes tale: Sophia was a sorceress who had enchanted Arthur in order to abduct him; Merlin and Gaius had figured this out but had no concrete proof, so instead of accusing her publicly, set some sort of trap for Sophia; Merlin had followed them into the forest, sprung the trap and clobbered Arthur over the head to stop him from attacking; then he‘d brought him home on his horse, straight to the physician‘s. Since then, there had been no signs of Sophia or her father in Camelot – and Gaius and Merlin were very confident they would never show up again.

Even a complete idiot, which Merlin clearly thought he was, would see that there was more to this story. But something held Arthur back from questioning them. Perhaps it was the anxious look in old Gaius‘ eyes… he wasn‘t scared of Arthur, nor was he scared for him, but he seemed scared someone would look more closely at what they had done in order to get rid of Sophia? Gaius‘ help had been invaluable in defeating the false knight Valiant – perhaps his knowledge was used a bit more hands–on this time?

It was a novel and frightening thought: Uther would never condone the use of magic, not even to save someone. He wouldn‘t ask Gaius to make use of his knowledge, but perhaps he turned a blind eye more than with other courtiers, knowing Gaius was absolutely loyal and acted in the king‘s interest.

What was Merlin‘s role, then? Was he the young eyes, ears, and hands that Gaius needed to accomplish feats he no longer could? Arthur remembered Merlin vowing to find a way to expose Valiant. The look in Merlin‘s eyes, when he saw him after the tournament, had struck him afterward. He‘d looked… proud. As if Arthur had won only for him, and him alone. And now he followed him into the forest and freed him from a sorceress‘ grasp? The thought twisted something in Arthur‘s chest. He wasn‘t used to being saved – he usually did the saving.

There was one more thing that was very off about this entire affair: when Gaius had finished talking, Arthur asked whether they‘d been close to a lake at all. Gaius went a little pale and said, haltingly, "yes", but Merlin went bright red and said, "no!" quite desperately. Arthur had told him he was the worst liar in the seven kingdoms, and Gaius immediately, and quite obviously, made up a completely harmless story about this supposed lake.

Arthur was quite sure there was something important about a lake. Days before his birthday, he had started to experience more vivid dreams than ever before, and he remembered them properly when he woke up: in all of them, he was going to a lake to die. He didn‘t know why and he had no power to stop it. He’d woken up with cold sweat on his brow and he felt on edge for the rest of the day every time.

And then Sophia and Aulfric had shown up, out of the blue. Travelling in the middle of winter. Conveniently beset by bandits just as Arthur and his knights happened to ride by on one of their last patrols before the heavy snowfall set in. In hindsight, Arthur realised, there had been a lot of warning signs that not all was as it seemed with these two. But quickly after they arrived – too quickly – he’d stopped asking questions. He could only think of Sophia. Her smile, her movements, even her scent; it all seemed more perfect than anything else he’d ever known.

Arthur shook his head. He had never even felt that way about any girl before, and thinking about Sophia now (if that was even her name), he couldn’t find anything that remarkable about her at all. What a fool he’d been. Didn’t his father always lecture everyone about how insidious and tricky magic was? What would have happened to him if Gaius… and Merlin… hadn’t found a way to stop her? Arthur thought of himself, powerless, or under the power of another, wielding his sword not for right and good causes, but for harm. He shuddered and quickly got out of bed.

He called in George, who had become a more regular servant of his, washed up and let the meticulous man help him get dressed. After a light breakfast, he headed up a flight of stairs to the king’s rooms. The guards informed him the king was ready to receive him, and Arthur took a deep breath, straightened his back, and went in to make his report.

Uther was sitting at his writing desk, perusing reports. A cozy fire burned in his hearth and a half–eaten lavish breakfast stood on his table.

"Ah, Arthur.”

"Good morning, father,” Arthur gave a quick bow of his head. "I came to speak to you.”

Uther put his papers down, looking at him with a benign smile. "Go ahead.”

