Author's note: I changed the rating to Teen after a discussion on ratings in one of the many Discord server's I'm in. As someone who's from a country where the highest rating anything can get is 15+, and where we have full-frontal nudity and swear words on state TV, I am super bad at judging what is appropriate for an international audience and tend to go for a higher rating, just in case. But then, that conversation happened, and I realised I might have rated this too high. Hence the change to Teen-rating. But if anything in this fic makes you feel like I should change it back to Mature, please let me know.
As promised, Gwen came by the next day to take Merlin to get properly registered in the system. He was required to, in case he was stopped by guards who didn't recognise him as Gaius' great nephew, and if he wanted to leave the castle grounds without an escort.
Afterwards, they took him on a tour around the castle grounds so that he might make himself familiar with the layout he'd only previously seen on printouts and screens back in Essetir. First there was the castle itself with its many floors. The living quarters were in the east wing, the parliament chambers and offices in the west wing, while the many ballrooms and halls were in the main part. Then came the many extensions still kept in the same style as the castle to preserve authenticity, although they'd been added much later.
As they made their way around the premises, Merlin had to admit that there was certainly a difference between seeing something on screen, compared to the stark reality of the sheer size of the grounds in real life. They were so vast, so incomprehensibly huge and bustling with life in the form of courtiers, staff, guards, knights, and other people with errands in the castle, Merlin was convinced he'd get lost about a million times. At least.
He admitted as much to his companions with a wry smile while they were walking among the rose bushes in one of the many gardens.
"You can just ask the guards until you can find your way around," Gwen said, laughing. "You're hardly expected to be able to navigate this labyrinth successfully the first hundred times. Heaven knows I ended up in the strangest places when I first came here."
Judging by her tone that was a story Merlin needed to hear, and he was about to inquire further when they turned left around a couple of white rose bushes and stumbled upon two men Merlin knew to be members of parliament and the king of Camelot himself, Uther Pendragon.
Instantly, every muscle in his body tensed up in alarm, but whether in fear or simply malicious contempt, he couldn't tell.
This was the Genocidal King of Camelot, as Nimueh called him, with scorn and pure hatred in her voice. This was the tyrant who relentlessly persecuted and killed their kind without remorse in some misplaced hunt for justice for a crime that had never been committed. How normal he looked for someone so bloodthirsty, simply talking earnestly with the members of parliament, nodding and making hand gestures that weren't the slightest bit deranged nor animated with lunacy. Merlin had seen the king on the telly before, yes, but as with Arthur and the castle grounds, it was something completely different to be faced with the real-life version.
Especially when the king, upon noticing their presence, withdrew from the conversation he was having, and turned his full attention to them instead. "Gaius, Dame Guinevere," Uther said pleasantly, with a tug of his lips that could almost be mistaken for a smile, before he turned his gaze to Merlin. "And you must be Merlin, Gaius' nephew."
"Your Majesty," both Gaius and Gwen said as they bowed, hastily followed by Merlin who'd almost been too frozen in his observation of the king to remember himself and proper protocol.
"Yes, Your Majesty," Merlin said once he'd straightened his back, half-astonished that Uther had been informed enough to acknowledge him. "Although the correct term is great nephew. Gaius is my mother's uncle."
"A minor detail," Uther said, tone light and pleasant as he reached out a hand for Merlin to shake. "You are Gaius' family regardless."
"That I am." Merlin took the offered hand, giving it a firm shake, plastering a big smile on his face. "And I cannot thank you enough for letting me stay here just like that, sire. It is most gracious of you considering what little I can contribute."
"Nonsense," Uther said. "It was hardly a matter of great consideration. In fact I am glad you have decided to come live here; Gaius has spent too long without family."
"So have I," Merlin said, forcing a little warmth into his voice.
It would almost be too easy, he thought. One spell and Uther would be dead before anyone could react. One spell and their nightmare would be over, and families could be reunited.
But he wasn't stupid.
Now was not the time, as Nimueh had said. Had they only wanted him dead, he would be already. But killing Uther would be like cutting off the head of a hydra: two more would spring forth in the form of Arthur and public opinion, and it was better to keep the enemy contained until such times where the monster could be slayed with one strike.
