A/N: This chapter contains some depiction that might resemble light racism. I only included it because I felt medieval times WERE racist and it was odd casting Guinevere with Angel Coulby (though I approve! She's so pretty!) This is by no means my point of view; I just wanted the characters to feel a little more realistic.

What Dwells Between Heaven and Earth

Castle Guest

Entering the castle was even more difficult than entering Camelot itself. The guards here refused to give Merlin leeway, even when he tried to use the argument that allowed him passage earlier in the day. He was tense and on edge. Camelot was different. Sorcerers were feared everywhere, but never so completely that they should be completely outlawed. His village had been wary but friendly despite the caution, and at the very least he had not feared for his life, so long as he kept his magical use at a minimum.

If this Gaius lived in the very heart of Camelot, could he really help Merlin? His mother had sent Merlin on his way because she was afraid his magic was becoming too powerful, and needed to be trained. She claimed that Gaius could teach him, and so here Merlin came. What if he was walking into a trap?

" Look, if you could just call him up here—"

" Look here, lad. We're guards. We're not messengers. If you were due to arrive in Camelot, the healer ought to have given us word."

Frustrated beyond tolerance, Merlin nearly let loose his magic right there.

" You're not serious!" Exclaimed a feminine voice, and a dark Moorish girl materialized, carrying folded linen. Merlin stared openly at her. He had never seen a Moor. They lived down south, he thought, in a city of water, or even further in another realm. She was dressed in a servant's uniform, her hair tied into a bun. He had no idea moors had hair like that. They were puffy and a mass of curls. Her features might have been beautiful, but at the moment the boy could only focus on her dark skin and strange hair.

" We all know Gaius is too scatterbrained to give anyone word of his visiting." She went on. " I'm on my way to Lady Morgana, but I can ask him to come escort you. What is your name?"

" Merlin Emrys." How he managed to speak at all was probably the power of God.

" Merlin Emrys," The servant nodded, " If you speak the truth, he shall be with you directly." She disappeared before Merlin could thank her.

" Bah!" The guard glared at him. " Behave yourself, boy! The castle gates are no playground. Any tomfoolery and we will throw you in the dungeons!"

Merlin thought wistfully that for all the prestige of Camelot, its cityfolk really were not the most amiable. Perhaps they all noticed he was a peasant farmer from the rural villages. He felt small and lost.

Minutes ticked past. The guards stared at him. Merlin fidgeted awkwardly, adjusting the pack on his back. He was starving, but he dared not move from the spot in case Gaius came along.

After what felt like an eternity, an old, white-haired man clothed in healer's robes emerged from the hall.

" Merlin Emrys?" The man called, looking very much like he was disoriented.

" Ah, yes, that is I." Merlin replied.

The man, who he assumed was Gaius, waved at him with one gnarled hand. " Come along, boy."

Glancing at the guards to confirm that he was allowed, Merlin stepped into the castle.

He had imagined that castles were grand structures, and indeed they were on the outside. Inside, however, it was rather dark and a little damp. There was a clammy feel to the place, despite the relative warmth of the spring season, and few windows to illuminate despite the day. What windows there were sat small and narrow on the walls, allowing light to just peek through. Most of the light came from torches on the walls, though they did little to alleviate the chill. However, all of the walls were nearly covered with tapestries. Glorious colors depicted angels and saints, the birth of Christ and his crucifixion, knights slaying dragons and the coronation of kings. Merlin looked upon them in open wonder. Gaius walked on with his head bowed, muttering to himself.

They came upon a long winding staircase, where Gaius proceeded to climb with a nimbleness surprising in his apparent old age. Merlin, not use to climbing so many stairs, found himself tiring very early on.

" Come along, boy!" The old man snapped. " What good are your young bones for?"

" Yes sir," Merlin gasped, feeling like his legs will soon give out on him. Thankfully, they soon broke off into the hall before he could embarrass himself even more. The level floor was a relief.

" Come along, come along, no time to dawdle. There is much work to be done!"

Some servants passed them. Merlin looked for the Moor. She was not among them. In fact, none of these women were Moors.

Gaius led him into a large room that was cluttered with books. The room smelled like herbs, and indeed, seeds and roots and leaves were stacked in wooden boxes and labeled in the most awful calligraphy Merlin had ever seen. The rugs were filthy and stained. On one table, there was a pile of oranges next to a pile of rine.

" Your room will be over there," Gaius pointed at a door, and Merlin wondered how the old man managed to make his way past the clutter of things on his floor, " You are Hunith's boy, yes? Go on. Don't loiter in the middle of the room. I have things to do, you know."

Merlin wondered where his mother met such a strange fellow. " Yes, sir." He then gingerly picked his way through the room.

" Once you're done unpacking, you might as well be useful. Here's a list of things to fetch for me. You can read, right?"

" Uh…yes, yes I can."

