Chapter 6
Arthur sat at his desk, pouring over documents by candlelight. In truth, while his eyes were scanning the words their meaning did not reach him. He had many other things on his mind.
There was a light knock on his door. "Enter," he said, and a few seconds later, Guinevere stepped into the room, closing the door softly behind her.
"Guinevere," said Arthur, looking up in surprise. It was quite late, and they had already told each other 'goodnight'. He'd been sure she would have been asleep by now. She was dressed in her nightgown and her hair was hanging loosely.
"You're still up," she observed, eyeing the papers on his desk.
"Busy day tomorrow," he grunted. Arthur turned his eyes back to the documents. He hoped his wife would leave it at that. He did not wish to talk about what really occupied his thoughts.
"Really," she said, thoroughly skeptical. "If I remember correctly, you have no meetings, and the only thing you were planning to do was oversee the knights' training. I didn't realize that required so much paperwork. Any, in fact." She came around his desk to stand behind him and wrapped her arms around his neck. Arthur felt her chin resting softly on his head. He could not resist closing his eyes and leaning back into her warmth.
"Talk to me, Arthur. What's really on your mind?"
"Nothing," he said.
"No, I know my husband and how much he loves sleeping. If it were truly nothing, you would be snoring in bed right now." A pause. "It's Merlin, isn't it?"
"Why would I waste my time thinking about that idiot?" Arthur grumbled.
Guinevere pulled away, and Arthur stiffened at the loss of warmth. Her voice was colder when she responded. "Because he's your friend, and he's just gone through something traumatic."
"Traumatic? He doesn't even remember what happened."
"Or anything else, from the last eight years. Put yourself in his position, Arthur. How would you feel if you suddenly woke up at seventeen years old and were told that you were king? Oh, and that you're married to a serving girl?"
He turned in his chair and grabbed her hands. "I would feel ecstatic, once I saw how beautiful my wife was."
Guinevere pulled away again and went to stand by Arthur's bed. "And upon learning that you are king, you must face the fact that your father is dead. Not only that, you learn that Morgana is your sister, and that she has magic which she is using to seek your throne."
Arthur made a face. "I admit, that would not be a very pleasant realization."
"I remember you at seventeen, Arthur," said Guinevere. "The only things you were thinking about were bullying the servants and checking your reflection in every mirror you passed. You would have gone into a panic."
"That is… not true," replied the king, although it very much was.
"So surely it must be as overwhelming for Merlin," pressed Guinevere. "All at once, he's in a new place, surrounded by strangers, and I get the feeling you are simply expecting him to pick up where he left off."
"I've said no such thing," said Arthur, glaring at the papers on his desk; he wouldn't dare to glare at his wife.
"No, but that is why you are here moping."
Arthur scoffed. "I am not moping!"
"Because," continued Guinevere, "you miss having Merlin waiting on you hand and foot, and George is a poor substitute."
"It's been a single damned day!" said Arthur. He could feel color rising into his cheeks. "Once Merlin settles in, he'll be back to work, and everything will go back to normal."
"And what if it doesn't?" asked the queen, gently.
Arthur ground his teeth. How could he tell his wife that already, things could never be as they once were? That he didn't feel like he could ever trust his manservant again? That from here on he would doubt the integrity behind all of his actions, and that his memories of the servant were tainted with suspicion? That for all intents and purposes, the Merlin from his memories was a dead man?
"Guinevere," he said, taking a deep breath. "What if I told you that I had learned something… something about Merlin… that changes everything we know about him?"
His wife smiled and said, laughingly, "Like what?"
He looked away. Although he very much wanted someone to share the burden of his revelation, someone who was not Gwaine, how could he ruin the innocent memories of his wife's oldest friendship in Camelot?
Guinevere approached Arthur's desk and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Like what?" she asked again, without humor but instead with a note of apprehension.
Arthur shook his head. "No. It is not my place to say."
The queen was silent for a long moment, though her hand did not leave Arthur's shoulder. He merely waited, staring into the corner of his chambers and hoping she would drop the subject.
"So, what you are saying is that, whatever you learned about Merlin through the events surrounding this curse, it has made you doubt your friendship with him?" Arthur could not reply, but his slumped shoulders and hanging head were testament to the truth of Guinevere's words.
