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Merlin had thought about what to say, on that inevitable day that Arthur discovered his magic. He had planned speech after speech, and imagined countless scenarios, from being immediately run through with a sword to just kind of… bolting away. He had always planned, vaguely, on telling Arthur, or at least someday him knowing the truth.
But now, at the actual thing, the justifications, all the plans he had made for some future where magic could be free, built up behind his teeth, and crowded his tongue. With his luck, he was going to end up saying something like, “Me… born… me… magic-y? By the way I’ve killed a lot of people,” and then get immediately murdered by a bunch of knights.
They, being the Knights of the Round Table, stood, staring at Merlin in various states of surprise. It had been a rockslide of all things, tumbling down on them from above in a narrow passageway. It would have killed all of them, and so Merlin hadn’t thought, and he’d pushed the rocks away.
No one spoke, and so Merlin, standing far enough apart from the rest of them that the gold in his eyes and the obvious magical shove were impossible to miss, panicked slightly.
“What in the world!” he shouted, pointing. “Was that magic? Who did that!”
… good one, Merlin.
“Are you serious?” Arthur asked. “We all clearly saw you, you fopdoodle.”
“Fopdoodle?” Merlin repeated, outraged.
Lancelot, helpful as ever, came to Merlin’s side and clapped a protective hand on his shoulder. “It couldn’t have been Merlin, sire. I heard no spell being encanted.”
“Yeah!” Merlin said, having dug himself into this hole, and, apparently, he was going to keep digging.
Arthur’s eyes narrowed. “Merlin,” he said tightly, and he came forward.
Lancelot stepped in front of Merlin, feet planted.
“Lancelot, what in the world do you think you’re doing?” Arthur asked.
“Well, sire, that depends entirely on what you do next,” said Lancelot, respectful but serious. Merlin felt his throat go tight, as it often did when he was reminded of the depths of Lancelot’s friendship.
Arthur’s face scrunched in confusion, and turned back to look at the rest of the knights as if to say what is he on about? but apparently was not greeted with the reaction he wanted. Merlin peered out further from behind Lancelot’s broad back; Gwaine had his hand on his sword. He couldn’t see the others.
“Oh, come on!” Arthur said, his turn to be miffed. “I’m not going to hurt Merlin. It’s Merlin!” He spun again. “You know that, right, Merlin?”
Merlin shuffled slightly further out.
“Lance is right,” Gwaine said loyally. “There wasn’t any spell. What were you feeling when you did it, Merls?”
“I didn’t—”
“Allegedly did it?”
“Scared?” Merlin guessed, absolutely perplexed.
“See,” Gwaine said. “It was just an instinct. A reflex. Like a sneeze.”
“Are you suggesting,” said Arthur, “That my manservant just sneezed magic, completely by accident?”
“Yeah,” Gwaine said.
“No!” Merlin insisted stubbornly.
Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose. “If it were going to happen to anyone, I guess it would happen to Merlin.”
Merlin still looked exceedingly pale as Arthur dragged him into Gaius’ chambers, having convinced his traitorous knights, with much reluctance, to finally leave them alone.
“Arthur, come on,” Merlin said, struggling. “It’s a big misunderstanding! I’m sure!”
Finally they reached the chambers, and Arthur was able to relinquish his grip on his servant, who was surprisingly wiry and could be very squirmy when he wanted to. Merlin glared, and Gaius looked up from his work in surprise.
“Gaius,” Arthur announced, “Is it possible for someone to have magic and not know about it?”
Gaius blanched as dramatically as Merlin had earlier. “Sire?” he asked carefully.
“Merlin did magic earlier, by accident,” Arthur said, ignoring Merlin’s hisses to shut up! “I need to know if that’s possible.”
Gaius looked at Merlin for a long moment; Merlin looked helplessly back. Finally Gaius sighed. “In some cases, your highness, certainly. It has been known, when magic was free, for people to be simply born with such abilities. Morgana was one of them. Perhaps you remember her visions? But, Arthur, I’m certain, Merlin—”
Arthur held up a hand, trying to pretend his world hadn’t just been absolutely flipped upside-down. “Someone can be born with magic?” He had always assumed Morgana had started learning, and it had led to her downfall, but…
“Yes,” Gaius said. He had drawn Merlin over to stand beside him, but unlike with Lancelot, Merlin hadn’t let Gaius stand in front of him. Arthur was offended, and then, in the very next instant, kind of sad.
“Fine,” Arthur sighed, rolling his eyes.
“W— fine?” Merlin said.
“Are your ears as broken as the rest of you? Fine. There’s no need to get your little petticoats in a twist, Merlin. I know you’re scared of magic, but between us, the knights, and Gaius, I’m sure we can figure out how to handle a sudden appearance of magic in you.”
“Excuse me?” Merlin said.
