Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Merlin turned the vial in his hand, studying its’ bluish tint, the glittery swirls of purple, wondering who it was meant for. Gaius hadn’t wanted to elaborate, only told him where to take it. The meaningful look — as if Merlin was supposed to read the old physicians’ mind — that Gaius had given him wouldn’t leave Merlin's head.

He’d already delivered the Lady Morganas’ sleeping draft, which had been a more or less successful task. Her name Gaius had had no trouble telling him. It only made the identity of this second patient more intriguing, like a mystery Merlin had to solve.

The winding staircases he had to climb to reach the tower Gaius had sent him to only added to the impression. Merlin felt out of breath two flights into the journey. Full of hope he looked up, only to sigh with defeat as there were about four or five more he’d have to climb to get to the top.

Seriously, who was kept up there? The king's dying mother, too old with age to care where she was kept? A stowed away, disfigured and probably illegitimate child of his? Another, more troublesome ward?

Merlin could’ve come up with countless theories. It was honestly kind of fun and a good distraction from the stinging sensation in his over-worked thighs and the prickling needles that seemed to penetrate his lungs with each breath he drew. But then he smelled it.

It was faint at first, Merlin barely noticed it, his brain storing the foul scent away as something irrelevant. Then, as he got higher and higher, it intensified, becoming more distinct. His nose scrunched, but he couldn’t afford to pinch it shut or he might’ve fainted from lack of oxygen.

The scent… it wasn’t overwhelming, like rotten eggs or a corpse that had lay in the sun a couple days. Nothing as horrible as that, but it still was bothersome either way, entering Merlin's nose and lungs.

Stale water was the first thing he connected it to. And mud. Like a moor on a warm day. And a flower, Merlin couldn’t remember its name, one that was all too sweet and heavy, clouding the senses if you sniffed it too hard. There was more to the scent that Merlin couldn’t place, but he felt overwhelmed by it.

His first instinct was to turn and hurry back down the stairs. Not really the type of reaction one got by simply smelling something one didn’t enjoy. Merlin thought so once the reasonable part of his brain joined back into the mix.

Stubbornly ignoring the way his magic curled inside him, urging him to retreat, he stomped up the last two flights of stairs. He turned the vial between his fingers, reminding himself and his magic that he had a job to do. Gaius gave him a task, a simple one, really, and Merlin would complete it.

With the last step behind him and his senses having gotten somewhat accustomed to the smell, making it more bearable, his theories came back to mind. Probably a haggard old relative then. Old people smelled weird, Merlin recalled.

There was no glorious entrance awaiting him. Only a plain, undecorated door, torches placed on either side, but they weren’t lit. No sound came from the room that lay behind it and for a moment Merlin questioned whether or not someone was even inside. He shook his head, then went to knock.

There wasn’t an answer immediately, which had Merlin rock back and forth on the balls of his feet. Unsure what to do, he first lowered his fist and then reached out again, ready to knock a second time. There was no need as he heard someone telling him to come in. It was odd though.

Merlin was sure he hadn’t heard heard anyone say anything and yet his mind was convinced there’d been a small, quiet voice that had said “Come in!”. Maybe he hadn’t been paying attention properly. It wouldn’t be a rare occasion that Merlin's ears turned off for the benefit of his mind focusing on whatever was going on up in his head.

Still a little unsure he opened the door, breath catching in his throat when he took a step into the room and the foul smell increased tenfold, engulfing him like a dense cloud. Merlin coughed, inhaling even more of it. His stomach turned.

'Who are you?'

Again, Merlin didn’t recall hearing the question, but it was there anyway, lingering in his mind, demanding his good manners to answer.

“Merlin. I mean, my name is Merlin.” He managed between taking shallow breaths, looking around the room for the person talking to him. “I’m Gaius’ new apprentice.”

The scan of his surroundings was rather brief as the chambers he found himself in were rather bleak. Unlike Morganas’, the walls weren’t filled with paintings, the floors bare of rugs or other useless furniture to take up empty spaces.

No, it was quite the opposite, everything in here served a purpose. There was a closet, a desk with two chairs, a round table which probably was meant to be eaten at and a bed. That was where Merlin's gaze got stuck.

On the rather small bed lay an even smaller child. A girl to be more correct.

She was mostly covered by a blanket, half her face buried in a heap of pillows, her long, blonde hair draped over them. She was staring right back at him through pale, grey eyes. They didn’t particularly stand out against her light complexion, which had a ghostly quality to it. For a moment Merlin squinted to see if she would go translucent if he just focused hard enough.

'You can hear me?'

The voice was there again and now that Merlin knew who it belonged to, watching the girl closely and noticing that her lips never once moved, he freaked out. Not physically, no, his body seemed to have locked up, trapped amidst the stuffy room, but his mind went into uproar.

Because what the fuck? How the hell could he hear the girl without her making a single sound? Some telepathic thing obviously, but… Why? Magic, of course. But the girl- They were in Camelot! In the castle of all places! Why would there be a girl with magic here? Who the hell would be idiotic enough to bring their magical kid here?!

Stupidly, his mind supplied that his mother, for example, had sent Merlin to Camelot too. And to live in the castle as well. Thanks, brain.

'My apologies. I didn’t try to scare you.' The small voice was there again, a gentle whisper bringing some clarity to Merlin.

“You didn’t.” Merlin assured, taking a wobbly step towards the bed. He hoped his lips curved into a warm smile like he told them to. “Sorry, I wasn’t expecting-”

The girl sat up, the motion seeming to cost her a lot of strength as she let out a stifled groan, her body trembling as her back rested against the stack of pillows. Her eyes had glazed over, but never left Merlin once. She seemed weary about his presence, her head tilting as she took him in further.

“I’m Merlin.” Merlin said again, an embarrassed flush spreading across his face as he realised how stupid he must’ve sounded.

But the girl was either good hearted by nature or raised very well as she gave him a shy, yet polite smile, not bothering to point out that he’d introduced himself twice now. This was, perhaps, the nicest interaction he’d had with anyone here in Camelot.

Well, meeting Gwen was a close second and the only reason it didn’t take first place was because of the fact that Merlin had actively been pelted with rotten fruit at the time.

A silence stretched through the room, only interrupted by the ruffling of sheets as the girl lifted a hand to wipe her forehead with the back of it. Up to that point Merlin hadn’t noticed just how unwell she looked. Every inch of exposed skin was coated in sweat, strands of her hair sticking to her face, and her eyes were hazy with fever and bloodshot.

“You’re sick.” Merlin needlessly pointed out. At this point he felt like hitting himself over the head.

The girl nodded slowly, losing focus for a second. Once she’d caught herself again, she forced another smile.

'Don’t worry, you won’t catch anything. It’s never contagious.'

“Are you sick a lot?”

Merlin was well aware that this wasn’t the most pressing matter at hand – he should’ve asked about her ability to telepathically communicate with him or who she was and what she was doing here – but the thought of her looking like this a lot, miserable and exhausted, twinged something in his chest. Suddenly the vial of medicine in his hand didn’t seem like enough and Merlin wanted to run back to the physicians’ quarters and get something stronger. Preferably something that would cure the girl immediately and forever.

Yes, most of the time. I think I’m sick more often than not.

“Why?”

What a dumb question to ask a child. 

She shrugged, drawing her shoulders as far up as she could. Her head slumped to the side then to rest against one of the pillows. Her face had gotten paler, which Merlin hadn’t thought possible. Quickly he crossed the room, uncorking the vial on the way. The girl recognised it and lifted her head again, straining to keep it upright.

“Here, this should help.” Merlin said quietly as he held it to the girl's lips.

He was careful not to spill any of the liquid as he poured it into her mouth, a little surprised as she didn’t even pull a face. Out of curiosity he’d taken a whiff of it on the way and nearly retched at the smell. It was worse than the one coursing through the room.

“What’s your name?” Merlin asked once the vial was empty and the girl had slumped back, drained of whatever little energy she’d had in her.

As he waited for an answer, Merlin figured he could make a fire. It was a little chilly in the room. And if he got a certain temperature in here, maybe he could open a window to let some fresh air in.

There was still wood in the hearth, neatly stacked up. He wasn’t entirely sure who looked after the girl, probably a nurse maid, but whoever it was had obviously forgotten to light a fire before leaving. A very human mistake, but it had Merlin roll his eyes nonetheless. You’d think a sick child would be enough for someone to remember that warmth was essential to recovery.

'Willow.'

“That’s a pretty name.” Merlin said and when he glanced over his shoulder, he saw the girl smiling.

I like yours too. Isn’t there a bird called Merlin?

“Yes! It’s my mum’s favourite.” Flint and steel did not seem to be on Merlin’s side today, so he whispered an incantation under his breath, satisfied at the quickly growing flames it produced. In her barely lucid state, the girl surely wouldn’t notice. “You’re very smart.”

When he rose and turned, wiping dust from his trousers, Willow was staring at him again, a faint hue painting her pale cheeks with a rosy pink. She didn’t answer though, something else nagging at her. Clearly, she must’ve been thinking really hard, the process evident in the way her thin brows furrowed and her teeth chewed away at her lower lip.

Merlin, not the most experienced man in the field of childcare, worried she’d give herself a headache. When he returned to her side, he put a hand on her forehead. Not having been prepared just for how hot it was, he drew it back again immediately.

'Why can you hear me?'

“What?”

'No one else can hear it when I talk to them in my mind. But you do. Why?'

Willow's directness was a little off putting, but Merlin supposed she didn’t get much interaction holed up here in a tower. And again, Merlin wasn’t an expert on humans younger than sixteen, but he was pretty sure kids were supposed to be funny. Or silly, at least. But the girl wasn’t either of those things.

The earnest expression on her roundish features reminded him of the old men he’d grown up with in Ealdor. He’d always assumed their faces had frozen that was – all serious and solemn – and they’d simply unlearned how to smile. In Willow’s case, Merlin thought, it seemed more like no one had ever taught her how to smile properly. Not beyond those polite ones he’d seen on her so far.

He decided to change that.

“Better question. Why don’t you talk to people normally?” He grinned, not letting himself be discouraged by the glaring lack of humour he received in return.

'I’m not allowed.'

“Not allowed?” Merlin asked, swallowing the worry that bubbled in his stomach. Who would forbid a child to speak? He tried to joke, “Did you swear too much?”

'No, I stutter. They said I shouldn’t talk at all if I couldn’t do it properly. Pen- People here don’t do things if they can’t do them properly.'

“Uhm…” Merlin didn’t know what to say to that. He didn’t know what to think of it either.

He’d known Camelot wasn’t paradise. Especially not for people like him.