"That's ridiculous," said the queen firmly. "Merlin is just about the sweetest person who ever lived, and he has sacrificed himself on multiple occasions to save your life. Whatever secret he might have been keeping from you doesn't change any of that." She walked around his desk and leaned in, so that Arthur could no longer avoid looking at her. Her expression was determined, bordering on angry. "You will be there for your friend. Tomorrow, you need to go see him and ask him how he is doing."
"I already told you, I'm busy."
"You have nothing to do tomorrow, and you know it. So, go see Merlin, or I shall not speak to you."
Arthur rolled his eyes. "Guinevere-"
"I mean it. Until you have spoken to Merlin, you will have no time with your wife. Starting now."
And with that, Guinevere turned on her heels and left the room, closing the door a little too loudly for it to have been on accident. Arthur stared after her with his jaw agape.
"Damn it, Merlin," he growled, running agitated hands through his hair. "Missing eight years of your life, and yet you still find ways to bugger up mine." Arthur scowled at the papers on his desk, blew out his candles, and flopped heavily onto his bed. "Interfering with my marriage," he grumbled. "Bloody good-for-nothing manservant…"
Merlin…
Merlin's eyes shot open. He was laying on his side facing the window in the small room connected to Gaius's quarters, which he was still struggling to call his room. Although Gaius could be heard snoring softly on the other side of the door, it felt odd to be by himself, sleeping in a chamber of his own.
He had never been gone from home for such a long time. They had a word for this sensation, didn't they? This aching, twisting feeling in the chest, bordering on nausea. Homesickness?
Moonlight streamed through the window, silvered clouds drifting through the sky. The lower town, which stretched away from the wall of the physician's quarters, was quiet. Distantly, Merlin heard a bell striking the hour.
He sat up in his bed, rubbing his bleary eyes. Now that he was awake, he doubted that he was going to fall back asleep. It had taken him long enough to escape his thoughts the first time; he didn't think he would be so lucky again.
And he swore that he had heard someone calling his name.
However, Gaius was asleep, and the window to this room was closed. He was alone, a fact he was painfully aware of. So it must have been a dream.
Merlin threw off his blanket, stood up, and walked over to the window, from which he could see the rooftops of the lower town reflecting the silver of the moonlight. Tendrils of smoke drifted from the occasional hearth. There, a flicker of movement and orange light - a guard in uniform patrolling the streets, torch in hand.
He had heard stories about Camelot all his life from his mother. But Merlin's imagination had never done it justice. He never could have imagined such a large and intricate place full of so many people-
Merlin…
Merlin whirled around, in the process tripping over his ankles and falling onto his bottom on the floor. He pulled himself up the wall until he was standing again, eyes darting around his dark room. "Who's there?" he asked.
Merlin… came the voice, louder this time. It sounded so close, like someone was speaking to him over his shoulder. Feeling paranoid, Merlin spun around again, threw open his window, and stuck his head out, looking in all directions. No one.
He turned back to his room. "Where are you?" A thought occurred to him, and on tiptoe, he crept to the wardrobe, grabbed the handles, and threw it open. Clothes, and nothing more. "Show yourself!"
Merlin! said the voice again. Merlin's heart was racing in his chest, and he found it hard to breathe. There was definitely a disembodied voice speaking to him right now, and if the speaker wasn't in this room, this was certainly the product of magic.
Merlin had never encountered any magic in the world but his own - at least until last night, when he had seen Morgana's curse placed on Pierre. What he did know was that magic had been outlawed for a reason, and people feared it more than almost anything else. His mother called his own magic a gift, but it could go wildly out of control, and there were times it scared even Merlin.
In short, if this were magic, then it could be nothing good.
He thought about going straight to the king. How would Arthur react to Merlin waking him up in the middle of the night to say that he was hearing a voice in his head? Or Gaius, for that matter? For all Merlin knew, whomever this voice belonged to could be incredibly dangerous. Would the owner kill him for trying to seek help? Would it kill the people he told?
Merlin! the voice called, insistently. We need to speak!
Merlin realized he could feel the direction the voice was coming from. The feeling was faint but clear, and it pulled at his magic, which in itself was a new and bizarre sensation. Realizing that he was likely signing his own death sentence, Merlin quickly pulled on his boots, shrugged into his jacket, and crept out of his room.