Arthur noticed he hadn’t asked him to sit, nor made any move to come closer. It was almost as if the king was waiting for something. Arthur took a deep breath again.

"It’s about our guests, Sophia and Aulfric from Tir–Mor. I have learned that they are not who they pretended to be,” Arthur said quickly, staring at the wall just above his father’s head. "In fact, they were sorcerers. They attempted to abduct me, and I believe I was under an enchantment these past two days.”

There was a moment of silence.

"And where are they now?”

"They have been… dealt with, Sire. I am no longer affected by their spells, and they won’t bother Camelot anymore.”

Arthur saw a faint smirk on Uther’s lips. He was fully aware that the king would interpret his words as veiled euphemisms and assume the two sorcerers to be dead by Arthur’s hand. Over the last few months, Arthur had learned that it was best to sometimes lean into these assumptions, and he wasn’t going to elaborate unless asked directly.

Finally, Uther got up. He walked around his desk and put a hand on Arthur’s shoulder. "Well done, Arthur,” he said, with a content smile. "I knew you’d fight through it eventually. Well done.” He dropped his hand and walked over to his window, to look out over the courtyard.

Arthur gaped at him. "I— pardon me? Father, you make it sound as if…”

"As if I knew? Oh yes.”

Arthur rushed to his side. "You knew? That Sophia had enchanted me?”

Uther gave him a look that was equal parts pitiful and condescending. "Arthur, I’ve played this game for twenty years.” Arthur winced as a cold shudder ran down his spine. This was the only time he could remember that Uther had gotten close to acknowledge that he’d just had a birthday.

"I had my suspicions since their arrival. I am quite familiar with the royal houses of Britannia, and they seemed entirely unfamiliar to me in looks and names. I also knew you were acting irrational over Sophia, and you confirmed my notion with your… declaration in front of the court. Love may make a man blind, Arthur, but contrary to common belief, it does not make one completely stupid.”

Arthur stared, completely taken aback. It made an awful lot of sense when his father put it like that. He felt as if he’d been slapped; he’d made a complete fool of himself in front of their courtiers, and for what?

"If you knew,” Arthur began, trying to temper his anger, "why didn’t you have them arrested?”

Uther smiled. "Oh, I would have. But I thought this might be a good learning experience for you. I had some of my best knights keep an eye on you – had Sophia tried to go through with her plans, they would have stepped in. But I am glad to see it was unnecessary.”

Uther looked over at Arthur again, this time a more benevolent expression on his face. "You’re a strong young man, Arthur. You found out and defeated the treasonous knight in the tournament, and you threw off the shackles of an enchantment and rid Camelot of two dangerous sorcerers. I am proud of you.”

Arthur felt his face grow cold as all of what Uther was and wasn’t saying sank in. "Thank you, father,” he managed, and tried for a cocky smile. "I’ve been trained well, it seems.”

"Remember, Arthur: the time for modesty is past.”

Arthur produced a grin he didn‘t feel. "You’re right, of course. I am confident I’ll recognize the signs of enchantment more easily from now on.”

Uther smiled. "That’s better. Now, was there anything else?”

Arthur swallowed against the bile in his throat. "No, Sire.” He nodded. "I shall get on with my duties and see you at dinner.”

"Good day, Arthur,” the king said, and turned back to his writing desk, seeming quite content.

Arthur fled his room as quickly as he dared, turned a corner, and took a deep breath, then another, and another. Emotions washed over him, and he found it difficult to restrain himself from punching something. A sense of impending panic settled over the anger and confusion and utter disbelief at his father’s words. His hands reached out blindly, found the brick wall, and the touch of stone brought him back to himself a little. He had to get out of the castle walls immediately.

His feet took him without conscious thought to the one place he felt comfortable. Morning frost crushed under his boots and the cold air felt welcome on his neck and arms when he came to the entrance to the keep’s stables. Only now did he register the mountains of snow outside again, and realised he wasn’t wearing any outside clothes, just his tunic and jacket. He quickly made his way inside.

