Set early in Season 5

George was not a brave man. He would never deny that. Hand him a polishing cloth and a candlestick and he was happy as a clam. Set him the impossible task of cleaning the king's chambers and it was as good as done. He, of course, would never admit that he agreed with Merlin when the young man questioned how those chambers got wrecked so completely, so quickly. That simply wouldn't have been proper, even if he did wonder the same thing. No, he was not brave. He was efficient. He certainly had no idea how to deal with the knowledge that Merlin was a sorcerer, because that was the only explanation for what he had seen.

It had started out as such a good day, too. The sun was shining. For once there was no rain. The birds were starting their dawn songs when he got up. He always tried to get up earlier than everyone else. It was just easier to complete certain tasks without the bother of people around.

George had gotten the morning chores done in the amount of time he had allotted them and was looking forward to his lunch when he saw it. It was just a silly thing that gave away the secret. Merlin had the tray for the king's meal and was rushing, as usual. Just as he passed the opening to the corridor George was in, he tripped. He did that a lot, all gangly arms and legs that just never seemed to know quite how to work together.

The only problem with that particular trip and fall was that the tray with the king's lunch tumbled along with him and the sausages, fruit, and bread nearly hit the floor. Nearly, because right before they would have, they all stopped in mid-air. George had no idea how he moved so quickly, but he was suddenly standing flat against the door he was passing. George could hardly breathe. He was afraid Merlin would hear him and turn him into a toad or something, if not outright kill him.

He listened to Merlin cursing under his breath and waited until he was sure the young sorcerer had gone on with his task. Merlin, a sorcerer! How? Surely, that was impossible. The conversation from the dungeon replayed itself in his mind. He had started to suspect something was odd about the young man after the idiot had gotten him stuck in the stocks while trying to prevent King Uther from being poisoned all those years ago, but sorcery? The conversation he had overheard between the manservant and his mentor had played over and over again like a particularly annoying minstrel's tune in his head for a few months after the "incident", as he called it in his mind, but wasn't something he'd really thought of lately. Merlin had saved King Uther. George had even served at the feast with Bayard when Merlin had poisoned himself to save King Arthur. He may have been clumsy and feckless, but he was loyal. George would bet his own life on that. How could he be a sorcerer? And Gaius must know, too.

George took a deep breath. He decided to do what he always did when confronted with a problem to solve: look at every facet and analyze it until there was nothing else to be gained from the analysis. He never did anything with less than total deliberation. He prided himself on it. He would think about this during the rest of the day and decide his next course of action.

Ultimately, George ran through everything he knew of the young manservant and everything he knew about his actions from the time he had come to Camelot, including taking the brunt of the rubbish being thrown at the two of them when they were both stuck in the stocks. Truly, out of everything else, that one action kept coming to the fore in George's mind. It was an act of simple kindness, given to someone who had never even been a friend.

By the time dinner was over and George had the free time to actually approach Sir Leon, because to approach the king would have been reaching above his station, instead he wished the First Knight of Camelot a good evening when they chanced to pass each other in the corridor, and went to his small home near The Rising Sun. He gave his parents the leftovers that the cook let him take home because his father was unable to work and went to bed. The morning would come soon enough and he still had some thinking to do.

George had a surprisingly dreamless sleep. He had worried that he would have nightmares the entire night. Instead he woke at his normal time, with his mother, a baker who sold her wares in the market each day. Carys fixed them both a mug of barley water and sat down across from him. "So, what's bothering you? You've been quiet, even for you."

He smiled at his mother. She knew him better than anyone else and had never been shy about speaking her mind. In fact, he often thought her to be the wisest person he had ever known. "I found out a secret but I'm not sure what to do about it."

"Would it hurt someone if you keep the secret? Or would it hurt someone if you tell it?"

"Definitely 'yes' to the second question, and I'm not sure about the first."

Carys sipped her drink, "Is it dangerous?"

George sighed, "I just don't know. I cannot imagine the person harming anyone. Truly, I can't."

"Then keep it. Until they are willing to tell it themselves, keep it locked in that clever brain of yours."

"That simple? Just do nothing?"

His mother smiled. "My dearest boy, there are only three secrets in Camelot that can create such emotional havoc in a person: infidelity, sodomy, or magic." She paused as she saw George react to the last. "Let me tell you something about each of them. The first is really only the business of the people involved and besides, noblemen really tend to hate the idea of servants knowing them to be cuckold. The tend to take their wrath out on said servants before they take it out on the two lovers. As for the second, real love is a gift and it should be celebrated in whatever form it occurs. As for the last, well, your great-uncle was killed in the Purge for doing nothing more than healing your cousin, Richard. I've never thought magic was as evil as our last king believed, especially if, as you said, you can't imagine the person ever harming anyone else. Just let it be, son." She finished off her drink and went to rinse the cup out and head to work, kissing George on the top of the head as she passed him while he fiddled with his own full cup.

George went to his duties that morning a bit later than he normally did. He sat there for a bit longer, working things out. As he walked through the halls of the citadel he looked at them with a new light. He was about to commit treason. He was going to walk right past every knight, nobleman, and even the king himself, and not say a word about Merlin. If he wasn't so frightened they'd find out, he'd say he almost felt giddy. Maybe even a bit brave.

So, technically, this one has absolutely no connection to the stocks. It is more a continuation of Chapter 6, where Merlin and George both end up in the stocks, but I do adore George, even if we saw him for all of about fifteen minutes in the show. I probably should have just posted this as a separate one-shot, but then people would have had to read The Stocks to understand the background of it. It just seemed to be better to put it in here.