They exchanged pleasantries for a little while. Uther asked him how he was finding Camelot so far, and Merlin answered with practised politeness, drawing Gaius and Gwen into the conversation when he mentioned the tour they were taking him on. Uther nodded, stating several places Merlin simply had to see, both in the castle and in the city, before the king's companions reminded him of their presence. Goodbyes were traded and then Merlin found himself alone with Gaius and Gwen once again.
He could still feel his hands shaking ten minutes later, despite numerous reassurances from Gaius and Gwen that they weren't.
Eventually, after Merlin had seen the rest of the gardens and after a slight detour to the kitchens for some lunch, they arrived at Morgana's rooms. Gwen knocked gently on the door, waiting for the required "come in" before entering, followed by Gaius and Merlin.
The rooms were in the same style as the rest of the castle and richly decorated with paintings on the walls and old, possibly antique furniture that looked to be in the same perfect state as when it had first been made. That naturally didn't mean that there weren't also modern amenities like a telly and a radio on the kitchen counter. Probably a statcom in a study somewhere, too.
Morgana herself was sitting on the sofa in what amounted to the living room, a book in her hands, and her pocketcom on the table playing classical music. She looked up as they entered, lips stretching into a beaming smile when her eyes landed on Merlin.
"Your Highness," Gwen said, clearly fighting a grin. "There is someone I'd like you to meet."
Morgana placed the book on the sofa, open, so that she might find the same place again, and stood up to meet Merlin halfway across the room. "Hello, Lord Emrys," she said, bowing slightly and there was a trace of reverence, of respect, and of delight in her voice, echoed by the gleam in her eyes.
"Hello, Princess Morgana," Merlin said, answering Morgana's smile with a grin of his own and a bow. "It's nice to finally meet you."
"Likewise, My Lord, I have been looking forward to it."
"So have I, My Lady, but please call me Merlin. I'd rather not meet my end too soon," Merlin said, not without humour.
Morgana's smile fell into a sombre look. "I suppose none of us would." She reached for his hands, clasping them firmly in hers. "So thank you," she said, holding his gaze with all the earnestness of the desperate. "For coming to help me. I cannot express how much it means to me."
He squeezed back. "You don't have to," he told her kindly. "Your continued survival is important to us all, and I cannot be sorry that I get an excuse to see my family. Or get to know the enemy I've only ever heard about or seen on the telly."
"Still, thank you," she said, then turned to Gwen. "Could you please make us some tea, Gwen? I am sure we have much to discuss, all of us."
"Of course, Your Highness," Gwen said and left for the kitchenette where she began to putter about with cups and the boiling water fuse.
"And do sit down, Gaius," Morgana said next. "I'm sure you've been walking all day. You must be dead on your feet."
Gaius frowned slightly. "I am not that old," he said, but sat down on the sofa nonetheless, careful of the book, sighing heavily as if he were indeed exhausted beyond measure and had only kept walking because of his companions.
Merlin was left standing a bit awkwardly, wondering what he was supposed to do, but Morgana was still holding his hands, her lips pressed into a thoughtful pout, eyes roaming across his body as if searching for something. "You're not as horribly dressed as I assumed," she said.
That startled a baffled "What?" out of him.
Finding his gaze again, Morgana obviously fought to keep her amusement contained in a smirk. "My brother was here yesterday, you see, complaining about your atrocious choice of travelling clothes," she confided. "I must say I'm disappointed you're not still wearing them."
Merlin snorted in disbelief, not sure whether he found the whole thing amusing or if he should be offended. "I'm sorry to say it, but your brother's a right prat."
"Don't I know it." Morgana chuckled, letting go of his hands after another slight squeeze for emphasis. "He's really horrible when meeting new people. Doesn't have any manners. At all. He's convinced he doesn't have to be nice to people just because he's the crown prince." She shook her head like someone who'd given up trying to correct a child's behaviour. "Though he does seem to like you, if I gathered anything from the bitching. Which, I suppose, is a start, considering the whole prophecy-thing of my mother's. I'm sure you'll be friends in no time."
"Just because there's a prophecy doesn't mean we have to be friends. I don't particularly like Cenred, but I manage to work together with him anyway."