“There’s no need to be scared,” Arthur said, looking slightly to the left of Merlin so he didn’t have to acknowledge that they were now talking about Emotions. “We’ll work on your little… sneezing problem.” He rolled his eyes, trying to get Merlin to go with the program. “I can’t believe you found out you had magic because of some rocks. Don’t you think the Dragon attack might have been a better time?”
Merlin and Gaius gaped.
Arthur scowled. As usual, he suspected he hadn’t quite handled the interaction perfectly, but had no idea what else he could have done differently. “And Merlin, clean the stables!” He stomped out.
From inside, he heard Gaius start to yell at Merlin. Arthur nodded, pleased with himself. Well, there. He hadn’t done so badly after all.
“You had to make the comparison to Morgana, right now, in this exact moment?” Merlin asked Gaius.
“Yes, because that is the big issue here,” Gaius said.
Merlin came in to get Arthur ready the next morning— a task made much easier since Gwen’s maidservant had taken to waking them both up and bringing in breakfast before Merlin even got there— and barely made it in through the door.
“Boo!” Gwen said, jumping out at him.
Merlin made a noise rather like a stepped-on cat, or maybe Arthur when Merlin jabbed him in the side when he put his arms up for his armor. “Gwen!” he said, stumbling and only narrowly managing to avoid braining himself on the side of the door. “Why?” he added, plaintively, when he caught sight of her amused but vaguely guilty face.
“Sorry, Merlin. I just wanted to see if you’d, you know, sneeze.”
Merlin sighed deeply. Sometimes he wondered how Arthur had tricked a woman like Gwen into falling in love with him. Other times, he remembered that Gwen and Arthur were more alike than they were different.
“And what were you expecting to actually happen if I did sneeze on you?” Merlin said. “You wanted to get thrown into the wall, Gwen? Did you want to be turned into a toad?”
Gwen grinned. “I suppose I didn’t think it through very carefully. Sorry.”
Arthur scoffed. He was across the room, at his desk, which definitely meant that he’d seen Gwen there and decided not to say anything. “You do remember you’re talking about Merlin, right? He couldn’t hurt a fly, even if he tried. Which he wouldn’t. He’d cry.”
“And you!” Merlin said, swiveling to him. “You told Gwen about the— mishap— in the forest? You told the knights yesterday not to tell anyone else!"
“Yes, well, she’s my wife,” Arthur said. “She’s not anyone."
“Oh, I’m not, am I?” And now Arthur found himself the subject of two irate glares.
“I—” Arthur took the better part of valor. “Guinivere, you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met.”
“Uh-huh.”
Arthur was hopeless. Merlin went to begin his duties for the day.
He had imagined this day coming many times. What he had never imagined, though, was everyone being so stupid about it.
Possibly that was his fault. He hadn’t actually meant to play dumb. It was just that if you did it so many times, it started to become a force of habit. At least that was his story, and he was sticking to it. The other option was, after all, that he really was just not that smart sometimes.
Merlin set out Arthur’s clothes for the day, only to be thanked by a what do you think you’re doing, Mer-lin? in that tone of Arthur’s he especially hated.
“I had assumed you wouldn’t want to do your duties naked,” Merlin said. “Or in your nightclothes. But please do correct me if I’m wrong.”
Gwen had been going to her adjoining chamber to get ready for the day herself; she snorted.
“I mean, you ought to be putting out my hunting clothes,” Arthur said.
“We just went hunting yesterday!” Merlin protested.
“Yes,” Arthur said, as if speaking to a child. “Where you sneezed, which was worrying and terrifying for us all. So we’re going hunting again. So you can figure out how to sneeze without anyone finding out this time.”
Merlin stared.
“Well, hop to it!”
Merlin put a hand to his forehead, wondering if, just maybe, being burned at the stake wouldn’t have been less painful.
“I really don’t think this is a good idea,” Merlin said.
“You ought to have more self-esteem, Merls!” Gwaine said. “Don’t worry. We won’t let you hurt yourself.”
“Wow,” Merlin said, “Thanks.”
“We’ll start small,” cajoled Elyan.
Lancelot was the only one of them smart enough to stand far, far back. “Sire,” he called to Arthur. He had to cup his hands around his mouth a little. “Don’t you think that, of all of us, it’s really Merlin who knows the most about this?”
Merlin could see the rusty cart-wheels in Arthur’s mind determinedly spinning this around. It was probably painful for him. “No,” Arthur said at last. “He’s useless. If anyone needs our help with magic, it’s Merlin.”
“Don’t worry, Merlin,” Percival said. “It’s only one tree. All you need to do is try to hit it.”
“I can’t—”
Gwaine, seemingly too happy to do so, shouted “BLESS YOU!” suddenly, jolting at Merlin to startle him.