He snuck past Gaius as quietly as his clumsy feet would allow him and at last reached the door to the physician's chambers. Once in the corridor, Merlin used a side entrance to leave the citadel and enter the lower town.
The voice continued to call to him, and the odd power that caused his magic to hum and buzz grew stronger the farther Merlin walked from the citadel. He did his best to avoid the guards - he had no idea what he would tell them in explanation for why he was wandering the streets in his bedclothes - and soon came to the edge of a forest.
It was the Darkling Woods. They certainly lived up to their name; the moonlight hardly penetrated the branches, turning the forest below an inky black. What Merlin knew about these woods was that they were inhabited by all sorts of unsavory things, like bandits, wolves, and even serkets. And yet, the voice was somewhere in their depths.
Berating himself for being such an imbecile, horrified to realize that Arthur was right about that after all, Merlin cursed and plunged into the trees. He tripped on several roots, slipped on leaves, was stabbed in the eye by a branch, and snagged his nightclothes on thorns and brambles. After a long trudge through the woods, finally Merlin saw moonlight ahead and broke into a wide, grassy clearing.
His magic trilled inside of him. This was the place.
"Hello?" he called, looking around the empty clearing. There was no one else here. And yet…
The sound of wings met his ears, but these wings did not belong to any owl or pigeon. They were massive. Merlin peered up into the sky, and he saw a dark silhouette rimmed in moonlight rapidly approaching and rapidly increasing in size. It was as large as a building, and there was no mistaking its shape.
It was a dragon.
Eyes glued to the monster, Merlin began backing quickly out of the clearing, and he was nearly to the cover of the forest when he twisted his ankle on a rock and fell onto his bottom on the grass. After that, his legs felt like porridge, and Merlin knew he was doomed.
The dragon flapped its wings to slow its descent; the trees bent backwards in the force of the wind it created. Its massive clawed feet met the grass, and it crouched into the clearing so that its head was below the treetops, folding its wings onto its back, looming over and staring directly with its huge golden eyes at Merlin.
"Merlin," rumbled the dragon. It was the same voice that had been speaking in his head. This was what had called to him.
Merlin, trembling uncontrollably on the grass and feeling numb, whimpered, "Please don't kill me."
The dragon pulled its head back in surprise. Then it laughed. "Kill you?" it repeated, like the idea was the funniest thing in the world. "Kill you? Young warlock, you truly have forgotten everything!" Chuckling a few more times, it seemed to sober. It leaned closer to Merlin, its glowing eyes peering at him unblinkingly. "What the witch has done to you is inexcusable."
The witch? Morgana? "How…" Merlin swallowed heavily and tried to strengthen his trembling voice. "How do you know about that?"
"A great amount of power was lost from the world when that curse touched you, young warlock. Destiny has shifted, and I fear not in a good way."
"Destiny?" said Merlin. "Whose destiny?"
The dragon barked more laughter. "Yours, boy! Your destiny, and the destiny of this kingdom, the destiny of this entire realm and the future of Albion!"
"What are you talking about?"
"Neither your magic nor my own can restore what you have lost, but the steps you have taken thus far cannot be in vain. Hear me, Merlin, and know that it is your destiny as Emrys to protect the Once and Future King, so that he may bring about the time of Albion."
Emrys. Once and Future King. These words meant nothing to Merlin. He shook his head, squeezed his eyes shut, and said, "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Arthur Pendragon! You must protect him so that he may unite the kingdoms in a time of peace and restore balance to the land!"
The dragon was sounding angrier at every word. Merlin could not bring himself to open his eyes or look up at the beast, fearing that at any second he would be engulfed in dragonfire. "Fine, okay, I'll do it!" he babbled. "I'll protect Arthur, whatever you want!"
The dragon hummed but said nothing. After several seconds, Merlin cracked open his eyes, only to find the dragon's head mere feet from his own. Golden magic swirled through its eyes, and the power radiating from the beast was almost suffocating. Merlin had not known such power could even exist.
"It will be a difficult journey that you face," said the dragon, and Merlin could swear it almost sounded pitying. "When all seems lost, seek the birthplace of magic. There you will find the answers you seek." Shuffling on his feet, the dragon looked to the night sky, spread its wings, and pushed into the air. In less than a minute, it had vanished from sight.