But his mother had made it sound like it was better than Essentir at least. Less suffering for common folk, more protection from their king. And yet, after only three days here, Merlin wasn’t so sure his mother had been right about that.

So far, he’d witnessed one execution, he’d been thrown into the dungeons by one bully of a prince and now he found a child that had been forbidden to speak because of a stutter?

That last one felt the worst. Even without looking at Willow's defeated demeanour, he balled his hand into a fist. A weird gesture for Merlin. He wasn’t the type of person to get angry easily. Most of the time, if someone really pissed him off, he managed to reason with himself, see the other person's point of view and rationalise the anger away. But this was different.

This kid… Seeing her all small and sad over something some idiot had said to her dislodged something in his chest. And whatever it was sat there heavily, setting free some emotions Merlin wasn’t sure he was even capable of. Not to this point at least.

The urge to protect her was the strongest. It formed into a knot, sitting right at the base of his throat. His hand unfurled again. On its own, it reached out, hovering uselessly over the girl. And what now?

He didn’t know her! He could hardly comfort her just because he felt some feelings. Quickly he pulled it back again.

'So, why can you hear me?'

“Oh right!” Merlin still hadn’t answered that question. Stupid him.

It made sense now, why Gaius had sent him here. Obviously the girl was like him – to some extent at least – and Gaius must’ve hoped they’d… get along? Something like that? He’d have to admit he had magic if he wanted to be honest with the girl, but Merlin didn’t really see a reason why he shouldn’t be.

She was a child, so not very threatening, and the fact that she could telepathically talk to him meant she had it too, so telling on him would be useless. Not that Merlin expected her to do that. She seemed nice enough.

“Err, I have… magic?”

It didn’t come out quite as securely as Merlin had hoped. But honestly, who could blame him?

He’d had to keep his powers a secret all his life – eighteen years of self-control and lies – and the only people who knew about them were his mum, Will and Gaius. And in two out of these three cases, the unveiling of his secret had been by accident rather than a choice. He’d never outright told anyone about his magic.

This was a first and for that, it wasn’t half bad. The reaction that followed however-

Willow, in a surprising surge of energy, jumped onto her feet. Her legs gave him immediately, leaving her to cower on the bed, still half covered by the blanket, scooting into the wall behind her. It couldn’t have been a comfortable position, especially with the condition she was in, but she didn’t seem to be aware of any of that.

All her attention lay on Merlin.

Her eyes were blown wide in shock and horror, her mouth open as if she might start screaming any moment. But she didn’t. Merlin wondered if her not being allowed to speak rule extended to sounds as well.

She was a magical child, for sure, but a child raised in Camelot nonetheless. That thought caught up with Merlin a little too late. Surely, even up here in a tower, she must’ve heard the reputation sorcerers were given in this kingdom, probably had it engraved into her brain from a very young age.

Well, an even younger one. How old was she even? It was hard to tell.

Merlin hadn’t been able to assess her properly without seeing her height. She looked small enough, but that wasn’t always a reliable indicator. Merlin himself had been mocked for years because he’d been much shorter than the other kids his age.

'You can’t say that out loud! What if someone hears?!' Her voice was louder now, echoing through Merlin’s mind with a curious vibration to it. The panic in it was nearly enough for him to think it was his own.

“All the way up here? I don’t think so.” Merlin forced a casual tone, hoping it would help soothe the girl's nerves. He could barely stand to see her this upset, how tense she was. She should lie down and rest. “But you have it too, right?”

Something dark flashed through Willow's eyes and for a moment they turned to storm clouds. It was gone as quickly as it had come, replaced with broken resignation. Her shoulders slumped again as if she only now remembered that she was sick and exhausted. She nodded, a nervous flicker passing over her delicate face as she waited for Merlin’s reaction.

“That’s great!”

Okay, maybe a little too much enthusiasm. Obviously it wasn’t great that this kid living under the same roof as Uther Pendragon, slayer of anything mildly magical, possessed said magic. Swiftly Merlin went to correct his mistake.

“I mean, there’s nothing wrong with that.” Merlin said, cringing under the glare he received in response.

'There’s everything wrong with it! Magic is evil. It corrupts! It’s- it’s…'

The girl blinked hard, her face twisting in frustration as if she'd forgotten the next adjective that belonged behind the word ‘magic’. Merlin felt his stomach drop at the sight. How convinced Willow sounded of this.

She was so young and yet she had already been subjected to such beliefs. Believes that painted her a villain.

Without thinking, he sat down on the bed, leaving enough room between them for Willow to move away if she felt uncomfortable. She didn’t, instead ogling him like he was crazy for wanting to get so close to her. Merlin didn’t miss the way her body relaxed, even if it was just the slightest bit. He smiled softly, gently extending a hand, letting it hover between them.

Not a word passed his lips as he conjured a tiny flower in his palm – a Forget-Me-Not, his favourite – and then took it between the fingers of his other hand. It was very foolish, he knew, and if he hadn't the bewildered gaping the girl reacted with would’ve told him as much.

“Doesn’t seem very evil or corrupted, does it?”

'No, but-'

“Did someone teach you?”

Willow shook her head, her eyes still glued to the flower. When Merlin offered it to her, her eyes grew impossibly large and it seemed like she wanted to take it, but didn’t know what to do with it. Gently, Merlin pushed her hair behind her ear before tucking the flower behind it as well.

'Nobody taught me. I was born like this.'

“You-” Merlin’s voice broke off, all air leaving his lungs under the heavy sadness that settled over his chest.

He hadn’t met many sorcerers over his life, but he’d heard of others. His mother had made an effort to figure out as much about his people as she could and later Will had too, which was how Merlin knew that apart from him, there weren’t many like him. Actually, he’d never heard of anyone else that was born a magician. Until now.

And gods did it hurt.

It had already been hard for him, growing up with powers beyond his understanding, only knowing that they could be dangerous. To him. To others. His mother had always warned him never to tell anyone about them. In Essentir, people capable of wielding magic were enslaved. Sold on markets, brought to the king as soldiers in his army, forced to make weapons stronger than any blacksmith could ever forge. It had been a scary outlook on his future, but effective to make him keep quiet.

But at least he’d had his mum to encourage him about the beauty of magic. Whenever they’d had an afternoon to themselves, she’d take him out to the woods and let him grow flowers, befriend animals and try out whatever he wanted. She’d clap and laugh and compliment him.

Willow… Sure, Merlin didn’t know much about her, but figuring by her reaction to the topic he felt it safe to assume that she’d had none of that. No support, no one to turn to… All she had were burnings and beheadings every other day, lies about the horrifying things sorcerers were capable of and people in her ear telling her to stay away from them.

The silence had stretched a beat too long. Willow's thin fingers had begun twisting into the silky fabric of her nightgown and her face was etched with concern.

“I was born with it too.”

'You were?' A hint of disbelief swung in the question, but there was hope too.

It reflected brightly in her eyes, making Merlin's heart twist in agony. She must’ve felt so alone, stuck here for years without anyone to turn to and now… now she’d found someone just like her. It was a relief. Merlin knew it was because he felt it too.

Someone like him, born with magic, no other choice but to live the way he had, right here in front of him. He felt selfish right for it, too, but not enough for it to dampen the smile that curled his lips.

“Yes, I was.”

'I’m sorry. That must be… I’m sorry.'

“Don’t be.” Merlin finally felt safe in placing a hand on her shoulder. The touch was featherlight at first, but when he felt Willow shift against his hand, he tightened it ever so slightly. “I think it’s a good thing. I don’t think it’s evil.”

A frown appeared between her brows. She wasn’t entirely able to believe Merlin, but at least she settled again, drawing her knees against her chest and leaning against the wall rather than trying to hide herself in it. It must’ve been a lot for her.

'Why not? People like us are… not good.'


"I beg to differ. You’re the nicest kid I’ve ever met.” Merlin squeezed her shoulder. “And I have lived like this for eighteen summers and have not yet had the urge to do anything seriously ‘not good’ so far.”

At that Willow paused, the cogs of her mind turning visibly. Her head tilted again, partially out of exhaustion this time. Merlin shifted his hold on her, carefully lowering her back into her pillows. When he pulled back, she let out a small sound, her hand shifting to rest on top of the covers. Somehow understanding the silent request, Merlin took it into his. It was cold to the touch, a stark contrast to the scolding heat of her forehead.

'Is that okay?'

“Of course!” Merlin said, bringing his free hand up to her face to smooth out the worried creases on her forehead.

This was easier than he ever could’ve imagined. For a child Willow was quite… trusting. Easy to let him near her. It was quite the opposite of the wild, free-spirited children they had in Ealdor.

A warmth spread through Merlin’s chest, rooting in his heart, as he watched Willow calm down again, letting herself relax in his presence. Affection and pride, that’s what that sensation was.

“So, uhm, now that we have all the important stuff out of the way, can I ask who you are? Or where your parents are? It’s not every day I meet a child living in the tower of a castle, you know.”

Willow’s eyes, which had slowly drifted closed, popped open again. This time there was a hint of suspicion shimmering through the fever. Her hand, which still lay in Merlin’s, twitched nervously.

'It’s- it’s complicated.'

“Okay…” Merlin drawled, hoping he came across trustworthy and not too curious.

'I don’t have a mother. Well, I did, but she died. At my birth.'

It was so, so very weird to hear a child speak – or rather think – of such a sad matter in such a cold, plain way. Unlike before, there was no sadness in her tone. Not even that much emotion. Maybe she was too young to really understand what it meant to lose a parent. The fact that she’d never come to know the woman that had given birth to her might play into it as well.

'And my father-' That choked her up. Willow lowered her gaze, fixating the covers as she contemplated what to say. Merlin let her gather herself, keeping his worry at bay. 'It’s complicated. I’m not allowed to say.'

“Hm… Who takes care of you then?”

Please, let there be someone, Merlin prayed. He wasn’t entirely sure what he’d do if there wasn’t, but the question of how hard it would be to drag a mattress up all those flights of stairs did cross his mind.

'I have a nurse maid. But she doesn’t come around often when I’m sick. She’s still convinced I’ll kill her by passing something along. And… she's not here much when I’m healthy either. Not since I’ve learned how to eat and dress by myself. Sometimes there’s tutors who come by to teach me stuff or Geoffrey, but that’s only when I don’t return the books I lend from the library.'

“And who sends those people here?”

'The king.'

“So… you’re his ward?”

Or his daughter. Merlin shivered at the thought, only inches away from throwing himself to his knees to actually pray that that wasn’t the case. That would be the most morbid joke of the gods to date.

To his relief, Willow shrugged with half a nod.