Hengroen was in his usual box, with Llamrei standing next to him. Their warm breath made the air steam. A stable boy came in and bowed deep, but Arthur sent him away. He would look after his own horse today – especially after the creature had apparently carried him safely through the snow into the forest without harm. He deserved a treat.

For a while, Arthur busies himself with grooming Hengroen and feeding him extra hay. With the repetitive motions, he found time to go over what Uther had said again. Arthur still couldn’t quite wrap his head around the king’s logic: He had known, yet done nothing. He seemed confident that the knights who were watching over Arthur would have stopped Sophia… but Arthur couldn’t remember ever seeing anyone.

If they had followed him into the forest, wouldn’t they have gotten to Sophia? Wouldn’t they have brought him home and earned some commendation from the king? And why did Uther assume that Sophia or her father wouldn’t simply enchant or even kill the knights as easily as they had gotten to Arthur?

Had Sophia tried to go through with her plans, they would have stepped in.

But… she did, Arthur thought. She did go through with it, and nobody stepped in. Except… Merlin.

A small whinny of complaint brought Arthur out of his thoughts. Hengroen was nuzzling his head, nipping his hair, and he quickly continued brushing him. Then he became aware that there was someone else in the stables with him. Arthur frowned and moved around his horse’s head to see who was in the next box.

He should have guessed it, really.

"I told you I’d be back, didn’t I?” Merlin spoke softly, and for a startled moment, Arthur thought he meant him. But then he spotted a mop of black hair ducking under the loving nibbles of Llamrei. Merlin stroked the horse’s flank and with his other hand produced a small, wrinkled apple. Llamrei munched on it happily, and Merlin patted her. "Good horse,” he said kindly.

Arthur felt a ghost of a smile grow on his lips, and he quickly hid it. "That’s my horse,” he said, trying to sound stern.

Merlin looked up with a mildly interested expression, as if he’d known Arthur was there all along. "I know.” He stroked the black coat gently. "She came to me when I needed a horse to follow… you,” he ended abruptly. His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, which was a first. He probably, for a moment, forgot that he and Gaius had told Arthur an edited version of events.

Arthur stepped up to the wooden pole separating the boxes, and gave a quick look around the stables. He heard and saw nothing, and nobody else had come in – they were alone.

"Merlin,” he said quietly. "What really happened?”

Merlin didn’t speak for a moment, just kept stroking the horse. Llamrei had finished her apple and nudged the back of Merlin’s head with her snout. He smiled, but the expression was so sad and conflicted that it made Arthur’s breath hitch. Merlin gently stroked Llamrei’s snout to stop her nibbling his hair.

"You’re asking me?” He said it so quietly that Arthur barely heard him.

Arthur came closer. He felt as if he was approaching a wounded animal – but what could have possibly wounded Merlin?

"I am,” he said. "I know Sophia took me to the forest – but what happened to Aulfric? Where did they go?” Arthur’s heart beat faster. I shouldn’t be asking these questions. It's better not to know.

Merlin blinked, and Arthur spotted the glimmer of unshed tears. It somehow made an angry knot form in his stomach. If he knew who was responsible for making Merlin cry…

"I—" Merlin said, and swallowed heavily. He raised his chin. "He must have fled in the aftermath,” he said.

Arthur wanted to know more. He wanted to grab Merlin and beg him to tell him the truth. But something in his eyes stopped him short: A jolt of familiarity, as feelings of shame and guilt and anger doused him like cold water. A memory? Where had he seen that look before?

"Is there…" Arthur paused. He couldn’t just ask what he wanted to ask. It was highly inappropriate. Is there anything I can do to make you feel better? You used to smile and make fun of me – what happened?

Merlin cocked his head and met Arthur’s eyes while he patted the horse’s flank. His eyes were dark blue, like still lakes. Llamrei gave a little whinny, breaking Arthur out of his reverie.