"That is true," Morgana said, going back to the sofa where she picked up the book to place it on the coffee table instead. "But I think friendship will be a given, nonetheless." She sat down beside Gaius, letting one arm rest leisurely on the backrest. "I may be the oldest but we do hang around the same people. You'll fit right in, you see."
Merlin shrugged, choosing to fall into one of the comfy-looking armchairs instead of answering. Gwen came back with a tray filled with tea and biscuits and the topic changed to Morgana's magic and how to go about teaching her control. Where the best place to teach her was, along with necessary safety precautions.
After dinner, Morgana forced Merlin to come to the pub with her and Gwen to meet their mates.
"If you're going to be friends with me, you're also going to be friends with them," Morgana had said and continued with a very definite, "You might as well meet them all tonight since for once we're all off duty, and it'll be awhile before that happens again," when Merlin had tried to beg off.
And that had been the end of that discussion. Gwen went home to change out of her uniform, while Morgana followed Gaius and Merlin back to their rooms where she sorted through all Merlin's clothes to find something suitable for him to wear, despite his protest. She also muttered something about taking him shopping for new clothes someday since he hadn't been able to bring much from Essetir. Then she forced him to change, also under protest, and then they were on their way.
Technically there was a curfew from ten in the evening to six in the morning where people weren't allowed out on the streets without special permission, but that didn't mean people didn't go out. As with the bus company, there was another one that specialised in driving people to and from their destinations in little red taxis. They registered the passengers' data and where they were going/coming from, then sent the information to whoever handled the surveillance. Keeping the streets safe, of course, was the official reason.
But since Morgana was the princess, they didn't take a taxi. Instead they were driven to the pub in a sleek black car with tinted windows by an official driver for the royal family.
The Rising Sun, as the pub was called, might as well have been placed in Essetir as much as it looked like an ordinary pub, though Merlin did spot a few cameras in the corners near the ceiling when they entered. The potent smell of beer hung in the air almost like a fog only visible in the dim lights of the lamps hanging over the booths, where the patrons were drinking and chatting amicably among themselves. Some people were playing pool in the middle of the room, others were hanging about the bar while waiting for the bartender to have their order ready. None were giving the princess of their country a second look as she made her way to the back of the pub with Merlin in tow.
Gwen and Lancelot were already sitting beside each other in a booth in the corner of the pub, squished together and holding hands on the table. They were having a discussion with the brown-haired knight Merlin had seen with Arthur the day before. Another man with curly, ginger hair seemed to be participating too, although not with the same vigour as the others, instead casually sipping his pint as he listened. In front of him sat the tall knight who was named Percival if Merlin's memory served him well, and lastly, Arthur himself seemed to be nursing a glass of cider.
"Hi," Morgana said to announce their arrival once they were close enough, successfully drawing the attention of the booth.
"Morgana," Arthur said, with just a hint of the sneer that was expected of siblings. "Nice of you to finally join us." His eyes drifted to Merlin, quickly giving him an inspecting once-over. "And I see you've brought a stray. At least today, it seems he's managed to dress himself suitably."
"He did receive some help," Morgana confessed with a laugh.
"I guess it was too much to hope for a miracle," Arthur said, a haughty smirk in place.
"I feel like I might as well move back to Essetir if this is how guests are treated," Merlin said, crossing his arms, eyebrow arched pointedly.
The brown haired knight barked out a laugh. "Don't worry, Merlin. It's not that bad. I'm from Caerleon originally, and they haven't managed to chase me off just yet."
"And what a terrible shame that is," Morgana said dryly before turning back to Merlin. "Merlin, get your arse in the seat and make yourself acquainted with these fine folks. I'll go get us something to drink."
It sounded a bit too much like an order, so Merlin thought it in his best interests to do as told, and he sat himself down beside the curly-haired man while Morgana flounced off to the bar.
"So," Merlin said to his new seat neighbour, fully aware that the others' attention was still on him. "I'm Merlin. Gaius' great nephew. I've just moved here from Essetir." He stuck out his hand.
The man took it, lips stretching into a greeting smile. "I'm Leon."
"Nice to meet you, Leon." Merlin let go of his hand, then turned to Arthur. "You, I've already had the unfortunate pleasure of meeting, so I'm not even going to bother."
