Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Camelot had suffered at the hands of a lot of things and a lot of people. She needed security to make sure everyone who resided within the walls of the kingdom stayed safe. That was the job for the guards; to keep an eye out for sorcerers or any other people with an ill-looking intent. And so, that is what they did. They stood in their positions, staff in hand, and waited.

With the amount of times someone had ended up in Camelot to stir up some trouble, it seemed as though none of them were ever very good at their job. They tried, they really did, but magic alluded them and they would sometimes become too lenient and end up resting on the walls behind them, half paying attention to their surroundings. The fact that all of these sorcerers and assassins and every evil that snuck its way through Camelot ended up dead or gone was a mystery to them. 

All in all, the Guards of Camelot weren’t entirely sure they really were the ones doing their job. And then one day, two of the older guards had overheard a conversation, and suddenly it had started to become a little bit clearer.

Their job was being done by Prince Arthur’s manservant, Merlin, who was the ward to the Court Physician. The same man who called the royal prince an arse the first time they ever met and who attempted to fight Arthur on their second.

They’d come into this predicament as Uther had sent them to request Gaius on his behalf. The two guards headed down to the physician’s chambers, but stopped short at the door leading in. There seemed to be an argument occurring, and at that they hesitated. Then, the words registered to their ears and the two guards practically stopped functioning.

It’s not everyday they heard two people rather loudly talking about the highest treason possible to commit in their kingdom. But yet, here they had been, stationed outside the door as the illegal words filtered through.

“You mustn’t use your magic like that, Merlin! If Uther had caught you, you’d be in a cell waiting for your execution!” Gaius’ voice trailed through the wood, which caused the two guards to turn to each other in disbelief. They had known the physician for a long time and they knew he used to perform magic before the purge, but to hear him talk to his ward about it? Well, that had surprised them, to say the least.

“Well…” the one on the left began, quietly so he wouldn’t be heard by the other two men. “I suppose we’ll need to take them to Uther.”

“Yes, I suppose we will,” the one on the right responded, moving his hand to grab at the handle. Before he could turn it, however, Merlin’s voice wavered in.

“What was I supposed to do, Gaius? The man was so close to killing Arthur and none of the knights were close enough to stop it! I had to save him and I’m not sorry about it!”

The guards didn’t move. They didn’t attempt to open the door and call out sorcery, and they didn’t attempt to let their presence be known. Because doing that would mean having to decide what they were going to do about Merlin, and somehow neither one of them had an answer to that. Magic was the worst crime to commit in the rule-book of Uther Pendragon’s, but these guards had just heard about a man using magic to keep their prince alive.

Uther was their king, of course, but no one was ever as cut-throat as he was when it came to magic. The guards knew it was evil, they’d been taught to believe that, but here was a man screaming about how he risked exposing himself for Arthur, a man they were supposed to protect. It made the guards feel odd.

They both waited for the other to do something, so in turn neither of them had. Then, Merlin spoke up again, causing even more harm to the beliefs of the men he didn’t know were listening in to his conversation.

“What would you rather have happened, Gaius? Would you have preferred for me to use a little, ittie bittie bit of magic to send a dull, dainty dagger into the heart of a very bad man, or would you have liked it if I didn’t use magic and let Arthur Pendragon, heir to the throne of Camelot and the Once and Future King, die? Hmm?” There was a beat of silence, of which it was almost as if the guards could sense The Eyebrow being raised, before any more sounds came from the other side. “What’s one tiny stabbing in the grand scheme of things?”

“The Once and Future King?” the man on the left questioned.

“I have no idea what that means.”

“Me neither.”

“So…are we arresting them and bringing them to Uther?” the one on the right asked.

The guard on the left didn’t answer, his eyes glued to the wood in front of him. Gaius then mumbled something about how Merlin was still an idiot for using his magic so in the open, even if it was to save Arthur’s life. The physician and his ward then moved on to talk about medicine and some new herbs and other things that disinterested the two still stood out in the hall. 

“We still need to do as Uther asked and bring Gaius to him, even if we aren’t arresting them,” he finally spoke, turning to face the other.

“So, we’re not acknowledging that Merlin used magic and Gaius knows about it? We’re supposed to report any signs of sorcery to Uther immediately.”

“Mhm.”

“What does ‘mhm’ mean? It’s treason!” the man whisper-shouted, desperately trying to not raise his voice in fear that Gaius and Merlin would’ve overheard them.

The two stood in silence for a moment, one waiting for the other to give a reasonable explanation. “He saved Prince Arthur’s life.”

“Using magic.”

“Yes.”

“And we’re not arresting him. Or Gaius. For using magic and harbouring a sorcerer.”

“Yes. Well, I’m not, anyway.”

“Okay, okay.” The man on the right took a minute to slowly breathe in and out before responding. “Are you insane? Would you like to, at best, get fired and, at worst, get killed?”

“Not particularly, no.”

“But we’re not turning them in?”

“I don’t know what you want from me!” left whisper-shouted, clearly very agitated with his own arguing mind.

It took about five or so minutes of the two guards yelling at each other as quietly as humanly possible before they finally opened the door. “Gaius, Uther has requested your presence,” one of them said, and that had been all. Neither had said anything about the magic or what they overheard, not when Gaius walked with them, not when Uther questioned what took them so long, and not when it was all over. 

Magic was treason and yet they’d kept Merlin’s a secret, but neither of the guards could be the reason the man was sentenced to death, not in good conscience. If he hadn’t spoken of why he used magic, they would have gone to Uther of course, but Merlin did and that changed too much. He saved Arthur’s life, apparently intervening with someone who…was in the citadel? They hadn’t explicitly stated where it had all happened, but they knew the Prince hadn’t recently been out that day, which meant that someone had likely snuck in without them noticing. The Guards of Camelot. The people who should be noticing. 

That had been the first time any of the Guards had come to realise that the clumsy, loud-mouthed man was more than they originally thought. It had also been, for those two in specific, the first time they had ever gone against the law and let a sorcerer roam free. They were almost certain it would come back to bite them in the ass one day, when Merlin turned out to be evil and had even higher ulterior motives of keeping Arthur alive, but they’d left it be. Whatever the reason; not that the two could really figure out all that was going on in their brains.

And then, a second situation occurred, and it only made everything more complicated than it had been. Yet, also, seemingly solidifying some new beliefs of theirs. 

“I overheard the Court Physician, Gaius, and Prince Arthur’s manservant, Merlin, talk about him using magic! Apparently Merlin magically stabbed someone who was sneaking up on the Prince, I think. I rushed right out of there to go and tell the King, though perhaps I should have gone in there and arrested them straight away. I will admit, I was a little intimidated to do that, as he has magic, but I really should have done it, shouldn’t I? Oh, I suppose you two could go down there and get them while I inform King Uther!” The guard was one of the newest ones hired, as well as one of the youngest. They’d been needing more ever since the recent attack on the citadel which left only so few less than half the guards dead, more severely injured.

The man had bumped into the two guards who had still not said a word of what they heard to anyone, and when they asked the young one to explain why he was in such a rush, that had been what very quickly flowed out of his mouth. He seemed to be very amped up, if anything. He’d also assumed the guards he was speaking to would jump into action as soon as he was done, if not sooner but unfortunately for him, they did not move. It confused him and he had gotten very worried as he was trying to not get immediately sacked after being hired and assumed that not instantly going to the king when it came to sorcery would land him in such a position.

“You said that Merlin magically stabbed someone who was sneaking up on Prince Arthur?” one of the older guards asked.

“Uh, yes. I did. Shouldn’t we all be rushing to stop this?”

“What else did you overhear? Specifically,” the second one questioned, ignoring the young guard’s concern.

“Well, it was mostly that. Gaius replied with something along the lines of how Merlin needs to stop being so careless, and then that was retaliated with ‘I’m not being careless, I’m being helpful’ or something like that.”

The two guards looked at one another and the young guard felt very out of place and vastly confused. It was his first week on the job and the men in front of him were far more experienced at dealing with sorcerers, but he couldn’t for the life of him understand why they weren’t all rushing to either the King himself or back to the physician’s quarters. 

“Come with us, please,” the other then said, walking past the man and in the opposite direction of where their king was currently at. The second followed and the new guard went with them, because of the very reason that he was too new at the job, though he was very bewildered about the whole thing.

The three guards ended up in an empty room with the door shut and the youngest felt immensely terrified. He voiced as such, though the other two didn’t pay much attention to it. When they began pacing, he felt rather ill and had to sit down at the slightly dusty table. 

“So why are we not going to Uther about this? I thought sorcery was, you know, illegal? Has been for years, I’m sure.”

“Uh, yes that is true, of course.”

The two guards beat around the bush a little while, and honestly they’d been rather surprised the third guard hadn’t at any point just gotten up and left to tell Uther. They supposed he thought it’d be better not to dismiss orders from people who’d been around longer. Eventually, however, they managed to explain to him that, well, they already knew about Arthur’s manservant having magic.

“What?” The young guard didn’t screech, per say, but it was pretty damn close to it.

“Keep your voice down!” came in response, in yet another whisper that somehow still sounded like shouting. The two guards were worried that they’d just cost themselves everything by telling another soul that they left a sorcerer in Camelot be. Then, however, the young guard spoke up.

“I recently moved to Camelot, actually. I grew up with magic around me, not a lot, but a little, so I don’t think it’s necessarily evil, as Uther preaches, but I am in an odd state of heavily confused, concerned and, unfortunately, intrigued as to why two Camelot Guards who’ve worked in this kingdom for years are ignoring a sorcerer.”

It hadn’t been what either of them were expecting, far from it, but it was better than half the things they thought up. So, the two guards explained in more detail as to the hows and the whys and then ended it by inadvertently asking the young guard to keep it a secret. They didn’t really want to have to say out loud that they feared without Merlin around, Arthur would meet his demise because they’re not the greatest at their jobs, but the message got across nonetheless.

“Right, it’s clear to me that neither of you are as loyal to the king as you should be, though I don’t entirely blame you.” That last part had been mumbled under his breath. “Still, if you really believe that Merlin means us no harm then I won’t go and report it. I’ve been here a week so I don’t really know anyone or anything. The two of you do, however.”

For a second, neither one of them spoke. If they did, that meant their answer was final. That they were officially stating that they were going to withhold information from their King about a matter he cares deeply about. To allow a sorcerer to stay in Camelot, and to let that same man be in charge of the King’s precious son. When they spelled it out like that, the two guards couldn’t help but wonder if they’d finally gone off the deep end.

In the end, be that as it may, the three guards had concluded to keep the knowledge between themselves. Until Merlin caused proper harm, they couldn’t find a good enough reason to turn him in. Not when he was seemingly doing so much for the prince, a man they should have been keeping safe.

From this point onwards, more and more guards had slowly grown to hear about Merlin and his abilities, in one way or another. Whether it had been from a colleague of theirs or even from Gaius himself, though inadvertently, soon practically all the Guards of Camelot knew. They had all been made aware of the predicament that was their prince’s life and whose hands it was in.

And yet, not a single report had been made to Uther, because every time a new Guard of Camelot found out, they were pulled into the conversation of if their king was really as sane as he ought to be. They’d seen many horrors from the performance of magic, but their prince had also come back from too many hunting trips gone wrong unscathed, and they weren’t so stupid to not understand that coincidences like that aren’t common. 

Sorcery was treason and Merlin did it on the daily, and yet still none of the guards could make that count as a good enough reason to send the man to his death. The realisation of this sent a lot of the guards into midlife crises, or for the newer men a quarter-life one. Some questioned their morals while others questioned their job, but it usually ended all rather similarly. The guards stayed in their positions in the royal household and basically pretended as if they knew nothing. What had really sealed that for them, however, was a day that followed the last handful of guards finding it all out.

Merlin had gone missing for hours, and in those hours they had realised just what kind of damage his space would cause. They had witnessed Arthur running up and down the castle halls as he called out his manservant’s name, like a child who had lost his favourite stuffed animal. His hair was a mess and his clothes weren’t exactly right, and he walked barefoot on the cold floor. Once Merlin had finally come back, his excuse poor but not questioned, they had seen the way their prince’s eye lit up even as he threatened the man before him. 

Arthur needed Merlin in more ways than one, and Uther wouldn’t care if he knew of the true nature of his son’s servant. So, a sorcerer would stay in Camelot, if the guards had anything to do with it. It had been a terrifying thing to realise, that together they had all agreed to go against their king in secret and, basically, harbour a criminal. But, the more and more they heard about Merlin and his secrets, the more sure they were that they had made the right choice. Not for their king and his craze towards magic, but for their prince. There wasn’t a need to take away Arthur's shield, not when it would make everything worse. To send Arthur somewhere without Merlin was to send their prince to his death and, last time they all checked, that was a crime worse than magic in their books, no matter what King Uther declared. 

