III.

Despite the detrimental lack of sleep he had received over the past few days and the aches that had taken up residence in his bones, habit dictated that Merlin was awake before sunrise the next morning. Efforts to tame his hair were quickly abandoned when it became clear that the strands were determined to remain virtually vertical and would not be persuaded otherwise, however his unruly appearance was the least of Merlin's concerns. The welcome feast was to be held that night in Bayard's Great Hall, and until then he had to keep an eye on Arthur and make sure Mordred didn't stray within a hundred yards of him.

Which, Merlin realised, would be easier said than done.

A knock on the door startled him so much that his foot smacked against the bed. Biting back a cry of pain, he hobbled across the room as best he could to open it.

The young woman who had smiled at him the day before was standing in the corridor with a breakfast tray. "Good morning," she said, not looking Merlin in the eye. "I brought your breakfast."

Merlin blinked. "You must have the wrong room. I'm just King Arthur's manservant."

"You are Merlin, aren't you?"

"Yes, but -"

The woman pushed the tray at him. The food smelled heavenly; bacon, eggs, sausages and freshly baked bread all in generous helpings that threatened to tumble off the sides of the tray. Merlin's mouth watered.

He took the tray from the woman's hands and set it on the small table in the centre of the chamber. "Thank you very much. I appreciate it."

The girl wasn't looking at him. Her eyes were examining his boots, her head tilted slightly to the side. "Did you hurt your foot?" she asked softly.

Merlin's mouth twisted ruefully. "I hit it on something. It's nothing to worry about."

"You were limping." As she lifted her gaze to look at him, Merlin was taken aback by the delicate structure of her face and the round, fawn-like eyes that were the same shade as Arthur's when the sunlight reflected off them.

Suddenly his mouth wouldn't work properly. "I... Was I?" he stuttered.

"I can take a look at it if you'd like."

"Erm… okay. Come in."

She made him sit on the edge of the bed without touching him once – she seemed to somehow tell him what she wanted without saying it out loud – and knelt before him on the floor. Merlin was about to offer her a pillow to kneel on but was cut off by a hiss of pain as she eased the boot off his injured foot. His ankle was beginning to swell and was turning an unnerving shade of puce.

I must have hit it harder than I realised, Merlin thought. He bit down on his lip to distract him from the pain lower down and focused on the maid. She was rubbing her fingers over the abused flesh, gently probing to find the exact location of the affliction. Only now did Merlin realise that she carried no equipment with her to treat the wound, yet she seemed utterly confident in what she was doing.

As Merlin watched, she carefully placed her hand between the ankle bone and the top of his foot. A rush of electric warmth flooded from her fingers, seeping down through skin and tissue and bone and sucking away all of the pain like a wave washing sand from the shore.

As the last of the golden mist disappeared from her blue irises, the woman glanced up at him. "Is that better?" she asked.

For a moment Merlin was too shocked to speak. He slowly rotated his ankle once, twice, three times, convincing himself it was healed. He placed his foot on the cold stone and tried bearing weight on it, quickly finding he could stand with no difficulty whatsoever. The girl rose with him. Merlin stared at her with disbelieving eyes.

"You know magic?" he croaked.

The girl looked at her feet. "I just know how to heal," she said.

Merlin shook his head. "I felt your power. You can do far more than just heal." He tried to put a hand on her arm but she flinched away, afraid.

"Where did you learn to do it?" Merlin asked in the same hushed voice. Arthur and Gwen were still next door and, although this wasn't Arthur's kingdom and he had no power over the laws of the land, Merlin couldn't help but feel it was best if he didn't find out Bayard's servant was a sorcerer.

"I didn't learn," was all she said in reply. She lifted her wide, frightened eyes and looked straight into Merlin's face. "Are you going to tell Arthur?"

"Arthur has no say in what happens here. You're perfectly safe."

The girl nodded and glanced at the door. "I must get on. My master will be wondering where I am."

Unable to stop himself, Merlin grabbed her wrist. "Wait. You took care of me. At least tell me your name."

A muscle in the girl's jaw tightened. Merlin hurriedly retracted his hand with a mumbled apology.