'I guess. Not officially, but… I don’t really know.'

She yawned then, covering her mouth with her hand. Her eyes closed and didn’t open again even when it was over. A deep breath made her practically deflate, making her seem even smaller than she already was. And sicker, too.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be bothering you with all these questions.” Merlin said, absentmindedly carding a hand through the mess of blonde hair. Another sigh left the girl’s slightly parted lips, though this one sounded a lot more peaceful than the last. He smiled to himself. “You should rest… Is there anything else I can do for you before I leave?”

'Will you come back?'

“Of course!” Merlin’s mouth spoke before he could even think about it. It didn’t make the promise any less true. “Someone has to bring you your medicine. Gaius’ knees will probably be happy if I make that my job from now on.”

'I’d like that.'

“Me too.”

Heavy hearted Merlin stood up. Willow’s breathing evened out before he even made it to the door. He threw one last glance toward her sunken figure before leaving.

He’d almost forgotten about the suffocating smell until he left it behind, breathing fresh air again. The clarity it brought slammed Merlin out of the bubble he’d been in — the one containing only him and the magical girl – and back into reality. And reality brought many questions, ones only one man could answer for him.

Accelerating his pace, Merlin jogged back to the physicians’ chambers, where he found Gaius bent over his workbench. The old man was muttering to himself as he read something from a leather bound book, which looked about half a century older than him. But Merlin didn’t feel bad to rip him from his concentration with the slam the door shut with.

He was a bit angry, if he was being quite honest. The same kind of anger he felt when Willow had told him about being forbidden to speak. It was impossible to explain away, no matter how long Merlin looked at Gaius’ shocked face.

“Have you gone mad-” Gaius started but was quickly interrupted by Merlin, who strode across the room, one finger pointed at his mentor.

“She has magic! She has magic and you didn’t tell me!” He accused the older man. “Why? Does she even know you know? It didn’t seem like it, the way she reacted when she found out I have it too.”

“You told her?” Gaius had the audacity to look mad.

“Of course! She talks to me telepathically! What else was I supposed to do?” Merlin shook his head in disbelief, taking the break to dampen his shouting into a sharp hiss. “What did you think would happen?”

“I…” At a loss for words, Gaius turned his eyes to the floor. When he spoke again, his voice was quiet, drenched with something Merlin couldn’t quite place, but it made his stomach clench. “I didn’t know what to do with her anymore… She’s- Oh, Merlin… Her magic isn’t healthy for her.”

He sounded so defeated, Merlin felt sick with guilt for yelling at him. Not enough for it to dispel the anger completely. He still wanted answers, the image of the sick girl still fresh on his mind. Her fearful face when she’d talked about magic. Herself.

“Does it have anything to do with that awful smell?”

Gaius’ eyes flickered towards him, brows raising in surprise over Merlin’s ability to puzzle those two things together. Merlin scoffed.

“I’m not stupid.”

Leaving the biting tone uncommented, Gaius drew a heavy breath and he sat down, folding his hands over his lap. Merlin wasn’t quite read to do the same, so he began pacing, though the space for that was limited.

“I haven’t been able to look into her condition properly due to a lack of records about similar cases, but… I’ve been treating her for years and have made my own observations. And if I’m right, then her sickness and the smell lead back to her inability to use her magic.” Gaius said solemnly, a concerned frown furrowing his fading brows. “It… rots away. That’s what I’ve figured.”

“Wait does she not- Never?” Merlin gaped at that, the thought of not using his magic making it rush through his veins protestingly. “I can’t imagine…”

“I’ve seen her do it once or twice. Probably by accident. And it’s never anything big. She’ll light the fire in the hearth or open a window… and it only ever happens at the height of her illness. After that, she’ll usually get better.”

“But then she supresses it and she gets sick again.” Merlin hummed.

His eyes caught on Gaius – the guilty look on his creased face – and his anger resurfaced.

“Does she know this?”

“No… I’ve never-”

“Why not?” Merlin was back to shouting. “You know magic! You’ve taken me in! And she’s the same as me- She was born with it. Why would you help me but not her?”

Gaius flinched, but the increase of regret in his expression made it clear that Merlin had struck some kind of nerve.

“It’s not the same with you as it is with her, Merlin.” He tried to explain, finding little understanding on the young man’s face. “She’s… she grew up here. In Camelot. I feared that if I let her know anything other than what she learned from Uther, that… It would heighten the risk of her being discovered.”

“Oh, so you let her rot away and stew in sickness? What a relief.” Merlin barked a laugh, too cold and hard. He didn’t sound like himself at all.

But the injustice got to him. Willow didn’t deserve it. For what? Simply… being born.

“You don’t understand! Willow is too young. I can’t be there to protect her, watch over her and make sure she doesn’t slip up when other people are around.” At that Gaius’ eyes darted to Merlin.

Realisation dawned on Merlin. He nodded slowly, some of the fire dissipating as he did.

“So you thought that I… Oh.”

“I know, I contradict myself. I hoped she wouldn’t learn of your… talents quite so soon, but I also wish for you to guide her… I am sorry, Merlin.” Gaius got up then, approaching Merlin, who’d since stopped his journey up and down the room. “This is a lot for you already. You came here hoping to learn from me and now I ask you to teach someone else, too, but I…”

“It’s alright.” Merlin mumbled.

He’d help Willow. That decision had been made long before this conversation and before he’d even entered these chambers. There was something… something that drew him to her.

Maybe it was that he understood her – and she understood him – like no one else. Or maybe it was Merlin’s never failing need to protect people in need, which she definitely was. It didn’t really matter anyway.

He’d be there for her, end of story.

“Thank you.” Gaius gave him a gentle tap to the cheek, before sorting his face out and returning to the work bench. “Would you mind helping me out for a while?”

“Not at all.”

All through the afternoon, while stringing herbs up on the ceiling so they’d dry properly, Merlin’s thoughts were far away, up in a tower in the far end of the castle. He’d go see her again tomorrow. Definitely.

Chapter Text

Merlin met Willow again the next day. Not in her chambers, but on the way there.

It was a bit unexpected to find her bunched up on a window sill in a deserted corridor, led to her by the foul scent of her – if Gaius was right in his assumptions – rotting magic.

He tried to walk quietly, not wanting to startle the girl, but she noticed him before he could even get close. For a moment her eyes widened, panic rushing across her features, but then she recognised him. Quickly she brought a finger up to her lips, signalling Merlin to be quiet.

Compliantly he trotted over, joining her by the window.

She was still sick, her skin covered with a sheen sweat and her eyes no less glossy than they had been the day before.

‘What are you doing here?’ She asked, attention drifting back to the yard that lay below.

The training yard, Merlin noticed when he spared the window a quick glance, finding a heap of armoured men with weapons in their hands. They didn’t keep his interest long.

“I could ask you the same thing.” Merlin whispered. Not quiet enough as it seemed.

Willow frowned at him, once again signing for him to be quiet. Merlin closed his mouth, a little confused.

‘I’m not allowed to be out of my room. If anyone discovers me, I’ll- They won’t be happy.’ Willow explained and when she caught Merlin’s eye, she tapped her temple. ‘Use your mind. That way no one will hear us.’

Merlin didn’t exactly know how to ‘use his mind’. But he tried anyway.

He thought of a response and then… mentally tried pushing towards Willow. It didn’t work. She was still looking at him expectantly through her kind eyes. So, he tried again.

Something easier this time. His magic seemed to understand what he wanted to do too, slowly creeping up his neck, focusing itself at the forefront of his mind.

‘HELLO!’

Willow flinched hard, losing balance and nearly topping off the window sill. She would’ve fallen hadn’t it been for Merlin’s abnormally quick reaction, managing to grab her shoulder just in time. Sheepishly he smiled at her, rubbing the back of his head, while using his other hand to help stabilise her.

She didn’t seem mad when she turned back to him, adjusting the layers of her skirts to comfortably wrap around her legs, just a bit dishevelled. After a couple blinks, she curved her lips into a polite smile.

‘That was a little loud.’ She let Merlin know, her gaze drifting out the window once more.

The glass wasn’t very thick and the frames probably had a couple years on their back, letting shouting and grunting noises seep through. Even the sound of blade clashing on blade could be heard, but up where they were, it sounded more like two coblets clinking together. Merlin wasn’t sure if he should try to convince Willow to go somewhere else? Was watching sword fights an appropriate pastime for a child?

He’d have to find someone around this castle who knew more about them – kids around Willow’s age – and have them tell him how to handle them properly. Right now Merlin was second guessing his every move, always questioning if he was doing things right.

‘I’m sorry, didn’t mean for it to come out that way.’ Merlin mind-spoke, surprised by how easy this third attempt was. An encouraging smile was the only acknowledgement he got. ‘So, what are we up to today?’

‘I’m trying to ignore that I’m sick, so I’m doing what I usually do.’

‘And that is?’ Merlin was actually interested.

Yesterday Willow had given off the impression of a princess in a tower, so far off from everything else, he had a hard time believing she’d ever left it before. Now, out here, even if cramped into a tiny space where she wasn’t allowed, that initial thought seemed silly.

Willow stretched her legs, her face twisting at something happening down in the yard, her nose wrinkling. It had a bump in it, which somehow made the gesture look even more adorable.

After a few seconds of silence, during which Merlin followed her gaze, watching as a blonde man was helped back onto his feet, she snapped her attention back to Merlin.

‘I spend as much time as I can sneaking around the castle. I know I shouldn’t but… It’s really boring being alone all day!’ Pleading her eyes widened, looking up at Merlin as if she had to explain herself to him. ‘And I don’t really talk to anyone! I swear, I just-’

‘Hey, hey! Everything’s okay.’ Merlin laid his hands on her shoulders, giving her a reassuring smile. He felt the tension leave her at the touch, her breath evening out almost immediately. ‘I’m not going to tell on you. No need to worry.’

A flash of suspicion flickered across the grey eyes, gone in a blink. They wandered back to the window and Willow nodded. The knights – Merlin assumed that’s what they were – slowly started clearing away, much to the girl's disappointment. She let out a sigh, swinging her legs over the sill.

She must do this every day, surely had some practice in getting down, yet Merlin couldn’t stop himself from helping by holding on to her arm until she was safely standing on her feet. Willow must’ve forgotten Merlin was even there as she just walked off, leaving him with no other choice but to follow and hope the sound of his steps would remind her of his presence.

They passed through the halls unnoticed, no one coming their way and after a couple empty halls and winding staircases, Merlin had to admit he had no clue where they even were and much less as to where they were going. At some point they did hear footsteps.

