Warning/s: Someone gets objectified and some shady things are implied
Chapter Summary: Emrys is human
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Chapter V: The Past Can Hurt
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The Scrying Room has always been kept damp and cold. He runs fingertips along the smooth marbled walls of the chamber as walks by, and he feels the the light of the moon filtering through the open window. Carved unto the center of floor is a gigantus ornate pool that can comfortably fit ten adults. Filled with the clearest of water and adorned with several runes, the pool can be used even by the most basest of mages.
With a small wave of one hand, he puts up a mildly powerful barrier at the door. The lock clicks noisily. Certain that no one else can enter, he pulls down his hood and discards his cloak. He treads over to the edge of the pool, steps quiet and light.
"Snæde." Immediately, his left palm stings. Blood blooms from the cut on his hand, overflowing and dripping onto clear waters.
"Geondlihte gesweorc min."
The water ripples once, the runes pulsing. He unlaces the strings of his shirt and pulls it over his head. His trousers comes off next, and soon, he stands with naught a cloth on.
"Geondlihte gesweorc min," he repeats, climbing down the pool. Unbearably cool water soaks his skin, and he fights down the urge to shiver. The marbled surface beneath his feet offers little friction as he walks to the center, water undulating in his path.
He presses hard on the wound on his palm, coaxing more warm blood to flow. "Geondlihte gesweorc min."
The water swirls, slowly at first, releasing tinkling whispers. Then, the movement grows more violent as each second ticks by, the soft sounds turning into hissing ones. Soon, the force of whirlpool is threatening to pull him down. It is by sheer will that he stands unmoved in the eye of the minute storm.
"Geondlihte gesweorc min onbutan . . ."
He takes a deep breath, filling his lungs with as much air as possible.
"Emrys," he whispers before letting himself be devoured by the waves.
His head goes underwater. The water muffles each one of his senses. The coldness of his surroundings is placed at the back of his mind. He expects concrete touches and clear voices but gets vague impressions and barely comprehensible sentences instead. He curses inwardly; the Emrys is contained in an area with an effective anti-scrying enchantment. However, no defensive spell is truly imprenetable for him. He lets out a great pulse of magic, igniting all the runes surrounding the pool. He weaves through the spell blocking his scrying, attempting to find or create a weak spot. At last, a few minutes later, he manages to find a tiny gap between the threads of magic. He smoothly slips through the enchantment without breaking it. A few seconds later, foreign sensations flits by his skin and a single voice echoes through his ears.
The smell of potions and fire. "What about A—King Arthur? Blond-hair, blue eyes, bit of a prat –"
Children's laughter and the thumps of a rubber ball bouncing. "No one's getting arrested. They're all doing magic . . ."
A great pain in the head. He winces, injured hand touching upon his temple.
Claws scratching his collarbone. "Is that a griffin?"
The taste of meaty stew. "So, does the - this Apprentice Exam is a test to prove your worthiness?"
"A spell? I . . . I don't know the spell for that."
Then, the scent of dragonfire and lightning sting his nose. He breathes in sharply in shock, and water enters unwelcomely in his lungs.
He hastily swims his way to the surface and roughly coughs out all the liquid he has inhaled when he gets there. He massages his burning chest as he doubles over. He grips the edge of the pool with pale white fingers as he composes himself. Water sluices down his shoulders and back, cold droplets clinging to his skin. The waters of the pool calms almost immediately after his ascent, whirlpool dissipating in a blink.
The scrying is barely successful, and yet, the revelations are no less startling.
Impossible.
He has scried for the Emrys the Old Religion has been so fearful of. He has expected to touch the fur of a beastly creature or feel the smooth surface of an ancient device. Instead, he has sensed a being on two legs, carrying on with two arms, and a head with a mop of hair. He has heard a voice mumble intelligible phrases.
Emrys is human.
He wraps his arms around himself, shivering intermittently. The cut on him palm continues to bleed sluggishly.