The girl was silent for so long that Merlin started to wonder if she intended to answer him. Then, in a barely audible voice, she said, "My name is Aliana." And then she was gone.

The events of the morning played themselves over in Merlin's head on a continuous loop for the rest of the day. He had gone to Arthur's room after finishing his breakfast only to be informed that Bayard had instructed his servants to tend to his and Guinevere's every need, effectively rendering Merlin useless. The novel excitement at finally having a day to himself quickly evaporated when Merlin realised that he had absolutely nothing to occupy himself with until the feast. He spent the day wandering listlessly around the castle until the bell summoned everyone to the Great Hall and the celebrations officially began.

By the time Merlin arrived, the Hall was full to the brim with people. There were so many that Merlin wondered how they all fit between the long tables laden so heavily with food that they were beginning to sag. The orchestra had set up on a stage at the front of the hall and their music floated through the open windows all the way to the outskirts of the citadel. Couples twirled in colourful circles whilst those without partners stood against the walls and clapped along with the merry tune.

Feeling out of place in his plain blue shirt and weather-beaten coat, Merlin located an unoccupied corner and looked around for Arthur. The King of Camelot was currently talking with some of Bayard's other guests, holding a goblet of wine in his right hand and gesturing enthusiastically with his left. Gwen loitered at his side with a plainly false smile on her face, pretending to be the slightest bit interested in what was being said. Merlin barely had time to decide whether to feel smugness or pity before she spotted him, excused herself and threaded her way through the crowd.

"Hello Merlin," she said in greeting. She looked so stunning in a cream and lavender gown that Merlin wanted to turn around and slink away. "You're looking a little better today. Did you sleep well last night?"

"Yes, thank you," Merlin said. "Did you and Arthur have a good day with Lord Bayard?"

Gwen smiled. "He hasn't changed," she said. "He knows how to throw a party doesn't he?"

Merlin nodded. He was unsure of what else to say, especially with Gwen looking so radiant and willing to provide the first human contact Merlin had received all day since the encounter with Aliana in his chambers. Things had never been awkward between the two of them, not even when they had first met. But his selfishness and disloyalty had changed all that. Now she was little more than a stranger to him.

Gwen's smile faltered. Merlin wondered if she was regretting breaking away from her husband to come and talk to him – he certainly would be. "Why don't you ask one of the maids for a dance?" she suggested.

Merlin raised his eyebrows. "You can't be serious," he deadpanned.

His disbelieving expression was enough to cause a wide grin to spread across Gwen's face. "I'm completely serious. You spend too much time running around after Arthur. You're becoming a recluse."

Despite the awkwardness he was feeling, Merlin couldn't help but mirror her smile. "You know I don't dance, Gwen. Even if I did, I wouldn't be able to just walk up to one of these girls and ask them."

Gwen patted his arm in mock sympathy. "You're lucky I'm here. Who would you like to dance with?"

Without thinking, Merlin's eyes scanned the room until they located Arthur. The thought that someone else had been responsible for making him look so magnificent in Camelot's colours made his heart hurt. What if Arthur decided he didn't need him anymore? Merlin wouldn't have any reason to see him again. He would be pushed as far away from him as it was possible to be. The thought of that possibility alone was enough to choke him.

"Merlin," Gwen said, rousing him from his dark hole of self-pity, "I don't mean to seem untoward, but I couldn't help but notice that Mordred keeps looking at you."

Shaking his head, Merlin redirected his gaze from Arthur to the space across the room that Mordred was currently filling. If Gwen hadn't drawn attention to him, Merlin wouldn't have noticed he was there. Although he was wearing in the same shade of brilliant red as Arthur and the knights, Mordred seemed to blend right into the dark panel of wood behind him. Even his white skin seemed less stark against his dark hair.

Mordred seemed to feel Merlin's eyes on him. He lifted his chin a fraction, and suddenly every detail of his form was perfectly clear. Even with the vast distance between them, his eyes caught Merlin's and held them like a physical grip. He couldn't look away, though the gods knew he wanted to.