Merlin, magic and confusion and bewilderment and a weird kind of hope already building up under his skin, was indeed startled. He flinched heavily, and the tree at the end of the clearing exploded, shrapnel taking out the two trees beside it as well.
Everyone stared.
“Hell of a sneeze…” said Arthur.
“You made me do it!” Merlin said. “You can’t execute me for this!”
“I am not going to— will you shut up about that?!” Arthur said. “Go on. See if you can do it again.”
“I do not want to,” said Merlin.
“You have to learn to control your magic,” said Arthur, slowly and condescendingly. “Otherwise your little whoops with the rockslide will happen again. You are not a subtle man, Merlin.”
“You’d be surprised,” muttered Merlin under his breath.
“What?”
“Fine, I’ll blow up another tree for you. Don’t know what you’ve got against trees anyway.”
“Wait!” Leon said. “Only, we were thinking maybe we could put some bets on what happens next…?”
“I don’t think so—” Merlin said dubiously.
“I want in,” Lancelot said. He gave Merlin a look as if to indicate a sharing of the profits. Well, it would pay for all the ale he would need to drink after this.
Merlin sighed. “Fine.”
Merlin had called off using trees as targets on account of it wasn’t a fair fight. That was really just a Merlin excuse, and, for a moment, Arthur wished it was Leon who’d suddenly developed magic instead. The man was steadfast, loyal, and didn’t chase butterflies. Then he was horrified at the idea of wishing magic on anyone, and made himself feel better by bothering Merlin some more.
There were so many little tree splinters around now that Arthur was seriously starting to consider sending someone down here to collect all the wood. Surely they could make furniture, or something, or whatever it was tradesmen did.
Merlin had picked up a piece and was starting to whittle, sulking. He had sat down on the ground and didn’t seem like he was going to get up again any time soon.
“We just need to play to your strengths,” Arthur said, trying to calm him down. “I mean, all right, I suppose you’re all right at destroying trees. But that’s not really you, is it?”
“It isn’t?” Merlin said dubiously.
Lancelot was tucking huge amounts of gold into his purse, looking smug with himself. He said, “You’re gentle.”
“Is that a compliment or not?” Merlin said. He finished whittling and handed it to Elyan. Elyan peered at it and snorted, then hid it away when Arthur tried to get a closer look. Arthur narrowed his eyes.
“We need to start you off slower, possibly,” Arthur said. Truthfully he had started to feel a little faint when Merlin had, apparently effortlessly, started to destroy the trees. After a few tries he was able to do it without being startled and/or coerced, and had just shoved a hand at them and they’d exploded. So he imagined that if he was feeling that way, Merlin was probably about a thousand times more scared. “More in your skill set. You like flowers, don’t you, Merlin?”
“Yes…”
“Okay, just. I don’t know. Grow one.”
Merlin gave him a baleful look.
“You can do it, mate!” Gwaine said encouragingly.
“I think that’s something you probably need a spell for,” Merlin said. “Too bad you and your father killed everyone who might know that spell. Oh well, we can go back to Camelot now.”
“Just sneeze one up,” Arthur said.
“If you magically know how to use magic, maybe you also magically know spells,” Lancelot said. “You know. Intrinsically.”
“That’s too big a word for him,” Arthur said.
Merlin showed his knowledge of a smaller, four-letter word, and sighed. He picked up another bit of wood and looked critically at it. Then he cupped it into his hand, and whispered something.
His eyes flashed gold, which was still utterly unnerving, but starting to be less and less so.
Merlin put the piece back on the ground, dug it into the soil a bit, and scooted back. The knights had gathered around unwittingly, shoulders pressed close and full of fascination. As they watched, the wood sprouted, a little tiny sprig of green coming up.
“Did you grow a tree?” Arthur asked.
“I think so,” Merlin said, poking at it. It grew a few more inches, then, thankfully, stopped. He looked pleased with himself. “I haven’t done that one before. I didn’t know I could do that.”
“That’s amazing, Merlin!” Percival said. “You’re already getting better at this.”
“Yeah, leaps and bounds,” said Merlin, sulkily. There was no gratitude in that man at all.
Arthur was a most excellent teacher.
Okay, so Merlin was taking advantage of the situation. Just a little.
Well, what else was he supposed to do? After a whole life of hiding his magic and a couple more years of watching pyres be erected, the freedom to be slightly creative with his magic was just too tempting.
He and Gwen and Arthur were in the market. This was mostly, so far as Merlin could tell, so Gwen could keep up with the common people and so Arthur could make Merlin carry as many things he could get away with before Gwen noticed and yelled at him.
“Oh, Guinevere, you simply must have a new fur cloak,” Arthur said, piling an extremely heavy one into Merlin’s arms. “Winter is coming, you know.”
Gwen gave him a sweet smile as Arthur paid the merchant and Merlin stumbled under the new weight.