No mortal flesh can survive containing such immense power and energy. Their veins will be torn apart by the imbalance shortly after their blood boils.
No, such a thing cannot possibly be human. Then, perhaps, Emrys is only masquerading as one. Yes, that is more likely. If so, Emrys is clearly sentient enough to pass off as a human. Already, he foresees a plethora of complications tagging along with this implication. Sentient beings are harder to tame, to control, to predict. Emrys may be less useful to his plans than he initially think.
However, another fact has caused a bigger mystery for him. Another discovery gets most of his attention, and places his mind in turmoil.
Dragonfire and lightning.
Emrys' magic releases the smell of dragonfire and lightning.
Impossible. It cannot be. How? Why? There is no precedent -
Yet that is what his scrying has presented him.
Dragonfire and lightning.
He gingerly climbs off the pool, and the icy breeze wracks his frame.
"Ic i drýge," he mutters. Blisteringly warm air blows against his skin, and in a span of seconds, he is no longer wet.
"Þurhhæle dolgbenn," he chants. The skin of his cut palm stitches together and heals seamlessly.
With a flick of his hand, his discarded clothes flies towards his arms. He gingerly dons them once more, thinking through his next plans.
He knows not what to think. He has uncovered a paradox and a preposterous anomaly. Scrying has given him more questions than answers, and irritation pierces his breast. His books may hold something to ease the confusion but it will take much more time. Nevertheless, he will delve into research soon. He goes over the tomes that may hold clues regarding Emrys' personage.
But perhaps . . . meeting the source itself will shine quite a light on the whole phenomenon. Up close with Emrys, he may be able to get the answer he needs. Mother will want quicker results after all, and nothing will be faster than getting information from Emrys itself.
He drapes the cloak over his shoulders and flips the hood up, enshrouding his face in inexplicable shadows once more. He wordlessly destroys the barrier on the door, and unlocks it.
The Apprentice Exam.
Of course. The whole of Camelot is wrapped in every defensive spell in existence. No wonder his scrying did not bear as much fruit as he wants.
Emrys is in Camelot. The corners of his lips tick upwards.
It has been a while since his last visit to the renowned kingdom of magic.
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Merlin jerks awake, gasping as if he has not inhaled air all his life. A sheen of sweat covers his whole body, soaking his clothes and the bedsheets. An ache blooms between his eyes and he pinches the bridge of his nose to stave it off.
What has he been dreaming about? It feels like a nightmare but one not quite vivid enough to leave a lasting impression. He sighs and pulls the covers off himself. He doubts he'll sleep any more tonight. Or this morning, Merlin amends as he sees the soft light of dawn filtering through the slightly parted shutters.
His bare feet meets the cool smooth floorboards of the inn. Grip by the urge to breathe some fresh air, he walks towards the lone window and opens it fully. Unbidden, he remembers his first day in Camelot and how he did the same act upon arriving in the room lent to him by Gaius.
The sweet scent of freshly baked bread and roasted meat assaults him. He deeply breathes in the fragrant smell before bracing himself against the sill and peeking out of the window. Being in the second floor of the inn gives Merlin a wonderful view of the city life below. Directly across the inn are the stalls causing such beautiful smell. One stall presents an array of long breads, some glazed with white confectionary powder. The stall adjacent contains steaming plates filled with heaps of cooked lambs, goat and pork. Already, early risers flock both stalls, attracted by both the smell and sight.
Merlin dearly wishes he has some coin.
The nearby stores show a variety of wares - blades of different lengths, magical staffs with a motley of designs, knapsacks of roughly the same sizes, potions of various hues, colorful charms, and premade shirts and breeches for men and women. From his vantage point, Merlin can hear the vendors advertising their products, their voices meshing cacophonously in the crisp morning air. He can also see many of them using magic to arrange their displays or catch the attention of potential customers. In the sword store, two daggers are even sparring against each other, controlled by invisible hands.