"…any particular reason why you’re caring for my horse?" he finished his sentence.

Merlin‘s mouth relaxed into a smile. "She took me where I needed to go, after I promised her I’d bring her an apple every day," he said.

Arthur had to smile as well. "Of course you did. You’re thanking a horse that was just doing what it had been trained to do. Naturally." He tipped his head back and sighed. Some of the tension fled from his neck. "Only you, Merlin," he muttered.

"Just because you‘re a brute who doesn’t show his horses some common courtesy, doesn’t mean we all are," Merlin said, and grinned a little.

"Well, is there anything else you need? Anything of mine you’re going to take just because I don’t look after it enough? My armour? My sword? My clothes?"

Merlin’s eyes widened, and Arthur realised what he’d said.

Merlin looked back at the horse, rubbing her flank, his lips pressed together in a smirk. His cheeks had a faint blush on them. "I‘ll let you know when I need those," he said, then looked back at Arthur. His eyes quickly darted across his body. "You definitely don’t appreciate having them enough, either."

Arthur suddenly felt very cold and then very hot in quick succession. For a moment, he was stunned, but only for a moment. He was battle-proven, after all, and the rush of the sudden challenge felt invigorating.

He leaned closer over the rail. "I shall hold you to that," he said, and waited just long enough for Merlin to look flustered before walked away. He looked over his shoulder one more time before he turned the corner.

"Next time you need something," he said, holding Merlin‘s gaze. "You come directly to me."

Merlin swallowed. Then he nodded.

As Arthur walked back to the keep, he felt strangely warm. He couldn’t quite wipe a smile of his lips.

Perhaps his open expression was why Morgana’s maid Guinevere felt encouraged to ask after his well–being when she picked up his laundry that afternoon. Normally, Arthur didn‘t interact much with the servants, but Guinevere – Gwen, for short, he remembered – greeted him with a big smile before turning to her task.

"I‘m glad to see you‘re better, my lord," she said, a basket balanced on her hips, gathering shirts and linen.

Arthur was just finishing his midday meal. He hesitated a moment, and covered it up by drinking some water. What did Gwen of all people know? His confusion must have shown on his face, because she immediately looked chagrined.

"I mean, that is, if you are. Better. You look better, I mean. Not that you don‘t always, I mean…." she stammered.

Arthur laughed. "Gwen, please." He got up. "Just tell me straight: does the whole castle know about my enchantment?"

Gwen‘s eyes widened. She knew as well as he that ‚the whole castle‘ didn‘t mean the nobles. "I…. You know what happened then?" she hedged.

Arthur sucked his teeth. "I know as much as I‘ve been told, but I remember little," he admitted.

Gwen’s shoulders sagged a little – she looked relieved. But why? "Oh, that‘s um— that is, no, my lord," she gathered herself. "It is not known among the servants, and, well… I haven’t heard any of the lords and ladies say anything beyond your… well."

"My very public declaration in front of court? Yes, so I‘ve heard. I should probably be thankful I don’t remember that part in particular."

Gwen tried to suppress a smile, and failed. "I‘m sure it happens to everyone, my lord," she said a little cheekily and blushed.

Arthur took a few casual steps in her direction just as she finished picking up his things and was ready to leave. He stood in her way a little bit, and her eyes darted to the door at once when he fixed her with a look.

"So how did you know about it, then?"

"I… beg your pardon, my lord?"

Arthur still smiled, but narrowed his eyes. "Well it seems my father was in the know, and Gaius and Merlin of course… ah," he said, when Gwen‘s eyes flashed. "Of course."

"Well, I—"

Arthur shook his head. "I know you two are… close," he said, lowering his voice. He stepped aside, to give her space. "And that is none of my business, my apologies for prying."

Gwen‘s entire face went deep red. "My lord, I— Merlin is just… Merlin," she finished, looking a little lost for words.