Merlin turned to Willow instinctively, but he couldn’t see her. He whirled around himself, eyes scanning his surroundings. Nothing. Had she dissolved?

‘Merlin!’

A giggle echoed through his mind and this time, paying some more attention, Merlin actually did spot the girl. She’d crammed herself into an alcove, hidden behind a huge, painted vase. From the angle Merlin was at, he could only see the hem of her sky blue dress peek out. Otherwise he never would’ve discovered her.

With a grin, Merlin checked the end of the hallway. The steps had fallen silent. Whoever it had been had walked some other way. He turned back to Willow, who’d gotten up.

She was wearing a matching smile, though it was a little more restrained than his. With the back of her hand she wiped a film of sweat off her brow and joined him again.

‘I see why you’re so successful in sneaking around. Amazing hiding abilities.’ Merlin complimented as they continued.

‘Well, I do have a bit of an advantage.’ Willow loosely gestured towards herself. ‘There’s not many places I don’t fit behind. Or inside of.’

When Merlin laughed, she looked up, surprise brightening her face. He reached down, ruffling a hand through her hair. She looked close to laughing as she swatted him away, bringing a safe distance between them.

‘May I ask where we’re going now?’

‘You may.’ Merlin wasn’t sure whether her answer was supposed to be polite or sarcastic.

They rounded another corner, which led to another staircase and begrudgingly Merlin followed Willow down. He was already dreading walking them up again later. Maybe Gaius’ book had some spell that would allow them to float, so his legs wouldn’t feel so sore every morning.

‘We’re going to see the dragon.’

“Excuse me?” The question slipped, sounding as shocked as the look on Merlin’s face must’ve looked.

Willow whipped around, finger pressed against her lips tightly, but Merlin didn’t apologise. Being quiet was the last of his concerns at the moment. Because, hello? A dragon?!

Either the girl was going crazy – which honestly would’ve been such a surprise with all the time she spent alone, not allowed to talk to anyone and stuck reading books – or he had misheard her. It was simply impossible. Dragons were a thing of the past. Not a far back past, but certainly the past.

Uther Pendragon had gotten rid of them, every single last one. Slain them all and-

Yeah, no. There was no way Willow was taking him to an actual dragon. Even if one of them had survived, that thing definitely wouldn’t be found in Camelot - of all places. Maybe she was talking about a person called ‘dragon’. People have weird nicknames these days. Or, in Camelot, it might be a run of the mill kind of nickname.

‘No need to stare at me like that. He wants to see you. I’m just doing as he asked.’

Merlin hadn’t realised he’d been staring at Willow. Quickly he averted his gaze, unable to smooth out the frown that had formed. Her words set in a little later, bringing a whole new set of questions.

‘Wait.. wait, you’re serious?’

‘Yes, of course. I wouldn’t joke about that.’ Willow shrugged.

She pointed at a torch on the wall and Merlin fetched. He must’ve blacked out for a bit because he couldn’t remember them entering the basements. It was dark down here, no outside light streaming through arched windows. Instead of bright stone, the walls were rough and wet and the floors were uneven and coated in dirt. It was colder too.

When Willow shivered, Merlin peeled out of his coat without a second though. He offered it to her, though that might’ve been the wrong word. Forcibly throwing it on her, that was more suiting.

He helped her as she tried to find her way back out of the way too big piece of clothing, wrapping it around her shoulders tightly. Merlin continued walking, only to stop a couple paces later because Willow wasn’t following. When he turned, afraid her illness had finally caught up with her, he instead found her blinking in astonishment, inspecting his jacket wide-eyed. There was a shimmer to her eyes, but that might’ve just been the light of the torch creating an illusion. Merlin decided not to question it.

‘You coming? I want to see that dragon of yours.’

Ripped from her trance by the intrusive voice, Willow looked up, blinking a little harder. She shook her head, picking up her skirts for a little sprint back to Merlin’s side.

Merlin still didn’t believe she was leading him to an actual dragon, but at some point the curiosity had grown and he actually felt excited for whatever it was he was going to find when they’d reach their destination. It had to be something good, hidden all the way down at the bottom of a castle.

‘He’s not mine.’ Willow clarified, once again proving her lack of human interaction. She took everything very literally and Merlin found it endlessly endearing.

‘That’s not-’ Merlin aborted the explanation. He could teach her about figures of speech another time.

A groan got stuck in the back of Merlin’s throat as they reached yet another flight of stairs. It was entirely unlit and steep as hell. For good measure, he grabbed Willow's hand as they began the descent. Gods forbid he’d let her tumble to her death on their second day of knowing each other.

‘Okay, I know you said there’d be a dragon, but come on! Tell me who we’re actually meeting.’

Even in the dim light the torch gave off, Merlin was very, very aware of the cutting glare that was directed up at him. He swallowed, pointedly ignoring it and instead focusing on not miss-stepping and ripping them both into their untimely deaths. Willow let out a disapproving hum.

‘A dragon.’ She repeated, sounding offended over Merlin’s lack of trust in her before giving him the benefit of the doubt. ‘Do you… not know what a dragon is? I can explain it to you.’

‘No, no. I know what a dragon is I just- I can’t believe that one would be receding here. In Camelot.’

They’d made all the way down the stairs without any accidents, which left Merlin breathing steadier. He straightened his shoulders, noticing the sudden increase of temperature. Frowning he looked up, but didn’t get the chance to properly assess where they were as he found himself staring into a pair – a huge, heart-stopping pair – of eyes and a deep, growling voice shook his very core.

“Why not, young warlock?”

“Jesus Christ!” Merlin yelped, jumping back. He was still holding Willow’s hand, which made it easier for him to pull her behind his back, bringing a safe distance between her and- “It is a dragon!”

‘I told you so.’ Willow’s voice sounded through his mind, not maliciously, but very matter-of-factly.

Merlin’s heart was racing, beating like it was trying to escape his chest and bring itself to safety. It probably was onto something. He should’ve run. Definitely.

But his legs wouldn’t listen, frozen as they were on the sandy ground of the ledge they stood on, and his mind was not very cooperative either, somehow rather fascinated by the creature before him than scared. His magic, not that Merlin was very prone to listen to it at any time in his life, didn’t seem to acknowledge the dragon as a danger either.

Normally, whenever Merlin was doing something stupid, it would thrash and wiggle in his body, trying to be useful – protect him – but now it bubbled happily beneath his skin the same way it would on a nature outing. Amazing job, really.

“Willow, stay behind me!” Merlin barked like he had any reason to.

The girl had not moved an inch, only peeked her head around his hip to get a good look at the dragon. When Merlin looked down, he found her smiling and waving at the giant beast. Not exactly the reaction one expected of a child when coming face to face with a dragon… Merlin found himself easing out of his protective stance unwillingly.

“Do not fret, young warlock.” The dragon said from where he resided, curled up on a huge rock formation. He sat up straighter, the rattling of chains accompanying the motion. “Little Willow has come down here many times and not once have I harmed her. Today will be no different.”

Merlin took the dragon in with a scrutinising glare, finding little reason to distrust him and slowly he nodded. He still didn’t let go of Willow's hand when she emerged, keeping her closely by his side.

“I asked her to bring you here as I saw myself left with little other choice as you continue to ignore my calls for you.” The dragon’s voice turned sharper, akin to the one Gaius used to scold Merlin whenever he messed something up.

“Oh…”

Merlin suddenly remembered that weird voice that had said his name each night since he’d arrived in Camelot. Now that he thought about it, that voice and the dragons did sound very similar. He curled his lips into a sheepish smile.

“Sorry, thought that was just my imagination…” He apologised, not sounding very sorry.

Because seriously, if the dragon had sought a conversation with him, he could’ve clarified some things prior, instead of just saying his name and dipping again. Mentioning he was a dragon, for example, might’ve gotten Merlin out of bed and into his presence much sooner. And using Willow as a messenger seemed a little unnecessary.

The child was sick, for heaven's sake.

“So, you can telepathically communicate with him too?” Merlin asked her.

Willow looked up at him and nodded. Apparently she didn’t feel the need to elaborate. Actually… she looked a little embarrassed at the question. Like she was doing something forbidden. Looking at it from her point of view – the being raised under Camelot’s laws point – it probably was.

Merlin gave her a smile and turned back to the dragon.

“Okay, tell me what you want to tell me then.”

“Yes, but first…” The dragon turned his giant head to Willow, his gaze softening. “Willow, would you be so kind as to leave us for a moment? This conversation is not meant for your young ears.”

While Willow nodded understandingly, pulling her hand out of Merlin’s grasp and turning to leave as instructed, Merlin wasn’t so okay with the beast’s request. Huffing he gestured towards the murderous stairs, then the girl.

“She’s sick! You seriously made her come all the way down here just to send her back up three minutes after? Rather rude, isn’t it?”

‘It’s okay, Merlin. I don’t mind.’ Willow claimed, already climbing the steps.

“But-” Merlin sighed, scrubbing a hand down his face. The dragon’s amused face made him lose whatever calmness he’d hoped the gesture would bring him. “Okay, what do you want?”

“Destiny.” The dragon hummed.

“What about it?”

“You have one.”

“Amazing, tell me more.”



*



‘I might just go home.’

‘Don’t you dare!’ Willow threw Merlin a panicked glance, which got him to chuckle softly.

Obviously he wasn’t going to leave her. Or this stupid destiny of his. Or his new job which was to wash the arrogant Prince’s socks and make sure he wouldn’t get killed because apparently fate was funny and thought he’d be the perfect candidate to become the Once and Future King of Albion and bring the golden age upon the entirety of its lands.

It made the thought of packing up and hiking back to Ealdor a little more tempting though.

Merlin tried to stretch his legs, which were much too long for the tiny space they were crammed into, but couldn’t find a more comfortable position and ended up crossing them again. With a little groan he leaned his forehead against the cool brick in front of him.

‘What even is this exactly?’

‘A vent, I think.’ Willow shrugged.

‘What is a vent?’ Merlin asked with a sigh.

He felt very, very stupid.

Every day he spent with Willow only piled on to his conviction that he must’ve been born without a brain. She showed him so many new things by simply taking him around the castle that his brain had developed a constant buzz, which, by the time night came around, would manifest into a proper headache.

Learning new stuff wasn’t even what bothered him – it was the obviousness with which Willow regarded all of these mind-boggling things. Like everyone but Merlin knew what they were.

She didn’t do it on purpose. Of course she didn’t.

After getting to know her a bit better, Merlin had to admit that Willow was probably one of the most genuine and kind-hearted people Merlin had ever met. And he could tell that she felt bad whenever he’d get frustrated over his lack of knowledge, because she’d always try to make up for it with apologies and very thorough explanations of the things Merlin didn’t understand to the best of her abilities.