Magic in Camelot. Something in his chest clenches at the thought, and butterflies flutter in his belly. This is the world he hopes to see in his lifetime. This is the world Merlin hopes to build with Arthur.
How exactly did Merlin get here? He does not recall uttering any kind of wish or what could be construed as one. He was specifically careful with his words after those agonizing visions of the future. Had someone wished Merlin here then? To what end? Now that he is thinking about it, the Djinn did go somewhere else before casting the warlock into this other world. An earthquake overtook the inside of the lamp, and the temperature rose. In hindsight, Merlin can now deduce that at that moment, someone had rubbed the lamp. Someone had summoned the Djinn, hence, the creature's abrupt departure.
Who had called the Djinn? Arthur or one of the knights? They were the only ones near the lamp. But why would they wish for Merlin to live in a magical Camelot? Lancelot is the only one who knows of his magic, and even then, the knight would not have known of the possibility of other worlds. Furthermore, it's unlikely Lancelot would want Merlin transported anywhere else. The knight is his friend and understands Merlin's duty to Arthur and Camelot. The only one who may have the motive to separate Merlin from Camelot is . . . A chill claws down the length of his spine.
Morgana.
Could it be? Could she have found out about Merlin being Emrys, the protector of the Once and Future King? Could she have found the Djinn and Arthur and the knights in the woods after Merlin had inadvertently wished himself inside the lamp?
Merlin envisions the blood the she will spill, the innocents she will kill, the magic that she will use to raze villages down to the ground. He imagines Arthur adamantly facing against his vengeful sister armed with a sword burnished with dragonfire but receiving no other magical aide.
His breaths come in short gasps, not enough air getting in his lungs. Blacks spots pepper his vision and nausea rolls in his stomach.
He needs to get back - to the knights, to Arthur, to Camelot. He feels unbearably helpless, so near Camelot yet so far from the Camelot he needs to be.
His chest burns tremendously, and a hand unconsciously grips the cloth above his heart to soothe the pain. His fingers feel warm engraved metal underneath his tunic. He is startled out of his frenzied musings.
He blinks and looks under his clothes. Realization dawns on him as he catches sight of it. He pulls at the leather string around his neck until it and its pendant are out of his neckerchief and shirt.
On his hands lay a silver brooch adorned with a carving of a bird mid-flight.
It bears my mother's sigil, Arthur had said as he handed the brooch to the servant. The king had done it so blasély, and yet the gravity of the action was not lost to Merlin then and it is not lost to Merlin now. Arthur had given the warlock one of the very few reminders he had of his mother.
The king had planned to sacrifice himself to close the veil and defeat the Dorocha. Arthur had perhaps thought a dead man would have no need to hold onto such sentimental things, and thus, given such a precious item to a servant. But then, Arthur had escaped death and had not asked Merlin to give it back.
Merlin had, of course, offered to return the gift. Arthur had cocked a condescending brow, and remarked that kings had more than enough jewelries and that kings who were worth their salt did not take back gifts once given. Honestly, Merlin had stopped listening after a while. It was obvious that Arthur had been trying to hide his embarrassment. Merlin pushed the issue no further.
The brooch is one of the rare tangible proof of his friendship with Camelot's king, and his fear of losing it has overcome his guilt of keeping it. A few weeks after the incident with the Dorocha, when the warlock was certain that Arthur would not take it back, he had securely strapped the brooch in a leather cord. He now wears it around his neck for safekeeping, and as a reminder Arthur views him as more than a bumbling servant.
It is light and almost flat. Under his tunic and neckerchief, it remains unnoticed by the populace and most of the time, even by Merlin himself. Once he got used to its weight, the warlock often forgets about it.
Stroking the embossment of the brooch, he is glad to rediscover it now. That he has taken along a strong reminder of his Camelot with him in this unknown territory consoles him completely. A sense of comfort washes over him, dissipating the remains of his panic. While the sense of urgency is still there, a swell of determination follows along with it. He no longer feels helpless.
