Chapter Three
Merlin was sitting at the old rickety wooden table with Gaius - the court physician, and also his mentor - eating dinner, when Gwen poked her head into the room.
"Merlin, I think you need to come with me," was all she said before she left again, obviously expecting him to follow.
Merlin sighed at the never-ending disturbances that filled his every day in Camelot. He sent Gaius a look, which the old man returned with the ever-present raise of his brow. Only the two of them knew how tirelessly Merlin worked to keep Camelot running smoothly. The kingdom had a tendency of drawing trouble from beyond its borders - and sometimes even from inside them - which had much to do with the laws it imposed.
Magic had been outlawed in Camelot for more than two decades, and conspiring with the acts of sorcery was a crime punishable by death. King Uther had implemented this decree after the birth of his son, Arthur, and subsequently the death of his beloved Queen, Ygraine. The Great Purge brought with it not only an era without magic, but the eradication of the hundreds who practiced it. As well as - for the unfortunate ones - those unfairly judged.
Many enemies of Camelot arose in the subsequent years, to no one's surprise, and Merlin had found his place - not only as Prince Arthur's manservant, but also as defender of Camelot. He fought against the magical foes who desired harm upon Arthur and his kingdom with magic of his own.
Yes, he did see the irony of this. Yes, he did realize that this made him something of an idiot. Of course, he understood that if he got caught, he'd be readily executed without a spared thought to his heroic deeds. But after these reflections, came the thoughts of destiny, of a new age with a united Albion, a land of tomorrow where magic users might roam free and without fear. And once he was content that he'd given these maudlin and most obvious rationalizations enough attention, he would recognize his true reason, the most important one.
This was, of course, that he could not bear to see harm come to Arthur.
And so he risked his neck day in and day out, all to protect Arthur and their shared destiny, without an ounce of recognition for his troubles, and only Gaius to share with the truth.
Well, him and Lancelot.
And the dragon.
But Merlin didn't like to mention the dragon.
Merlin excused himself with a nod and grudgingly followed Gwen out into the hall, where she was waiting a few paces away. She gave him a grim look, but didn't spare a word as she led him into the town. Merlin really oughtn't have been surprised when she stopped in front of The Rising Sun, Camelot's most well-known tavern/inn.
She gestured irritably towards the doors, muttered firmly, "Gwaine," and turned on her heel, leaving without a second glance.
Merlin sighed and hung his head. When did this become his life? Nothing ever happened in Ealdor, his home town, like it did in Camelot.
He hesitantly made his way in, conscious of the racket and the sharp stench of alcohol. And to think that Arthur really believed he came here all those times he'd gone missing when he'd really been trying to save his unappreciative arse.
When he found Gwaine, flushed and practically hanging off of some guy's shoulders, he frowned and went over to him. However, a man, who Merlin recognized as the owner, stopped him in his path.
"You know him?" he growled, motioning to where Gwaine stood limply, laughing loudly at something his fellow patron was saying.
Merlin swallowed, but nodded. "Yeah, he's... my friend."
The owner grumbled and shoved a piece of parchment into his hands. Merlin's eyes widened at the incredibly long list of alcoholic beverages Gwaine had apparently bought. "You drank all this?" he demanded, turning to Gwaine.
Gwaine grinned, "With some help from my new friends!" He waved, and Merlin looked behind him to see many more people raising up their tankards.
"Yeah!"
"He says he hasn't got any money." Merlin looked back to the owner as the man grabbed him by the front of his tunic, roughly pushing him so he had to stand on his toes. He thought briefly how unfair it was that the man was even able to do this, seeing as he was at least a head-length shorter than Merlin. "So it looks like you'll have to pay."
Merlin sputtered indignantly. "Wh- I can't afford this!"
He tried not to breath in through his nose as the man bared his teeth close to his face. "You better find someone who can."
He forcefully released his grip on Merlin and shoved him back. Gwaine chuckled as he stumbled, and Merlin glared at him only to watch as the rugged man faltered and fell to his arse. He kept his grin and the other patrons laughed, but Merlin only rolled his eyes.
He smiled innocently when he caught the owner glaring menacingly at him.
It was dark out by the time Merlin, supporting Gwaine, lumbered into his bedroom and deposited the intoxicated man onto his bed.
"You're the best friend I've ever had," Gwaine murmured drunkenly, collapsing onto the pillow.
"You seem to have quite a few," Merlin said.
Gwaine let out a chuckle, and Merlin couldn't help joining in. The night had been rather amusing, if one neglected the fact that Merlin was the one who would have to deal with the consequences - Arthur - in the morning.
"Oh, I'd love to see Arthur's face when he gets that bill," Gwaine continued, still smiling that ridiculous smile.
Merlin sobered. "Right," he said. "What is it with you and nobles?"
"Oh, nothing."
Merlin stared pointedly.
