Hi, thank you for clicking on this :) there is an important AN at the end of this chapter.
"Merlin!" Arthur yelled in frustration.
It was early evening, the dull autumn light flooding through the window half illuminating the scene: A King, stood up from his chair and glaring at a young man crouching by the edge of the table, which held several plates of untouched food.
The manservant hurriedly collected together the jagged shards of clay that had, until that moment, been the King's favourite ornamental bowl.
"Sorry..." he muttered, looking closely at the floor for any more shrapnel. "It was ugly anyway."
Perhaps it wasn't the most sensible thing to say, but the warlock had never been known as one for holding his tongue, and murmured it under his breath anyway.
Blue eyes hardened from annoyance to fury. "What did you say?" The king's tone was dangerous, and Merlin swallowed nervously, having obviously meant for the last part to go unheard.
Arthur strode over, his stance threatening. "That was a wedding gift from Gwenevere, you idiot!"
The boy hissed in a breath through his teeth, staring at the broken pottery pieces in his hands in realisation. It wasn't as if he had meant to knock the bowl over... "Couldn't you just –"
Arthur glared at his manservant in fury, but the boy wasn't cowered. "Get a new one?" he finished, delicately.
"Get out!"
It had been a normal day in Camelot. No crazy revenge driven sorcerers, no distant lords with sinister intentions, no sign of Morgana. No green apples for breakfast (there currently a mysterious shortage - it was Gwaine's fault, he was sure of it). Though he would never admit it, Merlin wasn't at all regretful he had broken the bowl, not if it meant Arthur sent him away earlier than usual.
It had been a particularly ugly piece of pottery, and he wouldn't be surprised if Gwen had originally bought it for Arthur as a joke. In any case, if she had liked it there was no way the queen would have placed it so close to the edge of the table- knowing full well it was only a matter of days before anything placed on that surface – or any flat surface at waist height – would swiftly find itself having an intimate encounter with the floor.
Gwen wouldn't be angry – would she?
His reflections were interrupted by a distraction in the shape of Sir Gwaine (the notorious apple thief himself) heading toward him wearing wet, mud splattered armour and a rather disgruntled expression. Merlin felt a wave of sympathy.
"Back from training?"
His friend nodded, looking surly. "Leon made me do extra laps."
Merlin couldn't say he was surprised; Gwaine usually turned up to training sessions late, and considerably hung over – if not blind drunk –but the extra laps that Leon had now regularly began to enforce did nothing to lighten the knight's heavy drinking habits.
"Maybe you should try turning up in time tomorrow?"
He'd known it was hopeless before his friend replied. "Not a chance. I'm heading straight to the tavern to drown my sorrows. Care to join me?"
Perhaps it was the smirk on Gwaine's face, or perhaps it was the knowledge (and suspiciously fuzzy memories) of what happened last time he went drinking with the knight. Whichever the reason, Merlin did not feel any way inclined to join his friend. "Not a chance, Gwaine."
Anyway, he was supposed to be careful when drinking – what would happen if he'd had too much, and accidently gave away his secret? Made the chairs levitate for fun, or the tankards do a jig across the table top? It was too horrifying to be considered.
So, ignoring Sir Gwaine's insanely heart-wrenching puppy dog eyes, Merlin headed straight on to his chambers.
He was greeted by the sight of Gaius, standing in the kitchen area and spooning something delicious smelling into two wooden bowls. The boy unwittingly made a sound of appreciation, catching his mentor's attention.
"Merlin! You're back early." In Merlin's opinion, he didn't need to sound so surprised – though he'd admit it wasn't often he was back in time to have his dinner hot. Or have any dinner at all.
He decided it would be for the best if he left out the gory details. "Arthur sent me away." No need to mention the bowl for now. He had no doubt he'd receive a lecture from his mentor – he usually did when he broke things – and tonight, he was just too tired.
A day of chores; fetching meals, cleaning chambers, polishing armour, washing Arthur's dirty undergarments (shudder), mucking out the stables (which wasn't even his job, but his master seemed to enjoy the way Merlin always came back covered in horse dung), drawing a bath of freezing water to wash off the horse dung, not to mention that he had been up at dawn that morning to collect herbs for Gaius's supplies, had left the poor manservant feeling completely exhausted.
Add that to constantly being on the lookout for magical threats, which there had been a suspicious lack of lately. Not wishing to be lulled into a false sense of security, Merlin remained on high alert, reaching out with his magic a couple of times a day in order to sense any disturbance.
With a weary sigh, he plonked himself ungracefully onto the hard wooden bench. No wonder he was dead on his feet! He did the work of three men, one of which was in secret.
Before long a steaming bowl of – was that stew? – had appeared under his nose. Despite the deceivingly good smell, dinner usually looked (and tasted) like Gaius didn't quite know what he was making. Though having tasted some of Gaius's other herbal work – those horrors known as 'medicinal remedies' – Merlin couldn't be anything but grateful.
Gaius took the seat across from him, but didn't attempt to make conversation; seeming to notice Merlin wasn't up to it.
The boy lent over the bowl, only a little hesitant. It did smell good, even if the grey tinted, aqueous substance looked a little wasn't sure what the lumpy hunks of meat swimming in a watery juice were exactly, but a lot of the time with Gaius it was better not to ask. He'd never forget that time with the newt legs.
A quick thank you, and Merlin tucked in, head close to the bowl. It was hot, and soothing – if a little squidgy – and the warlock soon found himself relaxing. With each mouthful his head tipped further and further towards the table... he was so tired...
The first thing Merlin noticed was the pain. It was both familiar and unfamiliar – there had never been this much of it before. His chest, his back – especially his back – his neck, his shoulder – every inch of him stung and ached. What on earth had happened? Merlin tried to open his eyes but they must have been glued shut for all the good his efforts did.
At first he thought he was dead. The pain, it felt like hell. And the smell of blood, the feel of it running, freely, down his arms and legs and –
"Merlin!" Gaius was shaking him gently by the shoulder.
The boy's eyes flew open with a shudder, and he took in his surroundings. He was sitting at the table in Gaius's quarters; dim lit falling through the single window. His mentor was looking at him with an amused expression, with swiftly morphed into confusion, and then concern.
A glance at his arms showed they were blood free. The pain was gone – but the memory wasn't, and he pressed his hand against his back semi-consciously, feeling the scar where the serket had thrust it's poisonous sting.
"My boy?"
Just a dream.
"Sorry Gaius," Merlin began, batting away his mentor's hands before they could start a prodding inspection. "Just a nightmare."
The old man nodded sympathetically. To his charge, nightmares were nothing new. "Do you want a sleeping draught?"
Merlin considered this for a moment, then shook his head. "Don't worry. Goodnight, Gaius."
He turned and climbed the steps to his chambers, as the old man sat back down, staring deep into his meal but making no attempt to eat.
The warlock didn't sleep well that night. He was tired enough, but every time he started to slip into unconsciousness he would jolt awake again, magic pulsing through his veins as though in response to something, though there was nothing there.
At several points he must have fallen asleep, though only for minutes, or perhaps even seconds. Each time, the consuming pain from his previous dream was back, and he fell back into the world quickly.
Just a quick word on the cover picture - it's a quick sketch that I did myself (as you can see I'm really not artistically talented), which will be replaced by a version with the tie/lining of the robes in the correct house colour once Merlin has been sorted. I didn't want to give away any spoilers ;)
I'd really like it if people suggested ideas. If you'd like this to be a more Camelot centred/Hogwarts centred (or equally centred) fic then let me know and I'll take it into consideration. If there's anything you'd like to see the characters get up to, PM or review, and I'll see what I can do :)
Annie xx