Merlin collapsed entirely onto the grass, taking deep and shuddering breaths. At any moment he expected to wake up and discover that this was all a nightmare, but long minutes passed and Merlin was still in the clearing. He finally managed to drag himself to his feet. Looking around, he saw where the grass had been flattened by the monster's huge shape and where dirt had been thrown about by its claws.
None of it was a bad dream. It was all very, very real.
"Protect Arthur?" Merlin mumbled, trying to wrap his mind around what he had just agreed to.
He suddenly understood why the older Merlin had thrown himself in the way of danger for Arthur so many times. The dragon had obviously spoken to him, too. It was a simple choice, once he thought about it. Protect the king or be eaten by a dragon. Yes, no contest there.
Merlin made his way back to the citadel, knees feeling like jelly, and somehow found himself in his little room once more. The sun was just starting to brighten the air, turning the black of night to murky gray.
Merlin slumped onto the edge of his bed and stared at the wardrobe. At some point during the trek back, he realized another decision had been made for him. He was not leaving Camelot any time soon.
Guinevere stayed true to her word. Arthur did not see her for breakfast and did not catch one glimpse of his wife before she left the citadel to make her rounds through the lower town. After sleeping poorly, being woken by George, and not being able to kiss his queen good morning, Arthur was in a sour mood.
He knew the cause of all of this, and yet he determined to put off Guinevere's ultimatum as long as possible. At least until after he had overseen the training of his knights.
At midmorning, dressed in chainmail and armed with Excalibur, Arthur ventured down to the training grounds where his Knights of the Round Table were busy sparring and training their squires, all under the watchful eye of Sir Leon. The person Arthur had not been expecting to find at the training grounds was his manservant, and yet there Merlin was, leaning on a fence and watching the knights meet swords.
Arthur had not seen Merlin since the unfortunate events in Gaius's chambers. The shock of seeing his manservant, eight years younger and dressed in ill-fitting clothes that had belonged to his older self, was renewed. He was scrawnier than ever, and his ears protruded from his head so far that a strong wind was liable to catch them like sails.
Merlin's eyes caught Arthur's across the grounds, and Arthur quickly looked away, pretending that he hadn't noticed Merlin's presence. Purposefully, he walked up to Leon to inquire about the knights' progress.
"Good morning, sire," greeted the knight.
"Sir Leon," replied Arthur, nodding. "How goes their training?"
"Smoothly, sire. It is a competent group of men who are teaching our squires."
"I notice a competent few of them are dragging today," said Arthur, narrowing his eyes at Elyan and Percival in particular, who were sparring partners and whose swords met with as much force as if children were swinging them.
Leon cleared his throat. "Um, yes. On your advice, we took Merlin out for a round of drinks to reintroduce ourselves to him."
Arthur stiffened, remembering what Merlin had told him about how his magic responded to alcohol. His eyes flicked to Merlin and back to Leon. "Did he drink anything?"
"You know Merlin," said Leon. "He didn't do more than pretend to take a few sips. He never has liked mead."
Arthur frowned, wondering why Merlin would spend so much time in taverns if he did not even allow himself to drink. It seemed like every time his manservant had gone missing in the past, he was at the tavern. There must have been some other draw.
He shook his head. He did not want to delve too deeply into whatever other unsavory things Merlin might have been doing there.
"How was he?" he asked Leon, watching as Sir Lamorak corrected his squire's stance.
Leon smiled. "He seemed to be enjoying himself. Gwaine has certainly been taking good care of him."
As if on cue, Arthur watched as Gwaine shouted at Merlin and waved him over. Merlin responded by frantically shaking his head.
"If you want to talk to him, sire…"
The king sighed, thinking of Guinevere. "I suppose I should," he grumbled. "When I return, we will run some drills."
Arthur picked his way along the edge of the training grounds, complementing some of the knights on their form, giving others brief pieces of advice, and approached Merlin in a way that he hoped seemed accidental, as though he was not going out of his way to talk to a servant. He walked around the fence and leaned against it on his arms in much the same way as Merlin.
Merlin, seeing the king standing next to him, gawked and then quickly turned back to watching the knights.
"Merlin," said Arthur. He was gazing at the training fields, but in his peripheral he saw Merlin shift uncomfortably.
"Your Majesty."
He had no idea what to say. The first question that came to his mind, to ask Merlin if he had been following the rules with his magic, was a topic that could not be discussed out in the open. His next strategy was to make small talk.
"How are you settling in?"