As they walked away, Merlin discreetly turned his head into the crook of his arm and faked a sneeze to cover the gold in his eyes. A pot dangling from a holder on a nearby stall swung as if in the wind and clanged Arthur soundly on the head.
He held his forehead and swore; Gwen’s eyes danced with laughter, but she clucked obligingly and checked Arthur’s head for bumps. He was pronounced well (by Gwen) and a girl’s petticoat (by Merlin), and they made it two whole steps away before Arthur stopped in his tracks.
“You—!” he said. “You sneezed!”
“Yes, your highness, and you didn’t even say bless you,” Merlin said sorrowfully, shifting the load in his arms.
“No, I mean you sneezed,” Arthur said.
Merlin felt his lips twitch.
“Merlin, you did!” Gwen said, delighted. “I’d never have known!”
Merlin let his smile totally loose. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, because there’s nothing illegal about a sneeze, which, by the way, I wouldn’t have felt the need to do if I wasn’t carrying a hundred pounds of junk.”
“I can’t believe this,” Arthur said, miffed, rubbing his forehead. “You are abusing your privileges, Merlin.”
“That’s really rich coming from you,” Merlin said, beaming.
“Well, he’s right, Arthur, you’ve totally overloaded him,” Gwen clicked, helping Merlin with one or two of the packages. “Honestly, you’re lucky he hasn’t tried to turn you into something horrible by now, or kill you in your sleep.”
“He’s lucky I don’t hit him in the forehead with my sword for that stunt,” Arthur said, flicking Merlin hard in the same spot the pot had hit Arthur. Sore loser.
“I still don’t know what stunt you mean, sire,” Merlin said innocently, then turned his head to the side and sneezed again.
A covering flew off one of the stalls and blanketed Arthur’s whole head, and while Arthur was swearing and trying to get it off, Merlin ran away with Gwen, laughing.
Maybe the worst thing about the whole new situation with his magic: it was way harder to trick Arthur while using it. He resigned himself to losing at dice a little more often, and, maybe, cutting back on the number of times he made Arthur’s trousers magically give him a wedgie.
But not eliminating the practice entirely, of course.
Someone had to keep Arthur humble.
It was another hunting trip— this one not a cover for magic, just a cover for leaving the castle, where a certain bill about grain storage had been so hotly contested over the Round Table that someone had actually tried to lunge across it.
Merlin had set the fire and the stew for the night going, and now was entertaining the knights. Gwaine had invented a game where Merlin magically juggled various items the knights threw at him, taking care to keep all the items in the air no matter what strange things they threw next.
“Hello, sire,” Lancelot said, sitting next to Arthur at the fire.
Arthur nodded at him, grinning as Percival threw several flowers into the mix and Merlin began weaving them into a flower crown midair.
“Do you not think, sire, with a talent such as Merlin’s, he deserves more training than we can help him with?” Lancelot said. “Not that the Round Table knights are not… enthusiastic about the task.”
They looked over. Gwaine was trying to convince Merlin it would be very interesting and not at all disastrous if he threw the contents of a waterskin into the juggling mix.
Arthur saw what he meant, except for Lancelot would never use words like idiots or cabbage-between-the-ears, which was essentially what Arthur was thinking.
When Arthur thought about it, it must have been kind of sad for Merlin, that he could only perform his magic when he was completely sure it was safe. Either locked up in the castle behind barred doors, or out here in the woods only with people he was sure he could trust.
No wonder sorcerers felt like magic was a dark, hurtful thing, when they were only allowed to practice it in the shadows. Out here in the light, Merlin looked perfectly content and happy.
“Merlin knows only what of his own history survived the Purge,” Lancelot said. “There are few spellbooks left in Camelot.”
It was something Merlin had said before, but Arthur had never thought too deeply about it. He frowned.
“Do you think it’s lonely having magic?” he asked, and immediately regretted it, only partially because he knew it made him sound like a prat. “I mean for Merlin.”
“Yes,” Lancelot said.
“Oh,” Arthur said. “Well, we’re teaching him to control it. He doesn’t have to be scared about his power.”
Gwaine splashed the water, despite protests, into the circle of floating objects. Merlin coalesced the water into a ball and flung it back at Gwaine, hitting him directly in the face. There was peals of laughter from the knights, and Elyan giggled so hard he fell over.
“I don’t know much about magic,” Gwen told Merlin. They were sitting side-by-side in her and Arthur’s chambers, mending.
“Don’t ask me to conjure you a flask of never-ending ale. I already told Gwaine no on that one,” Merlin said, grinning.
“No, it’s just that it must be very frightening to suddenly have this big, strange power.”
“Are we talking about you, or me?” Merlin asked. He knew transitioning from serving girl to queen had been hard for her, harder than she’d tell Arthur.