Gwaine sighed in clear exasperation. "Look, my father... he and my mother and my copious brothers... Well, I had a very noble and wealthy family, I suppose." He looked away. "But... I didn't much feel like I fit in there. A bunch of lying, cheating bastards, the lot of them," he explained gruffly. "'Cept... maybe not Gareth," he mumbled. "He gave me this," he said, pulling at the necklace round his neck, and Merlin leaned forward to see the silver charm he was indicating, "... before I left."
Merlin swallowed and leaned back at the choked emotion in Gwaine's voice as he muttered these words.
"Arthur... Arthur's not like that," he tried, after a long pause in which he didn't know what to say.
Gwaine snorted. "Maybe," he said, "but none of them are worth dying for, huh?" He clasped Merlin's shoulder and laughed again, before he fell back too quickly and bonked his head on the wall. "Oof." Gwaine brought a hand to the back of his head, but obviously found this as amusing as anything else, because he started laughing again.
Merlin managed to grin and chuckle a bit, but he was still caught up on Gwaine's last words.
"... None of them are worth dying for, huh?"
This made Merlin think of Arthur, of his fine blond strands of hair that gleamed gold in the sun, and his brilliant blue eyes that always appeared alive and that glowed with the passion of his every emotion. He thought of his belting laughter and his private smiles, his curious gazes when he thought Merlin wasn't looking, and the fondness in them he always tried to hide.
He thought about how much Arthur cared for his kingdom and her people, about the lengths he was willing to go for anyone he cared about. He thought about his cockiness and his righteous anger, his flaws and everything that would make him the greatest king to ever rule in all of Albion.
And thinking of Arthur, he knew that he disagreed with Gwaine's statement.
He had already known that he would die for Arthur should such an incident ever present itself. He had been risking himself and all that he was for Arthur ever since he'd first stepped foot into Camelot.
Arthur was worth that, and so much more.
Arthur was also an entitled prat of royal proportions, thought Merlin the next morning.
He entered Arthur's chambers with tray laden with breakfast fit for a prince, and began, "Sorry. I know I'm late."
Arthur sat behind his desk, wearing his favorite red tunic, Merlin noticed, as well as a small frown. His elbow rested on the arm of his chair, and his hand was brought to his lips as he watched Merlin set down the tray, staring contemplatively.
"Not at all," he said. Nothing more was forthcoming.
"Um, good," Merlin said hesitantly as Arthur watched him.
He turned around, making his way over to Arthur's very large bed, and Arthur spoke once more. "Sure you're all right?" he asked. "You're not sick, unsteady, about to burst into song?"
Merlin wasn't sure if he should be amused or not. "No, why?" he asked as he pulled up Arthur's sheets and began to make up the bed.
He was fiddling with the sheets when he heard the crackle of paper and looked up. His heart immediately sank at the familiar piece of parchment that Arthur held.
It was the same one from yesterday, the one that Merlin had snuck onto his desk as he'd readied the prince for bed the night before.
"14 quarts of mead," Arthur began, and Merlin groaned miserably, making his way back around the bed. "3 flagons of wine, 5 quarts of cider - "
"I can explain."
"4 dozen pickled eggs."
"That was Gwaine."
Arthur looked up from the parchment, unimpressed, so Merlin continued. "He went to the tavern, and he couldn't pay for it."
"So you said I would," Arthur said flatly. It wasn't quite a question, but Merlin answered anyway.
"Mm. You know, if I hadn't, that innkeeper... he would've strung us both up."
Arthur blinked. "I fail to see the downside."
Merlin shrugged, turned away. "You said he should be given anything he needed."
"4 dozen pickled eggs?!" Arthur shouted, and Merlin made himself turn back to face him.
"I'm sorry," he said, then started to nod decisively. "I'll pay for it."
Arthur glared, leaned forward in his chair until it squeaked, and tossed the sheet of parchment. It twirled in the air for a moment until it settled in some of the strawberries on top the tray.
"You most certainly will."
"Arthur is a thoroughbred little braggart."
"Why?"
"For making us do this."
"I think it's fair," Merlin admitted.
"For the entire army?" Gwaine demanded, gesturing to the long line of boots in front of them in need of some polishing.
Merlin paused in his scrubbing and considered his point. "If you admitted that your father's a noble, you wouldn't have to," he reminded after a moment.
"Maybe," Gwaine said. "But I'm not interested in being put in with that lot," he continued. "And if there's one thing I've learned from having to live with all them, it's that titles don't mean anything." He patted Merlin's knee with his brush, rather more roughly than was strictly necessary. Merlin grimaced. "It's what's inside that counts," he finished.
"Ow," Merlin deadpanned.
Gwaine only smiled, turning back to the boots in his hands.
"So..."
Gwaine raised an eyebrow but didn't look up. "So."
Merlin huffed, but couldn't contain his smile. "So... your leg's almost completely healed up," he said eventually, motioning to where Gwaine's bandaged wound was hidden by his trousers.
"Yep," Gwaine drawled.
Merlin sighed, making clear his exasperation with the man who was turning out to be something of a friend. "What are you going to do now?" he asked, intending to sound a bit more curious and a little less hopeful than he really was. He wasn't sure he succeeded.