"Fine," said Merlin.
Obviously things were not fine, if Merlin was so clammed up. Arthur finally glanced at the boy and took a better look at him. His manservant was pale - paler than usual - and had dark circles under his eyes. There was a worried slant to his brow, and although it had seemed like he was watching the knights train, Arthur realized that Merlin was actually staring off into the trees.
"And once again you're being unnaturally quiet," noted Arthur. Merlin flinched and hung his head slightly, still refusing to meet Arthur's eyes. "Well, I shouldn't complain. Normally I can't get you to shut up."
Still Merlin said nothing. It was beginning to get on Arthur's nerves. He decided to change topics.
"How soon until you can return to work?"
Merlin finally looked at him, if only briefly, and his expression was inexplicably full of guilt. For a moment, Arthur grew afraid - afraid that Merlin would say he had decided to leave Camelot after all.
But would that really be so bad? If Merlin returned to Ealdor, it would resolve a lot of Arthur's problems. No more magic, and no more constant reminders of what had been lost.
"Sire," said Merlin, and then he started chewing on one lip.
"Well?" asked Arthur impatiently. "Or don't tell me you've decided to leave us after all?"
"No!" said Merlin quickly. "I mean, no, I do want to stay here in Camelot."
"Then I shall repeat myself - when can I expect you back to work?"
"About that," said Merlin, scratching the side of his nose and looking away. "Gaius told me that I should see this like a second chance to live my life, and I was thinking…"
"Yes?" said Arthur, rolling his eyes. Gods, it was like pulling teeth.
"I don't want to be a servant this time."
Of all of the things Merlin might have said, Arthur was not expecting that. His face fell slack, and he didn't regain his composure until he noticed Merlin staring at him. He quickly righted his countenance. "Merlin, you're a peasant. You must realize there are not a lot of options for you here."
"Yes," said Merlin, "but I was also thinking… well, Gwaine and Sir Elyan and Sir Percival are commoners, too."
No. There was no way that Merlin, bumbling, beanstalk Merlin, was suggesting what Arthur thought he was suggesting. It was so utterly ridiculous that the king burst out laughing. "What, you want to be a knight?"
He laughed until he was wiping tears from his eyes before he noticed that Merlin had turned as red as a tomato and was staring at the ground.
Grinning, Arthur asked him, "How on earth did you come up with that?"
"It just… seemed like the best way to, erm, protect you." The tomato red crept all the way into Merlin's ears.
"You don't have to protect me, Merlin. I'm perfectly capable of protecting myself." As soon as the words left his mouth, he regretted them. If not for Merlin, he might very well have been cursed out of existence. "Anyway," he tacked on, "it's not your duty to do that."
"I think it might be," said Merlin quietly.
"And what, dare I ask, led you to this conclusion?"
Merlin turned his whole head away from Arthur and refused to answer. No matter how long the king stared at his manservant's blushing neck, Merlin said nothing. Arthur was forced to come up with his own answers. It was one thing for his Merlin to make such a moronically sentimental statement, but for this boy who had no love of Arthur whatsoever, it was unnatural.
"The knights," he growled. "Filling your head with stories." His 'charming' knights were going to pay for this.
Sighing, he put a hand on Merlin's shoulder and said, "Merlin, while it is true that I allow commoners into my knights, it is also a system based on merit. Gwaine became a knight based on his swordsmanship and loyalty, as did Sirs Elyan and Percival. They had talent."
"I can learn to use a sword," said Merlin.
Remembering all of the training sessions he had forced on Merlin over the years, Arthur said, "I seriously doubt that. Besides, who in their right mind would teach you?"
"Gwaine would," muttered Merlin.
"Not even Gwaine is that patient." When his manservant stubbornly refused to respond, Arthur said, "Let me prove it. Gwaine! Come here!"
Gwaine looked up from his duel with Sir Bedivere, allowing Bedivere to swoop a leg behind his knees and knock him to the ground. Swatting away the sword now aimed at his throat, Gwaine rolled to his feet and jogged over.
"Good morning, Princess! I hope I'm just missing your apology to Merlin." The knight looked at the manservant and frowned. "Judging by his pained expression, I don't think I am."
Apology? Arthur shook away the thought. "Gwaine, Merlin here says he wants to train as your squire. Please tell him that not even you-"
"Done," said Gwaine.