She jostled his shoulder. “You, Merlin.”
“It’s not so frightening. Not in all ways.”
Gwen smiled. “I know Arthur is trying to get you to channel it into fighting and big deeds,” she said. “Don’t you think you’d learn to like your magic more if you used it to… I don’t know, do you think you can make something beautiful, Merlin? I’d like to help you learn that.”
Merlin felt his eyes crease up at the corners.
When Arthur came in, and he saw Gwen and Merlin chasing a group of spectral butterflies, glowing all shades of the rainbow, he quickly shut the door. He watched Gwen spin around in a riot of wings and glittery after-trails, and a whole group of butterflies land in Merlin’s hair.
He had a weird look on his face.
“I know, I know, it’s dangerous,” Merlin said, laughing. “I’ll stop soon. But it seems a shame to dismiss them immediately. I didn’t even know I could do this!”
“Oh, Arthur, come and dance with me,” Gwen said. “You can nearly feel their wings, come!”
Merlin grinned as Arthur, helpless as always to his wife, came over and let a couple butterflies land on him.
Merlin came back from his week with the Druids looking exceedingly pleased with himself, with flowers in his hair.
“How did it go?” asked Arthur. “Lots of things to teach you?”
“Uh-huh, yeah,” Merlin said. “Like… loads.”
“Please don’t tell me all you did for an entire week was drink Druid wine.”
“They have feasts there too, did you know that?”
“Great,” Arthur said, flicking him on one oversized ear. “I had to deal with George for a week and you didn’t even do anything productive.”
“Yes I did,” Merlin said, sounding wounded.
“Tell me one single spell you learned,” Arthur demanded imperiously.
Merlin’s slightly hungover look creased.
“Ah-hah!” Arthur said. “You didn’t learn anything.”
“I’m just trying to think of one, I mean, they taught me so many…” Merlin said.
“Nothing,” Arthur emphasized.
Merlin glared. Arthur waved a hand at him, like, get on with it. Unenthusiastically, Merlin twirled his fingers. His eyes flared. In his other hand appeared a shiny ruby the size of his fist. “Ta-da,” Merlin said dispassionately. “There’s a spell. Can I go get a headache remedy from Gaius? I did, um, a lot of magic while I was there.”
Arthur rolled his eyes, but released him from his clutches.
He was pretty proud of himself. A good plan, sending Merlin to the Druids. Presumably it had taken them a while to warm up to him, but it seemed they had made fast friends.
Merlin arrived late to knight training. This was one of the things in life he didn’t consider that important to get right. “What if,” he said.
“Uh-oh,” said Arthur.
“Oh, ha-ha,” Merlin said. The knights were taking a water break, and they began to gather around, looking curious. Anything to get out of getting hit with big swords, he supposed. “What if someone asked me to help them with magical means? And that they couldn’t be helped otherwise?”
“Like how?” asked Gwaine.
“Like as in one of the Druids you sent me to learn from needs some help clearing the water in her well from disease,” Merlin said. “That can’t be a crime, right? Or the crimes cancel each other out? Because I wasn’t supposed to be doing magic in the first place, and she wasn’t supposed to, like, exist.”
“It’s fine for a Druid to exist,” Arthur said, sounding exasperated.
“I’m not certain that’s right, sire,” Lancelot said. Merlin really loved him. “After all, they were subjected to constant raids and massacres due to their existence. And for many years it was illegal to harbor a Druid or anyone associated with them. Also, if I remember correctly, under your father’s reign there was an edict that no one was to help a Druid child be born.”
“Please lighten up for once, Lance,” said Gwaine.
Arthur coughed like he did when he was uncomfortable. “Merlin, why are you asking me this?”
“I guess maybe I’m telling you that I’m going to go help a Druid with her water supply,” Merlin said. It felt kind of nice to be honest. Merlin had been doing exactly this sort of thing for a very long time, only usually the only acknowledgement he got of it was an intervention that he was going to the tavern too much.
“That is not how the master-manservant relationship works, Merlin,” Arthur said.
Merlin shrugged, and slanted a grin.
“All right, fine,” Arthur said. “But you're not making a habit of it.”
“Would I do that?” said Merlin, innocent.
Arthur walked into his chambers, and almost walked out immediately. “Merlin!”
“What?” asked Merlin. Sometimes it was difficult for Arthur to tell when Merlin was being an oblivious idiot versus when he was being purposely annoying.
“You are the laziest man I've ever met,” Arthur informed him. “Are you doing your chores with magic? That's horrible.”
“The Druids advised that regular use may help me become more precise with my magic. And eventually more powerful. I’m not sure if that part is true.”
That didn't make up for Arthur's clothes folding themselves into his drawers. He had to wear those later. Now he was going to be thinking about them moving all on their own while they were around his sensitive bits.
