Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin.
Chapter Twenty Nine
"Why can't we just wait in here until Arwen has time to talk to us again?" Merlin protested in a hushed voice.
"Because we have a chance to build a relationship here," Lancelot explained patiently, "and we want them to see that Arthur is not someone they need to fear."
"But they stare at me," he argued, making a face in the direction of the door of the tent. "Did you see that? They look at me like I'm supposed to be something special!"
"Stares won't hurt you," Arthur insisted, grabbing Merlin's arm and steering him back out into the camp as Lancelot followed. Merlin glared at them both, but didn't resist.
They resumed their spot next to the fire, and Merlin was right – the druids did stare. All around them, they cast furtive looks their direction, their eyes skimming over Lancelot before lingering on Emrys and the king.
Lancelot had wondered what his role would be in this journey. After all he had been through with Merlin, he wanted to be there for this, and something in his gut had told him he needed to come along. But as they'd set out, he'd worried his presence might be unnecessary. Worse than that, he may be an awkward addition to something Arthur and Merlin needed to do alone.
But now that Arwen had left them to their own devices, Lancelot felt grateful he'd come. Sitting with her had been awkward enough, but sitting in the camp without Arwen was infinitely worse. And Arthur and Merlin were proving to be hopeless.
Arthur had been brought up in the politics and intrigues of court. He knew how to charm, how to make polite conversation, how to make a lord feel important or a lady feel flattered. But the druid camp was not court, and without his usual tricks at his disposal, he seemed lost. It probably didn't help that his title carried minimal weight here. He was technically these people's king, but they did not honor or respect him the way others did. At best they feared him, and at worst they despised him.
And Merlin? Merlin just stared at the fire in front of him, refusing to look up and acknowledge the curious and reverent looks directed at him.
Lancelot decided to ignore his friends for the moment in favor of surveying the activity of the camp. He made eye contact a few times, trying to look friendly to the people who were curious or brave enough to hold his gaze, until finally a bold little girl made their way over to them. The other children watched her with awe in their eyes, and Lancelot smiled at their obvious admiration of her courage.
She walked straight up to Merlin, but at the last minute directed her attention to Lancelot instead, probably because he was still smiling and Merlin looked nauseous.
"Hi," she said, smiling shyly back at him. "I'm Mari. What's your name?"
"My name is Sir Lancelot," he replied, reaching out his hand. "It's very nice to meet you, Mari."
She bit her lip, then took his hand, giggling when he kissed the back of hers like he would a lady's.
"Is it true you're a knight of Camelot?"
Lancelot saw Arthur cringe out of the corner of his eye. They were used to hearing those words spoken with respect and honor, even awe, but it was hard to miss the fear that Mari tried to hide in the question.
"I am," Lancelot answered, his voice gentle.
She stared at him, tiling her head to the side. "You don't look like you want to hurt us," she said dubiously, and the question broke Lancelot's heart. He thanked the gods he had never been sent on one of the druid raids – Arthur had not continued the practice once Uther became too weak to rule.
"No, Mari. I give you my word, I will not hurt you."
"Even though you're a knight of Camelot? Cai says the knights hurt people like us."
Lancelot didn't blink as he met the little girl's gaze. "In the past, the knights thought the druids wanted to hurt other people. We were wrong. We know that now."
Mari considered him for a minute. "Are you sure you're a knight? Cai also said knights wear red capes."
"Indeed," Lancelot replied, smiling again. "My cape is in my tent. Perhaps I'll bring it out later and you can see it, if you like."
Mari nodded. "Red is my favorite color," she declared. "Want to see?"
"Sure," Lancelot agreed, eyeing the little girl curiously.
Mari took his hands and cupped them together, then used her own small hands to shovel dirt into them. With a shy smile, she placed her hands over his and whispered, "Blædnes."
The little girl's eyes burned briefly, and Lancelot sensed Arthur tense at the other end of the log. He darted a quick glance at the king, but Arthur's face held only mild curiosity as he watched. Lancelot was certain that unless someone knew him well, they wouldn't be able to identify the uneasiness in his eyes.