"-would take on such a… what?"
"Done. I'll do it. If Merlin wants to be a knight, which is what it sounds like, I would love to have him as my squire." He beamed at Merlin as he said this, and Arthur's manservant gazed back at the knight as though the man had just handed him all of the riches of the world on a platter.
"Gwaine," said Arthur through gritted teeth, "are you sure you want to do this?" He couldn't very well forbid it, not after the law he passed stating that all men in the kingdom were allowed to try for knighthood. But he didn't have to be happy about it.
Gwaine hopped over the fence and wrapped an arm around Merlin's shoulders, who was now grinning like a fool. "More sure than anything in my life."
Anger bubbled in Arthur's chest. "He is my manservant!"
"Merlin doesn't belong to anyone," Gwaine replied smugly. "Do you, Merlin?"
"Right," said Merlin. "Especially not King Cabbagehead." He suppressed a grin for a few seconds and then burst out laughing.
Arthur was seething. "Very well. But do not expect your old position will be available when you fail." Glaring and hot, Arthur stomped away. As he passed Leon, he said, "You will do the drills today," and did not wait for a response.
Merlin watched the fuming king leave the training grounds and could not help feeling worried. "I've made him angry again."
"Yes," agreed Gwaine, "and it was bloody brilliant." He spun Merlin around to face him. "Merlin, under my tutelage, you will be the very best squire that Camelot has ever seen and someday one of its finest knights." He paused. "You are absolutely sure you want to do this?"
Merlin thought about it for a second and then nodded. "I am." He really couldn't see how being a manservant was the best way to guard the king's back. If he was to avoid being killed by that dragon, he needed to do this right. "It's better than being a manservant, anyway."
"I always thought you were more than manservant material, mate. Now," said Gwaine, clasping his hands together, "about your training… We will start tomorrow, at which time you will wake me up - not too early, mind - serve me breakfast, do my laundry, polish my armor, sharpen my blades, and tend to my horse."
Merlin's good mood evaporated. "Isn't that… just like being a manservant, Gwaine?"
"Those, my friend, are chores that all squires must attend to. Once you're finished, we'll get you fitted in some training armor and exercise a bit. Sound good?"
All of that sounded horrible. "Erm. Sure."
"Wonderful!" said Gwaine. He clapped Merlin on the shoulder and leapt back over the fence. "Bloody brilliant, Merlin."
Merlin stayed and watched the knights train a little longer, especially keeping his eye on the squires, taking note of how many times they got hit and knocked to the ground. It looked extremely painful.
"What have I gotten myself into?" he muttered.
Finally, Leon dismissed the knights. Several stayed to give their squires some extra training, but most gave a sigh of relief and left the field. Merlin, feeling somewhat numb inside, returned to Gaius's chambers, where he once again slumped into his seat at the table.
Gaius, who had been standing at a bench grinding herbs, raised his head and said, "Now what's happened?"
"Gaius, I'm afraid I've made a terrible mistake."
"Merlin, surely whatever it is can't be as bad as you think."
"Unless what I've done is decide, on a whim, to become a knight. I was talking to Arthur about it, and now suddenly I'm Gwaine's squire, and he's going to start training me tomorrow, and all because I said I didn't want to be a servant, but I'm not actually sure I want to do this either."
One of Gaius's white eyebrows climbed high on his forehead. "Well, my boy. You've certainly gotten yourself into a mess."
Merlin sighed and massaged his face with his hands. "Arthur has already said I can't have my old job back if I give up… Can I still be your assistant?"
"Are you planning to give up?"
"Honestly, Gaius, how could I not? Swinging swords at people, athletics, feats of strength and bravery, wrestling wyverns! None of that sounds like me."
Gaius shrugged and resumed his grinding. "None of that sounds too different from what Arthur expected from you as his manservant."
Merlin peeked at the physician through his fingers. "You're kidding. I thought servants were just supposed to do laundry."
"Yes, for the most part. I would say Arthur was an oddity for bringing his manservant into every battle with him."
Envisioning the dragon and its horrible maw of death, Merlin muttered, "Gods, how have I lived this long?"
"A little luck," said Gaius, "and a little magic."
Merlin jerked upright and reflexively looked around the room. "So Older Me really was using it all the time."
