Part II: His Father's Son
Gaius shuffled his way from one end of his chambers to the other. He didn't remember having to shuffle like that in his younger days, and the pace of it drove him mad. No longer was it such a forgivable sin to leave a vial on the shelves on the other side of the room, for in forgetting that one vial Gaius could lose twenty minutes of his day. It was insufferable, but Gaius assured himself he still had some energy left in him. He could still whip up a cure as surely as ever, and he certainly never lost a night's sleep feeling too sorry for himself.
Gaius stopped in front of a large set of wooden shelves, and his hand hoovered over a selection of herbs and leaves. Stickle wart—that's what he was looking for. He grabbed the leaves, turned, and for some reason was rather put off by what he saw when he did.
A large white dragon had poked its scaly head through his window. Gaius wasn't sure what he was expecting to see in that moment, but it certainly wasn't that. He let out an unfettered yelp and stumbled backwards, finding himself rather unhappily mid-fall. He was not far from the ground, but at his age any tumble could prove as fatal as a fall from the top of the tower. And so it was relief that he felt when he stopped falling as suddenly as he had started, hoovering in the air mid-way between upright and horizontal. Slowly he floated back onto his feet, still inches away from the long snout of the dragon, which beheld him with the utmost curiosity.
"Gaius," a voice called from just behind him. "We really must stop meeting this way. One of these days, I might not catch you."
"Merlin!" Gaius shouted, throwing his hands in the air, "Morgana's dragon is attacking the castle!"
"My dragon…" Merlin attempted to interject. His words, however, fell on deaf ears. Gaius grabbed the nearest broom and began swatting at the dragon's nose, causing the great thing to catch a whiff of dust and let out a tremendous sneeze, complete with a bit of hazy smoke. Gaius stumbled back again from the impact, landing gracelessly in Merlin's patient grasp.
"Well aren't you going to do something about this?" Gaius continued. He turned to Merlin, still in a bout of utter outrage. "Use your magic, or…" He urged. And then, as if seeing something very obvious for the first time, Gaius's face changed. Merlin waited patiently, a foolhardy smile dancing on his lips. "Merlin!" Gaius said at last, and threw his arms around his old friend in a warm embrace.
"It's good to see you, Gaius," Merlin said.
"Good? Oh, you're a sight for an old man's sore eyes, Merlin." Gaius pulled away and patted Merlin's arms. "Let me look at you," he said, squinting a bit as he examined the lanky man in front of him.
A long moment passed, in which Merlin made every attempt to suppress his joy at being back in that old, messy room with the man who had more or less raised him. It felt too much like home, like happiness, and that meant Merlin once again had something to loose.
"You have beard now," Gaius said at last. "I don't like it."
Merlin's smile dropped into a half-scowl in accordance with his mild annoyance. "Yes, well, you've cut your hair short."
Gaius's hand fluttered to the top of his head, and as if remembering himself he said, "So I have."
The dragon in the window let out a sigh, calling Gaius's attention back to her. "Would you care to explain the dragon? Or where you've been all these years?"
Merlin stood very still, feeling the weight of his body on his feet, and the firmness of the stone floor beneath him. An apology was in order, but what could he say? 'I'm sorry' did not seem to suffice for the crimes he'd committed, and yet to say more would feel like making an excuse. So he said instead, "Aithusa is very tame, really. Aren't you, girl? I'm sorry she startled you so. She's still leaning the right way to make friends."
"I imagine that's quite a task when you're the size of a building," Gaius replied, momentarily forgiving Merlin his faults.
"It really is," Merlin sighed. He looked at the dragon, but really he was staring past her, into something else intangible and unattainable.
OIOIOIOIOIO
Guinevere reclined in the big wooden chair that sat at the head of the table in her chambers, taking a moment to cast off her queenly pall and recall simpler days of slouching and speaking out of turn. She missed those younger days, so full of life and happiness and the company of good friends. Being a queen was not what she would have wished for, though it did suit her well. She was a good queen. But she had been a good servant once, too.
Gwen was startled from her thoughts by a hard tug on the skirt of her gown.
"Mum!" George called, paying no mind to Guinevere's absent stare.
"Yes, darling?" she said, waking herself from her stupor. She lifted the boy onto her lap with a quiet grunt. At nearly eight years old, was getting a bit heavy for her standards.
"If Merlin is your friend, why have I never met him before?" George asked.
"He lived a very long way away, and did not travel much until now."
"But," George continued, "You've never talked about him. I mean, if I had a friend who was a sorcerer, I'd tell everyone!"
"You must understand, George," Gwen said softly, "Not everyone is kind to sorcerers. Once they were not welcome in Camelot."
"Back when dad was the king?"
Guinevere shifted her weight to disguise her discomfort. "Yes, sorcery was outlawed when your father ruled Camelot. But he was a good man, and made many attempts to make peace with the druids and treat sorcerers fairly."
"And he had a magic servant."
"Your father didn't know Merlin had magic. But if he had known, I'm sure they would have still been friends."
"How can you know?" George asked.
"Because I'm your mother and I know."