Merlin will get back to his world soon. Arthur has the knights, Gwen and Gaius. Camelot will be safe until the warlock gets back. He clasps the brooch tighter. It has to be.
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"Ohoh, you're up early."
Merlin lifts his head in surprise as he carefully climbs down the last set of stairs. The first floor of the inn is a tavern - a fully stocked one if the several barrels lining up behind the counter is any indication. Worn out wooden chairs and tables is arranged systematically around the room, each of them scratched and chipped in at least three places. Even though the sun has barely risen, it seems this particular establishment is already entertaining a few guests.
The barman halts in the action of wiping down the counter. He bears a mop of brown hair and his eyes depict the same shade. He has the build of someone who could stop a bar fight with one hand, and Merlin blinks confusedly when the man offers him a smile. "I guess it's not that of a surprise, seeing as you've been unconscious for almost two days."
Merlin splutters. "T-Two days!?" Why did Mordred or Gilli not even make a passing mention of that? Was it not only a small wound? Why did it knock him out for so long!?
"That young mage told me did think it was a bit unusual." The barman flips the cloth over his shoulder. "Do you feel better now?"
"Y-Yes." Merlin approaches the man, an inkling of his identity poking the warlock's mind. "I'm Merlin. Are you Selia's father?"
The man's smile widens at the mention of Selia. "The name's Thomas Collins but most people here call me Tom. And yes, I have a last name. 'Tis not that uncommon, let me tell you."
The blood drains from Merlin's face.
"Scite! Sit down, lad." Tom guides Merlin onto one of the stools surrounding the counter. Merlin let him because the warlock feels the need to get off his feet. "Goddess, you're don't look completely hale."
"N-No, no, I'm fine, I'm fine." Merlin has just met a ghost.
When Merlin first arrived in Camelot, the beheading of Thomas James Collins was taking place. The servant can never forget the name nor the squelching sound that followed after the executioner's axe slammed down. Merlin could not bear to look at the act or the aftermath, could not tolerate looking at the man's face for more than a few seconds. Thomas Collins is the first person Merlin saw being executed for the crime of sorcery. It is also the same man standing before him. Or wait, is it?
"Di-Did you -Wh-What's your mother's name?" Merlin almost demands.
Tom appears unsurprised at the inquiry and releases a sigh that denotes he has answered the question one too many times. "Yes, my ma was Mary Collins. Yes, I got my last name from her. No, I'm not a nobleman drowning in riches. If you must know, my mother was the ninth child of the Collins family, and I doubt I'll even see a coin of their fortune. Anything else you want to know?" Tom cocks a brow in challenge.
"N-Nothing else. Thank you." Merlin has already gotten his confirmation. Of course Thomas Collins is alive. Magic is legal so there is no reason for his execution in the first place. His mother did not promise revenge against the Pendragon line and attempt to kill Arthur.
Mary Collins did not die by Merlin's hand.
"I-Is your mother well?" The warlock could not help but ask, an old familiar dull ache piercing his chest.
Tom's brows rise. Then, his face softens slightly. His smile turns wan. "She passed away a couple of years ago."
"I-I'm sorry for your loss."
Tom waves the apology away. "She lived a full life and was able to say goodbye to me and Selia. Nothing to be sorry about."
A full life . . . Merlin shudders, remembering a falling chandelier, a throwing knife in the air, and a wrinkled face filled with hatred.
"I thought everyone knew about my ma." Tom claps Merlin's back, laughing. "Thought you were gonna start asking for stories. Don't get me wrong; my inn often benefits from the Collins name but sometimes, it gets annoying to repeat the same 'my ma invented this and that spell/potion' spiel."
Now, Merlin really wants to know more. Before he can begin requesting for said stories, the door to the tavern's backroom opens with a loud crack. A ginger-haired woman rushes in the tavern proper, toting a tray full of steaming plates.