"When it was necessary, and then even when it wasn't." Gaius paused, pursing his lips. "Merlin, after you eat your lunch, why don't you check under the loose floorboard in your room?"
"Um… okay?"
"There's some bread, meat, and cheese in the larder. Help yourself."
Merlin was too exhausted and overwhelmed to have much of an appetite, and his curiosity to see whatever was hidden in his room drove him to eat only a very small amount. Soon, he was on his knees beside his bed, searching for the loose floorboard. As he ran his hand along the boards, he recognized a peculiar feeling, similar to what he had felt last night at the dragon's call.
Magic.
That made him all the more curious. Apprehensive, yes, but if Gaius were urging him to do this, it couldn't be dangerous, could it?
At last he found the board. There was an indentation near the top, large enough for his finger to squeeze into and lift up the wood. He set it aside and peered into the hole.
The first thing he dug out was a small wooden carving of, what else? A dragon. He glowered at it balefully and muttered, "What is it with me and dragons? Can I not escape you?" Unnerved, he set the dragon aside and reached back in.
The next item he retrieved was an old, weathered, leather-bound book. This was much more interesting, however, it was not the source of the magic that Merlin was feeling.
One more time, Merlin thrust his arm in the hole, swung it around, and clasped his fingers over a long pole of some sort, which was softly pulsing with magical energy. He had to angle it just right to get it out from under the floor, and when he had, he nearly dropped the thing from shock.
It was a magic staff. A genuine, crystal-topped sorcerer's magic staff. How had his older self even gotten ahold of this thing? Why did he keep it stashed under the floorboards where anyone could find it? The thing practically screamed "I am magic!" Had Older Merlin had a deathwish?
Merlin's suspicions were confirmed - he had grown up to be a madman.
Wondering what exactly Gaius had sent him here to find, Merlin hazarded a guess and called out, "The book, right?"
Gaius made a small noise of exasperation. "Yes, Merlin."
"Thank the gods," he whispered, and he crammed the staff back where it had come from. Must not let Arthur see. He dropped the dragon after it, replaced the board, and took the book back with him into the main chambers, where he sat with it at the table.
Hand hovering over the clasp, he said, "Is this what I think it is?"
"That depends, Merlin," said the old physician, measuring the herbs he had finished mashing into a small glass vial, "on what you think it is."
Taking a deep breath, Merlin untied the clasp and opened the book, careful of the sheets of loose parchment shoved in its pages. Flipping through several pages, Merlin saw beautifully scribed text in a different language and colorful, intricate illustrations, some gilded with gold leaf, of wonderful and terrifying feats of magic. "This is a book of spells," he whispered, awed. Gaius hummed but said nothing. "What language is this?"
"The language of the Old Religion."
Merlin ran a finger over some of the text, mesmerized. "I've never seen it before… so how can I understand it?"
"Because yours is a very unique gift, Merlin," said Gaius. "You have a rare talent for magic, unlike any I have seen before."
Knowing that, hearing it from Gaius, made the idea sound both very appealing and appalling. "You mean, even among magic users I'm a freak."
"There has never been anyone quite like you, Merlin, though I wouldn't go so far as to call you a 'freak'."
Merlin closed the text and tied the clasp. "Gaius, I don't understand. Arthur has forbade me from using my magic, and even you told me to be careful, and yet now you're telling me I ought to learn spells. I would be deliberately breaking the law."
"What Arthur doesn't realize is that the only way for you to prevent magical accidents like the one you had two nights ago is for you to learn to control your powers. This is especially important if you are going to be acting as Gwaine's squire. If you are not careful, you may instinctively lash out with your magic. Now, put that away, before someone sees it."
A/N: Chapter 6, in which Kilgarrah is remarkably unhelpful, Arthur struggles to cope with Merlin's predicament, and Merlin decides to be a knight.
The idea that Merlin can instinctually read the language of the Old Religion is a head-cannon of mine. In the show, it never seemed like he spent time learning it, so I presumed his connection to all things magic helped him with this.
Thanks to: Hades Lord of the Dead, Gingeraffealene, Meeeeeerlin, Taz, myrosedream, StellarMage99, east231, cg037, PadrePedro, LiaPrince, daddyphannypack, and Manateesrock 33 for your reviews of Chapter 5!
Also, I want to shout out to daddyphannypack: Happy Birthday! I hope it was amazing. :D
Until next time,
T.F.C~