Chapter Text

Gwaine was a man who liked to spend his free time in the tavern, and he didn’t care who knew about it. He liked to relax with a jug of mead in his hand as he gossiped with his friends. Sometimes he was told he drank a bit too much and, depending on who it was, his reactions often varied. Perhaps he could cut back, but Gwaine felt as if it wasn’t the most important thing ever. So, he kept going to the tavern, talking with friends and listening in to other people’s conversations when he was alone.

In fact, that was how he got into this mess in the first place. He had been eavesdropping. 

It had been a long day of training, with Arthur making the knights go through the harrowing steps of the practice again and again until their bones and their breath were all fed up. It wasn’t until the sun had already set that Gwaine made it to the tavern but, alas, he managed. He’d offered for the other knights to join him, but there were all far too tired to go anywhere but their beds. Pussies, the lot of them, Gwaine thought.

Ordering his usual, he sat down at the same table he always placed himself at when he was alone and started sipping on his drink. Merlin had helped him figure out which seat would be best for listening in on conversations, because apparently the man had tested out all the tables, or something. What? It was a fun way for him to pass the time when he was alone; Camelot’s people always had things to say. Granted, Gwaine was sure that at least half of the things he heard were complete fibs, or partly-lies and partly-truths, but that didn’t take too much away from his whole enjoyment of it.

“I heard that two of the maids are getting it on,” one person whispered to their friend. 

The girl, in reply, turned bright red. “W—who?”

“I don’t know, I’m not the one who saw them. But it’s scandalous!”

“I think it’s great that they’re happy.” If Gwaine had any money to give, he’d bet it all on the fact that the girl hearing the gossip was one of the girls who’d been caught, if her blush and panicked eyes were anything to go off of.

At another table came the confession, “I think he’s cheating on me.”

The response: a gasp. “That bastard!”

“My son’s got some guy friend he’s with. He thinks I don’t know about it. As if I don’t know what’s going on in my own bloody house!” A mother said at the table next to him, though she seemed more annoyed at the fact that her son was lying to her than what it was about, if Gwaine guessed. 

“Let him tell you in his own time,” her companion responded.

“It’s ridiculous! My own son thinks I’m some sort of an idiot!”

Ah, how Gwaine loved the tavern. 

“There’s no way it’s all just coincidences! It’s too many occasions to be so,” a woman a couple tables down from him said. For people who always seem to be revealing secrets, they’re not exactly quiet about it. Gwaine couldn’t say much though, he was sure he’s a hell of a lot louder than half of these people around.

“Well, they are the Knights of Camelot, so maybe they’re just that good.” This caught the Gwaine’s attention, and he ignored all the other conversations he’d been wanting to hear. He wanted to know if the friend figured out it was her friend who had been caught and he had been curious as to the mother-son dynamic from the other side. But this one, however, was about himself, so of course he had to know.

There were four people sat at a table, all roughly teenagers or young adults, and they all seemed very interested in the knights. The third had said, “I mean, they always come back relatively unscathed when you consider what they’re doing. It just doesn’t make sense.”

“Thank you!”

“Well, what do you think is happening?” the second asked.

“I’ve heard stories from Gwaine himself—” the first woman began, though was interrupted by the fourth, a woman who looked very similar to her. Sisters, or maybe even twins.

“Really?”

“Yes! He likes to get drunk and talk and comes here often. As I was saying, I’ve heard from Gwaine that a lot of branches are knocking out bandits. He glazes over that part, but it happens so often.”

“That’s true,” the third agreed, a lankly man with wide eyes. He seemed the youngest out of the lot. “I wouldn’t be surprised if Merlin’s got something to do with it.”

That had made Gwaine stop the motion of his hand, his cup of mead only so far away from his lips. He listened in closer at the mention of his dear friend, curious as to what the group might have been trying to imply.

“What are you on about?” the fourth questioned.

“I’m just saying! He’s always going everywhere with King Arthur and the knights, even though a manservant shouldn’t. He’s done it ever since he came to Camelot. It wouldn’t surprise me if he was secretly helping them out.”

“Well why would he keep it a secret? The King has made it clear he thinks his servant is rather useless, at least when it comes to battles, and when the knights mention him in their tales, he’s always cowering behind trees or bushes.”

“Or is he?”

Gwaine had to admit, he sort of understood where the group of people were coming from. They were always quite lucky when it came to their outings, though he usually assumed it was just because of their total awesomeness that they survived. But, Merlin? The same Merlin who didn’t know how to properly hold a sword? The man who was such a klutz that he’d honestly sometimes be worse than a drunk Gwaine?

Oh, please. What the hell did Merlin have to do with any of it?

“Do you really think so? Merlin?” that second woman asked.

“Yes! He has to have something to do with it! The knights are always so lucky, and Arthur has been too ever since he arrived. You remember that feast everyone talked about? For twenty years after the purge? Merlin saved his life!” the youngest replied.

The first woman then added on, “That is true! And then, he drank that poison for him, back with Bayard. I heard about it from one of the maids!”

The group of four began discussing more and more events where Arthur, and then the knights, were all saved. In every single one, Merlin was there. But then, wasn’t he always? Wasn’t the man who couldn't hold a sword properly or who couldn’t walk without making so much noise always there with the knights? To stand by the side of men in armour who wielded weapons; Merlin who wore nothing else but his everyday clothes. 

The more they talked about every event they could remember, the more it made sense to Gwaine. Stupidly, it actually made sense. Merlin and mysteriously fallen branches and gushes of wind. But how? That is what confused the man so much that it made him, for perhaps the first time in the entirety of his life, leave the tavern earlier than usual. It just stuck with him, about all the times he and his friends had been saved by such ‘accidental’ things, only now he’s heard people talk about them being more intentional than any of them ever thought. 

With bandits and assassins dying or disappearing at all the right times, and pots of luck that perhaps were more than just luck, Gwaine ended up going to his bed early, with his mind running wild. Merlin was something else, everyone who had ever met him knew this. But was he really the reason for so much? And how?

There had been a good chance that Gwaine was only taking it all to heart because he had been drunk and tired, but that changed very little for him. Because, even if Merlin had nothing to do with it, he still couldn’t shake the feeling that their journeys had more coincidences than most other trips should.

Maybe he was thinking about it too hard, but Gwaine was also a man who rarely beat around the bush, so he decided that the next morning he would find Merlin and ask some questions. What questions specifically? Well, he decided he’d just come up with them as he went. And, sure, being so upfront and honest usually got him in a lot of trouble—like, a lot a lot—but when had that ever deterred him from something? Never! Besides, what harm could asking Merlin cause?

The next day Gwaine had found himself with a small hangover as he made his way to the physician’s chambers. Usually he was quite alright, but apparently alcohol and thinking didn’t mix well. He supposed he could ask Gaius for something to help while he was down there.

He still hadn’t a clue what he’d specifically ask Merlin, only that it’d be along the lines of questioning why the man always insisted on coming with them. Because he did, insist that was, and Gwaine had seen it happen a number of times. At first, when he’d first met them, he assumed Arthur was an arrogant prat who forced his manservant to follow him everywhere, even to dangerous places, just for the fun of it. Then he spent more time with Merlin and eventually saw how it often played out. Arthur always gave the option to stay behind where it was safe, and every time Merlin would ignore it completely and come along anyway. It’s why the knights thought of him as brave, but now Gwaine couldn’t help but wonder. Why did he always insist on coming when he ended up hiding at trouble? Why did he always insist on tagging along on hunts even though he absolutely hated them? The entire time he would complain, so why bother at all?

Gwaine also couldn’t help but think about why it had taken him overhearing strangers talking about it for him to finally notice the things his friend does, but he decided to not dwell on that part of it all.

Finally, he’d gotten to his destination and was about to knock on the door when he realised it was slightly ajar. It was basically closed, with only a sliver of open air between the door and the wall, but yet the sound of Gaius and Merlin talking filtered through. Being the man that he was, Gwaine leaned his ear against the door to try and hear them better. Really, he’s been doing too much eavesdropping as of late. But, it was Merlin! He was allowed to eavesdrop on friends…right?

“Right, so I need to break into the vaults beneath the castle without accidentally alerting anyone else. So, it’s either I steal the key from Arthur without him noticing or I just open it with magic?”

It took a couple of second for Gwaine to react to that, to have any sort of emotion towards the words that had fallen from his friend. He’s been too caught up on the idea that Merlin was going to sneak into the vaults. Then, however, he froze as it had finally sunk in.

“Yes, it seems those are your only options. Both are very risky in their respective ways,” Gaius replied. 

“But it needs to be done, Gaius. The others won’t be able to stop him,” Merlin countered as he huffed.

What the actual hell? Gwaine couldn’t believe what he was hearing! Merlin had magic? Merlin had magic. Merlin. Had. Magic. 

How had Gwaine not known about this? He was Merlin’s closest friend, maybe after Lancelot—may that honourable man rest in peace—but still! 

The worst part of it all, however, was that it made sense. The fallen branches. The mysterious gushes of wind. The bandits and assassins who disappeared without a trace, no longer Arthur’s and the knights’ problem to solve. It’s all been because of Merlin. Of course it had; it just makes too much sense.

Gwaine’s never been known as a guy who easily puts things together, which is why it surprised him none of the other knights know. Unless, well, unless they did, he thought. Maybe they did know and were keeping it a secret? Oh crap. Am I going to have to keep this a secret? I surely can’t be the reason Merlin dies, no fucking way!

The two men started to talk in detail about how Merlin was supposed to steal the key from Arthur. They then talked of a plan to fall back on—also known as Merlin’s magic, because he apparently fucking had that—in case that first one failed. “It is risky, but I need to get inside that vault before that sorcerer does. For Arthur’s sake.” Merlin sounded determined, the most determined Gwaine had ever heard from him, really. But then again, Arthur always did have a very loyal servant; one he didn’t really deserve, if Gwaine had a say. They then began to talk about what to do after all of that, but Gwaine had stopped listening in, finally. 

He’d learnt his lesson about the dangers of eavesdropping, that was for sure. (Well, he’d learnt for about a week, then he had managed to overhear about the friend finding out and the son coming clean, and he went back to his ways.)

But, he had his answer. Merlin had magic and he was using it to keep Arthur safe. Sure, he was breaking into the vaults of Camelot, but it seemed important enough, and Gwaine knew who he trusted. And that was Merlin, he was sure. Maybe? Yes! Of course he trusted Merlin. Of course I trust him.

Magic though. He grew up without magic around him, but he also grew up without the hatred of it as well. So, moving to Camelot didn’t mean much to him, the laws hadn’t affected him or his opinions much. But they hadn’t been something he necessarily strived to agree with either.

Gwaine decided he needed another drink if he was going to have to deal with all of this shit. So, he turned around and began heading out when the sound of a door opening came from behind him. “I’m just—oh, Gwaine. Hello.”

He cursed under his breath and turned around, met face to face with the man who, in his head, had just drastically changed. I still love him though. And trust him, of course. I do. Trust him, that is. God, I need a drink. “Merls, hey.”

“What are you doing here? Do you need something?”

I wanted to ask about why you risk your life over and over again, but I think you’re in less danger than we ever are. “Not really. Was just wandering about.”

“Oh, okay.” Merlin stares at him oddly and Gwaine really hoped the man wasn’t wondering if Gwaine overheard. But what if Merlin did ask? What would he say? Would he say yes, he had heard, or no, he heard nothing? “So, are you just going to carry on standing there or…”

“Hmm? Ah, right! No, I’ll be off, then.” And with that, Gwaine clumsily left up the steps, leaving Merlin in the door entrance with a confused expression on his face. That was it, he needed two drinks for this shit.

After having a small mead break, Gwaine was called in by Arthur. It was about someone who had broken in and how they needed to be on high alert for any oddities around the citadel. Gwaine threw a quick glance to Merlin but looked away before the other man saw him. He wondered what was going on on the inside, which is odd considering he was supposed to be on the inside. He was a Knight of Camelot, which meant that he was supposed to be a man who knew the ins and outs of such things. But he wasn’t on the inside; at least not the true one. The true one was whatever else happened in that room of Gaius’, the truth was whatever the King’s servant and his mentor discussed when they thought no one else was around.

If it weren’t happening to him, Gwaine would have been enjoying every minute of the story.

So, the knights did as they were told and kept on high alert, but whoever had broken in was clever. He knew there must have been someone else because Merlin had mentioned a ‘him’ but he’d also wondered if the disturbance in the vaults was that man at all. Merlin had mentioned breaking in himself, had he not? Then again, Merlin had also said that ‘the others won’t be able to stop him’ so what the hell did Gwaine know?

The day went by quickly, what with how much he was in his own head wondering about Merlin and Gaius while also keeping an eye out for the mystery man. Gwaine wasn’t sure what he was meant to do. He could never turn Merlin in, that much was for certain, but he had made a vow to Arthur. He liked to be a man of his word when he could, you know. 