"Merlin?" Gwen's voice reached him as though it was coming from underwater. "Is everything all right?"

With a conscious effort, Merlin tore his gaze from Mordred's. "Fine. Everything's fine."

"I'm glad." Merlin could tell she didn't believe him. He could almost see her thought processes as she conspicuously turned her head to look from him to Mordred and back again. She said nothing more, but the slight crease between her eyebrows still lingered.

When Merlin summoned the courage to look back across the room, Mordred had vanished.

"Excuse me," Gwen murmured next to his ear, "I must return to Arthur. I fear he is reaching the end of his capacity to talk sense."

"Already?" Merlin asked, though he really shouldn't have been surprised. One look at Arthur's flushed cheeks and lopsided smile confirmed that he had long since drifted from the safe harbour of sobriety and was in danger of making a fool of himself. If someone wasn't there to look after him, the peace between Mercia and Camelot wouldn't last for much longer.

Gwen rubbed his shoulder affectionately. "I'll see you later, Merlin. Don't forget to have fun!"

"Yeah," Merlin muttered under his breath. "Right."

As Gwen moved away, Merlin caught sight of a familiar face. Her chin was tilted down towards the floor, but there was no mistaking the sculpted cheekbones or the unusual colour of her hair.

Before his brain could catch up to what his feet were doing, Merlin had made his way over and was standing in front of her.

"Hi."

Aliana looked up, her blue eyes wide and startled. Merlin held up his hand, showing her that he intended to keep his distance.

"Sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to scare you."

The girl's shoulders dropped a little, but the muscle in her jaw remained taught as though she was steeling herself for an attack. "Oh, it's you."

Merlin's hand automatically reached for the back of his neck. He forced it back down. "Er, I realised I never properly thanked you for… for what you did earlier. It was very kind. So... thank you."

"It was my pleasure," Aliana said, not sounding like she meant it.

"And just so you know, I stand by what I said. I won't tell anyone about… well, you know." Stop talking, you idiot, someone might overhear.

"I appreciate it."

Merlin let out a breath. "Okay, well, enjoy the party."

"You too."

Feeling like an idiot, Merlin retreated back to his spot by the wall. Maybe Gwen was right: the amount of time he spent with Arthur was having a greater impact on his social skills than he'd realised. But why should he even care? His affections were unconditionally reserved for Arthur. Besides, given his apparent lack of social aptitude he couldn't change that even if he'd wanted to.

An unexpected impact on his shoulder almost made him topple over.

"Merlin!" exclaimed Gwaine. A wash of alcohol-scented breath across his face churned Merlin's stomach. With his hand on his shoulder, Merlin could feel how the knight's body swayed unsteadily back and forth.

"Hello Gwaine," Merlin said. He gingerly lifted the gloved hand from his shoulder, ready to catch it again if Gwaine leaned too far in one direction. "Enjoying yourself, I see."

"Who was that girl you were talking to?" he slurred.

Merlin looked uneasily at his friend. "Her name's Aliana. She's one of Bayard's maids."

"She's very pretty," observed the knight. Merlin wasn't sure he liked the look that had come into his dark eyes, but a drunken Gwaine was extremely difficult to reason with.

"Yes," Merlin agreed. "But you may have difficulty talking to her. She seems very… reserved."

Gwaine wagged his eyebrows. "I'd like to see her try to resist me."

"I'm sure she won't have much difficulty," Merlin remarked drily, fully aware that Gwaine had stopped listening. He had already begun to make his unsteady way towards Aliana, putting his footwork practise to good use as he tried to walk in a straight line.

"Oh wait, before I forget," Gwaine said over his shoulder. "Bayard's holding a friendly tournament for us and his knights tomorrow, so could you help me with my armour in the morning?"

Merlin's mouth curled into a smile. "Of course."

As he watched Gwaine saunter away, Merlin felt a small portion of grief lift off his chest. With Arthur safely in Gwen's care and Mordred nowhere to be seen, he deemed it safe for him to return to the wonderfully soft bed that awaited him in his chambers, blissfully unaware of the eyes that followed him as he went.