Like now.

‘They… I think it’s supposed to help with the air flow? They don’t have them in every part of the castle, only the big rooms.’ Willow’s fingers glided over the metal grid she sat in front. There were three, neatly spaced out against the wall. ‘These make sure the air can pass though… probably.’

‘Neat, I suppose.’

‘Yeah.’

Willow clearly hadn’t come here for clean air. Her incessant staring through the metal grids made that clear.

She practically had her face pressed against it, peering through the small gaps to get a good look at the room beneath. The throne room.

Merlin had been confused at first. It was hardly possible that Willow was interested in courtly affairs, which she wasn’t. The largeness of the room barely allowed the sound of the voices from people beneath to reach them and Willow didn’t really seem to be paying attention to them anyway. She was making conversation with Merlin, only watching, her eyes glued to the back of the long hall.

To the two thrones that were positioned there, containing the King and Prince. The realisation had been numbingly painful.

Willow had come here to watch Uther, willing to endure the hard ground and the coolness of the confined space just to be closer to him. It had to be that.

They hadn’t yet had another conversation about Willow’s father or guardian or whatever, so Merlin could only assume that Uther was the closest thing the girl had to a father. Of course she’d want to be close to him, no matter the circumstances. Merlin bit his lip whenever the thought surfaced in his mind.

‘How are things with the Prince?’ She asked after a stretch of silence, her tone careful.

Merlin had done his best not to talk about that particular topic as it only made him want to groan and complain and maybe throw something. None of those things would make Willow very happy. Her reaction when Merlin had stormed into her chambers, huffing and puffing about his new job as Arthur’s manservant, calling him all sorts of names, hadn’t been very positive.

In fact, she’d almost started crying, which had left Merlin apologising profusely, not quite understanding where her sudden outburst had come from. The swearing probably.

That wasn’t an appropriate thing to do around children. Merlin had learned about that in a talk with cook – a very, very intimidating woman – who happened to be worth the trembling that being in her presence brought as she had many, many nieces and nephews and had told Merlin everything she knew about taking care of them.

‘The prat you mean.’ Merlin wasn’t able to hold back the slight insult, playing it off as a joke with a smirk. Willow only huffed, leaving him to continue. ‘It’s… alright. He’s growing on me… I guess. What I mean is that I’m getting used to dealing with his moods and his stupid list of tasks.’

‘That’s good. Maybe you’ll become friends!’

Merlin didn’t like the excited tone in Willow’s voice as he was pretty sure that hope would be squashed eventually. He and Arthur becoming friends. Hah! Sure…

He didn’t have the heart to tell Willow about his doubts, so instead he nodded, pulling her against his side. As always when there was even the slightest amount of contact between them, the girl leaned in, resting her head against his shoulder. Merlin smiled, a little embarrassed about the proud warmth that spread through his chest.

At first he’d thought her instant responsiveness to him was part of her nature, that she was just a very trusting kind, but, after having seen her with her nursemaid once, he’d learned that that wasn’t the case. When the woman – Adelaide as she’d gruffly introduced herself to Merlin – had tried to get a hold of Willow to brush her hair, which had truly been a mess, she’d recoiled and stumbled back.

After that, Merlin had quickly offered to do the task for her. Adelaide had accepted without second thought, not even questioning why (Merlin had previously explained that he was Gaius’ apprentice, there to deliver medicine) and left.

Now, Merlin should’ve been much more concerned about why Willow was so scared of her nursemaid. He had asked, but she hadn’t wanted to talk about it, so for the time being he’d leave it at that (and just enjoy that something about him made her trust him instinctively).

‘How long do these things last? Is there a set time?’

‘Uhm, they usually stop the audiences sometime around sunset…’ Willow answered.

Merlin tried not to slump his shoulders at the sight of the bright sunlight streaming into the throne room. Another couple hours then. He must’ve not been too good at hiding his disappointment as Willow shifted in his hold, turning her eyes away from the thrones and to him for the first time in a very long time. Her brows were furrowed, a frown dragging her lips downward.

Merlin wanted to slap himself as that was not an expression he ever wanted to be the cause of.

‘If you don’t want to be here, you can leave.’

Out of anyone else's mouth (or thoughts) it would’ve sounded passive aggressive. Not Willow’s though.

She was being genuine, her hands twisting around the fabric of her skirts. She was wearing blue again. Mostly because she only owned blue gowns as Merlin had discovered this morning when he’d offered to pick something for her to wear. He’d needed someone to cheer him up after Arthur had thrown a goblet at him at breakfast and Willow had been the only person he’d been able to think of – Well, besides Gwen, but Gwen was busy with her own servant duties.

‘No, I do want to be here. I mean, where else would I go? Arthur’s in there, so there’s not an awful lot of places I could be.’

‘If you say so…’ Willow regarded him wearily, but when Merlin’s reassuring smile didn’t disappear, no matter how long she waited for, she turned back to observing the King.

‘I do.’ And he meant it.

Spending time with someone like him was a comfort Merlin hadn’t previously known existed. So if that meant folding himself up and enduring a couple hours of aching joints, it would be worth it.



*



Merlin didn’t really expect to be hired, sacked and then rehired again all within the span of three weeks, but apparently that was how things worked in Camelot.

He just had to assume because it wasn’t like he could just ask Arthur for confirmation as the Prince, even after coming to the realisation that Merlin had been right when warning him of the threat Sir Valiant was to his life, was still not quite the same insufferable cock when interacting with Merlin. He was more reserved, less insistent on pointing out the little mistakes Merlin still made when it came to his duties and rather busy tending to his own activities.

One of those was breakfast with his father. After the whole excitement of the tournament was over, the Pendragons wanted a nice family brunch. Or that’s what Merlin thought as – again – he couldn’t ask Arthur about it.

It was a little awkward being the only other person in the room as the Prince and King consumed their food. That was mostly it.

They ate, the sound of forks scraping against ceramic plates only rarely interrupted by polite comments on the tournament and Sir Valiant’s plan to kill Arthur. Merlin had to hold back his shock over how casually they treated the topic. As if an attempt on Arthur’s life was an every-day occurrence.

Maybe it was a good thing Merlin got here when he did. Clearly the prat wouldn’t have made it much longer without him, which made the dragon’s prophecy make all the more sense. Damn it.

“Father, I was wondering if maybe it would be possible…” Arthur demurely folded his napkin, an action so out of place for the Prince that it had Merlin frowning. He spoke carefully, another thing his newly reinstated manservant had never heard him do before. “After my success at the tournament… Would it be alright if I could see her?”

That last word was barely more than a breath, which had Merlin squinting as if he could read the unspoken name hanging in the air. Because he seemed to be the only one not knowing who Arthur was referring to. Uther, based on the scowl on his face and the way his hands clamped around his fork so hard his knuckles turned white, clearly did. The dismay over Arthur’s request practically radiated off him, hot and heavy, yet he considered.

Merlin’s eyes wandered back to Arthur. He could only see his profile from where he was standing, but the desperation lay there plainly. Whatever- No, whoever it was Arthur wanted to see, must be really important to him. It felt almost wrong to see him like this and for a moment Merlin considered turning away and pretending to be busy with something else.

After a beat of silence, Arthur opened his mouth again, ready to say something. Probably to beg.

Uther raised a hand, his eyes briefly hushing to Merlin. His mouth pressed into a straight line and Arthur did the same. The Prince lowered his head, but his eyes didn’t leave his father for even a second, continuing their silent pleading. His spine was straight, shoulders taut with tension Merlin couldn’t explain.

He had no idea what was going on, but he felt the need to stand by Arthur’s side and plead his case with him. This was important to him, obviously. Arthur wasn’t the type of person to… act in such a way that for him surely must’ve been humiliating, unless-

“Fine, you may.” Uther pushed the words through gritted teeth.

Arthur jerked upwards, like a hunting dog finally let off its leash, nearly causing the chair to tip backwards. The tension had been washed off him in an instant, replaced with barely contained excitement. It shone in his eyes, glowing on his face and Merlin found himself mirroring the smile displayed on Arthur’s face.

“After we’re finished eating.” Uther said coolly, not at all moved by his son’s joy. “Seriously, Arthur, what happened to your manners?”

“Of course, father. My apologies.” Arthur sat back down.

The scolding hadn’t put a damper on his mood in the slightest, though he did try to tone down his grinning. He barely succeeded and it stayed that way for the rest of breakfast.


“Where are we going?” Merlin asked, brimming with curiosity as they excited the dining hall.

“You, Merlin, are going nowhere. You’re dismissed for the afternoon.” Arthur waved a hand, nearly hitting Merlin square in the face.

“Seeing Morgana then?”

“Merlin!”

Merlin laughed at the exasperated tone in Arthur’s voice, but he’d already turned around, missing the glare Arthur shot after him. Having some time to himself was okay. He could go see Willow then.

But first, he went to pick up another vial of medicine from Gaius. While Willow had recovered from her fever last week, her lungs had started making a strange wheezing whenever she took a breath and her throat was sore. Gaius wasn’t sure what illness had befallen her this time, but as he and Merlin knew, it would be going away eventually, no matter what it was. The medicine was just there to ease her pain.

As Merlin grabbed the vial which lay readily on the workbench, Gaius gave him a knowing smile. Merlin raised a brow at it, silently asking for an explanation.

“You’re spending a lot of time with Willow.”

“Well, she’s a cute kid. Much politer than anyone else in this place.” Merlin shrugged. He found himself doing that a lot lately, a little habit he’d picked up from his time with Willow.

He’d generally started picking up more non-verbal ways of communication, sometimes even forgetting that, unlike the girl, not everyone could hear his thoughts. Having to say everything aloud became quite bothersome at times.

“Even me?” Gaius chuckled.

“Especially you. Bye now! See you for dinner!” Merlin made a quick exit, not really sorry to miss the arched brow Gaius sent his way.

Getting to Willow’s tower was less of a hassle than it had once been. Climbing the stairs wasn’t nearly as painful and Merlin became quicker at it each day as his legs had grown more muscular due to the frequent use. He felt himself smile before he even reached the top step.

Yesterday, after Merlin’s rehiring as Arthur’s manservant, he’d told her about the happy news and to say the girl had been excited would’ve been an understatement. The memory still made Merlin’s heart surge in his chest. He’d promised to sneak her out of the city to go and pick flowers in a nearby meadow, he’d discovered while collecting herbs for Gaius, as a celebration.