It got late and he had found no disturbances that warranted any investigating, and he’d grown annoyed at this. Gwaine didn’t much appreciate that he had basically been made to sit with his thoughts for a while; he didn’t like it one bit.

God, his brain had so quickly began hurting, and then he had to spend the rest of the day with that. He was a knight because he believed in honour (mostly) and liked fighting. He should never be made to think! It was offensive that his brain kept doing it, really.

It wasn’t until yells were heard in the armoury that he fully got himself together again, rushing in the direction of the sound and quickly falling in line with the rest of the knights. As they barged into the room, they took it in. The fallen swords and armour, Arthur stood with his own sword in hand as it was raised over a limp body, and Merlin; behind his King as he always was.

Arthur, who looked a little lost as to how the man got on the floor—as if he hadn’t been the one to put him there—and Merlin whose eyes were far too yellow for Gwaine to process. But then they were blue again, and Gwaine thought it looked too majestic to be real. But it was, he knew it was. 

It was magic.

“You did good, sire,” Leon said, giving Arthur a smile and a pat on the back.

“Thank you, Leon. I…I’m glad I got rid of him before he caused any harm,” Arthur said, poking the body with his sword to ensure that the man was in fact dead. The look of bewilderment had left him as he soaked in the congratulations, and Gwaine wanted to laugh. Instead, his eyes drifted from his King to his King’s manservant and he caught Merlin rolling his eyes, but it was fond. Annoyed, but without any heat. That was how most of their insults went by that time; lacking in anything malicious and purely for routine. It was annoying to Gwaine, though. Cute, but icky. (They needed to get a room, in his righteous opinion.)

Still, he gave Arthur a pat on the back before the man went over to Merlin. Gwaine watched their interaction; the way the king seemed to praise himself in front of his servant, a man who was very clearly mocking him. That strange banter that they always had, the one that had surprised Gwaine when he first met Arthur. For a prince, at the time, to allow a commoner to treat him in such a way; it’s one of the reasons he started to trust Arthur.

His eyes darted from one man to the other, and then back again. That’s when he caught it, that small tug of a smile that Merlin had on him, and the way his eyes had shone as Arthur went on. It was in that witnessed interaction that the knight had made his decision; it was then that Gwaine fondly rolled his eyes at the two and laughed to himself. In disbelief, mostly, at the absurdity of what those two were.

He was a Knight of Camelot, but his loyalties came to Merlin before they came to the crown. He stuck around for that man in the first place, after all. So Gwaine kept his mouth shut about the magic and the mysteries, allowing his friend to carry on with breaking the law for the son of the man who set them up. But it was clear to him that Merlin had Arthur’s best interest at heart, as he always seemed to, and it was clear that Arthur would never hurt Merlin like Uther might have. That if Arthur learned the truth—the inside of something he didn’t even know existed in his own kingdom—he wouldn’t be so quick to call sorcery and build a pyre. And for that, well who cares if a couple of crimes are committed here and there? What was it to him? Gwaine wasn’t a man who would tell on people, that just wasn’t the way he worked.

A criminal at the heart of Camelot? He’d never heard of it.

Chapter Text

Elyan made it a priority to keep his sister in the rotation of his chaotic life. Being a knight meant a lot of things, but he vowed to make sure it didn’t keep him from their weekly dinners at her house. He made sure to check up on Gwen when he could, of which she would berate him into ensuring he was taking care of himself, and he made sure that people were treating her right.

They had the same friend group, practically. Elyan was closer with some of them, like Percival and Gwaine, while Leon seemed to be close with everyone, but then there was Merlin and Arthur. During his time away, his sister had somehow found herself becoming close with the then prince and his manservant. She had been Morgana’s maidservant, so it made sense, but it was during these dinners with her that Elyan had grown to realise just how much time she spent with them. 

Arthur was brought up a lot from the both of them, with him being the King and all, and they shared similar opinions about how they could see just how different he was compared to Uther. But then when Merlin came up, Gwen just went on and on. 

It shocked Elyan, and then it kept shocking him because every dinner that man’s name was brought up. He knew Gwen was close with him, but apparently when neither of them are working, they were hanging out with one another. The two of them were close, like really really close and it had been beginning to concern Elyan.

He trusted Merlin, of course he did, but siblings were another matter entirely. He knew that there had been a spark between Gwen and Lancelot and, if the situation hadn’t been so heartbreaking, he would have thought that man to be a good fit for his sister. She had mourned, as they all had, but now it seemed as though she was moving on.

Elyan couldn’t be certain that Gwen and Merlin were courting, but it was either that or his sister had a crush. Surely, right? She talked about him all the time. The problem Elyan found himself facing was this: there were stories. 

Merlin disappeared for hours at a time, sometimes even days on the rarer occasions, and he’d come back with slight bruises or limps. He’s even heard a couple of the maids gossiping. Why does he always wear that neckerchief? Do you think something’s hidden under there? A bruise of a different nature perhaps? Elyan wasn’t one to blindly follow the word of others, especially when they had no proof to back them up, but he had to admit that the man’s actions were weird. 

He wondered if it was Gwen. He wondered if she was who he went to see when he disappeared at night, if she was the reason for things—though he chose not to look too closely at that part of it—and he wondered if there was nothing for him to be concerned about after all.

But then another week came around, and another dinner occurred. 

“Me and Merlin kept gossiping about it all earlier,” Gwen said as she placed down the food.

“What? While you were meant to be working?” Elyan joked. 

“We were multitasking,” she said with a smile. 

Elyan wanted to ask about it and see if he was just making something up or if he was hitting the nail right on the head. Still, he hadn’t been quite sure how to go about it. He settled for something simple. “I’m glad you’ve got someone close while you’re working.”

She beamed at this, and proceeded to go on about how Merlin was such a nice stop in her day. He made her laugh, both on purpose and just by being himself, and he was kind. Elyan knew all of this—really everyone knew all of this—but hearing it from his sister was something else. Either Gwen was being courted by Merlin or she wanted to be. Or, he supposed, she just really cherished their friendship, but he’d seen the way Merlin looked at her. Elyan believed that was what made him so strongly think that something was going on, because Merlin looked at his sister in a way he couldn’t explain. 

That must have meant something, right? 

When the following day rolled round, he went about his usual routine. Then, however, he picked up on more rumours of Merlin; apparently he had disappeared that night and had been seen sneaking back into the physician’s chambers early in the morning, limping and red. A blush, either from embarrassment or something else.

This made Elyan stop in his tracks, because it broke the theory that Merlin’s actions came from his sister, but that hadn’t been the case this time. He’d stayed the night at Gwen’s, and he knew for certain that no one had entered the house while he was there, and nor had she left at any point. 

Maybe Merlin wasn’t courting his sister, then. But, he had to admit, he had been so sure that they were. 

He ignored the giggling of the maids—was everyone in love with that man? Seriously—and decided to go visit Gwen since he wasn’t needed for anything else at that moment. He found her with two baskets in hand as she walked the halls, smiling when she'd caught sight of him.

“Elyan, hello! Are you alright?”

“Yes, I’m fine, Gwen. How are you?” he asked. He wasn’t sure what his brain was doing, but it seemed as though he was attempting to put pieces together for something. For what? Well, he hadn't gotten quite that far.

“I’m good! I spent the morning helping Merlin in his chambers.”

“Doing what?” he blurted out, startling her. Honestly, he needed to calm down.

“...He needed an extra hand for some of the chores Gaius gave him.”

“Oh…right.” 

She stared at him wildly, which was fair given his outburst, but he wanted to protect his sister. And, well, that was what it was; the thing in his brain. Something wasn’t adding up with Merlin but Elyan’s sister was involved and that concerned him. 

“Do you like Merlin?” he blurted out, again, because he needed to know. If it was a yes, then he would have some choice words for the man. If it was a yes, Merlin had to know about her feelings and was messing with her. If it was no, well then Merlin could do as he wished.

“Of course I do,” she replied. 

The siblings quickly said their goodbyes and Elyan found himself getting mad. Not angry, per say, but irritated. He didn’t want to jump to any conclusions, he really tried not to do that since when that rarely ever work in someone’s favour, but he just couldn’t think of any other reason for all of this. The bruises, the limping, and then the glances between his sister and Merlin.

He had left for years, leaving his sister and father alone, and as much as his time away had been an adventure, a part of him regretted it. He wanted to protect her, just as she had protected him growing up, and if that meant giving his friend a piece of his mind, well then so be it.

Elyan walked the halls towards Merlin and Gaius’ chambers, but stopped short when the sound of a familiar voice echoed through. It was just the man he had wanted to speak to. He peeked past the corner to find Merlin slipping out of a room; the one the visiting princess was placed in, he was sure of it. So, there were other women. 

Merlin then snuck away to the other end of the hall and Elyan watched as Gaius appeared. The two of them began talking, whispering and yet still somehow being loud enough that he was able to hear.

“Merlin! I told you not to go in there!” Elyan knew it was wrong to eavesdrop, but his anger was very quickly simmering down as his mind poked a bunch of holes in his idea and plan. Maybe Merlin didn’t know about Gwen’s feelings, and if that was the case then he could do what he wanted. Elyan just wanted to do right by his sister, was all.

“I had to check Gaius! I just had to.” This intrigued Elyan a little, and got him listening more intently.

The physician sighed. “Well then?”

“She’s going to kill Arthur, I’m sure of it.” Wait, what now?

“She is a being of magic, Merlin, so if she really is planning to kill Arthur, then we’ve got to figure out how to stop her ourselves.” Hold on. 

Elyan retreated a little, and the voices became a little fainter. He could still hear some of their words—really, for something so illegal they were being rather loud about it—but he drowned most of it out. Well this…really changed things. 

He couldn’t believe what he heard, but as it sunk in he realised that it was fixing all the holes in those pieces he’d been trying to stitch together. The bruises, the limps, the disappearing. Merlin wasn’t out with some other woman, he was just dealing with problems that aren’t his to deal with. That had to be it because the two men were being far too calm at the prospect of someone in Camelot being a secret assassin. Like, far too calm.

“I need to enchant her, but it needs to be powerful. We’ve got to work out how best to defeat…whatever she is, and then go from there.” Elyan peeked out from the corner again at Merlin’s words, watching as the man’s eyes glowed gold. He muttered something, but nothing happened and he groaned. “I still can’t perform that spell we found. Either I figure it out or we find something else.”

“Don’t worry, Merlin, I’m sure we’ll find what we need.” And with that, the two of them went their separate ways, with Merlin heading back from where he came. Which was where Elyan was, standing there like a bit of an idiot as he questioned what he just heard, questioned what he had been thinking, and questioned…well, a lot of other things, really.

“Oh, hello Elyan,” Merlin said, giving him a smile. And to think, he’d been mad at this man not so long ago.

“Hello, is everything alright?” he asked, curious as to if he’d say anything of interest.

“Just fine.” He did not, then.

The two parted ways and Elyan went about his day, his thoughts consumed by what he heard. Firstly, he thought that if Merlin and Gaius are going to commit treason, they should talk about it more privately. Secondly, he began to fill in the blanks of the stories he’d heard, and then very quickly started to make sense. Thirdly, Gwen. So, there was no one else it seemed, which was good, and he thought that perhaps Merlin really was an okay pick for his sister. Lastly, the whole sorcerer thing. 

In all honesty, Elyan had just been glad that Merlin wasn’t being sleazy. It took the day coming to a close for him to properly think about it. In his years away, he had come across a lot of things. He knew when moving to Camelot that the power magic held was strong, but that hadn’t meant to completely agree with it. He stood with Arthur, and he also trusted his gut. His gut told him that Merlin was on their side, and he thought better than to question that. Besides, he had been told that the visiting princess was banished from Camelot, so clearly Merlin knew what he was doing. 

But then again, magic? Right in front of him all these years he’s been a knight, and not to mention that Gwen’s been around him since Merlin came to Camelot. 

He decided to visit Gwen again, given all the chaos that had unfolded in his day. Knocking on the door, he was greeted with a surprised-faced Gwen who let him in. “Can I help you with anything?”

“I just wanted to say something, is all.” She stared at him for a moment, as if trying to guess what was going on. He looked over to the kitchen to see that she was preparing some food. She nodded for him to go on. “I wanted to say that I…accept Merlin.” He wasn’t sure how else to put it, but he carried on. “He’s a great man, and you seem to really like him. I will admit, I had some doubts, but he’s proven that he is loyal and trustworthy, I would say.” Granted, Elyan had just found out the man performed magic, but he found himself really not overly worried about that aspect of it. He’d grown up in Camelot, sure, but he’d learnt too much out in the rest of the world to abide by the rules he had once been taught. 