“It's no excuse,” Arthur said. “It's dangerous.”
“Being born with magic is dangerous,” Merlin said, like he was reminding him of a very obvious fact. “This is not new.”
Him saying that made Arthur feel weird somehow, so he slugged him in the shoulder.
“Besides,” Merlin said. “You know you give me too many chores? A stablehand and a manservant and a dinner waiter and a gentleman-in-waiting and a hunting attendant and a cleaner are all different roles, yes?”
“Well, you managed to get things done without magic before this,” Arthur said haughtily.
“Uh,” Merlin said. “Still!”
It was, actually, strange to see how much more comfortable with his magic Merlin had gotten over the last short while. The shirts were still folding themselves and tucking gently into their places. Merlin’s eyes were burning softly gold, but he was also, by hand, organizing Arthur's desk of papers and ledgers.
It wasn't just the increased control— very deliberate and not at all like a sneeze— but also something new. Confidence, or something like… being more settled. He didn't look scared, like he had the first few times he'd done magic in front of Arthur.
He was good at this, which Arthur realized was an absurd statement to say when talking about Merlin and anything.
It must have been terrible to be afraid of yourself.
“Whatever,” Arthur said. “You can use magic on some of your chores. Some!” He added when Merlin’s eyes lit up. “We wouldn’t want you getting too soft, after all. And just don’t do it where anyone can see!”
“Well, people notice a lot less than you’d think,” Merlin said, looking amused. Arthur squinted suspiciously at him— had he been using magic in front of people? No, surely not; Merlin was really, really terrible at keeping secrets. He’d be caught instantly.
“You realize that now you have no excuses for not finishing your chores?” Arthur shot back.
It didn’t have the effect he wanted. Rather than looking chastened, Merlin beamed, all big and bright.
Later, Arthur asked Leon, “Do I give Merlin too much work to do?”
“Yes, sire.”
Arthur scoffed. “Oh, who asked you?”
In the woods, Merlin was being dragged along on yet another awful hunting trip with only Arthur’s sparkling company.
“You seriously moan and whine all the time,” Arthur told him. “Some men would find it an honor to go hunting with their king.”
“Some men are not as smart as I am,” Merlin said.
“Oh hilarious, Merlin, don’t strain yourself thinking of other quips like that,” Arthur said.
There was a clatter of brush further up in the treeline.
They both immediately stopped bickering and peered guardedly into the foliage. Arthur stepped slightly in front of Merlin. The leaves continued to rustle and crack. At the last moment, Merlin threw an arm out in front of Arthur to stop him drawing his sword.
Even as Arthur squawked in protest, the leaves drew apart and two children came stumbling out, dirty but apparently not hurt.
They were Druid children, which was kind of obvious by their manner of dress and the triskele on one of their arms, but mostly by the way they had been excitedly chattering in Merlin’s head since they had realized he was there.
“Emrys!” one of them cried in excitement.
Merlin tried not to twitch. “Are you all right?” he accepted it as one of them attempted to clamber up him like a tall, lanky tree. It was apparently partially for comfort and a tiny bit for fun. “Where is the rest of your camp?”
The evil knights attacked! We all scattered so that we could get away but me and Karlah—
“Out loud, please,” Merlin said. “This is King Arthur. He can’t hear you.” Mentally, he added, proving he was kind of good at irony, And please don’t mention the Once And Future King thing. He’s shy.
The other child had attached herself to Arthur. He was uncomfortably lifting his arm as if it would dislodge her, but instead now she was just dangling with her feet above the ground.
“The evil knights attacked,” repeated the child again with a very Druid patience. “Not the blood-cloaks. Some other group I don’t know. We all ran and me and Karlah got separated but I think almost everyone escaped. We have to go back to the meeting spot now.”
“Ah,” Arthur said. He was apparently going to ask something else but then interrupted himself to ask, “What is a blood-cloak?”
Urgently, Merlin said, Do not answer that. Neither child did.
Arthur glared at Merlin. “You’re Druids?” He said. “And you can… speak in your heads?”
“Duh,” said Karlah.
“And you know Merlin?”
They both gave him unimpressed looks. “Duh?”
Merlin said, “So I’ve been helping the Druids with some other problems. You’re the one who said it was okay.” And then, since Arthur looked like he kind of wanted to kill him but didn’t want to traumatize any children, he added, “The Druids always have a meeting spot in case they need to flee somewhere and find each other again later.” That made Arthur make a face, so Merlin barrelled ahead as usual. “We should probably take them there.”
Arthur said, “Oh, yes. Right. Come along, we will take you to your guardians.”
The kids led the way— Merlin didn’t know this particular clan or their leaders, so he didn’t know their secret spots. But he was pretty sure he’d be able to fake knowing them well enough once they realized he was their prophesied most powerful warlock to ever live. Or whatever. They usually treated him very nicely after that.