More than one patrons hoot and cheer at her entrance. Merlin's stomach lets out a loud growl as the smell of freshly cooked food reaches his nose. Tom gives him a look and Merlin ducks his head, mortified.
The inn-owner chuckles. "Polly!" He calls out.
The ginger-haired woman delivers the last dish on her tray to an eagerly waiting couple. She turns to Tom with a thunderous frown, making the lines on her face more prominent. She looks only slightly younger than the inn-owner. "What?" She bites out.
"Get a special for this fella over here, would you?"
Polly's hawk-like gaze shifts to the warlock.
"I haven't got the coin to pay for it," Merlin hurriedly reminds them. "But I'll pay you back for my stay in the inn, I swear."
Maybe he will be able to get a job as a servant in the castle after the Apprentice Exam. He just have to impress the nobles and royals with how good he is at cleaning rooms, doing laundry, and serving food. Or maybe save some royal prat's life. Right.
"Do you need any help around the inn?" Merlin asks. "I'm - I was a servant. I could help around with cleaning the chambers, with laundering the sheets or maybe cooking?"
Tom laughs kindly. "All's on the house, Merlin. I've got enough hands around here, and my inn's not doing so poorly that I have to charge the poor man Selia knocked unconscious."
Polly's face smoothens, and with a curt nod, she goes back to the kitchen.
A skinny man seated near the tavern entrance shouts, "If that's the case, get me that lass and let her hit me with that toy!"
"Me too!"
"For free ale and more of Polly's cooking!" one roars.
"Aye!"
Tom rolls his eyes. To Merlin, he says, "Ignore those drunkards." The statement causes a few grumbles from the customers. "But truly, don't worry about it. What Selia did was extremely dangerous and I've given her a proper scolding for it."
A mug of mead slams down on the counter, making Merlin jump. The same skinny man near the entrance slides in the stool beside Merlin's. Upon closer look, he seems to be as old as the warlock, short spiky red hair decorating his head. His brown eyes stare inquisitively and intensely at Merlin. The man's face gets uncomfortably close and the warlock leans away to create a much needed personal space. He also backs away because the man's breath reeks of alcohol.
"Say, are you looking for work?"
Two plates smack at the space between them, the food almost toppling onto the wooden surface of the counter. Merlin startles for the second time, springing away from the overly friendly man. Polly, with much more gentle gestures, arranges and places down the cutlery and drink.
"I'll not have you recruiting in this fine establishment!" Polly's severe expression puts Gaius' to shame.
Tom frowns as well. "We agree you won't do business in my inn, Levi."
"Psht." The man takes a huge swig of mead. "Just making friendly conversation." His gaze flicks from Merlin's arms to his legs.
The warlock glances at the food in front of him, at Tom, at Polly, then at Levi. "What kind of work is it?" It must be something bordering on illegal judging by Tom's and Polly's reactions. While Merlin have no plans to dabble in something shady, he is curious about what counts as unlawful in this world.
Levi smirks. He opens his mouth to answer but Tom shoots him a scathing glare, and Levi closes his mouth with a huff.
"You can find more decent jobs, Merlin," Tom assures him. To Levi, he orders with a glower, "Shoo, go bother someone else."
The man clicks his tongue but brusquely complies. He scoots out beside Merlin and seats himself back to his previous table. Merlin frowns, the whole interaction leaving him confused and a bit suspicious. He chooses to find out more about it later after his stomach ceases eating itself.
"Is it really fine if I don't pay?" Merlin stares longingly at the roasted chicken and oiled vegetables in front of him.
Polly sniffs. "What, you don't find my cooking appetizing?"
"I-It looks delicious!" Merlin hastily says, afraid to be on the end of the chef's intimidating glare.
"Then eat up," Polly replies simply before striding towards the backroom once more.
"Oi, barkeep! Get us some more ale here!"