It would be an easy feat as, thanks to Willow’s very irregular sleeping rhythm, she was awake at night most of the time and they’d be in and out while everyone was still asleep. The idea had the girl grinning for the rest of the visit. She’d never been out of the castle, she’d told Merlin.

“Willo-”

Merlin clamped his mouth shut again, the door banging against the wall with a loud thud. Because-

“Merlin?! What the he-” Arthur bared his teeth, scrambling to get out of his chair he’d pulled up to the side of Willow’s bed. His eyes quickly darted to the still sleeping girl and when he spoke again, it wasn’t more than a quiet hiss, “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I’m bringing Willow her medicine as I… always do?”

It sounded more like a question. A nervous one. Because Merlin was suddenly very nervous. Arthur’s fiery eyes dug into him like claws, his answer not good enough to make the fierce scowl on his face dissolve. Uncomfortable, Merlin showed the vial in his hands to show he wasn’t lying.

Arthur backed off a little then, his shoulders slumping as he sank back into his chair. His hands were still balled into tight fists, resting on his thighs, and his eyes kept switching from the sleeping kid to Merlin and back. He was waiting.

Merlin eventually realised why. Oh.

He closed the door, moving cautiously as he rounded the table and came to a halt at the head of the bed. It was far enough away from Arthur to sidestep in case the Prince tried to lunge at him.

“So this is who you wanted to see?”

Arthur tensed at the question, unable to meet Merlin’s eyes. For a moment there was no sound beside the ragged breaths Willow produced. Concern spread through Merlin’s stomach like freezing cold water. He almost missed Arthur’s nod.

“And… okay…” Merlin nodded too, mindful of what to say next.

Once again he found himself with too many questions buzzing at the back of his head. He wished Willow was awake. Maybe she could answer some for him. But she wasn’t, so he had to risk Arthur’s wrath instead.

“Why did you have to ask permission to visit her? Why- why do you even want to see her? Is she-”

Okay, that were too many.

Merlin ducked his head under the warning stare Arthur fixated him with. Unlike expected, though, Merlin didn’t get jumped or even yelled at. No, a resigned sigh, that was the reaction he got. He wasn’t quite sure what to do with it.

Arthur unfurled one of the fists. Carefully he picked at the blanket covering Willow, tugging at a corner and tucking it over the knee that had stuck out from underneath. It was awfully… sweet. So unlike Arthur.

Something picked at Merlin’s brain. An answer of sorts, to all of his questions, but Merlin couldn’t for the life of him figure out what it was. There was a feeling… warm and liquid and… What?

“I can trust you, right?” Arthur drew Merlin’s attention back towards him and away from his guessing game with himself.

“Of course!” He answered without thinking.

Arthur drew a deep breath, but as he was about to release it, it got caught in the back of his throat. Willow had stirred, letting out a raspy groan. Merlin and Arthur both froze, hoping they hadn’t unintentionally woken her up.

Their silence did no good. After a little bit of tossing and turning, Willow sat up, propping herself up on her elbow. She blinked a couple times, clearing the sleep from her eyes. She saw Merlin first, her lips curving into an adorable smile at the sight of him… and then she noticed Arthur at the foot of her bed.

It was almost comical the way their eyes widened in identical shock. In Willow’s case it made sense – she’d just woken up – but Arthur’s deer-that-just-spotted-an-arrow-pointing-at-it-look was purely hilarious. Why would he-

Merlin could barely contain the shocked gasping when he realised that it wasn’t just their expressions looking identical, but them too. They looked exactly the same!

From hair colour, to facial structure, to eye shape, to nose- It was all the same. Well except for the colour of their irises but that was such a minor detail that it was completely lost on Merlin in the moment. All he could do was stare and compare and then do it all over again because it was simply impossible.

Willow said she was Uther’s ward. There was no way Uther’s ward and his son could be so similar to each other unless… Unless she truly was his daughter. Or-

“Oh gods, that’s why…” Merlin whispered, ignoring the growing horror on both Arthur and Willow’s faces. “You are her-”

‘Don’t say it!’ Willow shouted in his mind, causing Merlin to flinch.

She was sitting properly now, her hands twisting in the sheets with helpless dread. Her eyes weren’t even on Merlin but Arthur, tears gathering at their corners. She was waiting for his reaction and if the quiver of her lip was anything to go by, then she wasn’t expecting it to be very positive.

Arthur, luckily, had noticed her growing panic as well and shoved his growing anger aside. He took another deep breath, scrubbing a hand over his face, leaving it behind in a smooth, hardened mask. It probably wasn’t what Willow had hoped for, but it was enough for her to not spill any tears and turn her face towards her hands.

All the while Merlin was piecing things together. That buzz in the back of his head made sense now. It was showing him all the little clues there had been.

Willow’s odd hiding spots around the castle – all places from which she could observe Arthur. She watched him train in the yard. The hours she spent in the vents, peering through those tiny gaps in the metal grid were just so she could get a glimpse of him. Her wandering around the castle was probably a strategy to sometimes run into him too, even if she then had to hide so it was less of a run-in and more of a quietly observing kind of thing.

Merlin was a little surprised the sound of his heart breaking for the girl wasn’t actually audible. It had him tear up too. But unlike Willow, he had a lot more practice hiding the wetness in his eyes and the next time he met Arthur’s he’d collected himself again.

“Yes.” The Prince tilted his chin up, that defiant, commanding presence of his back under control. “But you cannot tell anyone.”

“Okay…”

“No one, Merlin, I mean it.”

“Okay, okay…” Merlin raised his hands in a sign of surrender. He wasn’t quite sure what he’d done to deserve Arthur’s distrust, but he’d go along with it in order to rid him of it again. “I promise, I won’t.”

Willow dared to glance at him then, looking as sorry as a puppy who’d chewed up your favourite boot.

‘I couldn’t tell you. I wanted to, but-’

‘It’s alright. There’s nothing to be sorry for.’ Merlin smiled at her softly. He could feel Arthur’s eyes on him, but he hardly cared whether or not he looked crazy to the Prince and rather for Willow to stop looking so beat. ‘I’m sorry for… finding out?’

Willow reciprocated the smile, even if hers was much tinier than Merlin’s. Arthur picked up on it, a sour look spreading across his features. He nodded toward Merlin.

“So you’ve been bringing her her medicine?” He asked, voice gruff.

“Yes, every day since I’ve come here.” Merlin confirmed dutifully.

He dared to comb a hand through Willow’s hair. It was free of any knots. It always was as Merlin had made it his personal mission to brush it each time he came by, so the nursemaid wouldn’t have to do it.

“Hm.”

There was a hint of something in Arthur’s eyes as they followed the move and after an inappropriate amount of staring, Merlin placed it as envy. Odd. If Arthur wanted to touch Willow’s hair, why didn’t he? He could literally get up from his chair, untangle his hands from each other and do it. But no, he’d rather sit there and frown. Fine with Merlin.

‘Is he always like that?’

Willow turned to Merlin before remembering that Arthur might get suspicious if they continuously looked at each other. Quietly she leaned into the pillows, releasing a rattling cough that had both of the men lean towards her, hands reaching out to do something… But there was nothing to do, so eventually they straightened back up, watching as Willow recovered, looking paler than the cushions.

‘I guess so…’ Willow regarded Arthur with a shy look, quickly averting her gaze again. ‘I don’t see him often.’

‘So, if you don’t see each other a lot, don’t you want to hug or… something like that?’

Merlin couldn’t imagine being in the same room as his mum — especially after spending weeks apart – and not hugging her. Or be close to her. Or talk to her. All the things Arthur and Willow weren’t doing.

‘I don’t think he’d like that.’ Willow sounded terribly sad, biting her lower lip as her eyes wandered to the wall.

‘What do you mean he wouldn’t- He’s your fath-’

‘You can’t call him that!’

‘Why not?’ Merlin was getting increasingly frustrated, but had half the mind not to ask aloud and involve Arthur in the conversation

‘They say I shouldn’t.’

‘Okay, who’s “they”? Please, tell me! I need to have a conversation with them-’

Merlin never got an answer to that. Arthur’s eyes flicked toward him and he cleared his throat.

“Merlin, you’ve dropped off the medicine. I think you can leave now.”

It was an order. Merlin could recognise those now. And he knew Arthur’s reaction when he didn’t follow them.

Reluctantly he nodded. But before turning to leave, he bent down, giving Willow a quick hug. The girl practically melted into the embrace, one of her small hands twisting into his tunic and it broke Merlin’s already shattered heart a little more to straighten up and walk out of the room.

‘I’ll still take you flower picking tonight, okay?’ Merlin thought as he trotted down the stairs. The spring in his step from earlier was gone.

‘I’m looking forward to it.’

‘Me too, kid.’

Chapter Text

“Can you please for the love of everything, stop talking in riddles?” Merlin threw his hands up in exasperation, stopping his pacing around the stone ledge in favour of staring at the dragon through desperate eyes.

He’d come down here in hopes of finding out more about Arthur and Willow’s relation to each other – more than just the barely confirmed fact that they were father and daughter – but so far the dragon had proved to be of very little help. But he knew more than he was admitting, Merlin would bet his left foot on that.

After all he was a dragon and those kinds of mystical beings always held a lot of wisdom. Like prophecies for example.

“Is she part of our prophecy as well?” Merlin asked with a hint of cockiness in his voice. He felt very clever for that one. “She’s got to be, right?”

The dragon huffed, puffs of smoke releasing from his nostrils. He was silent for a beat, but when Merlin opened his mouth to annoy an answer out of him, the dragon relented. Sitting on his hind legs and crossing his paws, he fixated Merlin with his penetrating eyes.

“Yes, she is.”

“Great, mind telling me about it?”

Another sigh echoed through the cave and Merlin tried not to grin with satisfaction. Finally he was getting to him, wearing him down. He was good at that, Merlin knew it. Whether it was through pleading eyes or annoying words, he usually got his way with people (if he really wanted to).

“She’s the key. Her existence holds great power, but it is yet to be revealed whether or not this power will play out in your favour or not.” The dragon said.

“A key? And what power?” While it was a little less ominous of an explanation, Merlin still reeled, trying to make sense of it.

“See, young warlock, Willow was not an accident created by love as other people will have you believe. She was created by design.” The dragon lowered his voice, his gaze unfocusing as if he was remembering something. “For a very different purpose than the one she will serve in the end, but that hardly matters now.”

“Created by design?” Merlin’s voice was tight, the hair at the nape of his neck standing up as a shiver ran down his spine.

“It is not my story to tell.”

“Oh, now you’re getting picky about personal boundaries?” Merlin huffed, aborting a roll of his eyes.