Gaius slapped down a white sheet on top of a flat box filled with herbs. " Get to it when you're done. Hurry up now! Don't just stand there!"

Right. Merlin thought, once more stepping around. This is going to be interesting. Everyone in Camelot seemed so cold. How did the city earn its reputation?

He was already starting to miss home.

ooooo

Arthur made his way back to Camelot just in time to learn that his father was holding court. His first reaction was alarm; Uther usually requested Arthur's presence in the courtroom, and since Arthur had been sneaking out into the city, no doubt Uther would have learned and been most displeased. However, a quick word with his cousin Morgana assured him this was not the case.

" Why would he suddenly hold court like this?" Arthur asked. " And why did he not ask for me?"

Morgana would not know. " I heard something about sorcery. I'm guessing he's holding trial for someone accused of practicing magic. I know nothing about why he never requested for you."

Christ's fuzzy beard! Arthur thought, an apostrophe he made since he was five years old but never dared say out loud. " He knew all along that I was out." He realized. " Why do I even bother trying?" It figured that King Uther would know everything that happened in his castle.

Suddenly, he remembered the youth in the city. Could it be him? He felt a mild curiosity. The boy looked too hapless to be a sorcerer, but it would be interesting if he were. Pity he would die though, but nonetheless, interesting.

" Morgana, can you ask your handmaiden to see who the sorcerer is?"

His cousin blinked at him. " Why?"

" Just curiosity." Arthur turned his nose up.

Morgana gave him a look that suggested she was completely confused. " Ah. Men." She drawled. " Very well, I can't see the harm in satisfying your childish inquisitiveness. Gwen!"

The handmaiden appeared. " My Lady."

Gwen's father was a Moorish blacksmith. He traveled from down south to Camelot and presented his services to the King. Uther liked him, and employed him to make swords for the knights of Camelot. His daughter was allowed to serve Lady Morgana in relative comfort and grace. Arthur always found her a bit disturbing to look at. Camelot was a multicultural center, with Britons and Franks and Germanic folk roaming around in its markets, but even so, Moors were rare and looked so utterly different. Their dark skin and puffy hair and thick lips made them seem barbaric in comparison to the much more refined looking (or so he thought) white folk. Granted, Gwen's mother was white, but that still did not detract from how odd the handmaiden looked to him. He always wondered why Uther would favor Gwen so much that he would allow her to serve his ward. There were plenty of normal-looking white girls to be found, who were much less offensive to his eye.

Nonetheless, Morgana seemed to like her handmaiden, and had never requested a replacement. From what he would occasionally hear from the servants, Gwen was the best seamstress in Camelot, and a very sweet and likeable girl. It was more than he was at all interested in knowing, but it was enough to assure him that despite her odd appearance, the Moor was well-qualified to serve his cousin.

Morgana gave her handmaiden instructions to observe the courtroom. Gwen curtsied and left the royal cousins.

" Really, now," Morgana began, " After so many years, you'd think you'd be use to Gwen."

" I do not see her nearly as often as you do." Arthur pointed out. " Why would God create folks with skin so dark? Are they even human?"

" You do realize that Christ himself would be considered a Moor?" Morgana reminded him.

" Really?" Arthur never paid attention to the Bible. He was always studying or training, and never paid attention to sermons.

" Perhaps you should read more and punch your fellows less." Morgana quipped flatly.

" Not a chance. I'll leave the book-reading to you, dear cousin." After all, you do little else in your endless spare time.

Morgana threw him a dirty look, as if reading his thoughts. When they had been young, the strong-willed Morgana had convinced her way into training with Arthur in combat. Arthur's father put an end to it when Morgana turned fourteen and began to develop a womanly form. She was then forced to abide by more feminine manners, and Morgana harbored a slight resentment toward the King for taking away this bit of freedom. She was comforted with the abundance of books at her disposal, but only slightly, for Camelot looked upon reading with less favor than dragon slaying. No one can slay a dragon by reading a book, after all.

" How can Christ be a Moor? Look at all the tapestries! He's white in all of them!"

" He was a Roman Jew."

" But look at all the tapestries!"

" The tapestries were wrong." Morgana patted him on the shoulder. " I suppose it's just as well that you left the book-reading to me. Someone has to have the wit."

" Oh really! You believe you have wit? I hardly noticed!"

" Focusing as much on fighting as you do, it's a wonder you can even speak properly, let alone notice true wit when it's right in front of you."

Arthur opened his mouth to retort out of habit, but Morgana was tiring of the banter. " Now, you haven't told me what drove you back so soon. I thought you were setting aside this day for terrorizing the civilians of Camelot."

" The way you depict me! I'm surprised if people haven't started thinking that I have three heads with an evil third eye on each and breathe fire out of my mouth!"

" Nay, His Majesty the King would never allow such a freak to roam this fair kingdom. Well? What made you come back?"

" Perhaps I merely missed my dear cousin, and I regretted not being able to spend more time with her."