"Yes, yes." Tom turns to Merlin with a wide smile. "Well, I've got customers to keep happy. Don't be a stubborn lad, now, and eat your breakfast." With that, the inn-owner goes to attend to the morning crowd.
Merlin figures a bit of food wouldn't hurt. He'll find a way to pay Tom back, he promises himself. He starts digging in, and his stomach rewards him by staying silent and stopping the punishing twists. He slices a piece of the chicken leg, smoke still rising from the newly cooked food and juices sliding down the tender meat. He eats without finesse after the first bite, never having such a hearty fare in all his life. It cannot compare to Arthur's everyday breakfast but it is much better than the gruel Gaius oftentimes prepare.
As he is polishing the last scraps on the plate, a blur of feathered gray attacks his face. He sputters and attempts to remove whatever is suffocating him. His magic is ready to act and defend him when the blur moves swiftly off his face and coils around his neck. Merlin feels cool sharp claws once again threatening the veins in his throat.
Kelly croons, the sound reverberating throughout his skin. Merlin bristles, trying to breath as little as possible.
"Merlin, you're up!" Boisterous footfalls fills the area near the stairs.
The warlock twists around and sees Selia running down the staircase. Except, the little girl's appearance is quite different from last night. Her sandy hair, which has to have been shoulder-length, now barely reaches her ears.
"You cut your hair?" Merlin blurts out.
"What?" Selia pats down the said hair. "No, silly! I'm feeling like a Selly today." She wrinkles her nose, glaring at Kelly. "Well, she seems fond of you," she grouses grumpily.
"Selly?" Merlin's brows furrow as the warlock tries to understand Selia's - Selly's? - point. Did she decide on a new haircut and name overnight? Is that a normal custom in this world?
"There's the man of the hour!" a burly woman hoots, lifting her drink in a toast.
"Such a fearsome lad!"
"Maiming someone twice his size!"
"Cross the mighty Selly and pay the price!"
Selly's face grows increasingly red at each remark. Tom watches, shaking his head and looking amused. Merlin blinks rapidly in mounting befuddlement. 'Man'? 'Lad'? 'His'?
"Shut up, shut up!" Selly screeches, even going so far as dashing to the nearest patron teasing her - him? - and kicking them in the shin.
"Ow!"
"Selly!" Tom calls his child out, tone chastising.
The hurt party merely raises an empty cup and exclaim, "I've been injured by your spawn, Tom. Free refill!"
Tom ignores them, opting instead to head for the kitchen. Selly huffs and climbs the stool beside Merlin, ignoring her/his father in turn. Her/His feet hangs a feet from the ground and her/his nose barely reaches the counter.
"Are you - Are you a boy?" Merlin cannot help but ask, wanting to clarify. The warlock has thought him a little girl the night before upon seeing the long hair and soft features. But looking at the child now, he is evidently male.
"Sometimes," Selly answer offhandedly, filching a piece of chicken meat from Merlin's plate. "When I feel like it."
Merlin is left even more baffled. Tom, having come back to the tavern proper, lays down a dish of chicken and vegetables in front of his son. He set down a bowl of uncooked meat further down the counter. Kelly chirrups and thankfully slithers out of Merlin's shoulders. The griffin jumps onto the counter and scurries towards the bowl with great fervor and speed.
"Selly's good at gendershifting magic," Tom explains, pride obvious in his voice. "He likes to change genders whenever he feels like it." The inn-owner ruffles Selly's hair fondly, causing the short strands to spike up. "I reckon you haven't met one like him?" As soon as the words leaves Tom's lips, an odd emotion flashes by inn-owner's face, and he side-eyes Merlin. Gingerly, he rests a hand on his son's shoulder as he eats, fingers taut.
"No, I haven't." Magic that changes genders? Merlin did perform one that ages him fifty years so he supposes Selly's type of magic is not so farfetched. "So you were a girl last night?"