Arthur couldn’t resist another little tease. "He sure is special, but he is also a total idiot, so don‘t let him treat you badly. If I hear anything of the sort, I‘ll have him in the stocks, you understand?"

Gwen‘s eyes widened. "No, you misunderstand… I mean, beg your pardon, my lord, but," she stumbled over all the common courtesies at great speed, which was increasingly adorable.

"Merlin and I are just friends, but at any rate he treats me kindly, so there is no need for the stocks," she finished breathlessly.

"I see. He must be a good friend indeed for you to defend him so valiantly," Arthur said, smiling.

"Yes well, but he doesn’t think of me that way," Gwen mumbled under her breath. She sounded a little… disappointed? How interesting, Arthur thought.

He bowed his head gallantly. "Then he is an even greater idiot than even I could have attested to," he said, and enjoyed Gwen’s blush, once she realised the compliment.

"Thank you for the conversation, Gwen. Have a nice day."

Gwen courtsied and hefted the laundry basket higher on her hips. "Thank you, my lord," she said.

"Please, call me Arthur. Few enough people use my name, as it is."

Gwen shook her head a little, as in disbelief, and smiled as she left.  "Have a nice day, Arthur," she said, and closed the door behind her.

Gaius strode down the corridors of Camelot keep with some haste – he’d been summoned by the king. He was accomplished at keeping himself calm, his face unreadable, which had been his method of survival these past twenty years. Yet today he felt his heart beat nervously and his head ached from worry. There was something in the king‘s summons that put him on alert.

His mind swirled with the events surrounding the winter solstice. Morgana and Merlin‘s plotting, their secrets being revealed to one another… Arthur‘s enchantment… Merlin relying on the Great Dragon‘s advice. His sorrow at killing Aulfric. But most of all…

Emrys. They called him Emrys.

Gaius hadn‘t slept much that night. He didn‘t want to believe the Sidhe. Of all beings, they were among the most treacherous. Self-serving and proud, they were rivalled only by humans in their deviousness. Yet he could not see how lying to Merlin about this could possibly benefit them – he clearly didn’t know the name.

But Gaius did. Over twenty years ago, when he came to serve the king, a man had lived in Camelot and been closely entangled in the events that led up to Arthur‘s birth.

He‘d worn a different name, a Roman one like himself – Ambrosius Aurelianus. But to someone versed in the ways of magic and learned in Druidic customs, his true name, his title, was not hard to guess.

Emrys. The greatest sorcerer who lived. Magic itself. Born from the earth, called forth by the Triple Goddess.

The druids had more names for them, this entity that took the shape of a man. One account said that Emrys themselves wasn‘t so much male or female, but both, by nature of their creation. The Druids hadn’t known Emrys actually walked the earth until they returned to Britannia: It seems the fantastical Rome and Greece were also blessed by an abundance of magic and worship, if perhaps under different names. Perhaps it suited Emrys to present themselves as a man of means and influence, as in those patriarchal societies it would have opened doors more easily. Even so, the Druid councils led by powerful priestesses didn‘t seem to mind. In the end, it was of no consequence.

Gaius stopped in his strides for a moment, leaned heavily against the brick wall and sighed.

His chest felt heavy with the memory of the last time he spoke to Ambrosius. When they‘d worked together to save as many druids from the imminent purge as possible. When Gaius had decided to stay.

"Are you certain you won‘t join the last group tonight?"

"Yes. My place is now in Camelot. If I can prevent further evil by advising the king, I must do so. May it be my penance for whatever aid I gave towards his mania."

Ambrosius placed a hand on his shoulder, and gave him a sad, but earnest smile. Far gone was the arrogance and pride from only a few weeks prior. Now, less of his power, but more of the ancient responsibility shone through.

"However long it takes, don‘t forget who your people are, Gaius. They will think of you."

"And you? What will you do?"