" That is touching of you. And entirely false. I know you. You are hardly mature enough to be so thoughtful."

" Fine. Perhaps I figured that I would much rather terrorize my cousin than strangers I don't know."

" Equally unlikely, unless you are more daft than I thought. Even if you did sprout two extra heads and spat fire, I would hardly be terrorized by you. Come, you are dodging, and I am dying of curiosity."

" You should not have admitted that. Now I am inclined to keep you in the dark, just to see what happens."

Arthur grinned as Morgana continued pestering him, but kept silence on his part until her handmaiden returned.

" My Lady, Your Highness," She curtsied.

" What have you learned?" Arthur asked.

" The sorcerer on trial is a young man. In his early twenties, I think. Fair brown hair, ivory skin, whose name was Rion. He lived in Camelot since his parents moved here when he was three and normally worked as a tailor. I am…not sure if he really is a sorcerer."

" My father would know." Arthur nodded. " Good work."

So this Rion was definitely not the youth Arthur ran into earlier in the markets. That boy had been fair-skinned, and his hair had been indisputably black. His accent was not that of Camelot, but from the outlying villages. Well. Arthur could not deny feeling rather pleased about this.

" You still did not answer my question." Morgana pressed.

Arthur rose languidly. " It's a wild world out there, my fair cousin. I fear the details shall only bore you. Good day."

" Coward!" Morgana called after him, as he retreated with a grin. " I shall dig it out of you yet!"

ooooo

" Sorry, sir, sorry. I…was just looking for some flasks? Do you happen to know where they are?"

At least the servants in the castle were friendly, or else Merlin's quest to find everything on the list Gaius gave him would have turned into a miserable disaster. The castle was large enough as it was, winding and maze-like. A tour would probably be wasted on him, but he could not help but wish that someone had bothered to give him one nonetheless. At least he might have been able to recognize some familiar corridors. As it was, he was like a blind rat in a tunnel, scuttling around and latching onto any passerby he could spot, hoping for some kindly directions.

Anxious and nervous, he barely managed to avoid tripping over his feet in his distraction as he tried to make sense of his whereabouts. He had no idea, before coming here, that it was possible to build such great structures. The castle seemed to be the work of God. Maybe it was the work of God. Too bad he felt rather far from Heaven right now. Nervous and jumpy, he dearly wished that he had been a little smarter somehow. Maybe if he had more brains, he would not feel so utterly clueless.

Struggling with his load, Merlin decided it was high time to make his way back to Gaius. He could not carry much more anyway, and going back to the eccentric old man would at least inform him that Merlin had not simply been gallivanting around the castle all this time. Seeing a flash of golden hair, he called out, " Excuse me! Pardon me—"

The head turned, and Merlin's eyes widened as he openly gaped. Wasn't he out in the city not too long ago? Did he return? It was the same man that had kicked the beggar earlier. The boy stuttered.

" Pardon me, sir. I didn't mean to disturb you."

An inscrutable look passed over the noble's features. He was a young man, though older than Merlin, with a strong jaw and broad shoulders that made him look tough and impenetrable. To be honest, Merlin had been rather panicky about confronting a noble, and had disappeared as quickly as he could to avoid escalating the situation. Well, aren't you proud of yourself. He had run into the man here, where he was supposed to live.

The noble huffed, a gesture a mix of disdain and amusement. " Where are you off to?"

" Ah…" Merlin blinked. Of all the things he thought this man would say, for some reason this question was not one of them. " Ah…I'm trying to bring this stuff back to Gaius…I don't know how to get there though—I'm a little lost."

" Not a very bright chap, are you?" The noble snorted. " Well, I'm on my way to see him as well. Try to keep up."

For some reason, Merlin sensed he was lying, at least about going to see Gaius. He was not about to pass up the chance to make it back to Gaius without unnecessary detours. Shifting his load, he hurried after the noble's brisk form. They went up some stairs and down some stairs and turned left and right until Merlin thought this noble was simply leading him for fun—but how was he to complain? This was a noble.

The other man did not speak to him as they went, and Merlin kept silent as well. They eventually arrived in a somewhat familiar hall, when suddenly the noble twisted his body and opened the door.

" Gaius!" He called out as he stepped in. " I brought your wayward lackey."

Merlin was too relieved to arrive at his destination to take any sort of defense. " Sir," He called out, " I brought only some of the things on the list, but I'll head out to get the rest."

" Do you need me to lead you to them again?" The noble asked scornfully.

" Your Highness!" Gaius exclaimed from carrying yet another load of books to the floor, " Ah, pardon me, Your Highness."

Your Highness? Merlin stared at the noble. Or Prince. This was Prince Arthur. He cursed in his head.

The prince slid onto a chair and propped his feet on the books that littered the table in front of him.

" Well?" He demanded as Gaius stood meekly. " Aren't you going to introduce me to him?" He waved at Merlin. " What peasant did you pull into the castle today, healer?"