Chapter Text
Lancelot frowns. The tavern is cheerfully boisterous all around them, but across the table from him, Merlin is sadly slouching and mostly yawning instead of drinking his ale. Merlin has looked pale and miserable all week, so Lancelot invited him to the tavern and offered to pay for his drinks in order to try to cheer him up. It is decidedly not working.
“Are you sure you want to be here?” Lancelot asks, when Merlin yawns again. (There was a strange, rampaging beast that was found dead in the woods early this morning. Lancelot hadn’t connected its fortuitous death to Merlin until just now. He wonders how much sleep Merlin got after that.)
“I’m fine,” Merlin says. “It’s just been a long week. With the execution, you know?”
This week, Arthur had executed a sorcerer. Admittedly, his crimes would’ve merited the sentence even if magic hadn’t been involved, but that clearly had not made it easier for Merlin to watch as Arthur denounced the use of evil sorcery while sentencing the man to death.
Lancelot opens his mouth to say something comforting, but Merlin is only getting started reciting his woes.
“And then that giant fuzzy man-eating teddy bear –”
“Teddy bear?” Lancelot interrupts. It’s not how he would’ve described the beast, but then, he only saw its corpse.
Merlin nods. “It was awful. Teddy bears are ruined forever.”
Lancelot wants to smile, but Merlin is shuddering in horror, so he keeps it to himself.
“And –” Merlin pauses, glancing around as if to make sure nobody’s eavesdropping. No one could eavesdrop, even if they wanted to; the tavern is so loud that Lancelot can barely hear Merlin from across the table. “And Arthur had this awful spell on him, and I knew exactly how to lift it, but I couldn’t do it without him catching me, so I just – left him to suffer. It wore off, but still, I felt like I was betraying him the whole time, doing nothing when I knew how to help.”
“That’s not your fault,” Lancelot says. “That’s on Arthur for being too prejudiced to give magic a chance.”
“Right,” Merlin says, but not at all as if he believes Lancelot.
Lancelot winces internally. It obviously takes a toll on Merlin to be keeping a huge secret from everyone he knows – especially Arthur – and it seems like lately, it’s been especially hard on him. And there’s not much Lancelot can do to help.
“Look,” he tries. “Let me cover for you, okay? Next time Arthur has a spell on him, I’ll challenge him to a fight blindfolded and you can fix him while he can’t see.”
Merlin raises a sceptical eyebrow. “I needed to draw runes on his bare chest in raspberry juice.”
Lancelot blinks. “I see. All right, that one might have been tricky, but next time, we’ll figure something out. I’ll make sure nobody notices anything suspicious. And in the meantime, Merlin, remember, you are not betraying Arthur. You’re the best friend he could ask for.”
Merlin gives a small, unconvinced nod.
“Now. If I buy you another ale, are you going to stay awake long enough to drink it?” Lancelot asks, making one last attempt to fulfill his plan to cheer Merlin up.
Merlin straightens up with some effort, then downs the rest of the ale in his current mug.
“Sure,” he says, holding the mug up for a refill. “If I have something to do. Let’s go play cards.”
*
They join Gwaine and a number of other players at the card table, and Lancelot spots Merlin a few coins as a buy-in. (It’s hardly charity – Merlin never walks away from any game of chance with less money than he started with, unless he wants to, and he always shares his winnings with whoever bought him in.)
By the time Merlin dozes off, he’s nearly emptied the pockets of everyone else at the table. Lancelot and Gwaine exchange looks and wordlessly agree it’s time for the three of them to go. Gwaine pokes Merlin.
Instead of waking up, Merlin just shoves a coin into the pot and then snuggles back into his own arm.
“Leave him be,” suggests one of the other gamblers. “We’ll win back a bit of our coin.”
“Or take it back,” guffaws his friend.
“You’ll have to go through me first,” Gwaine growls.
“And me,” Lancelot adds; even if the table of gamblers is drunk enough that they think they can take on one knight, they may pause at two.
Gwaine gives him a quick grin as he picks Merlin up. Merlin’s newly-acquired coins clank in his pockets, and Lancelot glares warningly at the rest of the tavern as they head out. The other card-players glare back, but nobody moves to try anything.
Outside, Gwaine tries to set Merlin down, but Merlin is apparently very asleep. Gwaine huffs out a laugh and hoists him back up.
“I can’t believe he cheats me out of a week’s wages and then expects me to carry him back to his bed,” Gwaine says, although the fondness of his tone doesn’t match the complaint.
“Cheat? Merlin?” Lancelot shakes his head. “If he tried hiding cards up his sleeve, he’d end up dropping them all over the place.”
“No, I mean…” Gwaine waggles his fingers in a way Lancelot realizes is supposed to signify magic.