“Elyan, what are you on about?” Gwen questioned, bringing him out of his thoughts.

“You and Merlin. I’m okay with it.”

“Okay with that?”

He took in her stance, the way she looked at him with puzzled eyes and a cocked eyebrow. “You’re courting?” It came out as a question, really, and for a moment the room was silent. Then Gwen burst out laughing and Elyan had no longer been sure about his day being real. Assassin princesses, sorcerer Merlin, and a laughing sister. Maybe he dreamt it all up? Gods, he had started to wish he had. “What’s so funny, Gwen?”

“You think me and him are courting? You actually think that?”

“Are you not?” Another burst of laughter, and this time Gwen put a hand on her stomach to calm herself down. “But I thought—you talk about him all the time!”

“He’s like my best friend, Elyan. Of course I talk about him all the time! Gods, when you asked me if I liked him earlier, I was so confused. I thought you meant as a person, so obviously I said yes, but clearly I read you wrong.”

He felt embarrassed. And confused. But mostly embarrassed. Or…no, definitely confused. Gods, she wasn’t going to let him live this down anytime soon. “You’re so close to one another. You giggle with him all the time! I’m sure I’m not the only one who thinks you’re courting.”

“You know, I mention Merlin all the time because he’s just always got something going on in his life. As for the giggling, well we’re both just hilarious people.”

“The way he looks at you!” Elyan continued, sitting down at the table so as to not trip over. He’d been so so sure that something was going on. “Explain that.”

“He’s told me many times that I’m a special friend of his. The rest of the people he hangs out with don’t always get him. Arthur’s the king, and while some of the knights—including you—grew up as commoners, you’re not anymore. We just have a lot in common. Like, for example, we’re often the only people in this kingdom who use their brains.” That last part was very obviously directed towards him. 

“Oh.”

“Yes. Oh. And just so you know, I’m not anything close to his type in a person.”

“Really? You might just be friends but you can’t deny that a lot of men would find you very…pretty,” he said, settling on that word because calling his sister attractive made him feel like throwing up. But, he was trying to prove a point. A point that made him feel less embarrassed (not that it was exactly working). “What do you think his type in a person is, then?”

“You really want to know?”

“Yes, Gwen. Why would I ask if I didn’t want to—”

“Arthur. His type is Arthur.” Oh. Oh.

“Oh.”

“Ha! Your face. Gods, you’re an idiot, Elyan. Is that you’re only response to being told your wrong? ‘Oh’. Now, since you’re here, you may as well stay for dinner, so long as you help out.”

Elyan stared at his sister for a moment, properly taking in her words. Then she called his name again and he snapped into action, helping out with the food. So, he’d been wrong about what Merlin got up to in the dead of night, he’d been wrong about Merlin’s relationship with Gwen, and he’d been wrong about Gwen’s feelings towards Merlin. So, really, he hadn’t been right about any of it. Still, he found himself rather alright with that, with Gwen and Merlin being just friends—because he had to admit that Merlin liking Arthur made everything about the two of them make far more sense—and he found himself rather alright with the whole magic thing, for some reason. Well, mostly alright with it anyway. Perhaps once he dealt with the ‘Merlin and his sister aren’t courting’ thing, he could deal with the ‘Merlin’s got magic’ thing.

It was odd, for sure, that he just hadn’t really questioned it. But he couldn’t find a good enough reason to. Gwen had always told him to trust his gut, and his gut was telling him that Merlin clearly knew what he was doing and was doing it for Arthur. If he ever found out the man wasn’t, Elyan would call it out right then and there, but as he started to take in Gwen’s stories as they were—as tales of Merlin being himself and no longer focusing on how much his sister talked about the man—he’d come to the conclusion that he had nothing to worry about.

Except maybe the fact that Merlin seemed better at being a knight than he did. But then again, he seemed better than all of the knights, so at least Elyan wasn’t alone in that.

“I cannot believe you thought we were courting! Even if he wasn’t into Arthur—allegedly, anyway, because he’d kill me if he knew I keep confirming it—he doesn’t like women.”

Elyan sighed from where he was sitting. They’d finished dinner a while ago and Gwen hadn’t let up once. “Yes, you’ve mentioned multiple times already about what an idiot I am.”

“I am never letting you live this down, Elyan. I’m very sorry to say.”

“I hate you,” he groaned, his head hitting the table.

“I love you too.”

Chapter Text

Percival was a peaceful man. He always had been, and he was sure he always would be. He’d grown up in a village where magic wasn’t illegal, and so while he had never dabbled in the art himself, he knew that there was more to it than Camelot said there was. He had followed his friend Lancelot to help save lives and restore a prince to his kingdom, and he did it gladly. The fact that magic was a crime punishable by death never fully sat right with him, but he was given a proper home to live in and his friend had promised him that they were on the right side of it all. Besides, he could just tell that Prince Arthur was a good man at heart, it was written all over him.

When Lancelot died, Percival wasn’t sure what to do with himself. He’d gone to help Arthur because his friend had asked him to accompany the journey, but now he had found himself without that same friend. For a while he wondered if Camelot was right for him, but as time went on he realised that, yes, he could get used to it. He could get used to Gwaine’s insistent, down-right dreadful flirting, and he could get used to the early training and late nights, and he could get used to Arthur, King of Camelot, being the man his loyalties lied with.

That hadn’t meant he gave up his morals or beliefs, however. 

His job involved apprehending a lot of sorcerers and Percival knew that the people of Camelot were set in their ways and that he wouldn’t be able to refuse if Arthur asked him of something. Still, he found himself trying to see the other side of things, to be the one in the group who didn’t get wrapped up in panic at the mention of magic. He knew he wasn’t the only one, but he made sure to not let that deter him from keeping his mind as sharp as it was.

That is why when he spotted Merlin and Gaius out in the forest while on patrol, he had kept himself quiet, listened in, used his brain to end at a conclusion of his own.

“This is boring,” Merlin complained.

Gaius just raised his eyebrow up at the boy, though he paid his mentor no mind. “Is it now?”

“Yes, Gaius, it is. I could be doing so many other things right now, like the chores Arthur gave me—not that I want to do those but he’s going to kill me when he finds out I didn’t do them—or hanging out with Gwen. This is not how I wanted to spent my day.”

“And I didn’t want to spend by day listening to you complain non-stop, boy,” Gaius replied, looking rather done with his ward.

“I am not complaining non-stop, I’m just complaining here and there, thank you.”

“Oh yes, because that is far better and more mature of you.”

Merlin gasped in horror, rather comically if Percival could say, and stared at the old man. “How dare you.”

“I will send you back to Ealdor. Now…” The old man had continued, but Percival stopped listening in.

The only real reason he had begun listening in in the first place was because he wanted to keep an ear out for anything out the two men, he wanted to make sure they were safe and secure and out of harm’s way. But then he managed to grasps bits and pieces of their conversation, and suddenly Percival had found himself wondering if they needed the guard-like presence he gave at all.

“One would think that considering I’m the most powerful sorcerer to ever walk the earth, that I am Emrys, and that I am magic itself, that I wouldn’t need to collect special herbs for spells,” Merlin complained as he crouched down, looking over the plants Gaius had been pointing to.

“You know that is not how magic works, Merlin. We have been over this.”

“Yes, yes, I know. That doesn’t change the fact that it’s irritating though,” the man complained.

They couldn’t see Percival from where he was standing, which was behind them and within the bushes and trees. He probably looked rather odd, half-hidden in the green, but he stared at the two men intently. Merlin had magic and was apparently a very powerful sorcerer. He had to admit, he’d been glad it was him who overheard that conversation and not one of the other knights who were out with him—though they were a little way away—because anyone else would have shouted sorcery, surely. Percival, however, just kept listening.

“Why do I have to learn this spell?” Merlin asks, sitting on the floor and huffing, as if he’d been walking for hours. Percival was almost certain that he hadn’t been, and even if they had, Gaius, the old man, seemed perfectly fine. Then again, Merlin complained about walking anywhere, at least when they went out on hunts or trips. Arthur hated it, but Percival found it quite fun.

“Because you do not know everything, Merlin, and you never will. You must always be learning. Besides, this spell will help you better protect Arthur.” At Gaius’ mention of their King, Merlin went back to looking through the plants and weeds. It was as if the reminder that he was doing it to help Arthur kicked him back into action.

Percival watched with interest. Merlin was an…odd man, to say the least. One of the strangest things about Camelot was indeed that man; with his neckerchief and mischief and ability to call Arthur out on his bullshit, as well as just overall being a bit of a nuisance. But in a good way, Percival had very quickly realised in his time as a knight. Merlin was just always there, whether they were on a hunt—even though he constantly talked about how he didn’t like hunts—or on a mission to a dangerous place; there Merlin was in nothing more than the old rags he wore everyday.

A very strange man indeed, but beloved nonetheless. Percival could very easily see why, though that might have been swayed from how much Lancelot used to talk about him. Well, him and Guinevere, that was. (He missed his dear friend, but man could he talk when he wanted to, especially when it came to the people he loved. It’s why they’d become so close, actually; for Lancelot talked of his adventures and Percival was happy to listen.)

“The things I do for that prat,” Merlin mumbled to himself, following Gaius to another patch of plants Percival couldn’t have named. Another thing the knight had very quickly learnt was that the insults thrown between the King and his servant were rude, made-up, and full of a love no one could quite explain. One could try to, of course, and he’d been sure some had attempted it, but no explanation had ever quite sounded like them.

Percival didn’t make himself known at any point while the two men were discussing, and instead he soon left to carry on with his patrol. Merlin had magic, but so what? He’d watched as that man stood time and time again beside a king and his knights, with no weapons besides that mouth he was never taught to shut. Arthur might have believed that all magic was evil, but Percival could just tell that the man who claimed to be ever so powerful was someone he could trust.

Even if he barely knew the two of them,—he did know them, of course, but not as well as the rest of the knights—he could see just how much Merlin cared about Arthur, how much he risked to be side by side with the King at any given moment. It was odd and strange and, well, incredible. And dangerous, of course, which is why Percival thought it was best if he kept the knowledge he found to himself.

It wasn’t until he got back to Camelot that he properly thought about it again. It seemed as though Merlin and Gaius had returned from their trip while he was still on patrol, and he walked by the training yard to see the King and his servant getting into a tussle. Given the new information he had learnt, he wanted to keep an eye on it, just in case. His job was to protect the crown after all, and Arthur was his friend as well. He trusted Merlin, but he watched intently nonetheless.

“You are a pompous, two-faced, lying prat who is so far up his own ass that your head is back on those wonky shoulders of yours!” Merlin screeched, his face red as his fists clenched. Percival had heard insults thrown between the two of them, names that sounded as if they came right from hell itself, but this was something else entirely. 

His eyes had then caught the other knights, who were far closer to the two arguing men but seemingly backing away from them as stealthily as possible. Percival locked eyes with Gwaine and he raised an eyebrow, of which Gwaine’s only response had been to mouth the word ‘run’. He had thought that the man was being dramatic, but then he turned back to the insane scene that was the two men.

He watched as Arthur took in his manservant’s words, and Percival couldn’t help but cringe at the way he grew as red as Camelot’s colour as his jaw practically hit the flaw. “Excuse me?” Oh, Percival had been wrong. Merlin hadn’t been the one who screeched, because that was an ear-piercing shriek if he’d ever heard one. And boy did he hope to never hear it again.

“You heard me!”

It happened in the blink of an eye; one moment Arthur was standing a couple of paces away from Merlin and the next he was far too close to the man for anything good to come of it. By this point, the rest of the knights were more or less standing with Percival, watching from afar in absolute dread and agony. Percival was sure they could, together, pull the two men apart quite easily, but it seemed as though none of them wanted to risk it in fear of their own hide.

Maybe he just hadn’t been around long enough, but Percival hadn’t personally witnessed that much physical violence between the two of them. Yeah, he’d seen horseplay that was really just Arthur’s excuse to wack around his servant, but a full on fight was new territory; at least for him anyway. Then again, he’d also been at a complete loss as to what had started the fight in the first place.

“I don’t know and I’m too fucking scared to ask,” had been Gwaine’s response when he asked. 

For a man who can’t hold a sword the right way round, Merlin had put up one hell of a fight. It was interesting to watch, especially with the knowledge he had just learnt about the secret magical side to the servant, and yet here he was, very clearly using anything but magic. And he was losing. Percival could guess that perhaps Merlin just didn’t want to risk it, which would have been fair, but he liked to think that Merlin just wouldn’t use magic to win at something compared to Arthur like this, even if they had been alone. Games in the tavern? Sure. But a brawl clearly powered by a deep argument?

It was food for thought, he supposed, and he’d rather think than have to watch the chaos that was folding out in front of him in a disgustingly ugly manner. Eventually the knights kicked into action and managed to break them apart, and they all cooled down. Sort of, anyway.