Gwaine pursed his lips and said nothing for a moment. Then he shrugged, and said, "Don't know yet."
Merlin tilted his head and scrubbed with more force than was needed, trying to come up with some way to convince the man to stay in Camelot. He suddenly had an idea, and looked up.
"Hey, Gwaine?"
"Hmm?"
Merlin grinned almost impossibly widely. "How do you feel about hammers?"
Gwaine looked up abruptly, slightly alarmed. "What? Why?"
"This is Gwen's family forge," Merlin announced, gesturing widely to the small establishment in front of them. "I believe you've met her?" he added quickly, unsure, but willing to believe so if she had known to come to Merlin after Gwaine's little tavern incident.
Gwaine, for his part, grimaced out a smile. "I've met her," he said. "Not entirely sure what she thought of me, though."
Merlin chuckled. "Well, her brother, Elyan, owns it now." He paused, looking down and swallowing the lump in his throat. "It used to belong to their father, Tom, but he's passed on, and now Elyan could use some help running the place."
Gwaine's eyebrows shot up, nearly to his hairline. "Are you suggesting I work here, Merlin?"
Merlin scrunched up his face and fidgeted with the hem of his tunic. "Well, yeah, I guess... you know, if you needed something to do, or... or, um, a reason to stay?" he finished awkwardly, his voice going oddly high-pitched. He cleared his throat. "Or maybe if you wanted to make some coin. Or something."
Well done, Merlin, he thought, wincing inwardly.
Gwaine was clearly amused, if the small grin on his face and the shine to his brown eyes were anything to go by. "I suppose I could check it out, meet this Elyan fellow," he agreed at last.
Merlin let out the long breath he'd been holding in relief, then tried to hide it with a cough and some unintelligible mumbling.
"Right," he said, and made his way to the door in the back. The anvil and slack tub and other such tools were out in the open, shaded under a wooden roof, but the living quarters were behind that, where both Elyan and Gwen usually slept.
He knocked, and waited politely with Gwaine behind him, who was gazing with interest at the tools and metals that were displayed. It only just occurred to him, of course, after a moment of waiting, that Elyan might not even be home.
Fortunately, the door opened a second later, and a familiar figure leaned outside. "Merlin!" Elyan exclaimed with a smile, clasping both hands to his shoulders and squeezing. "It's good to see you my friend," he said, then glanced behind him to Gwaine. He turned back to Merlin curiously. "Anything I can help you with?"
"Yes, actually," Merlin said, and pulled back slightly so Gwaine could come forward. "Elyan, this is Gwaine," he introduced. "Gwaine - Elyan."
The two men smiled politely and shook hands. "How do you do?" Gwaine asked, once they released their grips.
"Fine, thank you. And yourself?"
Gwaine shrugged, and grinned what Merlin was coming to think of as his trademark grin. "I've been better."
Merlin quickly stepped in. "Gwaine's just come to Camelot," he explained.
Elyan nodded in recognition. "Yes, my sister mentioned you."
"Only good things, I hope?"
Elyan laughed jovially. "Oh, of course. Well, come on in, I've just made some meat pies for Gwen and myself, but I don't think she'll be coming round this evening."
Elyan stepped aside so there was room for Merlin and Gwaine to pile inside, and Merlin almost wilted at the wonderful aroma permeating from the near the tabletop. "Are you sure?" he asked, more to be civil than out of any desire turn down free food, as he was already sitting down at the table with Gwaine right behind him.
"Positive," Elyan said with a quirk of his lips. "Let me just get the water jug and a couple more cups."
Once they'd all settled at the table, they dug in, Merlin automatically pouring the water into their cups. Gwaine stuffed one of the pies almost entirely into his mouth, barely chewing before swallowing. Merlin rolled his eyes, amused.
"So, what brings you here anyway?" Elyan asked when everyone's mouths were no longer so full of hot goodness. The man sipped at his water some to cool his mouth, and Merlin noticed his eyes watering a bit from eating too quickly.
Merlin knew the feeling.
He cleared his throat, and said, "Gwaine here is going to be staying in Camelot for awhile," he looked at the man in question, who nodded his agreement, "and I thought he could use a job. Then I remembered that you were looking for some help with things around the forge. So..." he trailed off, gesturing with his hand.
Elyan was nodding, thankfully, obviously understanding his point. "I think that'd be a brilliant idea," he said enthusiastically. He turned to Gwaine, "You know anything about smithing?"
Gwaine briefly glanced to Merlin before smiling broadly. "How hard could it be?"
Elyan grinned so wide at this, Merlin was sure his cheeks must've hurt. "Just you wait," he said with a wink.
Merlin took that as the promise it was, anticipating Gwaine's first day on the job more than he had looked forward to anything for a long while. He laughed loudly with Elyan as Gwaine's smile faltered, and he took on a slightly more confused expression.
He thought, for the moment at least, that he was rather glad he already had the roles of manservant to the prince and assistant to the court physician. He certainly didn't envy Gwaine in this.