As predicted, Arthur laughed, but thankfully didn't say anything as Merlin shook hands with the tall knight, who confirmed his name was indeed Percival. Next was the brown-haired knight, the one from Caerleon, who introduced himself as Gwaine. Which Merlin might have heard the day before, now that he thought about it. Lancelot and Gwen he already knew, so he merely gave them a wave and a smile, before settling back down into his seat.
Morgana chose that moment to arrive with two pints in her hands. She put one down in front of Merlin, then seemed to have a staring contest with her brother, who eventually gave in and motioned for his mates to move closer together so that Morgana could slip in beside him. She clinked her glass with Merlin's before taking a large, grateful sip, as if she hadn't drunk anything the last few days.
Merlin also took a sip, trying out the taste of the foreign beer for a second. He took another sip, keeping the liquid on his tongue before swallowing. Then he took a large gulp.
He was met with amused chuckles when he put the glass down again, wiping his mouth with his sleeve, disregarding Morgana's displeased look at the action.
"Tasty, isn't it?" Gwaine grinned, gesturing with his own pint. "Definitely better than the shite you get in Caerleon."
"Definitely better than what you get in Essetir, too," Merlin agreed. "Had I known this, I would have moved here sooner."
"But why did you move here?" Percival asked, either genuinely interested or merely for conversation's sake. "I mean, aside from coming to live with Gaius. You must've had a life in Essetir. Friends. Family."
Merlin shrugged, wondering if Percival simply hadn't read his file or was trying to be polite by asking the question instead of letting him know they all already knew. "I guess I missed my family," Merlin said. "I don't have a dad, and my mum left for the continent years ago, leaving me to be raised by a friend, though I mostly attended boarding school." It wasn't even a lie. Just not the whole truth. He had, in fact, attended boarding school, but mostly as a day student since he'd lived at Cenred's castle. And he did, actually, have a father. Just one he'd barely met before he'd left Merlin with Nimueh and whisked Hunith away to rekindle their lost love, or whatever they were up to across the Channel. Most likely some work for the Opposition.
He continued after another large sip of his pint. "And well, I was getting tired of always studying, so when Gaius offhandedly mentioned I could come live with him, I thought, 'Why not?' and took him up on his offer." He spread his arms out in a presentation of himself. "So here I am."
Arthur arched his brow. "You left your studies to come live like a freeloader here? Why doesn't that surprise me?"
"Says the one who was born with a silver spoon in his mouth. Besides, I've just put my studies on hold. I can always return to them later. Gaius, on the other hand, is not going to be around forever," Merlin stated pointedly.
Arthur's grin fell. He cleared his throat. "So what did you study? Do you study?" It almost sounded polite.
"Humanities in general," Merlin answered, just as politely.
"Humanities?" Leon echoed, turning to better see Merlin, his elbow coming to rest on the sticky table.
"Yeah, you know, philosophy, literature, drama, history. Stuff like that." Stuff like spells, potions, and a bit of the old religion, although he wasn't to be a priest.
"All of it? I thought university was where you chose one field to specialise in." Leon took a sip of his cider, then amended, "Not that I know anything about university. I was always meant to be a knight. It's in the family, you see."
"I thought you had to do some heroic deed to even be considered as a squire," Merlin said, genuinely curious. "And I wasn't sure what to do with my life, so it was suggested to me that I simply try a bit of everything, see what I like. And now I'm just bone-deep tired of it all."
"You sound like one of those indecisive bums who're going to end up as eternal students," Arthur remarked. "You'll have a million degrees without any idea of what to do with them. And, yes, we all—" he gestured to the booth at large with the hand that wasn't holding his cider "—did our heroic deeds before being accepted into knight's training. Even Morgana and I."
"You're probably right," Merlin agreed, scrunching his nose. "Except now I'm here. Not studying. So you might as well give me the heroic tales of your heroic deeds."
Leon took the cue and began the exciting story of how he had single-handedly rescued an entire family from a burning house. The others jumped on the wagon, boasting about their not-quite entirely true tales of heroic deeds, that only got worse the more alcohol was consumed.