Speaking of that worrying possibility, Arthur waited until the kids were slightly ahead and then punched Merlin on the hip.
“Emrys?” he asked.
Merlin pursed his lips. “It’s my secret name,” he said. “I mean I made it up so I would have a secret identity while doing magic stuff.”
Arthur was silent for a moment. “That makes sense,” he said. “That’s actually quite smart of you Merlin, I never would have thought it.”
“That’s me,” Merlin said. “A genius.”
After they returned the children to a group of very grateful Druids (they almost petted Merlin like a dog and were obviously starstruck with Arthur’s presence, simple people they were. They hardly could bring themselves to talk to him.), they returned to Camelot. Arthur rounded up a few knights and they went to rescue a couple of the Druids who had been captured in the raid.
It seemed like the right thing to do.
The Druid leaders had been a little more clear on who had attacked them. The description sounded like a notorious bandit camp to the north. Scouts had already given a rough idea of where it was located, and given the time of year (most bandits would be working the fields; they mostly went out raiding when they actually ran out of crops) it was likely to be a small encampment.
So Arthur and his Round Table knights (and Merlin, of course) snuck up on the camp.
Percival whispered to Merlin curiously, “Can you really speak into people’s minds?”
“Only Druids,” Merlin said, amused.
“Well, how do you know?” Gwaine asked. “Have you ever tried?”
Elyan had a particular soft spot for Druids, though it was well-disguised. He halfheartedly swatted at Gwaine’s shoulder. He could apparently foresee what was about to happen, in which Gwaine would convince Merlin to try and they would make faces at each other for upwards of ten minutes without any magic happening. He cut them off at the pass.“We’re here for a reason, you know.”
“That’s right,” Arthur said. “Merlin, do you think you know enough magic to cause a distraction in the camp? It’s all right if you don’t.”
“I could perhaps muddle through, sire,” Merlin said.
With everyone positioned in a flanking circle around the camp, it turned out that Merlin’s distraction was he swung the cage door open holding the Druid prisoners. Then at the same time a tree on the other end of the clearing exploded.
Ha, certainly due to Arthur’s training.
The bandits swore and generally scrambled to try to figure out what was happening. Merlin got a little too enthusiastic with the magic then, because trees started exploding all across the clearing, sometimes in bursts of fireballs. Most of the bandits just got knocked unconscious from those, and the knights only had to swoop in and disarm them.
It was a useful enough strategy, even if Arthur was mostly sure it was an accident on Merlin’s part.
Arthur let most of the knights do that and he and Gwaine cleaned up with the few swordsmen who decided to fight back. He swiftly dispatched them, and was turning to take a better look around the clearing when he caught sight of a glint of metal in the trees.
A metal-tipped crossbow bolt, lethal and certainly coming straight at him.
Arthur didn’t really have so much as an instant to dodge, and nearly shut his eyes. But then he was glad he didn’t, because a couple inches from his chest, the crossbow bolt stopped in mid-air.
He startled, and heard Eylan yelp, drawing Arthur’s attention despite himself— a second arrow had stopped in front of Elyan, apparently at almost the exact same time. They floated for a moment, rotating gently.
Then both arrows went rocketing back into the forest in two separate directions. There were two thuds, then nothing.
Merlin came tripping out of the trees. “Don’t worry,” he said. “There were only three archers out there. We’re okay now!”
“Did you do that?” Arthur asked, probably more wide-eyed than was dignified.
“Yes,” Merlin said, and frowned at him, then apparently became outraged. “I knocked them out with the broad side of the arrows! They’re not dead! What do you think of me?”
Before he could really start to pout, Gwaine tackled him from the side and lifted him from the waist. “Merlin, my friend, that was amazing! Percival, do you have a crossbow? Shoot an arrow at me!”
“No,” Percival said, at the same time as Lancelot said, “Don’t do that.”
Merlin said, exasperated, “I’m going to go find those Druids who ran away. Because apparently I’m the only one who does any work around here.”
“I just broke up a major bandit camp, Merlin,” Arthur said. “That’s a very kingly thing to do, don’t you think?”
“I don’t think you want me to answer that,” Merlin said. Then he made a gesture with his hand, his eyes flashed gold, and a whole bunch of leaves fell off a tree right onto Arthur’s head.
Then he bolted into the woods. A laugh trailed behind him.
Okay, so he did at least have some sense of self-preservation. Too bad that was not going to stop Arthur from killing him.
Percival kind of sidled up to Merlin. He looked extremely shy. “Do you remember those Druids you rescued the other day?”
Merlin had to actually think about which incident he was talking about. “Oh. Yes?”
“If one wanted to. Court. A Druid girl. How would one. Do that.”