But Lancelot suspected Uther himself couldn't have found a reason to believe this magic was evil. A red flower, more appropriate to spring than autumn, grew and blossomed in his hands, and he couldn't resist grinning with delight at the sight of it. He was literally holding magic in his hands. The grin spread when he caught Arthur smiling as well.
The girl finally glanced at Merlin, whose uneasiness seemed to fade some as he watched her simple show.
"That's very beautiful," he complimented her, and she blushed.
"Thank you," she murmured, looking down and scuffing the ground before looking at him again. "Are you really Emrys?"
Merlin hesitated for just a moment before answering. "I really am."
"Do you want a flower too?"
Lancelot saw something soften in Merlin's eyes, and he could almost feel his friend's relief. This girl didn't want anything from him, other than the chance to show off a little bit and give him a gift. And with a pang of sadness, Lancelot found himself thinking about a little version of Merlin, who undoubtedly could also make flowers grow. But that child had no one other than his mother to show his talents or give gifts.
The girl repeated her trick, making a purple flower grow in Merlin's hands. When she finished, Merlin grinned at her conspiratorially, and then his eyes flashed and the flower turned into a butterfly. Mari gasped with delight as it fluttered its wings lightly, then took to the air from Merlin's hand. Her eyes followed it until it disappeared into the sky.
"Do it again!" she demanded excitedly, and Merlin laughed.
"Grow another flower and we'll see," he encouraged her.
Meri bit her lip again, her eyes darting very briefly to Arthur before looking back to Merlin. She stood on her tiptoes and leaned over, whispering something in his ear.
"Why don't you ask him?" Merlin asked when she finished. "It's okay," he added when she looked at him nervously. "He won't hurt you."
Mari turned toward Arthur, and when she finally spoke, her voice was much more timid than it had been with the other two men.
"Cai says you're the king of Camelot," she said, her gaze focused on the ground as she scuffed her feet again.
"I am." His voice was gentle and steady. If he felt any fear of the girl's magic, he hid it completely. "My name is Arthur."
"Do you want a flower too?" she offered, her voice little more than a whisper.
Arthur smiled at her, and Lancelot could swear he almost looked a little shy himself. "I would be honored."
The girl glanced at Arthur again, this time meeting his eyes for just a moment. Some of her nervousness faded again, and she began scooping dirt into his hands.
Lancelot glanced around as she worked and realized they'd drawn an audience. The other children were still there, edging closer now that Mari had proven it was safe, but a number of adults now watched as well. Lancelot saw the fear in their eyes at the sight of the young girl so near to the king. And doing magic right there in front of him.
"Blædnes," Mari whispered again, and Arthur focused on his hands as orange petals blossomed.
Mari took a step back and watched him with wide eyes, waiting for his reaction. He lifted the flower for a closer look, smiling as he ran his thumb across the petals.
"Thank you," he said, and if he sounded just a little bit stiff, he also sounded warm. "It's lovely."
She beamed proudly, then turned expectantly to Merlin.
"Here," Merlin said, and Arthur held the flower out to him. Merlin considered for a moment, then grinned mischievously. Lancelot saw the flash of alarm in Arthur's eyes just a second before Merlin said, "Fýrgnást!"
The flower transformed from a solid plant into burning fire, and Arthur snatched his hands back, dropping the dirt on the ground.
"Ow!" he cried, and Lancelot tried to hide his snicker as Merlin laughed. In front of Arthur, the fire held the shape for several seconds, a brilliant flower made of flame. Then it dissolved into smoke.
Arthur shook his singed hand, glaring at his friend, and Merlin winked at Mari. She giggled uncertainly, unsure whether Arthur's anger was genuine. After a moment, Arthur shook his head and laughed too.
And just like that, the tension seemed to ease. The faces around them turned from apprehensive to cautiously amused, and suddenly the three men were surrounded by children. A few came up to Arthur, and a few more approached Lancelot, but most of them wanted to show Emrys what they could do or have Emrys do magic of his own.
And Merlin, who maybe didn't know much about politics or diplomacy, knew plenty about magic and showing off, and his nervousness disappeared as he joined the games.