Lancelot’s heart skips a beat, but he tries to respond calmly. “I’m fairly certain Merlin doesn’t have magic, and if he did, I doubt he’d use it to beat you at cards,” he says dryly.
“Well, he did,” Gwaine says. “I know because I had an ace up my sleeve, and he turned it into a two.”
Lancelot snorts. “Sounds like you’re the one who’s bad at cheating, then.”
“I resent that. I’m a very good cheater.” Gwaine frowns. “I also resent how you’re pretending we don’t both know Merlin has magic. I’m not as unobservant as Arthur, you know.”
Lancelot studies him out of the corner of his eye. He doesn’t think Gwaine is bluffing about knowing Merlin’s secret. Gwaine is good at bluffing, but Lancelot plays cards with him frequently enough to have learned all his tells, and he’s not displaying any of them right now.
Lancelot checks that Merlin is still fast asleep, and that no one is nearby. When he’s satisfied, he says very quietly, “Fine, I admit he has magic. But you absolutely cannot tell him you figured it out. He’s already terrified enough about it without knowing that someone found out.”
Gwaine shifts Merlin in his arms, apparently so he can more effectively glare at Lancelot. “Wait, are you telling me Merlin talks to you about this? He doesn’t just laugh and awkwardly change the subject whenever you mention magic? Wow, I didn’t realize I was only his second favourite.”
Lancelot rolls his eyes. “He knows I know because he saved my life in front of me, not because he told me on purpose.”
Gwaine nods. “That makes more sense.”
Lancelot grins at him. “But obviously I’m also his favourite.”
“You keep telling yourself that,” Gwaine says.
Lancelot watches Gwaine and Merlin for a moment. Merlin looks perfectly at home in Gwaine’s arms, and Gwaine’s careful to be gentle with him and not jostle him too much. Lancelot knows Gwaine would die for Merlin, so he’s not concerned about Gwaine specifically. What concerns him is that Gwaine found out Merlin’s secret all on his own. Because that means somebody else could, and the next time, it might not be someone who loves Merlin enough to keep his secret.
Lancelot thinks back to his promise to Merlin that he’d cover for him from now on, and makes a pact with himself to keep anyone else from finding out about Merlin’s magic.
*
A week or so later, Lancelot gets a chance to put his promise to himself into action. A beast has been terrorizing several small villages within Camelot’s borders. Two men are already dead. A terrified farm woman came to the castle to ask for aid to fight the “awful giant flightless bird” with “enormous teeth.”
So, Arthur rounded up a group of knights, and now they’re riding out to the villages to hunt down the beast. They also have Merlin with them. Lancelot isn’t sure why Arthur brought him along, given that for all Arthur knows, he’s both useless and helpless, but he’s glad Arthur did, especially when Merlin sidles up to him en route and says, “I’m going to need a minute or two alone with the giant bird.”
Lancelot nods. “I’ll do what I can to help,” he says.
“Thanks,” Merlin says, throwing him a smile.
Before he can say anything else, Arthur calls his name from farther up the path. Merlin gives Lancelot a quick eye-roll that does nothing to hide his fond look at the sound of Arthur’s voice, then trots up the path to Arthur’s side.
A couple hours’ ride later, they arrive at the valley the farm woman said was the beast’s home. (Actually, she’d said it was where the beast went to “gnaw on the bones of its victims.” Lancelot shudders. Parts of the farm woman’s description had been unnecessarily vivid.)
Arthur raises a hand, and they all stop a little ways away from the entrance to the valley.
“Leon, Gwaine, and I will go around to the other side of the valley and pin the beast in,” Arthur says. “Percival, Elyan, Lancelot, don’t let it through down here. And don’t let it get anywhere near Merlin. We attack on my signal.”
“Yes, sire,” the knights chorus, as Arthur, Leon, and Gwaine break off to head through the woods.
“How about I just go back to that stream back there, out of your way?” Merlin suggests, as soon as Arthur is out of earshot. “I saw some herbs I could pick.”
“Good idea,” Lancelot says promptly. “We don’t want you anywhere near this fight.”
Merlin beams at him and makes a good show of walking away from the beast.
Unfortunately, not two minutes later, it’s impossible to ignore him crashing through the forest as he jogs directly towards the beast, his bright neckerchief clearly visible through the trees.
“Er,” Lancelot says. “He must have… gotten lost. I’ll go catch him.”
“I’ll go,” Elyan says, putting a hand on Lancelot’s chest to stop him from going after Merlin. “I’m faster.”
“The beast is twice your size,” Percival says, grabbing both their shoulders. “You don’t stand a chance. I’ll go.”
“I’m perfectly capable of protecting Merlin,” Lancelot argues, wiggling away from the both of them and turning back to where Merlin was.
And no longer is. He’s completely out of sight.
“Huh,” Percival says. “He probably turned around.”