Percival watched Merlin with a close eye, not out of suspicion entirely—though that had been a part of it, he’ll admit—but out of curiosity also. He did this over the next couple of days, watching as the servant’s eyes turned gold seconds before Arthur hilariously tripped or dropped his sword or did anything embarrassing. He never caused any harm except to the King’s ego, it would seem, and really Percival couldn’t find much to be worried about in that department. Especially when some sorcerer had rushed in, a hand raised towards Arthur. Then, as Percival watched blue turn to gold, it had been to ensure Arthur’s safety, and Arthur’s safety alone. No other tricks to embarrass the man, and no other games to feel satisfaction. The King’s safety came first, that had been clear enough.

Overall, Percival had learnt not to let go of his morals or beliefs, and he’d learnt that his King had yet another loyal, trustworthy man keeping him safe. Only that one was far braver than the rest of them, and for a multitude of reasons. He was risking his life just being in Camelot, and he was brave enough to tell the King what was what.

As for that argument from before, Percival had never quite figured out what had caused it, not even after Elyan relaid what Gwen had told him. Not that she really made much sense to her brother either, or to any of the knights for that matter. Still, the gist of it had been that it was a breaking point for Merlin who had, up to that situation, been doing it utmost best to protect Arthur of something. She didn’t specify what, but he was certain he could figure it out for himself.

Percival missed his friend dearly, but he was thankful for Lancelot for showing him this world while he still could. The one filled with a King he would die for, and men who he would die with. Percival could just tell that one day his home would be far kinder to people like Merlin, he just knew it, but until then, he would be fine to keep quiet on what he knew.

Chapter Text

Gwen and Merlin had been friends for years; they’d met when he’d first arrived to Camelot and from there, they had never looked back. They found solitude in each other in a lot of different ways, with being servants in the kingdom to being peasants surrounded by those who weren’t. Their friendship was sweet and soft and calm, something the both of them sought out when they were down. And, yes, sometimes this friendship contained so much chaos that it overflowed into the other relationship lines they had, but really if Arthur didn’t want to get involved with their plans then he shouldn’t follow Merlin around while the man was acting on them. And this line of friendship they had, the one Gwen couldn’t believe Elyan took for something else, was often decorated with flowers.

She knew Arthur often called Merlin a girl for a many amount of things (and she took offence to that, really) but she also knew that it affected Merlin very little. He liked animals and hated hunting and was clumsy and, yes, he loved flowers and all things nature related. That didn’t make him a girl, but she hadn’t the time to get into that, though Gwen could get into it alright.

The two often gave each other flowers, and it had all started with that first ever one back before the whole afanc in the water business. She had to admit, Gwen liked Merlin back then, but how could one not? He was kind and sweet and unlike so many other men who, at that point, crowded so much of Camelot that she could not breath. It was a faze, a lapse in her mind, and they were only friends now. Though apparently they didn’t show it very well, considering her hilarious conversation with her brother not too long ago. But there were friends, good ones at that, and Gwen had always held Merlin close to her heart.

It was routine for them, to pass over flowers whenever they could. Even such small ones taken from a bigger bouquet, just to show one another that there was someone who was thinking of them. Being a servant may not look hard but, for those two at least, it came with a lot of added activities; extra jobs on top of their own. For Merlin especially, Gwen knew, which is why she had found some bigger flowers for that morning. Last she had checked in, Arthur was driving her dear friend up the wall to the point that she was almost certain Merlin wouldn’t come back down. Honestly, she believed in Arthur wholeheartedly as their king, but he was sometimes just a little too horrible to his servant. Her only relief was in the fact that she could practically hear all the insolent insults Merlin was shooting right back at their king, so she wasn’t too worried about that.

The flowers rested on top of the basket she held as Gwen strided down the hall. The other servants and maids often gossiped about all sorts of things, though the normal ones came down to two: the annoyance that visiting royals cause them and the unexplainable relationship between King Arthur and his manservant. As Gwen went about with her work, she found that it was the latter being shared around that morning. Only this time, they did not mention the two men lovingly staring into each other’s eyes as they called each other horrible, made-up names, nor was it about how Arthur was mad at Merlin for disappearing again. Apparently they’d gotten into a fight, and a big one at that.

Gwen recalled what Elyan had mentioned a few days ago, about the two of them having a brawl in the training yard. It had died down after that, though they seemed to stay mad for a while. It had seemed like they would figure it out, in time, and according to the knights they spoke—not yelled—to one another after some sort of incident with a sorcerer, and Gwen assumed that would have been that. She had assumed wrongly, it seemed.

“You should have heard it, Gwen. Oh, it was horrible! I’d never heard the King say such horrid words, not even when he was joking,” one of the maids said to her as she passed on by.

“Are you sure they weren’t joking? Merlin and Arthur’s relationship is…unorthodox, that’s for certain.”

“Oh, I’m sure. Merlin was so unlike himself. He didn’t throw back any insults, he didn’t call Arthur a prat or a clotpole or a dollop…whatever it is. Nothing. Now last I heard is Merlin’s back in his chambers, refusing to speak to Arthur. That had been a little while ago, though, so I’m not sure if anything new has come up.”

Gwen grew worried at that. Merlin had always bantered with Arthur, even when they were both down on their luck and moods. Hell, they’d done it moments before death—multiple times, in fact—like children unaware of the dire circumstances they often found themselves in. How bad had the fight been for it to cause all of that? And what had it even been about?

She was planning on heading to the physician's chambers anyway, so she finished off with the job at hand and then made her way down there, flowers in her clutches. She hoped she could cheer her friend up, and maybe get a couple of her questions answered as well, but that first one was the priority, of course (though the second was filling up her head, most unfortunately).

Apparently Merlin had gotten done with sulking in his room, however, for the physician's chambers were completely empty. Not even Gaius was in there from what she could see. So, against her better judgement—because no one really wants to purposefully go near Merlin and Arthur when they were in bad moods—she made her way to Arthur’s chamber instead.

There were no guards stationed outside of his room which was odd, but she pushed passed it and raised her hand to knock. Unlike Merlin, she actually had a set of manners. However, before she could announce herself to whoever was inside, she heard hushed, panicked voices that she was sure belonged to Merlin and…Gaius? At this, she hesitated and (she blames Merlin for this next part entirely, she would have never done this if he wasn’t such a bad influence on her) she leaned her ear against the door to better understand what was being said.

“This was such a bad idea!” Merlin said, his voice practically an octave higher than normal.

“Stop talking, Merlin” Gaius replied, his voice monotone as if he was unaware that his ward sounded like a mess.

She couldn’t hear Arthur’s voice and wondered why, seeing as it was his room and all.

“How long is he going to be unconscious for?” Oh, never mind, then. So that’s why she couldn't hear Arthur; he wasn’t awake.

“No more than a couple of hours, Merlin.”

“This is treason. Like, high treason!”

“It’s no worse than anything else you’ve done. I don’t see what the fuss is anymore.” Gaius sounded very calm considering the situation that had seemed to be playing out, but Gwen wondered if old age caused a man to stop caring so gravely.

“Not helping! And it’s different this time, alright! He was being mean and awful to me.”

The room went silent for a moment and Gwen hadn’t been quite sure what to make of what she’d heard. Then, “He’s always mean to you.”

“In a jokingly way, Gaius! He’s been spelled to be the complete opposite of himself, which is why he’s trying to raise the tax prices, why he’s being rude to other people besides me, and why he’s started treating me like how most other kings treat their servants!”

“All the more reason for us to do this, boy.”

Arthur is spelled? Gwen couldn’t believe it, but she supposed it at least answered some of her questions. The fight; it must have started from all of this. Raising taxes, being rude, it was unlike the Arthur she knew. No wonder that maid had heard such horrible things. Really, Gwen groaned inwardly at herself for not noticing anything sooner. She’d just been so busy these last couple of days.

“Stop dilly-dallying. The potion won’t cause any harm, I promised you it wouldn’t. Now, cast the spell,” Gaius said, which had caused her brain to stop working. Cast a spell?

Merlin started to speak, but it wasn’t in a language she could understand. When he stopped, it was silent. Gwen was half worried they’d be able to hear her pounding heartbeat through the door. Merlin knew magic.

How is it that two people knocked the King of Camelot unconscious and that wasn't the worst thing she’d heard? Honestly, the people she surrounded herself with.

Did anyone else know? Did Gwaine? Leon? Elyan? Her brother had been acting off for a moment or two, but she’d chucked that up to be because he thought she was courting one of his friends. Was there more to it?

“I know it’s not the first time I’ve knocked him out, but it feels worse somehow,” Merlin’s voiced trailed through to her again.

“We had no choice. The counter-spell had to be said in front of him, and he’s going to remember everything. We couldn’t risk you trying to say it quietly, not when he was like that.”

“No, I know, Gaius, I know. Still, it just sucks that—wait, what? He’s going to remember everything? As in, he’s going to remember that I hit him on the head with a metal jug?”

“Most likely, yes.”

“Gaius!” Merlin sounded like a desperate mess, and so Gwen had stopped listening in.

She backed away from the door and went about her day, sorting out what jobs she had to do and non-stop thinking about what she had overheard. Merlin was a unique man and everyone who had ever met him would say the same thing, but magic? She’d grown up in Camelot and had never travelled far, not really anyway, so magic being illegal was all she ever knew. But Merlin had countered a spell that caused Arthur to act out; he had saved their king. There was no doubt about that, but she wondered if that had been making her thought process all the more complicated.

She trusted Merlin, and she knew better than most people, better then perhaps even the knights, just how much he cared for Arthur. Elyan had been shocked when she’d told him, when she’d so casually mentioned the kind of person Merlin wanted to be with. But their relationship went beyond even that, beyond the regular love of a crush, of a possible lover. It was unexplainable, the entire castle referred to it as such, but Gwen seemed to have found a small missing piece to the whole thing. A missing piece Arthur was surely unaware of, too.

“Did you hear? Apparently someone overheard the King apologising to Merlin for being so harsh.”

“Well it wasn’t his fault. According to Sir Leon, they have apprehended a sorcerer who confessed to spelling Arthur. Made him rude and unlike himself to get him to do things he would never do. It’s a good thing Merlin and Gaius managed to find a cure for it before the King did anything irreversible.”

Gwen listened in as the two young boys spoke, the pair of them far more interested in talking than doing their job, not that she could really blame them. It hadn't been too long since she's eavesdropped, but clearly news around Camelot spread fast.

“The King apologised! I don’t think Uther ever did that, may he rest in piece.” That last part seemed to be quickly tacked on in a hurry, as if the boy was scared someone would overhear his words and call it treason.

“I’m glad he owned up to it, even if he hadn’t meant to act like that. I think Camelot’s in good hands.”

“And I think we’re lucky as hell that Merlin’s forgiven Arthur. Could you imagine if they stayed mad at each other?”

“We’d have to move to a different kingdom. I wouldn’t be able to handle it.”

“Oh, the horror. I’d rather be dead than witness an Arthur without his Merlin.”

The two boys giggled away before finally carrying on with what they were meant to be doing. Gwen thought about it for the rest of her day some more, though this time she took a new angle. Magic was illegal in Camelot and Gaius was harbouring a sorcerer, a sorcerer who risked his life to undo the spell on Arthur. She knew Merlin, had known him for years, and throughout all his complaints towards Arthur and throughout all the insults and rolling of eyes, his stance on how he viewed Arthur never swayed. Sure, he had to grow into liking the, at the time, prince, but since then Merlin loudly talked about all the ways he knew Arthur would be a great king. No evil man would do that or say that about the son of Uther Pendragon. Not unless they cared gravely.

Gwen decided to stop by the physician's chambers that evening, with those same flowers from the morning still in hand. Gaius seemed to be out, and Merlin was alone. All the better for her, really.

“Gwen!” he called out as she walked in. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“What? Arthur driving you up the wall again?” she joked, her heart so close to being set on something. It just needed a push.

“Something like that.”

He ushered her in and the two of them sat at the table. The flowers were still in her hands, being twisted around as she looked over her friend. A sorcerer. A man of magic. “I heard you and Arthur got into a fight. Care to talk about it?”

He sighed, looking away for a moment. “It wasn’t his fault, I should have guessed that sooner and not been so harsh.” The fight from the training yard, the one the knights all witnessed, came to her mind. “He was just being so…mean. It hurt a lot, and so I got mad.”

“I heard you and Gaius are the ones who cured him of the curse,” she said, treading on the thin line, half worried she was already tipping off the side of it.

Merlin’s eyes widened at her words for a moment. “Uh, yeah. It was mostly Gaius, I just helped get Arthur to shut up.”

“Well I’m glad you did. I can’t imagine what he was going to do if you hadn’t. If he was spelled to be unlike himself, well he would have stopped caring about his people.”