"What I can. Whatever sacrifice my mother deems acceptable, I shall make it. To protect them."

Gaius also clasped his shoulder. The man looked so much younger, so even though he knew he was many ages older, Gaius felt a sudden paternal pride.

"That is as well as it can be. I am sorry, Emrys."

"No one is sorrier than myself, Gaius."

"It was an honour to have met you."

Another smile. "Perhaps, by her grace, we shall meet again."

And now, there was Merlin. By the grace of the goddess, indeed.

After the Sidhe were dealt with, Gaius had looked at Merlin closely again, and suddenly noticed the similarities: the same high cheekbones, bright blue eyes, and dark hair. The only difference had been the beard and the weight of many years; Ambrosius had a stronger build, a more guarded expression, and he fully owned his powers. Merlin, on the other hand, radiated youthful innocence, he laughed freely, unburdened yet by this great destiny.

There were still parts of Gaius that doubted. He had never heard any legends among the Druids that mentioned rebirth or reincarnation. Perhaps the physical resemblance was merely a quirk of nature? Or perhaps… Gaius had never definitively learned what happened to Ambrosius after he left Camelot. A little while after they parted ways, he had a nightmare… about a man, alone in a hut in the forest, a last, desperate hope guiding his hand. A sacrifice of blood – but for what? And a dream was hardly confirmation. Ambrosius might have found a different way. He might have given up his magic to help the druids and found a nice village to settle down. Perhaps Merlin was his son?

And yet… and yet. Merlin‘s funny quirks, his instinctive way of using magic. The power that slumbered in him, unheeded. He was talking to the dragon, for crying out loud! Even his naive cockiness seemed familiar. Could being the embodiment of magic have been passed down from a father?

"Gaius, are you alright?"

"What?" Gaius‘ head snapped up as his turbulent thoughts were interrupted. He faced a concerned looking Sir Pellinore.

"Are you ill?" The knight steadied him where he was leaning against the wall.

Gaius straightened up. "Oh, no, thank you, that is very kind. It was a mere moment of… tiredness," Gaius said. "My knees aren’t what they used to be," he added.

"Don‘t I know it," said the First Knight. "But don‘t worry, you‘ll outlive us all," he laughed. A shudder of foreboding went down Gaius‘ spine.

"Well, let‘s hope not," he said rather brusquely, trying to stop his morbid thoughts. "I must see the king, I assume the council chambers…?"

"Yes, I just left him. His majesty is waiting for you," Sir Pellinore nodded.

"Then, if you‘ll excuse me…" Gaius nodded and went on his way.

When he entered, Uther was standing at the central table, with a handful of noble courtiers discussing some matter. When the king saw Gaius, he immediately dismissed them, and gestured to him to come forward. He nodded to the guards. "Leave us."

Once the chamber was empty, Uther sighed deeply and took a sip of his wine, while Gaius waited patiently.

"It seems Arthur was under an enchantment by our late guests," he said, by way of starting the conversation. He leaned on the table for a moment, and the muscles on his neck were taut with tension, his knuckles white on the tabletop.

With gritted teeth, Uther repeated himself: "They enchanted my son. The prince of Camelot. Were you aware of this?"

Gaius calmly inclined his head. He prepared his version of events in advance. "I began to suspect after his declaration to elope with her and took steps to investigate, Sire. But it seems Prince Arthur dealt with these imposters before they could do any harm?"

Uther narrowed his eyes. "That‘s what Arthur tells me, yes."

"I confess, I am quite impressed, Sire," Gaius said disarmingly. "He is a resourceful young man." Flattery usually set the king somewhat at ease, confirming his superiority in the face of uncertain threats.

Uther drank some more wine, then walked to the window overlooking the courtyard.

"This is to go no further," he began, and paused.

"Naturally, your majesty."

"I told Arthur I knew all along. That knights were watching him." Uther nodded. "He is learning to grow into his role as prince, but he shouldn’t get the impression that the crown was so easily… duped."