Selly nods, swallowing a big bite of his food. His cheeks swell on both sides and he takes a quick curious glance at his father.
"And now you're a boy?"
Selly nods again. Merlin becomes less perplexed as he grasps the practical applications of such enchantment. It is a useful disguise technique. A hunched back and creaking joints are things Merlin will happily get rid of if possible. On the other hand, Selly seems to be doing the enchantment for no other purpose than fun. Merlin remembers that the children were also using magic just to play with a rubber ball before. Doing magic for fun. Huh. The last time Merlin did that, Uther called for a witchfinder and Gaius almost got executed.
"Is it difficult, the spell?" Merlin inquires, shaking away the gruesome memories. He tries to finish the last of his food before his appetite wanes.
Tom lets out an almost audible breath and he withdraws his hand from Selly's shoulder.
"Not for me," Selly says proudly. "Da says that people usually take weeks to learn it but it took me only five days!" The boy holds out five fingers for emphasis.
Merlin makes an appropriately amazed sound. "Where'd you learn it?"
The entrance to the tavern creaks open, revealing half-a-dozen men. Tom goes back to cater to the new arrivals, leaving Selly and Merlin to talk.
"Da bought me a book in the market. He taught me how to read it."
Merlin perks up, a cup of water halfway to his lips. "A book of magic? You can easily buy one?"
"Of course." Selly gives him a strange look. "Well, I suppose you could steal one . . . The ones with advanced spells are very expensive." He rubs his chin, contemplative.
"I d-don't think that's necessary." Merlin hopes he sounds as discouraging as possible.
For the next half-an-hour, Selly tells Merlin about the gender shifting spell in detail. The enchantment is a basic one or so Selly claims. It alters little of the original appearance but greatly changes the inside of the body.
Merlin blinks. "The inside of the body?"
"Yes." Selly lifts the empty plate and begins licking it. Patches of sauce stains his cheeks and mouth. "You recognize me because I still look like myself, right? On the inside, however, I'm a boy now." After a beat, Selly sets down the plate, revealing a solemn expression. He narrows his eyes at the warlock and slowly says, "You see, Merlin, a man and a woman's body is very different. For example, between her legs, a woman has -"
"All right, got it!" Merlin nearly screams, voice pitching high. How in the world does a child like Selly already know these things? Merlin had been fifteen winters when his mother first explained to him about the nuances of a man and a woman's body. He clears his throat and immediately changes the subject. "H-How about the process of casting the spell itself?"
Selly seems confused about Merlin's reaction but continues his explanation. Like Merlin's aging spell, a potion can be made to quicken the process or lessen the magic needed to perform the entire transformation.
"Although the ingredients for the potion are not cheap so I just cast the spell as usual," Selly says. Kelly, who has finished her meal not long after she started, is now resting on the boy's lap. Selly runs his fingers through the feathers of the griffin's wings. His mouth is still a mess and Merlin is trying hard to curb his smile. "It's not that strenuous for me anyway."
Merlin deftly unties his neckerchief. "What's the exact spell? Wait, hold still." The warlock wets his neckerchief with the remaining water in his mug. He then proceeds to thoroughly wipe off the grime on Selly's face. The child grimaces, making noises of complaint, but does not pull away from the servant's ministrations.
"What spell?"
Merlin and Selly whip their heads towards the source of the voice. Gilli yawns, slumping down on the free seat beside Merlin. He scratches his head, messing it up further. He does not look quite awake. Mordred, who chooses to occupy the chair next to his friend, looks much more put together. His curls are neatly combed and his eyes are bright and alert.
"Selly's teaching me the gender shifting spell," Merlin replies, facing the little boy again to finish the cleaning up. He rubs away the last of the sauce, leaving Selly with slightly reddened spots.
"Selly?" Both Gilli's and Mordred's stares shift to the little boy. "Selia has a twin brother?"
"No!" Selly harrumphs, crossing his arms. Kelly mimics the sound.