“Oh please, even spelled Arthur could never fully stop caring. He strives to be the best king he can for his people, for those who rely on him. I think it’s one of the reasons he didn’t do anything so drastic, at least not in the public eye.” Gwen smiled at him, at his words, and laughed. “What’s so funny, then?”

“You. God, you love him so much, don’t you?”

Merlin turned the shade of Camelot, only making her laugh harder. “You’re horrible! Stop laughing at me!”

Her giggles soon died down, and the two of them started up their own circle of gossip. “Oh, here. I got these for you,” she said, handing over the flowers. Some were red, much like Camelot’s colour (and her dear friend’s flushed face), some were purple and yellow because Gwen adored those colours, and the rest were blue. The colour of Merlin’s eyes, of the shirt he wore far too much, and of the colour Arthur once said suited him most. Gwen had yet to tell Merlin of that incident, but a part of her wanted him to hear it from Arthur himself.

“You always manage to find the prettiest ones out there, Gwen.”

“Only for you, Merlin.” Okay, so maybe she could see how Elyan misinterpreted their friendship. Just maybe.

And, when she got back home and, later in the week, had her usual dinner with him, she explained to her brother that Merlin and Arthur would be fine. It was a mess, her explanation, but she didn’t want to mention the secret she knew. Perhaps Elyan was already aware, and perhaps the other knights were too, but Gwen decided she would keep Merlin’s secret until he came out with it himself. Besides, she’d already told Elyan his other secret (which really had been an accident in the moment) so she owned him at least that.

The next time they met up, he’d given her an arrangement of flowers purple, yellow, and orange; and they were in the middle of her table with the rest of the flowers she’s gotten from him over the recent weeks.

Chapter Text

Leon had known Arthur for years, had watched the small boy grow up into the man he now was. He had seen so much, too much on occasions (the thoughts of Uther marrying a troll came to mind), but he’d been by Arthur’s side for decades. He’d even been there when Merlin came into the picture, much to his displeasure.

Don’t get him wrong, Leon loved Merlin—everyone did—but those first couple of days, weeks, months (years) were rough, to say the least, what with all the name calling and attempts at fights. He hadn’t been there personally for that encounter, but he’d been Arthur’s closest friend for all of those years they’d known one another, and that meant the prince had come to him after the day was done. Arthur had explained in excruciating detail the play-by-play of what the ‘rude boy with a stupid face’ had dared to say to him, the prince! Leon had found himself worried for the boy who, from what he could tell from Arthur’s story, had been unaware of who he was speaking to while it had happened.

Then, of course, Merlin called the man he knew was the Prince of Camelot a prat, insulted him some more and then almost won a fight against him. Leon had no longer been worried for the boy, though a little intrigued, he had to admit. No one ever stood up to Arthur, no one would ever dare to, and yet that boy had kept daring to, and Leon could not help the interest in him that piqued at it.

As the years went by, and Leon had to endure the entirety that was Arthur and Merlin, his new normal became something so entirely bizarre that he had no choice but to go along with it. An unpolished manservant who rarely did his job right and made up such obscene words had Arthur, Leon’s dear friend and the future King of Camelot, wrapped around his finger. No one knew Arthur as well as he did—besides Merlin, of course—so Leon could see all the ways that Arthur soon grew to love his manservant. Everyone thought that Arthur hated him, that he was so annoyed with Merlin all the time, but Leon knew different because he had a keen eye. (And then of course, everyone soon figured Arthur out.)

Well, that and the fact that Arthur still came to him whenever Merlin did anything aggravating (which was all the time) and those talks usually went a very similar path every time: Arthur complains, Leon tries to be the voice of reason—it does not work—, Arthur complains some more but keeps complementing Merlin in the process, Leon gives up and sits back, Arthur angrily talks about Merlin in a way Leon is sure only lovers do, Leon sighs, Arthur stops talking, Leon agrees with whatever the hell was just said and leaves. It happens almost every day. Once, it happened twice in a day because Merlin was being extra excruciating.

This is why Leon had been so utterly starstruck and at a loss of, well, everything when he overheard Merlin. It seemed he had been ranting about all sorts of things, and his poor mentor was having to be the ear being lent to him.

“It’s not that I’m unappreciative, Gaius, but sometimes it just sucks. I don’t do all of this to be recognised and congratulated, I don’t do it to prove to everyone that I’m stronger than they think, but sometimes I wish I did. It’s so hard, risking my life every single day, using my magic to save Arthur Pendragon, King of Camelot, from bandits and witches and assassins, and sometimes I wish I did get the credit. Just yesterday, we were on a hunt and, like usual, some bandits came by. One of them was going to throw a dagger at Arthur while he had his back turned so I stopped it, and one of the bandits was going after Gwaine and I helped out, and at the end of it Arthur ridiculed me for hiding like a scared child. Sometimes it’s just not fair.”

“Life isn’t fair, Merlin—” Gaius began, but his ward interrupted him with a groan and, though Leon had not been able to see them, an eye roll, because the knight was practically positive that was what Merlin was doing. Not that he could really think of much after hearing that, no, not at all.

“Yes, thank you, Gaius. I’m well aware of all the things that life is and is not.”

“—but, I understand where you are coming from. After all these years, it’s not abnormal to want credit for your hard work, anyone else would be the same.”

Leon stopped listening at that point, his body backing away from the door staggering, as if he were drunk. Magic. It was illegal. It was treason. It was evil, he knew that. He was taught that.

Someone at the heart of Camelot, at the heart of his king, had magic. How could he have let it happen? How could he not have noticed? Leon didn't hate magic as much as Uther, not the anyone ever did, but he grew up under Uther’s rule nonetheless. And so of course he heard that word and his head shouted treason, of course his head shouted that there was a criminal in the midst, shouted that he was evil: Merlin. But Merlin wasn’t evil, because he was Merlin, and that’s what had Leon staggering backwards instead of pushing forwards and announcing an arrest. That is why instead of apprehending the sorcerer, he stood with his back against the wall and his mind racing.

He knew that if almost anyone else had been saying those words, uttered that they were using magic, he would have gone straight to Arthur, but it wasn't just anyone. It was a man who was loved by the king, who was loved by the knights and, really, who was loved by Leon. And then the words sunk in, as did the truths behind what Merlin had said, and that made everything worse. Because he’d been there for all of it, for all of the insults about Merlin being too much of a girl, about him being weak and always hiding, and Leon had a keen eye. He saw how much Merlin risked just by riding with Arthur and the knights, with no armour and no sword. So, Leon did one of the most unknightly things he is sure he had ever done in his entire life; he walked away and didn't tell a soul.

It stayed with him, every single word that had fallen from Merlin’s lips. It all came with Leon as he went about his knightly jobs, as he went about entering his chambers, and and as he went about going to bed. His dreams were plagued. The images that came by looked fake, they looked too unreal to his eyes, and yet they could have possibly been set in truth. Merlin, whose eyes Leon was sure were blue, were instead gold, and life moments he’d witnessed in reality were suddenly playing out differently; a new hero at the scene. Then Leon woke up, and Merlin’s words didn’t leave.

He had never been so caught up in something before, not really, but what else was he meant to do? Tell Arthur? He couldn't dare, he didn't want to be the one who told the man. He didn’t want there to be anything to tell, really. And the fact that he was keeping something from Arthur, from his king and his friend, was inconceivable. To keep something so important was wrong of him, Leon knew, but he'd known Merlin from the moment that man came to Camelot, and there wasn't an ounce of evil in him. Cockiness? Sarcastic-ness? A need to disrupt the very known hierarchy in the world? That was what Merlin was, down to his core, but the idea that there was something darker? Something Leon had been told corrupted, destroyed, and ruined?

Merlin wasn’t any of that, and so instead it seemed that one of Leon’s closest friends had just become an argument against everything he had ever been told to stand for. How could he tell Arthur when the man who instilled those beliefs into him was Pendragon Senior?

Oh, Leon needed a break. He’d never taken a break from his job—not unless dying counted—but he felt like he desperately needed one.

“Are you alright, Leon? You've been acting strangely all day.”

Leon was sat at the table in Arthur's chambers, listening to all the annoying things Merlin had done that day, like usual. Only this time, he clung onto his king's words in a way he had never done before, at least not when it came to this topic anyway. He used to never care about what Merlin did, but that had been because he had every faith that Merlin would harm Arthur. But now?

Leon was contradicting himself in his head, frustratingly so. On the one hand, he was devoted to Arthur, his king, and to Camelot, his home, and nothing would have stopped him from ensuring both of their safeties. On the other hand, he'd been yelling at himself for ever doubting Merlin because, well, it was Merlin, for crying out loud!

Really, it was a whole ordeal that he hadn't the time nor the energy for. But, that has also been how he felt about most things regarding Arthur and Merlin, so why was he even surprised at this point in his life?

“Leon!” His eyes snapped up to Arthur, who had his hands on his hips and his eyes glaring down at the knight.

“Yes, sire?” he asked, his heart beating stupidly fast as if it were scared Arthur would suddenly be able to read minds. He could not, so he mentally told his heart to shut it.

“Did you hear me?”

“Of course, sire.”

“What did I say?”

“Something about Merlin, sire.” Arthur once told him off from using ‘sire’ too much, but given all that he was keeping from that man, Leon thought it appropriate.

Arthur started for a moment, his eyes trained onto Leon's body. He was a horrible liar, most unfortunately, but he became an even worse one around Arthur. Especially when under the King’s scrutinising stare. Then, Arthur's eyes relaxed and the man sighed as his arms dropped to his side.

“I asked if you were alright, Leon? You don't seem as alert as normal.”

“Oh, no I am fine. Please, carry on with what you were saying.”

“No, no, I won't bore you any longer. The idiot's not done anything he hasn't before, really.”

Leon was glad about that. And then he went back to mentally yelling at himself because Merlin loved Arthur more than he did, so he had no reason to worry. But was he so sure in that? What was he supposed to trust? His friend, or his entire life of learning?

God, maybe he should have asked for a break.

He didn't, though, because Leon wasn’t known for taking breaks and he thought it best not to worry Arthur any further, but he did walk through his evening in a bit of a blur. He’d ran into Gwaine at one point who just stared at him as if he’d grown a second head, and he’d ran into Gwen also, who kept asking in her sweet voice if he was okay and if something was wrong.

It was because of that blurriness he walked in that made him bump into someone. That someone was Merlin, because the gods hated him ever so.

“Ah, Leon! How are you?” Merlin asked, his smile as cheery as ever.

How could such a man have magic? What compelled him to learn?

“I'm well, and you?”

“Arthur's driving me crazy, but that's not exactly knew. I swear, one of these days I really am going to kill him,” he laughed out, unaware of just how quickly the knight's heart stopped in place. “He’s such a prat. Honestly, it’s a surprise to me that I still work for him at all.”

Merlin went on for a little longer, but Leon had stopped listening. He’s joking. It’s Merlin, he’s always joking.

“Anyway, I should probably get to him before he bites my head off because apparently the greatest king our world has ever seen cannot tuck himself into bed without me. Goodnight, Leon!” And with that, Merlin disappeared behind the corner, and it took a total of four minutes for Leon’s heart to stop choking him.

He was quite unsure as to whether or not he was overreacting to the entire thing, but he had no one to consult. As far as he was aware, Gaius was the only other person who knew of Merlin’s magic, but it was clear he’d side with his ward entirely. Leon was sure of it, so where did that leave him? Oh yes, it left him standing in a corridor dumbfounded, worried, and in a desperate need to be in the tavern.

Maybe Gwaine was rubbing off on him. If so, he would need to see Gaius so the old man could cure that ailment.

Leon left it all as it was, his mind going to war with itself while Arthur stayed complaining about Merlin and Merlin stayed complaining about Arthur. All the while, Leon felt as if he would die of heart failure for having to put up with it all. He’d done it for years, yes, but adding magic into the mix was just too much.

It is because of that that one would assume Leon would have learnt to run as far away as he could if he ever came across Merlin's hushed voice on the other side of a door, but one of the sides in his head (he honestly hadn't been able to tell which side) kept him where he stood, listening in to see what the man said when he thought no one was listening. No one besides Gaius, that was.

“He's an ass. He is the biggest ass that has ever been seen. If someone where to go up into the sky and look down, they would be able to see Arthur Pendragon, The Ass, in all his glory."

“Sometimes I wonder if you're talking about him as a person or if you're simply referring to his actual—"

“I am not talking about his legitimate ass, Gaius! God, how are you getting worse than Gwaine?"

“Old age takes away the filter. You should know that better than anyone considering how awful you act when your in your disguise."

“Whatever. He's just...a prat who acts as if I’m something to mock. Sometimes I don't care about the fact that it could end with my death, sometimes I just want to show him all the magic I’m capable of. He’d just cry like a baby, though."

“That he would, yes."