“I’m sure he’s safely at the stream,” Lancelot agrees.
“Right,” Elyan says. “Merlin knows better than to run towards danger.”
Lancelot would be glad they all agree, but… they definitely all agreed a little too easily. He looks surreptitiously at Elyan and Percival, and finds both of them trying to look surreptitiously back at him. Are they all looking surreptitiously at each other for the same reason?
Finally, Elyan says, “I’m just going to say it.”
Percival sighs with relief.
“You’re both extremely unconcerned for Merlin’s safety, so I assume you both know he’s a sorcerer?” Elyan asks.
“Oh, good,” Percival says. “Does everyone know?”
“No, not everyone knows, and Arthur can’t find out!” Lancelot says. “How did you two find out, anyways?”
“He stopped three arrows that were headed for me,” Percival says. “Saved my life.”
“Gwen told me.” Elyan pauses, then adds, “Although, I would’ve still figured it out eventually, if she hadn’t. He’s not very subtle.”
Proving this point, there’s a loud crash and then furious squawking from the valley up ahead, where the beast is. Merlin’s voice can be heard yelling something in an unfamiliar language. Lancelot winces.
“He’s trying his best,” Lancelot says, as they draw their swords and hurry towards the noise.
“You don’t really think Arthur would hurt him, though?” Percival asks. “Arthur loves him.”
“Arthur loves Gwen, too, and he still helped arrest our father so he could be executed for using magic,” Elyan reminds him. “Lancelot is right; Arthur can’t know. Nor Leon; he’s far too loyal to Arthur.”
“Agreed,” Lancelot says. “Leon can never find out.”
*
Mere days later, Lancelot winces as he watches Leon watch Merlin perform a miracle. A few minutes ago, they'd been attacked by bandits, and Arthur had taken an unlucky strike to the gut. Most of the knights are still fighting back a few stragglers, but Leon and Lancelot came back for Arthur just in time to see Merlin kneel over him.
Under Merlin's glowing hands, their almost-dead king's skin is fusing itself back together, stopping the profuse bleeding and completing a month's worth of healing in just a few moments. Leon's eyes are wide. Although they're across the road from Merlin and Arthur, there's no chance he didn't see the telltale way Merlin's eyes were glowing.
Lancelot tries it anyway. “Looks like Arthur wasn’t really that injured after all!”
Leon gives him a cutting look that clearly asks, How unobservant do you think I am?
“Looks like Merlin’s gotten better at healing,” Leon says.
Lancelot blinks in surprise at Leon’s lack of surprise. “You already knew, too?”
“Doesn’t everyone?” Leon asks. “Except Arthur, of course.”
“Apparently so.” Lancelot studies Leon, trying to figure him out. “I would have thought you’d tell Arthur as soon as you figured it out. Out of all of us, you’re the most loyal to him.”
“That’s exactly why I’m not going to tell him,” Leon says. “Arthur would be dead a dozen times over by now without Merlin. I don’t see how telling Arthur would help my king or my country. And it certainly wouldn’t help my friend.” He nods at Merlin, who’s finishing up his healing spell and starting to look around to make sure nobody saw what he just did.
Leon and Lancelot duck down into the ditch beside the road before Merlin can spot them watching him.
“On Merlin’s behalf, thank you,” Lancelot says, quietly, as they crouch in the dirt.
“I think we’re the ones who owe him thanks,” Leon says. He points down the road, where it bends out of sight into some trees. “Now, if we head down there, we can come out and pretend we didn’t see anything.”
By the time they sneak around and get back to the clearing where Merlin and Arthur are, Lancelot is pretty sure there are more bandits lying on the ground than there used to be. Leon shakes his head at the small pile of bandits with no visible marks to explain why they’re unconscious.
“Oh, good, you’re both all right,” Merlin says when he sees them. He’s still kneeling over Arthur, clinging to one of Arthur’s hands. “I think Arthur’s more stunned than anything.”
“Yes, it looked like it was just a glancing blow,” Lancelot says helpfully, and Merlin sends him a grateful look.
Arthur chooses that moment to start making characteristically grumpy waking-up noises. Merlin quickly lets go of the hand he’s holding, putting it back at Arthur’s side.
“Up and at ‘em, lazy daisy,” he says softly and so affectionately it makes Lancelot feel like he’s intruding just by listening to it.
Arthur groans. “I’m going to fire you if you keep calling me that,” he mumbles. “What happened?”
“Oh, the usual,” Merlin says. “The knights took care of everything while you had yourself a wee nap.”
“No casualties,” Leon adds, his gaze on the road where the rest of the knights are heading towards them.
“I thought…” Arthur puts his hand to his chest, where the sword that ran through him had been, and then turns his stunned eyes to Merlin. “Am I…?”