It seemed to cause Uther physical pain to admit it. Gaius waited. Finally, the king turned and looked at him. He looked… tired.

"It was exactly twenty years ago," he said quietly, his eyes full of pain.

"I know," Gaius said, sighing. "No coincidence, sire."

Uther clenched his jaw. "Recently, there have been… a number of incidents, leading up to this one."

"You refer to the false knight Valiant, Sire?"

Uther shook his head. "Yes, but it began earlier than that. There was that sorcerer who escaped the dungeons. It was unheard of, and nigh impossible without outside help. Without magical aid."

Gaius put on a face as if he was considering these incidents. "Perhaps, Sire, we simply had the… fortune to capture a sufficiently powerful sorcerer, strong enough to escape – though it hasn’t happened in a long time. Most of them don‘t dare to come near Camelot these days."

"Yes…" Uther mused, frowning. "We were not prepared, not ready to deal with someone so powerful. But that’s what worries me, Gaius. Valiant could have also caused more deaths had it not been for Arthur‘s swift judgement and action. And letting two sorcerers stay in my castle for days, without anyone catching on… that is a lapse I cannot stand for."

Gaius cleared his throat. The king was not usually so self–critical. In fact, he‘d never heard him criticise himself.

"Something is brewing, Gaius. Attacks on the kingdom haven‘t been this frequent since… since these monsters killed my wife. Something is coming, threatening Camelot, and we need to be on our guard."

He came over to Gaius and placed a hand on his shoulder, giving him a hard look. "I shall depend on you to recognize the signs of sorcery more than ever," he said. "And you need to teach Arthur. You still have some of the…"

"Books, sire?"

"Yes. I know Geoffrey didn‘t get rid of everything as I asked, the old fool."

"Then we would be in luck, Sire, should I require teaching materials."

"Get started at your convenience. Arthur needs to be ready."

Uther turned and paced the room in front of his small throne.

"Vigilant, Gaius, we need to be vigilant! Always it happens in Camelot, ever since I first set foot here. Camelot has ever been the place these druids and their sorcerers wanted to sink their teeth into. They always tried to take it away from me, and they always failed! And then they took her, they took my beautiful Igraine, and even that wasn’t enough."

Two red spots had appeared on his cheeks. "And now they seek to take my only son from me, as well? I will not let it happen again, Gaius!"

Gaius nodded calmly, even as his thoughts were in turmoil. His rather alternative memory of the history of Camelot aside, Uther hadn‘t mentioned Igraine in years.

"Arthur is strong, Sire, and intelligent. He did not fall prey to those who would harm him. He faced these trials head on, much like you, if I may say so."

Uther breathed out, some of the anger dissipating as fast as it had appeared. "Yes, yes of course. He is a man now. But he is still less experienced. He was away from Camelot for many years… he does not see what a focal point for magic this place is. What a danger this poses. I shall make sure he is tested every day, Gaius. And so shall you. We will make sure we root out this plague wherever it tries to settle."

Gaius nodded. "Understood, Sire."

"Make the necessary arrangements and speak to Geoffrey. I don‘t intend for the next attack to hit us unprepared."

"Very good, your majesty."

Gaius felt dismissed and turned to leave. At the door, Uther called him back. He sat on his throne, frowning in thought.

"Gaius… you don‘t think he could be behind all this again, do you?"

Gaius felt his face grow cold. "He…?"

"He was in Camelot with us from the very start," Uther mused, almost to himself. "Only to betray me. Out for revenge at last."

Gaius hesitated a moment, but then figured he needn‘t lie. "I am quite certain that he died, your majesty. Right after his banishment."

Uther looked up, a little surprised. He searched Gaius’ eyes, and found no lie or omission. Nor did he question how Gaius knew this, thankfully. He let out a short sigh of relief.

"Truly? Well, that is good." He turned back to the window. "And yet, Gaius. And yet. All is not well."