Upsetting the beast would hardly benefit him. So he reigned in his growing impatience, sitting down on the dusty ground. His legs had grown weary with all the pacing he’d been doing and he’d still need his energy to make it through the rest of the day.

“What I can tell you is that Willow is not entirely human.” – the dragon ignored the disbelieving gasp Merlin produced – “She is half human.”

“What?! What’s the other half?”

Merlin’s question was ignored.

“Half of her is Arthur.” The dragon spoke calmly, which did not match the slight curling of his mouth at all. It made Merlin uneasy. “And the other half…”

“Is her mother?” Merlin figured, not really seeing why the dragon was actually grinning now.

This had to be a joke. A very poor taste of humour for a being as old as the dragon. Making fun of Willow wasn’t really Merlin’s idea of a good joke.

But that was how children worked, no? One half of them was their father, the other the mother. That’s how they were made. But the dragon made Merlin rethink his assumptions as apparently he seemed to be very, very wrong.

“The other half is magic.” The dragon waited for Merlin to react, but the young warlock didn’t. His fingers still fiddled with the hem of his tunic as they had before and his expression did not turn any more enlightened. With a disappointed sigh he added, as if it was the most obvious conclusion in the world, “Half of her is you, Merlin. You are magic.”

That did not add up on so many levels. And yet, Merlin did not know how to contradict the dragon’s statement. His vision blurred, his heart racing out of control and when he spoke, his voice cracked around the edges.

“I- I’m a mother now?!”

“Merlin, no-”

“I’m not ready for that!” Merlin jumped to his feet, which moved on their own accord, forcing him to walk the length of the ledge again. A hand flew up to his hair, carding through it, and when that didn’t do anything to ease the anxious thumping of his heart, he tugged on it slightly. “What- How- I didn’t even do anything! And I’ve only known Willow for a week-”

Oh, Willow… That poor, sweet girl.

Of course, by now, she’d managed to weave her way into Merlin’s heart. Hell, there hadn’t even been that much weaving. She’d just slid right in as if she already had a place there that had just been waiting for her, ready to accept and love her in a way Merlin loved no one else. He found himself thinking about her more often than not, wondering what she was up to, making up plans for them, hoping he could finally make her laugh or smile or…

That was all nice and good, but it was worlds from what it took to be a good parent. And Willow deserved a good father.

“I’m only eighteen years old!” Merlin snapped.

The dragon’s eyes were following him, mild curiosity on display. And for some reason he was still smiling, which had Merlin’s despair turn into outrage.

“Hey, this is not funny!”

He raised a fist as if there was any chance he could hit the beast. The distance between them prevented that, but Merlin’s eyes caught a palm sized rock laying by his feet. He picked it up, trying to hurl it at the dragon, but it fell short a couple of feet, instead falling to the bottom of the cave.

“Are you quite done now? I’d like to tell you more. Maybe that will…” The dragon curled his mouth condescendingly. “Calm you down.”

“Fine.”

“Willow is not your child in the sense you humans define… more on a spiritual level. Hush!” The dragon chided upon Merlin’s next attempt to interrupt. “Whether or not and what kind of responsibility you take for her is up to you. But I do advise you to keep a close eye on her. The power she wields – will wield some day – they can change the prophecy, for better or worse.”

Merlin found it very hard to care about the prophecy at the moment. Swallowing, for example, was more at the forefront of his mind, as a tight lump had formed. It was too much for him and his simple, “human” brain. Though, was he even human?

“What do you mean, ‘I am magic’?” His voice splintered and Merlin had to clear her throat to regain some control over it. “You said-”

The dragon hummed, frustration sharpening his features as he shook his head and said, “You were not supposed to know about that yet…”

“So you’ll simply drive me away with more riddles, so you won’t have to elaborate?” Merlin mused. He’d recovered some of his sarcasm.

“Exactly, yes.”

“Fine, I’ll make it easy for you then.” Merlin grabbed the torch off the wall, where he’d deposited it, before climbing up the stairs, possibly even more confused than when he’d come down to the cave.

It left him with one last option to find out more about Willow, which had Merlin grimace to himself.

Arthur…



*



He’d waited for a good moment to come up and those were hard to come by. Barely a day went by in which Arthur wasn’t in a shit mood.

There were so many factors able to piss the Prince off, ranging from things as small as having been woken up too harshly to bigger reasons like his father calling him out for something in front of the council or hunts being unsuccessful. Or really grave things like an Afnac poisoning the water supply. Whatever, Merlin waited.

In the meantime, every free minute, really, Merlin spent with Willow. She was slowly, but surely opening up to him, giving Merlin a few answers that he’d been longing for.

Like that the people she referred to as ‘they’ were the King and her nursemaid. The two people had a strict idea of what Willow could and couldn’t do, ensuring that she stuck to their rules by any means necessary.

‘She used to burn me with a candle for every word I said.’ Willow had explained, pulling back the hems of her skirt to reveal a gruesome scar that wound itself around her ankle. She hadn't looked phased in the slightest. ‘So I would stop stuttering and keep quiet.’

‘What about now?’ Merlin had asked, needing something to distract him from the rage coursing through his veins.

He knew where Adelaide’s chambers were. He knew where the armoury was. And he knew that-

‘Now I don’t speak anymore.’ Willow had replied simply, shrugging.

There was more, so much more, but Merlin refused to think about it unless necessary. Vengeance wouldn’t do much for Willow, not yet, so he tried his best to undo the unhealthy things she’d been taught her entire life.

He gave Willow the physical contact she so desperately needed, made her compliments about every little thing he could think of, took her out of her chambers, played childish games with her, brought her small gifts to cheer her up whenever she was too sick to make it outside, told her about Arthur, read books to her, snuck food and treats from the kitchen because he knew her nursemaid often didn’t bother to bring her her meals… Willow wasn’t too responsive to everything at first, many of Merlin’s acts of kindness confused her.

She didn’t know how to be a kid. But after a couple attempts and a week or two passing by, she gradually got better. She wouldn’t dodge the ball if Merlin kicked it her way, but kicked it back instead. She’d stop ogling the flowers he put on her bedside table, but thank him. And she’d stop claiming she wasn’t hungry and offer the honey cakes to Merlin, instead sharing them with him.

It brought Merlin a kind of happiness he hadn’t known before. He’d hold on to the feeling during the nights in which he’d have Willow bundled up in his lap, winding with fever or coughing so hard he’d find blood on his breeches come sunrise. Those nights… Those brought a pain Merlin had never experienced in his life. But everything had its price, he assumed.

It still was too little knowledge about her. Merlin needed to know everything. No matter how little of a detail he could get, he wanted to know it, memorise it. So, Arthur and the half-smile he’d been walking around with all day would have to do.

“Sire, I was wondering…” Merlin trailed off, fluffing the pillows extra well, hoping Arthur would notice and somehow appreciate the gesture.

“Well, this has got to be good if you’re addressing me correctly.” The Prince mocked. Not maliciously, no. The grin he was trying to hide was almost affectionate.

Merlin proceeded with care anyway. You could never be certain with Arthur. One wrong word and suddenly he’d be throwing his entire dinner plate at Merlin.

“It’s about… her.” Merlin felt disgusted by the word immediately, shaking his head despite the cautious look Arthur was regarding him with. “Willow, I mean.”

Gods forbid he’d join this secretive nonsense Uther was insisting on. The girl was a person, deserving of being treated properly, not like some big, bad thing everybody was trying to hide.

Arthur sat up a little straighter and for a moment it seemed like he’d shut Merlin down, but then he closed his mouth again, taking a moment to reconsider. The longer he looked at Merlin, remembering that he – unlike everyone else in his life – was quite fond of his daughter, the softer his expression got, melting away the defensive edge there had been.

“What about her?” Arthur asked. Something seemed to occur to him as his eyes widened and his breath hitched at the back of his throat. “Is she alright? Merlin, has something happ-”

“No, no! She’s okay! I just… I was hoping you could tell me more about her.” Merlin said.

“Oh, uhm- Sure, alright…”

Arthur settled back into his chair, flushed with embarrassment. He pointed at the chair across from him. Merlin was quick to slide into it, expecting Arthur to change his mind if he took too long. He folded his hands neatly, setting his face so he wouldn’t look as curious as he felt. It was a rather inexperienced attempt at mimicking the expression he always saw on Arthur’s face when they sat in hourlong council meetings.

“What questions do you have?”

“Oh, right-” Merlin cleared his throat, encouraged by the lack of hostility in Arthur's voice. “Err, how old is she?”

“Six summers.” Arthur answered without hesitating.

“Six… Wait, how old are you?”

At that Arthur’s face tightened, his lips sealing into a white line. Merlin thought he’d already fucked up on the first question, but then the Prince’s eyes rolled to the ceiling and barely audible he answered, “Twenty-one years old.”

“Twenty-one…”

“Stop repeating everything I say! You sound like an idiot-”

“You were fifteen when she was born?!” Merlin interrupted, eyes wide. It wasn’t quite the quiet, calm conversation she was planning on having.

“Yes, Merlin, I was fifteen.” Arthur rolled his eyes with feigned annoyance. His fingers, on the other hand, were fiddling with a heavy silver ring – a tell that he was upset or nervous rather than mad. Merlin didn’t say anything about it. “I was young and dumb and I… fell in love.”

His voice went quiet around the last part, his gaze dropping from Merlin’s.

“Oh… I didn’t- Sorry.”

Awkwardly scratching the back of his neck, Merlin waited until the tension dropped again. Eventually, when Arthur managed to look back up, he dared to curl his lips into a small, brief smile. It wasn’t reciprocated, but Arthur’s plate remained where it was, so Merlin dared to go on.

“Her mother, was she… nice?”

Arthur shrugged, his shoulders tensing ever so slightly.

“I hardly remember her. I… don’t remember much of that time in general. I know she was older… not born into a noble family, so you can imagine how thrilled my father was.”

Against his will, Merlin snorted. Yes, he could definitely imagine Uther’s reaction to his only son, heir to the throne of Camelot, falling in love with a commoner. He was about to apologise for his impropriety when Arthur’s lips twisted upwards into a tiny grin. It dropped again a second later.

“I got her pregnant and tried to hide it, but… that didn’t go well. Father tried to exile her, so I- I followed her, because… I was in love.” Arthur sounded unsure, his brows furrowing. To Merlin he looked like a person trying to retell a dream they’d had – the memories hazy by the fog of sleep. “She died at birth, leaving me to take care of Willow by myself.”

“So, you came back here?”