"Oh." Mordred's features alight with realization. "You can do shapeshifting spells? Impressive for one so young."
Selly beams at the praise, puffing out his chest. Kelly puffs out her own feathers. Mordred and Gilli accepts this phenomenon just like that. Merlin is amazed that such transformations are deemed normal.
"Why do you want to learn it, Merlin?" Gilli asks, tilting his head. Beside him, Mordred flags down Tom to order breakfast.
"It might come in handy someday," Merlin reasons with a shrug, stuffing the dirty neckerchief in his jacket pocket. In his mind, he is already considering it for his next disguise if the situation calls for it. And knowing Arthur, Merlin is almost certain a situation will call for it.
Mordred mutters, "Interesting way of looking at it."
"But you shouldn't be performing spells this morning." When Merlin shoots Gilli a questioning look, the mage expounds, "You should conserve your energy for the Apprentice Exam. I predict it will be a taxing day."
"You're taking the Apprentice Exam?" Selly is practically bouncing in his seat.
Merlin nods, amused at the little boy's enthusiasm. The warlock doubts the results will favor him no matter what. "Will we be able to talk to the - to Mage Gaius during the exam?" For Merlin, that is the only thing that matters.
Gilli shakes his head, face a portrait of disappointment. "I don't think so. They'll be too busy appraising the applicants."
"And I heard it's frowned upon to cozy up to the magic-users before or during the whole exam," Mordred adds. "They'll be accused of biased judgement."
"What about after the exam?"
Polly approaches their corner, bearing two platters filled with fried pork, poached eggs, and cured fish. Gilli cannot wait and grabs his share out of Polly's arms. Mordred accepts the food with grace and a simple "Thank you". Polly sniffs, and her severe frown never wavers as she goes back to the kitchen.
"What about after the exam?" Merlin repeats his question, which has been forgotten in the wake of hot food.
"Merlin," Mordred begins, a hint of exasperation coloring his tone. "These people are of high position and power. Unless we prove ourselves to them, I doubt they'll spare us another glance."
Gaius, even the one of this world, surely cannot be like that? The physician has never cared about the status of the one he is healing; he only cares that they need his help. Merlin resolves to find Gaius after the exam and prove Mordred wrong. Merlin absolutely needs his help, and the warlock can think of no one else at the moment who has the knowledge or power to aid him.
"Don't worry, Merlin!" Selly pats Merlin's knee, snapping him out of his brooding. "You'll get chosen. I know it!"
"Thanks, Selly." No use worrying about it for now. Merlin can only act after the exam. "Now, we were talking about the exact words to the basic gendershifting spell?"
For the next couple of minutes, Selly teaches the warlock the words, enunciating each syllables. Gilli and Mordred start on their respective meals, casting strange looks at Merlin once in a while.
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A/N:
Oh man, oh man, thank you all so much for all your kudos, bookmarks, favorites, follows and reviews! Ooh, those reviews in particular make my heart sing!
Sorry for such a loooooong filler chapter but I promise, it's not as much of a filler as you think it is ;). I was wondering if someone noticed that in the prologue, I referred to the children playing ball as 'young boys' and then, suddenly, a girl like Selia is in the equation. Hahaha, I thought someone was going to roast me for that consistency error before I got this chapter out.
Anyway, I'm looking for someone to bounce ideas with. I'm having a hard time fleshing out the characters in this story and I would really like it if I can have someone who can help me visualize them. It'll only take a couple of minutes of your time!
Cons: You will be majorly spoiled, I think, and might never enjoy this story again :( (if you enjoyed it in the first place lmao)
Pros: If I never get to finish this story, at least you'll know my plans for it!
PM me at FF . net or send me a message at blissful-whims . tumblr . com if you're interested :D
Constructive criticisms are very much welcome! Kindly point out any glaring errors!
Have an absolutely brilliant day!
~ Vividpast