“He’d be scared…of me.” Leon had heard the defeat in Merlin’s voice at that, and his image of Merlin the sorcerer became Merlin his friend again. My entire life I’ve been taught magic is evil, though.

Leon couldn't figure it out, couldn’t figure out why he kept using that as his only argument against Merlin, but a part of him was almost certain that it was because he didn't want to figure out if there even was another argument he could give. Because that would have led to something he didn’t want, though eventually it did happen. And what was that? It was the knight giving up on his life-long learning of magic, of the law, and of his kingdom and deceased king. It meant that he looked at things properly, as in actually looking into them, instead of taking a man's word for it just because he wore a crown on his head.

For a moment, the conversation had come to a stop, and he wondered if the two men were to sit in silence from that point onwards. Then, however, Gaius had spoken up, words so intimate, like a father-son talk, that Leon felt bad for listening in. “I think that Arthur is nothing like his father, and I think he cares for you deeply. I’m not saying he’d be fine with all that you are immediately, but he’s grown to love weirder things about you, that’s for certain.”

Merlin laughed, and Leon couldn’t help but wonder why it was that he so desperately believed everyone who ever possessed a part of magic became a bad person.

“Thanks, I think.”

Leon knocked on the door after that. He wasn't sure why he did it, not while he was in the moment nor while he was looking back at the memory. He just simply did.

“Come in!" came Gaius’ voice.

He stepped into the room, the two men sat at their table, and found that he seemed to have forgotten, in the hazy state of eavesdropping, that he couldn't lie.

“Did you need something, Leon?" Gaius asked, looking at him inquisitively.

“Um...yes."

Merlin stared at him kindly while awaiting for the knight to continue, and then with confusion when he didn't.

“And that would be...?"

“Arthur." What are you doing? Whatever happened to your knightly skills of knowing when something is a bad idea? What is wrong with you?

“Arthur?"

Arthur? "Yes. Arthur. He...wanted you."

“Oh, okay then."

“He said it was urgent." With that, Merlin seemed to have a spike of panic shot within him. “He's fine,” Leon quickly tacked on, “but he's just asking for you."

Leon had seen the panic and had instantly gone to calm it, but he'd been glad he picked up on it. Everything he'd heard from Merlin that first time had been about how the man sometimes wished he could get credit for saving their lives, and that second time he had, albeit called Arthur an ass and a prat, but had mostly wished for the same thing.

That panic he saw in Merlin’s eyes, the ones that were the same blue as he’d always known, didn't come from someone who was secretly evil or corrupt from a dark force, it came from someone who loved another.

Later in the day, after Arthur had questioned him on why he told Merlin that Arthur asked for him—of which Leon could give no proper answer other than the shrug of his shoulders, because he too had absolutely no idea as to why he’d done that—the six of them were out looking for a beast that had been spotted in the Darkling Woods.

During this search, the witch who had conjured the beast had come to attack them because the Knights of Camelot weren’t allowed to leave the citadel in peace. They’d come to terms with that years ago; mostly, anyway.

The witch was casting spells in their directions, though given that one of the trees Elyan had been standing in front of burnt so badly that Leon could see through it, it hadn’t been too hard to figure out what kind of spells they were.

Still, it had been five against one, so they weren’t doing too bad. At this thought of his, at the number he’d given, Leon couldn’t help but take a glance at Merlin. He was doing what he usually did in situations like these, and he was hiding behind one of the unburnt trees, but Leon kept looking. The witch was distracted with the other four, so he hadn’t had to worry too much about that, but Leon just had to watch.

The witch managed to knock all five of them down and was readying a spell to send in Arthur’s direction. Leon’s eyes caught Merlin still behind the tree, his eyes so gold it was practically blinding.

Arthur got to his feet, the shock clear on his face as he stared at the woman on the ground. It looked as if her spell backfired on her, as if she had cast it wrong, but Leon watched Merlin’s eyes as they turned back to their normal blue, and he was certain that it had been something else entirely. But then he stopped thinking about that because the witch was aggressively muttering something else, and none of the knights could get to her and stop it before Leon’s vision went black.

When he came to once again, he made his way around, checking on everyone to make sure they were alright. They’d deduced that the spell knocked them out for only a couple of seconds, and it was clear the witch had wanted an escape.

“Where did she go?” Gwaine asked. “We still need her to call off that beast!”

“I’m not sure,” Arthur replied.

“She went this way,” Merlin said, causing everyone to spin around to face him. He was pointing a way, but Leon could see no indications of someone fleeing that way.

The other knights seemed to stare at the man in all sorts of odd ways that Leon could not figure out, and it was only Arthur that scoffed. “And what makes you say that, Merlin?”

“I…I just know it,” he muttered out, clearly having no proof.

The conversations he overhead came back to Leon, and after everything he witnessed, both since finding out about the magic and the many years before, he decided that he knew Merlin well. He knew what kind of person he was, he knew what kind of people Merlin liked, and what kind of people he loved. And it just so happens that many of those people are like that for Leon to. Which is why he did what he did.

“He’s right.”

“What?” Arthur questioned, giving him a bizarre look.

“Just before my vision went black, I’m sure I saw her go that way.” He hadn’t seen a thing, actually.

Maybe he wasn’t as horrible at lying as he thought. Then again, his palms had been sweating like crazy while he spoke, and his eyes kept jumping from person to person, so maybe not.

“Oh.”

They’d managed to fix the whole mess and ensure the safety of Camelot’s people, and Leon went to bed and stared up at his ceiling. The whole ordeal of Merlin and his magic was still something he was wary of, but he could also tell that he would eventually grow to be alright with it. He trusted Merlin because no one had ever dared to act in such a way with Arthur before, and it was a kind of braveness that gave him a gut feeling. That deep down, Merlin was King Arthur’s biggest supporter.

And in those following days, as Sir Leon grew to trust in the man more, he began agreeing with him more as well. From backing up his claims to giving him a pat on the back as a well done, he found himself easing back into his normal routine. With Arthur’s complaints that bordered compliments, and Merlin’s insults that had no harshness to them, Leon began to roll his eyes at them once again. He began becoming okay with them and their meaningless threats again, because Merlin and Arthur would never harm one another.

Though, he had to admit, sometimes they became just a bit too much.

That had been how he’d found out, actually, that he was the last knight to know instead of the first. But that’s a story for a different time, filled with an impromptu visit to the tavern, too much mead and too many knights (and one Gwen) done with their king and his manservant.

Chapter Text

Uther Pendragon had strong feelings against magic, and anyone who had ever been within the same kingdom as him knew of this. With the purge, he started a war so great that the casualties were beyond any number one could think of, and Arthur grew up with that is his normal.

Magic. The reason for everything bad in his life.

His father would be turning in his grave, he just knew it. Or demanding to be let out, to be let back into Camelot so he could scream at his son until the boy shed tears only children ever did.

Arthur had been looking over the law on magic, the ban on it, and the punishment that followed. He'd been king for a couple of years now, and in his time with that crown on his head, he had learnt to stop so blindly following the words of a dead man. The man being his father, sure, but a gone one nonetheless.

Arthur wanted to repeal the ban.

He'd been wanting to for some time, and as soon as he'd realised this, he was plagued with nightmares of his father. But he couldn't ignore it, couldn't ignore the way the law was doing more harm than good to his people.

Magic had taken almost everything from him, but he'd grown up. He'd learnt about the world and what came of it, and magic being punishable by death wasn't a law he wanted in rule while he was king.

Repealing the ban completely was a drastic measure he wasn't sure he wanted to take, but he wanted to make a start on it. His people would need time to adjust, with nearly 30 years now after the purge, so he'd take it step by step. It was hard, though, to bring it up to the council, mostly since those men had been there for his father and not Arthur himself. He needed a new council, really, but that was just another thing on his pile of stuff he had to do.

No one knew about his thoughts, not even Merlin, which he found insane. Merlin knew just about everything about Arthur, from his core beliefs and fears to how his nightly routine went. But this, he needed to truly think on it before letting anyone in. The only problem? Arthur had been sitting on the thought for a couple of months now and had yet to make any move to do, well, anything.

His father was in the front of his mind, the bastard, but Arthur told himself that he had to ignore it. Uther was no longer the King of Camelot, and he no longer had any charge over what Arthur did. He wanted to believe his father wasn't all bad, but he'd witnessed too many sorcerers on the pyre to fully believe in it anymore. Arthur used to be all for it, of course, he used to believe in the evil that came with magic. But now, he'd met too many people to be so stuck in those old ways, and really that terrified him down to his core.

Merlin had been humming. Apparently, Merlin hummed. This was news to Arthur, but he said nothing of it. Merlin was scrubbing at his chamber floor while he hummed, unbeknownst to the torture Arthur had been enduring within his own head. Realistically, he needed a new council first because none of the current ones would agree with his decision on the matter of the ban, so he decided he should make that a priority.

“Who do you think would make a good councilman for me?" he asked, because Merlin was Merlin, and that meant he usually had a rather good and wise answer for things like this. Which, when Arthur remembered who Merlin was as a person, he found to be the most ridiculous notion he had ever heard. But it was the truth; Merlin had answers to things that plagued his mind, and always at the most convenient time too.

“You're getting a new council?"

“Well, I'm thinking about adding some—" Arthur started, but was very quickly interrupted by Merlin, who had forgotten all about the chore he was meant to be doing.

“Oh thank god! I hate everyone on that council. It's the same person over and over again. Old, pale men who turn their nose at anything who isn't, well, them. Really, I was getting ready to say something."

“Were you now?"

“Yes. I hate them."

“Good to know. So—" Another interruption. Honestly, Arthur didn’t even blink at it anymore.

“Oh, I have plenty of advice I can give you about who should be a councilman, just know that the title won't be entirely accurate."

Arthur knew Merlin pretty well, it seemed. Just as Arthur needed it, Merlin said that he'd been thinking on it. Not that he would ever tell Merlin that he appreciated his commentary, as that would basically be complementing the man and Arthur refused to stoop to such a level. He had a reputation to uphold (and god knows he was doing a real shit job of it, as of late).

As it turns out, Merlin had meant ‘just know that the title won't be entirely accurate' to mean that he desperately wanted Gwen to be on the council, so a councilwoman. Arthur rolled his eyes at the man, but immediately he had noted it down. If anything, Gwen was the one person he'd thought of for it himself, if she'd be interested of course. Merlin was helpful, though, and soon he was tucking his prince into bed (and when Arthur bit back that he was a king, Merlin had said that no true king needed to be coddled into bed) and bid him goodnight.

Arthur hadn't been able to sleep, however, not with his mind being shoved open with the obscene amount of unsaid things it had crammed up in there. What with the magic ban, the council and, much to Arthur's displeasure, Merlin. That man took up far too much of his brain to be healthy, but he felt as if that were a problem for a later date. (Meaning: he wished to push whatever that was, that feeling he got for Merlin, so far away from himself that he could almost forget about it. Because Pendragons didn’t do emotions, besides anger and rage, of course.) So, Arthur ignored the man that kept showing up in his head and instead had put his focus to magic.

What had caused him to properly start thinking about the whole thing was Merlin, actually (so much for not thinking about him, brain!). Merlin was never a man to give his opinions on magic, which had surprised Arthur extremely given that his manservant gave his opinions about everything else under the bloody sun. But magic? He hadn't ever dared. Then, one night the two of them had gotten a little drunk—it was all Gwaine's fault—and they'd gone back to Arthur's chambers to talk some more, just the two of them. Merlin had said said it then, his true view on magic, and the only reason Arthur hadn't made a bigger deal out of it right then and there was because he was too far gone to fully comprehend it. The next day, however, he had dwelt over it, but never brought it up because Merlin seemed to not remember it.

“Magic is no different that a sword, at it's core, Arthur. A sword can be used to kill people and animals and cause so much hurt, but you wield your sword to protect your friends. Magic is the same thing! Just a little more powerful, I guess. It can be used to kill hundreds of people in one go, yes, but it can also very well be used to save those same hundred! It's a tool in the war, and how evil it is depends on how evil the person wielding it wants to be.”

Aside from the fact that he's certain no drunk man should be able to speak so well (really, they had had a lot of mead) Arthur couldn't help but play over his servant's words. Again, and again, and again. And since that day, the magic ban had been on his mind. That had been almost a year ago, that drunken conversation, as it had taken a couple of months for Arthur to fully digest it; to look over everything he had ever been taught, and to see it from that perspective. From there had followed the miserable months of looking over the law his father instilled and wondering just how much damage it caused compared to how much it distilled.

Arthur couldn't sleep, and soon it had turned from late in the night to early in the morning and he was groaning into his pillow, begging the gods to let him sleep. Hell, he'd let someone knock him unconscious if it had meant he would have gotten some shuteye. Alas, there was no one willing to knock out their king (except Merlin, but the man was sleeping) so he had to make due with consciousness.