Merlin almost snickered but instead swallowed it down, hard. “Well, you see,” he said. Okay, fine, a little snicker did slip out. Percy didn’t even glare, just gave him a baleful, sad look. “You see, Druids are very peaceful people. And they love nature. So give her flowers?”
Percival said, “I didn’t want to pick her a bouquet, in case she was upset I was killing them…”
So then somehow Merlin found himself tricked into going out to a field and growing, like, a million daisies and luring several songbirds over. It was also improbably sunny and nice that day. The Druid girl Percival brought out for a picnic seemed very impressed.
Although Merlin couldn’t really say if it was because you weren’t supposed to be able to put that much magical energy into the earth without dying, or because Percival had baked his own little tarts.
Actually, later she contacted him with mind-speak to ask if Percival was really interested in her, was he really, and did he like acorns? What about moss?
So good job, Percy, Merlin supposed.
Arthur sat with Gwen in their thrones, waiting for general petitions to start. The citizens of Camelot were gathered outside with various grievances and whatnot, all boring stuff but nevertheless stuff that Arthur had to worry about.
Besides Arthur, Gwen, and two guards on the door who were well out of earshot, it was empty for the moment. Normally Merlin would be there so he could whisper suggestions into Arthur’s ear and bad jokes into Gwen’s. But ever since he had realized he had magic he had become very paranoid about Arthur’s safety.
It was like he saw evil sorcerers around every corner. Arthur was pretty sure it was just him being a girl as usual.
But still he was allowing Merlin to magically scan everyone before they came into the throne room, to make sure they weren’t holding any cursed amulets/poisons/little bug things that might harm either King or Queen. So he, and everyone else, were late because Merlin had to get up on a little balcony or something to do it unobtrusively.
“What are you thinking about, my love?” Gwen asked, reaching for his hand.
“Merlin’s gotten even weirder lately,” Arthur said, deflecting.
“Merlin has always been that weird,” Gwen said. “He’s just finally letting us actually see it. What’s really wrong?”
Arthur huffed a smile. “You know me too well. I’m only thinking… well, I don’t like to think of myself as a hypocrite. And I hope you tell me when I am being one.”
Gwen grinned back. “All the time.”
“Yes, thank you. Well, anyway, it’s about Merlin’s…” he lowered his voice, “Magic. It’s one thing to allow him to use it on my laundry. Yet another to set him to task turning the tide of battle for me, or even to fight back. If I use magic in this way, while it is still banned… doesn’t that mean I am just as bad as they are? All the magic users in the kingdom?”
Gwen squeezed his hand. “Perhaps you are still overthinking it. Perhaps that means instead that they are not so bad at all.”
It was time for Council after that, and there was no more time to speak more of it.
Not then, at least.
But Arthur thought, a lot. (Yes, Merlin, and yes, Guinevere, he could do that.)
Two weeks after the legalization of magic, Merlin cleaned up idly around Arthur’s quarters.
Word was that he wouldn’t be needed for simple servant’s duties much longer— Geoffrey had been researching court sorcerers and had been seen dusting off a really pointy hat with stars on it— but for now, it was what Merlin did.
And he was happy to do it.
The Druids had been officially pardoned last week, and word was that Percival had nearly passed out, asking the Druid girl’s mother if he could formally court her. Sorcerers were very, very slowly starting to trickle back into Camelot.
Yesterday, Merlin had seen a little girl summoning little wisps of light to her hand. Later, with enough practice, enough nourishment, they might become butterflies.
Gwaine was trying to learn magic because he claimed it would be a lot of fun to learn how to light people’s hair on fire. Lancelot was trying to corral him but didn’t seem like he’d been successful thus far.
Magic was legal. Merlin sometimes had to repeat it to himself.
He tidied up as Arthur and Gwen stood up from their lunch-meal.
Arthur was slightly flushed with wine, and Gwen had had her favorite blackberries on the plate. They both looked very happy.
It slipped out without Merlin really meaning to, or thinking about it. He figured that was just about right for this whole situation. “What would you say if I told you I knew I’d had magic slightly longer than what I told you?” Merlin blurted.
Arthur turned slowly to glare. “I would then ask why in the world you didn’t tell me.”
“I’m sorry, do the words pyre and/or beheading mean anything to you?” Merlin said.
Gwen put a gentle hand on his shoulder. “If you told us that, we would say we were sorry, for not making you feel like you were safe with us.”
Arthur slowly began to lose the murderous face and slanted a slightly shamefaced look at Merlin. “You didn’t need to be such a girl about it,” he said, then, gently, “How long did you know? About your magic?”
Merlin busied himself picking up Arthur’s laundry basket, conveniently putting him closer to the door. “Since the day I was born. Okay, bye!”
And he took the moment to sprint from the room.
“Wha— Merlin! MERLIN!”