Gaius had seen it as his duty to take the child in. An orphan with no other relatives, all but abandoned in a village filled with families who could not afford to raise another youngster – it broke Gaius's heart to see those wide, innocent eyes staring up at him, not quite comprehending what was happening, but all the same filled with infinite sadness.

He had only met Merlin once before, not long after his birth. He had been a scrawny thin little thing then, though Gaius wasn't in the least surprised that he had grown into an adorable six-year-old. He was very like his mother, he realised with a pang of regret. He had by his age accepted the cold fact of death's existence, but he wished Hunith hadn't been taken away by it so early on. He wished she hadn't left behind this poor little child. He wondered if he knew enough about infants to be able to care for him.

Merlin had left Ealdor in silence. He had been invited to say goodbye to the people, and he had received numerous hugs and small presents from his fellow-villagers, but he didn't speak to any of them, instead clinging to Gaius's hand and looking as if he wanted nothing better than to escape.

A few days later, they had arrived in Camelot: Merlin's new home.

Merlin was naturally exhausted from the long ride, and Gaius carried him into the city as he fell into a light sleep. The chatter of the crowds did not seem to awaken him, nor did the bells tolling the hour. No, his eyes flickered open only when the sound of drums came to them from the courtyard before the castle.

'What's that?' he asked sleepily.

'It's drums,' Gaius said, unwilling to elaborate. 'They won't go on for long. Don't worry.'

'Why are they drumming?' Merlin said.

Damn it all, if he wasn't one of those children who questioned everything. '...Practice,' Gaius lied. He was very conscious of the fact that he wasn't a very good liar.

His eyes flashed towards the courtyard. There was a rather large crowd gathered in there, so large that he couldn't see the executioner. He glanced back down at Merlin. The boy had automatically followed the physician's gaze, and it was probably a good job that he couldn't see anything.

'Is the drum practice popular?' Merlin asked in the naïvest fashion.

'Very,' replied Gaius.

'Can we go and see it?'

'We haven't got time,' Gaius said hurriedly. 'Let's get you home.'

And he shepherded the boy through one of the servants' entrances to the castles, and headed towards his quarters. Merlin, at once forgetting his fascination with the "drum practice" (which could still be heard, very faintly, through the thick castle walls), stopped to stare at every tapestry that adorned the walls, and insisted on looking through every window. He also stared at all of the people who walked by, for which Gaius scolded him, because it was a little rude: but the physician did not blame him for it, because he had probably never seen anywhere quite like Camelot.

At last they came to the quarters, and Gaius, opening the door, apologised a little for the mess and the dust. Merlin did not seem to mind. His eyes widened further, and he looked almost exhilarated by the little room in which he now found himself. It was, in truth, a fascinating chamber – stacked with books, equipment, tables, papers; shelves filled with little phials and bottles; and the assorted smells that permeated the air lent it a decidedly mystical feel. Merlin at once hurried towards the centre of the room; Gaius went to hold him back, but it was too late – the boy's footsteps had caused the table to tremble, and a large flask was dislodged from its (admittedly unsteady) position at the top of a stack of papers.

Gaius threw himself forwards to catch it, but he wasn't near enough. Just as he feared that it would smash on the floor, scattering its precious contents, there was a strange sort of bolt of energy and the bottle halted in midair.

It was impossible to describe what had just happened. He had felt something – and now the bottle was hovering a foot or so above the floorboards. It was only when he had caught his breath that he noticed that Merlin was still holding his arm out.

'Merlin...' Gaius said at last.

Startled, Merlin drew back his arm. The flask seemed to hesitate for half a second, before crashing to the ground and breaking. But Gaius did not notice the liquid beginning to seep into the wood. His eyes were firmly on Merlin, who shrank back all of a sudden from this attention.

'I'm sorry!' cried Merlin then, and looked as if he might burst into tears. 'I didn't mean to knock it off. I didn't touch it.'

'I know you didn't,' Gaius said softly. He wasn't going to scold the boy, not whilst he was still recovering from his mother's death, not whilst he was still adapting to such a dramatic change of circumstances. 'Don't worry about the bottle for now... but what was it that you just did?'

'Nothing,' Merlin said instantly.

'You had your arm out; you stopped the bottle from falling –'

'Wasn't me,' Merlin said, in a sulky sort of fashion. There was still a lingering fear in those piercing eyes.

'Merlin, when your mother said that you were special –'

'I'm not special!' Merlin cried. 'I'm dull and ordinary and normal and I like it that way!'

With that he turned on his heel and went to sit on the steps at the back of the room, huddled in the alcove and out of Gaius's line of sight. The physician stared at him, filled with a great pity, and very slowly and carefully went to him and slipped his arm around his shoulders.

'Merlin, what's wrong?' he murmured.

'I want to be normal,' sniffed Merlin from somewhere within his jacket.

'Merlin, nobody is normal,' Gaius assured him. 'Everyone's different. You must realise that.'

'Being different is horrible,' said Merlin. 'People talk about you when you're not there. People think you're strange. People are scared of you.'

Gaius's brow furrowed. He didn't know in the slightest where to start. He knew what Merlin had done – he hardly dared to pronounce its name. Magic. The very word, spoken loud enough, would probably bring guards running to the quarters.

'Merlin, you mustn't do what you did in front of anyone else,' Gaius said then.

'I can't help it,' Merlin replied, in something akin to despair. 'And if it is fine to be different, why shouldn't I show it?'

'Because...' and here Gaius hesitated. 'Because what you did, your skill, your... magic is illegal in Camelot. You would be arrested, and... and punished.'

Merlin's frightened eyes at last looked up at Gaius. They gave him the appearance of some shy wild animal that has been cornered. 'Why are you not arresting me?' he said at last.

'Because,' and Gaius faltered, thrown a little by this question. 'Because you're my son now, and a father cannot betray his son like that.'

'My father,' Merlin choked out.

And a great expression of gratitude, gratitude he couldn't place and couldn't put into words, came onto his face then. He stood, slowly, wiping his tears away, and staring at Gaius. The old physician smiled down at him. This, then, was the beginning of a new era, for both of them, and it would be as well to start it on a positive note.

Therefore Gaius threw his arms around Merlin, and Merlin clung tightly to Gaius, and neither of them let go for a long while. The drumming from outside had long since stopped. The smell of baking came to them from somewhere below these quarters. The sun had begun to set in a blaze of glorious colour, and all was serene.

Once they broke apart from the embrace, all fear, all sadness, all anxiety was lost, and they were as father and son; Gaius smiled, and Merlin beamed all of a sudden, and his grin was infectious and rather beautiful.

'Father, I'm hungry,' he said at once, and Gaius burst out laughing. He really rather liked this child already, and would be glad to call him his son.