He'd started pacing back and forth in his room ever since he’d given up on trying to find out where sleep had gone and why it hadn’t visited, and he'd already stubbed his foot twice on his table. His mind was so awake that he wondered why it hadn't been like that during his council meeting in the morning. At that point in the day, well he felt ever so exhausted.

The more Arthur thought on the magic ban and what was best for his kingdom, the more he wished he had asked Merlin. Unless he was drunk, there was a good chance his servant wouldn't give any advice, but he felt as if Merlin was his best option. Leon, his closest friend and knight, grew up in Camelot, and he'd never speak out against him in such a matter anyway. Gwen would have been more likely to give her opinion, he thought, but she too knew Camelot as her home all her life. None of the knights had seemed like good picks, but a part of him wondered if he only thought that so he had an excuse to go to Merlin after all.

Really, he was doing an incredibly terrible job of not thinking about that man. He went back to thinking about the council after that, as if it would help rid him of the stupid neckerchief-wearing hooligan. It did not help, and he had stubbed his toe against the leg of his table for a third time.

It was after the third stubbing of the toe that Arthur put his shirt on and made himself look as presentable as possible. If he was going to go and disturb Merlin’s sleep to ask a question the man probably wouldn’t answer, he may as well look nice while it happened. So, he got ready, took in a deep breath, and stood in front of his door for what felt like an eternity, urging his body to move.

When it finally did, he headed down to the physician's chambers, and only once he was in front of that door did he truly realise what time it had been. The sun had yet to show itself, and the sky was as dark as ever, with no stars in it that night.

Gaius was most definitely sleeping, and Merlin should have been. As should have Arthur, of course, but he'd given up on that because his mind had declared war against the niceness that was sleep, for some odd fucking reason. Arthur wished it was possible to slap his own brain, but he'd already hit his head in frustration once earlier and it hadn't been a good idea.

God, his father really was turning in his grave, Arthur was sure of it.

For a moment he thought to himself that if he must disturb anyone's sleep, he should have at least gone to Leon. His friend might have grown up in Camelot, but he really was a very level headed man. He was Arthur’s best knight, after all (at least, he was the one who gave Arthur the least amount of headaches, unlike some people). Leon would have had a good answer, perhaps, but Arthur knew he could rely on Merlin to be so stupidly open. And hey, maybe being half-awake would have been like being drunk for his servant, and Arthur could get an answer out of him. So, with that notion, he had pushed open the door as quietly as he could.

No one was in the main room, which surprised him. Gaius' bed was empty, and there was a dim light from underneath the door leading to Merlin's room. At this, Arthur questioned himself on whether or not he should have just headed back to his own chambers, but he hadn't. He'd crossed the length of the room until he was in front of the door, and he was ready to knock (because it was late and he couldn't be as bad as Merlin was to him, no matter how much he wanted to) when he heard Gaius’ voice from behind it.

“It'll be alright, Merlin," the old man said in a voice that had Arthur stopping in his tracks. He'd only heard that voice on occasion, back when he was younger. The first time his father yelled at him, as in really yelled at him, and the first time he'd gotten seriously injured, and even the first time he'd gone on on a trip to find a sorcerer. He hadn't been able to go to Uther with his worries that had followed that day, of course not, so he'd gone to Gaius instead.

The voice was soft and calming and reassuring, but that only made Arthur panic in that moment. Gaius rarely used that voice, mostly because old age had made him immune to such things as other peoples mental agony, so why had he been using it with Merlin?

Then, a sob, one so gut-wrenchingly painful, came through and Arthur’s heart dropped to his feet. “It’s too hard, Gaius. I can’t do it anymore.”

Arthur had never heard Merlin in so much pain before. Not when they’ve been attacked or kidnapped or almost killed. But that, it sounded like Merlin was choking on his own cries, on his own tears, and it took everything Arthur had for him to not ram the door open in that moment.

“I can’t keep lying to him. I can’t keep doing this to Arthur!” he cried, and the king’s same sounded as if it had cut his tongue.

Merlin’s lying to me? About what?

“I’m sure it’ll all be fine—”

“How?” he yelled. “How is it all going to be fine, Gaius? I’ve been lying to Arthur for a decade, a fucking decade about it. Not only is he going to stop trusting me because of what I’ve been lying about, but he’ll be hurt by the fact that it’s been so long. I know him, Gaius, I know he’ll feel like that. And me knowing him so well only makes everything worse!” Merlin’s words had struck him like a weapon, and Arthur almost stumbled back at the force of them.

“You didn't chose your magic, Merlin, nor your destiny."

What?

Magic? Merlin had magic?

He...

No.

“That doesn't change anything! When Arthur finds out, it doesn't matter that I didn't chose it and it won't matter that I've been using it to keep him safe all of these years. He's going to look at me and see nothing but a traitor. I'm going to lose one of the closest friends I've ever had, and then I'll lose everyone else because I lied to them too!"

“Oh dear..." Gaius sounded unsure, like he'd been trying to calm Merlin down for ages and had run out of things to say. Merlin sounded as if he'd been crying for as long; the sound of his throat aching practically audible with his sobs. But Arthur wasn't focusing on any of that.

His vision went hazy, from his headache or from the tears welling in his eyes, he hadn't been able to remember. But it went hazy and streaky, and his arms felt heavy by his side.

Merlin, his Merlin, had magic. But he didn't choose it?

Arthur wanted to run out of the room. Arthur wanted to run into the room before him. He did neither one, as if the thoughts were battling between staying and going, and that ended only in him making no movements at all.

The irony of it all, oh the fucking irony, he thought. He'd come down to ask Merlin for his opinion on magic and the ban and the law, and here he was hearing it. Wasn't that what Arthur had wanted? To hear the truth from his manservant's lips?

“He's going to hate me for everything."

“Arthur can't hate you, Merlin."

“He can't hate who he thought I was, maybe, but I'm not that man. I'm everything he despises, all rolled into one."

Merlin sounded broken. Arthur wanted nothing more than to fix him.

Arthur went back to his chambers, eventually. He hadn't remembered getting back, in all honestly, but he must have dragged himself away from Merlin's door at some point since he'd ended up in his bed again. Sleep still didn't find him, so he spent the early morning feeling sick.

His manservant. His friend. His...something. Magic.

It always came down to magic in Camelot. God, his father would be grinning.

‘Don't trust anyone, Arthur. Anyone can stab you in the back. Remember that betrayal never comes from someone you suspect.’

But he didn't. Merlin had, as far as Arthur was concerned, done nothing specifically to hurt Arthur.

“You didn't chose your magic, Merlin, nor your destiny."

Arthur's eyes had hurt so much as the sun same up that he was half tempted to gouge them out. Sleep evaded him, so he felt like shit, and his eyes had been stinging all night for another reason entirely.

His door was thrown open in the way it always was, and Merlin strolled on in the way he always did. No sign of anything different or unusual or criminal.

No sign that he'd been crying that night, either.

“Get up, lazy daisy, you've got a full day ahead of you!" Merlin chirped, his smile beaming as if his throat wasn't sore from the sobbing that had cut it only hours ago.

Arthur had wanted to repeal the ban on magic anyway, his opinions on it had changed, but that hadn't meant he could suddenly be alright with it. But Merlin's cries kept coming back to him, Merlin's broken words that sounded so desperate, that sounded like a young child worried of what his father would do to him.

Arthur rid Uther out of his head. He couldn't have handled that on top of everything else.

Merlin was so...himself that morning that it scared Arthur. And he wanted to be mad. Hell, he wanted to be so pissed off and enraged at his servant, but his mind just kept pulling him back to one thought.

If he can hide his sadness this well this time round, what’s stopping there being other times just like it in the past as well?

Arthur couldn't bear to think about it, so he hadn't. He'd just let Merlin—the man of magic—drag him out of his bed and onto the floor. He'd let Merlin—the sorcerer—clothe him and comb his hair. He'd let Merlin—a man illegal in the kingdom—bring up his breakfast, let Merlin—the man who was supposed to be evil—touch his food.

Arthur was a man who needed time. He had needed it after hearing a drunk Merlin's opinions, and he'd needed it after he'd come to terms with where he and his father differed in their stances on magic. He needed it for this too, but Merlin was always there. Whether it was in his chambers cleaning, or on his horse as he rode beside the king, or in council meetings behind Arthur's chair, in the halls and the feast rooms and the stables. Merlin was everywhere, as he always was; as he had been for the last decade. Right beside Arthur: a man of magic.

What was he meant to do? There was no rule-book for this! For finding a sorcerer in Camelot? He knew exactly what to do. For finding out about a betrayal? Yeah, he'd lived through that enough times to know how to go about it. For finding out secrets? He’d picked up on some things. But this? Merlin, his manservant and friend, was a sorcerer and had been using magic to keep him safe. Those had been his words, had they not? Those had been the sentences uttered from the crying mouth of the man he cared about, had they not?

Arthur couldn’t talk to anyone about it either because he didn't want to risk Merlins safety. Which that thought in of itself proved to him how he felt, but he had chosen to ignore that. He needed more information, if anything, but that would have involved telling Merlin that he knew and then talking to Merlin about it and Arthur would have preferred to not die of a heart attack, hence as to why he did not go down with that idea.

Weeks had gone by, and within those weeks he’d made no progress in the repeal whatsoever. But Merlin consumed his thoughts, and so did magic, and the law was too much for him to deal with, so he hadn’t dealt with it. In the end, however, he slowly found himself coming to terms will all that he found out, and he found out where he stood it in it all.

All Arthur needed was some time.

Some time to digest those cries and fears that have stayed with him since that night.

Some time to look over his life, the past decade, and relive all the memories of Merlin that he had.

“I need your help with something, Merlin,” he said. Arthur was sat at his desk, Merlin scrubbing the floor. He was humming again, but by this point Arthur had grown used to that.

“What? Are some words on that too big for you?” he mocked, turning to face his king with that ridiculous smile of his.

“Not exactly.”

Merlin rolled his eyes, but stood up and walked closer to the desk. “Of course. What do you need?”

“I’ve decided on the council, the new one that is. I thought it’d be best if you looked over it. You’re the one who helped me with it, after all.”

With that, he handed over the paper and looked down at his desk. He wanted to say something, anything really, but he had been too scared to give away what he knew. He wanted Merlin to stop living in fear, but he could tell that he wasn’t quite there yet. To give Merlin all the proof he needed to know that Arthur didn’t hate him, it was too soon. Still, he wanted to give some.

“This looks good, and I’m glad Gwen is one you’ve classed as important. She’s smart, like really smart.”

“Well, she can’t be that smart if her best friend is you,” Arthur bit back, his words lacking any annoyance.

“What? Jealous?” Merlin teased as he looked down at Arthur from where he stood. (Arthur thought about that look a lot, actually.)

“Maybe,” he replied, and he laughed hard at Merlin’s shocked expression. “I know I probably don’t say it enough, but you do mean a lot to me. I don’t think anything could get in the way of that.”

Merlin smiled, but there was agony behind it. “Well, I don’t think there’s nothing, I mean, I don’t think you should be putting so much faith…” His voice had been small, and the King’s heart longed.

“Seriously, Merlin. I don’t think there’s anything you can do that would make me hate you, that’s for certain. Annoy me, maybe anger me for a while, sure, but I couldn’t hate you. I promise.” Those last words had a tone the rest hadn’t, but he wanted Merlin to understand.

Arthur couldn’t switch all of his life-long beliefs so quickly, but he knew in his heart that Merlin was a man he wanted by his side, in whatever way.

“Really?”

“Really.”

Arthur was never quite sure if Merlin found out he knew about his magic in that moment, or if it took some time for his manservant to digest. Or, there could have been a chance that Merlin never figured it out, like the idiot he was. But, Arthur wished that he did, or that Merlin at least had an idea. That he wondered if his king knew and was alright with it. Arthur hoped, with everything he had, that Merlin stopped telling himself those horrid words of hate. Arthur needed more time still, but everything he said had been the truth.

He could never hate Merlin, not for his loud opinions, not for his stupid neckerchief and boots, not for his tongue that he doesn’t ever hold, and not for something he was born with. Arthur from over a year ago would have felt differently, he was sure, but he’d learnt. He had grown and he had witnessed too many things to so blindly follow what his father believed. Magic wasn’t evil and neither was Merlin. And, sure, Arthur hadn’t the foggiest idea what Merlin did that classed as him keeping Arthur safe, but that just meant his manservant was better at lying than he thought. But soon he would find out, he would ask and he would listen, when he could deal with it. For now, however, he had left it at that, with those words, and gone about with his new council and his new, slow-progressing plan.

But it was a plan in the works, and for Arthur Pendragon, King of Camelot, that was enough. The knowledge that he was making his kingdom safer for his people, safer for his person, was enough.