“Of course, I came back here.” Merlin hadn’t meant it as an accusation, but Arthur seemed to have understood it as one. His eyes narrowed, one of his hands – the one with the ring on it – tightening into a fist. “What else should I have done? I was a chi- I was young, too young to raise her on my own and I’d come to my senses. I mean,” – he huffed, the sound full of disbelief – “I’m the Prince of Camelot! What was I thinking, running off? Away from all my responsibilities?”

“You were in love…” Merlin couldn’t offer a better explanation. 

He suddenly remembered what the dragon had said, that Willow's conception hadn't been out of love, but a plot for something greater, but Merlin didn't know what to do with that piece of information at the moment. And he could hardly bring it up to Arthur either. So he kept quiet. 

Arthur shrugged again. It convinced Merlin that he must’ve passed that trait down to Willow. Or that she’d seen him do it once and gotten used to doing it too in a way to be closer to him. Either option had Merlin smile to himself.

“There’s not much more I can tell you about her. I’m not allowed to see her unless Father allows me to.”

“Yeah, about that-” Merlin started, but was interrupted by a sharp glare.

“That is none of your business.”

“Alright, I understand.” Merlin made a break, thinking of something else to ask. Something simpler… “Did you name her?”

“Yes.”

“Inspired by the tree?” The mirthful smile on Merlin’s face was wiped right off when Arthur merely lowered his gaze, blushing slightly. He gasped, “Do not tell me you named our- your daughter after a tree!”

“And what about it? It’s a pretty tree! And a pretty name!” Arthur shot back, defensively crossing his arms over his chest.

“It’s still a tree! Why not a flower or- or-”

“Well, I could hardly name her Forget-Me-Not, could I?”

“Your favourite flowers are Forget-Me-Not’s?” Merlin cocked his head to the side, staring at Arthur through narrowed eyes.

At this point he was convinced the Prince was just fuckin with him. But no. Bright as a freshly picked tomato Arthur sat there, mouth hanging open as he fumbled for a response. Merlin shook his head, which was promptly hit by a napkin. The sound of Arthur’s chair scraping over the ground had Merlin get up as well.

“Okay, chat’s over. Get me dressed for bed.”

“Yes, my royal prat.”

“Merlin!”



*



‘I’m not going to use magic.’

‘But-’

Merlin sighed, dragging a hand down his face. Willow didn’t look at him, stubbornly staring down at the training yard. Arthur was instructing some new candidates on basic training exercises. But the pride that shone in her grey eyes was tinged by reluctant worry.

Merlin had been at it for days, trying to get Willow to use her powers. A simple little spell. Anything. So far his efforts had been in vain. Even after he’d explained to Willow that her illnesses were (with high probability) caused by her suppressing her magic, she hadn’t wanted to budge. Merlin could understand where she came from – he really, really could – but seeing her struggling had him go at this with the desperate need to succeed.

She needed to get better.

So far Merlin hadn’t told her about what the dragon had said. Dumping on the knowledge that she was half magic, a thing she’d learned to hate and fear since birth, seemed cruel, but… Well, Merlin was getting to a point where he felt he had no other choice.

‘What if we do it outside the castle walls? At night? No one would see you. There would be no risk.’

‘And what if it corrupts me if I start using it?’ Willow looked as scared of the possibility as the first time she’d brought it up.

Merlin sighed once more, ‘I promise it won’t. It hasn’t corrupted me yet and I use it all the time.’

Willow frowned at that, a silent question in her eyes as they briefly flickered to Merlin. Her attention was brief, wrenched back to Arthur as a shout of his, directed as one of the newcomers, wafted up to them through the open window.

‘I use it to save Arthur. So really, it can’t be that bad, can it?’ Merlin knew he’d made a good argument before Willow even answered.

He could see the shift in her posture, the way it her chest deflated and her fingers twitched in her lap. When she turned to him, full this time, her face was soft with awe and fascination. Clearly she hadn’t thought of that before.

‘I guess…’ She was still hesitant, but the brightness didn’t leave her eyes, so Merlin continued.

‘I could teach you a simple spell. One that protects or heals someone. Or summons a flower. Anything, just please, Willow,' Merlin let some of his desperation shine through, taking her hand into his. He never got used to how cold they were. 'I just want you to become healthy, okay? I know this is hard for you, but… Please?’

It wasn’t the logical argument that made Willow fold, but the pleading. It was evident in the guilty downturn of her lips and the way she couldn’t quite meet Merlin’s eyes when she nodded. And if Merlin hadn’t been so damn tired, he might’ve folded too and told her not to worry about it.

‘Tonight, then?’ He gave her hand a weak squeeze.

‘Okay.’



They didn’t make it outside, not even out of Willow’s room.

When Merlin found her, she lay in her bed, shivering so violently she could barely get onto her feet. Saying a spell aloud without stuttering proved to be impossible too, so Merlin extinguished the fire in the hearth and made Willow relight it.

She did it like him, without words or even the flick of a finger. Her eyes merely lit up with a bright, cool gold and flames licked up the freshly stapled logs. A moment later she heaved up whatever little she’d had for dinner and Merlin cleaned it up, before sitting down next to her so Willow could curl up in his lap as she cried.

‘I don’t want to be like this. I don’t- I hate it.’

If Gaius’ was right, then Willow had probably not been consciously doing magic whenever she was really sick - or any other time, really. It wasn’t all that surprising that she was so upset over it now, but it didn’t make it hurt any less.

Merlin was reminded of himself, a much younger and not so much younger version, weeping in his mother’s arms about being different from the other children. He’d hated it too. Not just the being different part, but his magic, too. It made his heart ache and his lungs constrict.

He wasn’t sure when the tears had begun leaking from his eyes, but he didn’t bother wiping them off.

‘I know, sweetheart, I know. I’m so sorry.’

And he meant it. If there was anything he could do to relieve Willow from this burden too, then he would do it in an instant.

Willow sobbed, burying her face in his chest. Drawing her in tighter, Merlin pressed a kiss to the crown of her hair, his hands drawing gentle circles on her back. Some part of his brain noticed that the shaking had stopped. Well, the sick-shaking. Now Willow was only trembling from the cries that ripped through her.

It had worked. Merlin let that be a small comfort to him as he held Willow, waiting until the sobbing did its job tiring her out and putting her to sleep. He should leave.

And try he did, but he didn’t actually manage to get back to his own bed. Whenever he’d try to lift Willow off his chest, she’d stir and the last thing Merlin wanted was for her to wake up, so… He was left with little choice but to stay and try to get a couple hours of sleep in himself.



The next morning Willow was in a better condition than Merlin had ever seen her. Physically that was. She barely even managed a smile when Adelaide came in and announced that, since she was doing better, Willow could go to the library and pick up some books for her to read. And that said something about her mental state and there was hardly anything in the world that excited her as much as books.

Merlin offered to take her, which, as always, was happily accepted by the nursemaid. It was still early, so he had another hour or two before he’d have to go and wake Arthur.

Geoffrey was more than excited to see Willow and the opposite of excited to have Merlin in his sacred halls. Still, he smiled brightly as he showed the young girl to a stack of books he’d set aside for her in her absence, claiming he’d picked them for her especially. Imagine Merlin’s surprise when he read the titles on the backs to discover war recollections and giant history tombs instead of the fairy tales he’d expected.

‘He knows about me. Like who I really am.’ Willow told Merlin as they excited the library again.

Merlin was balancing the stack in one arm – except for one book, which Willow held pressed against her chest – while holding Willow’s hand with his free hand. Due to their height difference, he had to tilt to the side slightly.

‘Who knows about you by the way? Like the whole truth?’

‘Uhm, you, me, Uther, Adelaide… I think Morgana, but I’m not sure. I don’t think she’s been told specifically, but Morgana has a way of figuring things out all on her own. Then, Gaius and Geoffrey. And Arthur, obviously- Oh, Arthur!’

It took Merlin an embarrassingly long second that the exclamation had been a warning. When he looked up, blinking in confusion, he saw Arthur walking right towards them, an equally puzzled expression on his sleepy face. He was still dressed in his night clothes too.

“What are you doing out of bed so early?” Merlin asked, a vexing grin on his face.

Arthur groaned, “The sun has barely risen, Merlin. Could you not be so… chipper already?”

“Maybe. Now tell us, what are you doing out of bed so early?”

Arthur only then realised that Merlin wasn’t out on a morning stroll all by himself, but that Willow was with him. He didn’t flinch – because that wouldn’t have been very prince-like – but he did do some aborted motion as he discovered her hanging on Merlin’s hand.

“Good morning.” He greeted awkwardly, once he’d recovered.

And Willow, equally awkwardly, shaped her lips into a shy smile.

Merlin held back a groan. Those two really needed to work on their communication. Or Arthur, at least. He was the adult out of the two of them.

He let the Prince know as much when he met Merlin’s eyes. Merlin widened them, very obviously nodding down at the girl, silently demanding Arthur to do more. Literally anything.

“You, uhm, look healthy. Have you been doing well?”

All Willow could do was nod and look up at Merlin, asking him to elaborate on her behalf, which Merlin did gladly. Reluctantly Arthur directed his eyes from his daughter to Merlin.

“She’s been doing great so far this morning. I think she’s recovered from her latest illness.” Merlin said.

“That’s great!” Arthur’s eyes had a shine of genuine relief to them as he knelt down, bringing himself eye to eye with Willow. He still didn’t touch her, but it was… nice. Adorable almost. “I hope it will stay this way for a while.”

He smiled at Willow and she was quick to widen her own. A tension hung between them, neither really able to break away from the moment. Arthur’s hand twitched where it rested on his thigh, but he didn’t reach out like he probably wanted to and Willow didn’t take a step forward, even though her feet kept shuffling around as if she might if…

“Prince Arthur! The King is demanding your presence.”

A deep voice echoed through the hall and within an instant Arthur leapt back to his feet, eyes darting around for anyone who might’ve been watching them. No one had, Merlin had made sure of it.

“That is why I’m out of bed.” Arthur grimaced.

With one last glance at both of them he turned around, hurrying towards the man that had called for him. Merlin’s heart sunk in his chest, sure Willow would be disappointed by the very short encounter, but when he looked down he found her smiling peacefully to herself, her eyes lingering where Arthur had disappeared to.

‘I got to talk to him.’ She explained when Merlin let out a questioning hum.

And gods was it heartbreakingly sad that that was all it took for her to be so content. Merlin did his best to smile too as they continued, but he felt it slip each time he didn’t pay special attention to his facial muscles.


He’d have to find a way to get those two to spend more time together.


He’d have to find a way to make Willow more comfortable with her magic.


He’d have to find a way to make Arthur more confident in his role as a father.


He’d… he’d fix it all. One way or another. He could do it.