“You’re fine,” Merlin says. His eyes are sparkling with unshed tears, but if Arthur notices, he doesn’t comment. “You’re just fine.”
*
Now that Lancelot realizes all of Arthur’s closest knights have found out about Merlin’s magic on their own, he’s increasingly worried about Arthur. How is he the only one not to notice, when he spends by far the most time with Merlin? And is Merlin in more or less danger now that more people know? Maybe with all the knights trying to distract him from Merlin’s escapades, they’ll help keep the secret… or maybe now that they’ve begun talking amongst themselves about Merlin’s powers, they’ll slip up in front of Arthur.
Lancelot is getting increasingly nervous about it until Arthur stuns them all with an offhand comment after training one afternoon.
“That shield ought to be replaced, sire,” Leon says, nodding to Arthur’s dented shield. Percival grins sheepishly; he’d landed a rather strong blow on it.
Arthur inspects the damage with a grimace, then decides, “No, I like this one. I’ll leave it with Merlin and see if it magically gets repaired.”
Everyone tenses.
“I don’t think even Merlin can fix that,” Elyan says, managing to sound much more casual than Lancelot thinks he could right now.
Arthur smiles. “He has his ways.”
Lancelot’s heart is in his throat; does Arthur already know? But then – why hasn’t he told Merlin he knows? Is he all right with it or not?
Gwaine’s glaring at Arthur. Lancelot puts a hand on his arm, trying to stop him from confronting Arthur until they can figure out more about what’s going on, but Gwaine demands angrily, “What exactly are you implying?”
Arthur raises his eyebrows. “You know.” He looks around at them. “You all do know, don’t you?”
“Know what, sire?” Elyan asks.
Arthur looks around at them all incredulously, as if he can’t believe they don’t know. Except then he takes in how tense they all are, and how everyone has placed their hands on their weapons, and his expression changes.
“I’m not going to hurt him!” Arthur says indignantly. “I know he’s a sorcerer; I’ve known for ages. It’s fine. You can all stop being menacing now.”
“I don’t think I will,” Gwaine drawls.
“I’m not going to punish him!” Arthur says. “He has my blessing.”
“Why haven’t you told Merlin that?” Lancelot demands.
“Merlin knows that,” Arthur says, like it’s obvious.
“No, he doesn’t,” Lancelot says.
“He must,” Arthur says. “He uses his magic to clean my rooms. He heals my bruises every time he takes my armour off. He’s saved my life at least a dozen times. He can’t think I wouldn’t notice.”
“That’s exactly what he thinks. He thinks you’ve never seen anything he’s done for you, and more than that, he’s scared you’d hate him if you knew.” Lancelot can hear his own voice getting louder and angrier. He should rein it in, because he’s talking to his king, but he remembers Merlin’s tears all those times that Lancelot has heard him mention his fears, and he’s mad. Arthur could’ve fixed it at any point with just a few words. “I know because I’ve talked to him about this. With all due respect, sire, why the hell haven’t you?”
“I – I thought he just didn’t want to talk about it,” Arthur says. “I genuinely thought he knew. He – he doesn’t think I’ll kill him, does he?”
“Your own laws say you will,” Elyan points out. His arms are crossed, his eyes hard. “He has to assume it’s a possibility.”
“I – ” Arthur falters for a long moment. Then he squares his shoulders. “I’m going to find Merlin and clear this up. If any of you see him first, tell him to come find me.”
Gwaine raises a facetious hand. “Are you sure that’s a good idea, sire? You could give him a heart attack.”
“I think I know how to talk to my own damn best friend,” Arthur snaps, and stalks away.
Gwaine looks around at the remaining knights. “We all noted the irony there, right?”
*
Lancelot ends up being the one to find Merlin. He isn’t looking for him, because he figures Arthur actually can handle this conversation on his own, but he just happens to see him down a castle hallway. He calls for Merlin to wait, then hurries to catch up with him.
“Arthur’s looking for you,” Lancelot tells him.
“What does he want now?” Merlin asks.
Ah. Should Lancelot be the one to tell him? Yes, maybe that’s best, so that Merlin doesn’t panic.
“He knows. About your magic. About all of it. I didn’t tell him,” Lancelot adds quickly, because Merlin is starting to look very betrayed. “He figured it out by himself.”
Merlin has gone worryingly pale. Lancelot reaches out to put a hand on his shoulder, but before he can reassure Merlin that it’s fine, they both startle at a loud clattering noise from behind Lancelot. He turns to see that it’s just a couple of guards who’d come around the corner too fast. One is recovering from tripping over a suit of armour while the other one laughs at him. Lancelot rolls his eyes and turns back to Merlin.
Or, rather, to where Merlin was. Because he’s gone.
Lancelot hurriedly replays their conversation and realizes he didn’t convey the extremely key concept that Arthur is fine with the magic. Shit.