Merlin laughed, so much so that it hurt in his stomach, and thought that his stay in Camelot would not be so bad after all. None of them seemed to suspect a thing, and if he knew anything about body language, he was already being branded as one of their mates.
Merlin spent his days in Camelot in relative ease. Since Morgana was a knight, her spare time was heavily limited, which meant Merlin was left with a lot of free time on his hands. Time he spent reading in the gardens, enjoying the weather that grew warmer each day, or taking long walks around the city to observe its citizens, who seemed just as content with life as the people of Essetir. Sometimes he would hang out with Lancelot or Gwen when they were off duty, and other times Gwaine took it upon himself to drag Merlin to the pub when neither Gwen, Morgana, or Lancelot were around to do it.
Occasionally, he would run into Arthur too, or, more correctly, Arthur would run into him. He seemed to have scouted out Merlin's favourite reading spot and often came by to bother Merlin about his book choices or some other thing that apparently just wouldn't do in Camelot, now that his clothing wasn't an issue, since Morgana had made good on her promise to take him shopping. Sometimes Arthur would be in the company of a couple of knights, particularly Gwaine, Percival, and Leon, while other times he would be alone.
Uther, too, chanced upon Merlin from time to time in the gardens, but he was much more forthcoming and often chose to applaud Merlin on his choice of classical literature and discuss the different interpretations with him.
The irony that he got along better with the Genocidal King of Camelot wasn't lost on Merlin. But despite numerous appearances on telly spouting hateful speeches about magic and the importance of surveillance to protect the citizens of Camelot, he wasn't a monster on a day-to-day basis. Before Merlin had come to Camelot, he'd imagined Uther as a ferocious beast hated by his people, and the knights as his blind minions following his every whim, but it just wasn't so. Uther was nothing but cordial to Merlin, and the knights were no better or worse than the guards he had known in Essetir.
And then, when Merlin had been there for two months, a magic user called Thomas Collins was caught and Merlin was abruptly pulled out of the nice little bubble of contented blindness he'd found himself in.
He wasn't supposed to know about what was happening, and he didn't know anything officially, but Lancelot and Gwen kept him well-informed.
During their magic lessons, Morgana was as pale as a sheet, clutching his hands like a lifeline while he taught her not to let her magic act out on that horrifying fear in self-defence. They didn't talk much about Thomas Collins, but what wasn't said hung heavily in the air between them instead.
But there was nothing Merlin could do, nothing Morgana could do, and nothing Gwen or Lancelot could do; the safety of one person wasn't worth the risk of exposing themselves. And why should they save Collins when they hadn't saved so many others before him for the same reason? Infiltration was a hard fought prize, and helping Thomas Collins could potentially ruin everything they had achieved already, even if they deployed some of the lesser operatives of the Opposition that had been placed among the regular guards. One mistake and it would all come apart.
So instead Merlin concentrated on teaching Morgana the best he could in her tiny rooms that wouldn't allow for anything big or explosive. It was, after all, what he was sent to do, and it was something to occupy his mind while he pretended he didn't know anything or wasn't secretly terrified of being caught too soon. Reasoning told him it was unfounded; nobody beside Gwen, Gaius, and Lancelot knew of Merlin's and Morgana's magic, not even the other members of the Opposition stationed in Camelot. Certainly not the Resistance, which the captured magic user had been a part of, and even they knew how to work the secrecy spells. A fact that was confirmed by Gwen, who said they could barely get the man to say his own name, despite the truth serum they'd forced down his throat.
Still, the fear was there.
Finally, when the knights had decided they could extract no more information out of Thomas Collins, his capture and the date of his public execution were announced on every news channel in Camelot. It would reach Essetir too, where Cenred would use this prime opportunity to let the news anchors discuss Uther's inhumanity and barbarism. There would be interviews with former citizens of Camelot who'd managed to escape the horrors of Uther's regime, who would all say how wonderful it was to be living in Essetir instead. But none of that could reach inside the firewall of Camelot that sorted through everything on the web and only let government-approved material pass through. What Merlin heard on the news instead were declarations of how effective the knights were, and promises of continued protection of the evil that was magic.
The atmosphere on the day of Thomas Collins' execution, a day that was otherwise bright with the first rays of sun that had summer in them, was heavy with the weight of impending death. Nobody was laughing or even smiling.
