AN: Happy Merlin Monday, your regular posting day for the next 47 weeks.
Merlin stumbled back into the cave and struggled up the stairs till he got to his room. He had been able to drop the illusion before he made it back to the citadel, but the spell was far more exhausting than he had let on. As it was, he firmly planted his face onto his bed and that was how Sir William found him an hour later.
He gently roused Merlin with a shake. "I know you are exhausted but Arthur will be wanting his lunch soon."
Merlin groaned. "One of these days, I'm going to give it to him from the comfort of my own bed."
"One day maybe, but if anyone saw a tray floating through the castle now, sleep would not be the only thing you would lose."
Merlin rolled his eyes at the poor attempt at levity and left the room. He truly didn't mind waiting on Arthur. It had taken some time, but the two had formed a fast friendship. Along the way, both had matured, although if you asked Merlin, he would say Arthur had changed the most.
With a good-natured greeting to Audrey, the head of the kitchens, Merlin lifted the lunch tray already prepared over his head and maneuvered his way back out of the crowded area. Dodging the other servants come to fetch lunch for their masters, he turned a corner and entered the servant's area of the castle. The stairways might be narrower, the walls more bare, but it allowed him to arrive in Arthur's chambers five minutes faster than he would've otherwise.
He opened the servant's door with his hip and found Arthur staring out the window. Sensing the mood, he set down the food quietly. He said nothing.
"Sometimes I wonder if this is the only way, Merlin," Arthur spoke without turning from the view of the city square. "Must they die in such a horrific way? They were silent, but something in their eyes..." He paused. "It's probably just my imagination." Turning from the window, he strode to the table. "What's for lunch today?"
Perhaps if he'd looked Merlin in the eyes, he would have noticed the same look he saw in the eyes of the druids he witnessed burning. Perhaps they would have spoken about it.
Merlin plastered a smile on his face. "Only the best for his royal highness."
Now, Arthur looked up at him with raised eyebrows. "A slice of ham and a roll is what you consider the best?" He sniffed his goblet. "And water?"
"There are fresh strawberries, too, if you look closely," Merlin teased.
"Ah yes, very filling."
"Well, you do have training with the knights in twenty minutes and your father requested that you join him for an early supper. I know you wouldn't want to be too full from lunch and have to turn down all of the good food."
"Oh, so you admit that this food isn't the best?"
"I said no such thing. Any food fit to grace your plate is good food." Merlin finished laying out Arthur's chainmail. "But if you don't want it..."
"Nice try, Merlin." Arthur stabbed an especially big piece of ham and slowly raised it to his mouth, savouring it sedately.
Merlin only shook his head. "I trust you can get ready for training by yourself. William had another shipment of books come in yesterday, and he'd like me to sort them. Then, I need to take your dogs out. I'll send someone to collect the tray from you."
Arthur nodded and waved his hand, gesturing for Merlin to get on with his own duties.
Merlin nodded in return and left with the basket of Arthur's laundry to drop off. Really, William didn't need him to sort the books, but at least three books were for him–books of sorcery from distant lands where magic had evolved differently. He had just finished picking up the basis of archaic French, and he was looking forward to setting aside an afternoon to study one new book in particular. On the History of Forest Magic in France was the translated title. He knew not all of it would be useful, not every plant grew in Albion, but perhaps he would learn something that the druids did not know. He would have the chance to teach them something for once.
However, as he walked through the silence of the library, putting each new book in its proper place and adding it to the catalogue, his mind was free to wander. Last year, he had nearly been caught sneaking just one druid out of Camelot. The guards had noticed the escape sooner than he'd thought and had mobilized a search party before they had gotten far enough away.
The hobbled gait of the druid had slowed them down, but thankfully the druid had known a place to hide nearby and used some camouflage magic. The dogs had found them, but Merlin had them trained long ago to listen to him.
At the time, it had seemed wiser to eliminate the searching altogether; no one would look for druids escaping if they thought they were watching them burn. And yet, what did this do to the image of the druid community? The citizens of Camelot watched them burn and die without a word of protest. Maybe it made them look complacent, resigned to their fate, as if they accepted that having magic made them guilty. But even Arthur was starting to show doubts about the burning. Surely the people of Camelot might also be persuaded that escape was better.
He sighed, sliding the last book into place. He would ask Lancelot later. For now, he had dogs to play with.