The executional square was not really a square in the classical sense, but more of a large pit formed like a square where nobody but the knights and guards had access. The spectators stood on tribunes, looking down at the square from above like they might be spectators to a simple sports game. Except on a much smaller scale, and no beer or refreshments were sold.
Merlin and Gaius were positioned in the same box as other head members of the castle staff, close to the royal loge where Uther and Morgana stood with their guards, their faces folded into impassive masks. Arthur was down in the square with Percival, Lancelot, Gwaine, and other knights Merlin hadn't been properly introduced to. All were bearing firearms and standing in a straight line facing the pole, except Arthur who appeared to be in charge of the proceedings.
He glanced up at Uther who nodded once, before he shouted, "Bring him in!"
The tribunes, which hadn't been overly loud beforehand, fell completely silent at his order. It was as if they were holding their breaths while looking towards the door of the holding cell where Thomas Collins was being held. The doors opened, and out stepped Gwen followed by an armed guard, Collins in magic-blocking handcuffs, and then several other guards equally armed and pointing their guns at Collins, before the doors slid closed behind Leon. They marched over to the pole where Gwen, stone-faced, freed one of Collins' hands, only to guide him to stand in front of the pole where she cuffed him again, arms around the wood.
Once Thomas Collins was properly secured, she stepped away, followed by the guards and Leon who separated into two straight lines that took positions on either side of the pole, a safe distance away so no stray bullets could hit them.
Uther stepped forward, raising an arm as if greeting his people or calling for quiet, though the silence was already deafening. An assistant hastily adjusted the mic in front of the king, turning it on before stepping away to let Uther speak.
"There are those who seek to destroy the peace we have fought so hard for," his voice boomed out of the numerous speakers placed around the square and the tribunes. "There are those who seek to bring imbalance to our prospering society, to burn down everything we hold dear. Today, we have gathered to show the terrorists that justice will be served and it will be served swiftly!"
Uther's cold eyes landed on Collins. "Thomas Collins!" His voice was filled with hatred and abhorrence, like a god calling judgement upon a mere mortal. "You have been found guilty of the crimes of sorcery and treason, and for affiliation with the group of terrorists that call themselves the Resistance. For those crimes there can be only one punishment: Death by execution." He let the words ring through the silence, pausing for the spectators to take in the gravity of the sentence before he continued. "Do you have any last words?"
"I do," Collins said, and there must have been a mic in the pole or somewhere near it, for his words could easily be heard.
"Then let us hear them."
Thomas Collins took a deep, steadying breath, exhaling with an expression that could be mistaken for a grim smile — the face of a man who'd made his peace and accepted his death. "Dear mum," he started, looking out over the tribunes, searching, "wherever you are. Please don't do anything stupid. Just remember that I love you. I always will."
Gwen stepped forward again, presenting Collins with a black blindfold. He nodded and she tied it around his eyes, returning to her place afterwards. Uther nodded to Arthur and the prince turned to the row of executioners standing ready with their firearms resting on their shoulders, backs ramrod straight.
"Ready!" he ordered.
The knights lifted their firearms with the stiff, precisely coordinated movements of the military.
"Aim!"
They aimed. Thomas Collins heaved in his last breath.
"Fire!"
The sound of ten gunshots boomed out over the area, rushing over the tribunes like a tidal wave. Thomas Collins slumped down the pole. Dead. Ten bullets in his body.
Uther's voice resonated out through the speakers again. "Let this serve as a reminder that there can be no place for magic in Camelot." Then the king turned around and left, as if he could no longer bear to be in the presence of the dead sorcerer, not staying to see the guards uncuff the body before carrying it out on a stretcher.
Merlin stayed.
He stayed to watch Thomas Collins be taken away, to watch the firing squad march out, led by a stone-faced Arthur. He stayed until the spectators were long gone and the tribunes had emptied excepting the lone cleaning lady who sent him a wary look before sweeping past him. He stayed until she was gone, too, until the afternoon sun had stopped warming and the rays of orange and red had begun spreading across the sky like a water painting.
Then he left.
Author's note: I hope you enjoyed it. Please let me know what you think :)
