This accidental moment of closeness that Merlin saw as progress in their, dare he say, friendship turns out to be a major drawback.
If before Merlin caught stray glimpses in his direction, now... is nothing. One time at practice Merlin offers the kid a rug to clean his wooden sword with, but the scoundrel outright ignores him, pretending not to notice what is practically before his face.
Merlin should be glad. After all the whole thing was awkward even for him. Mordred, he guesses, is just nearing that age when being seen ugly crying must be mortifying. Nothing weird.
Besides, the kid is shifty and Merlin has always considered them enemies. Suddenly caring about a potential murderer seems... inappropriate.
Still, Merlin does. In his understanding of the world, there are adults - the ones who are responsible for everything, and there are kids - a part of everything that should be taken care of among other things. Merlin knows that Mordred is a kid, despite his attempts to not be seen as one. And if a kid doesn't have anyone who takes care of them, then it becomes a social duty. Like picking litter on the street or take a bath once in a while. Making sure the kids are okay.
That's why when Merlin sees Mordred run through the courtyard spotting a giant blue eye, he freaks out a little.
Where did that come from?
Most of the first-years lessons are theoretical: writing, etiquette, a bit of history. Practice includes physical non-contact exercises to build strength and master basic technics, so no punches could be thrown there. Accidents are also out of the table, for all Merlin clumsiness with subsequent bizarre injury acquisition, he doesn't believe that type of shiner could be gotten this way.
It seems the perfect student has gotten into a fight.
Slowly, Merlin rises from his knees, leaving Arthur's clothes to soak in the laundry trough. Technically, he will be doing his physician's apprentice's duties that come first, right?
He smiles awkwardly at other servants, leaving for them to watch over the laundry. Mordred is heading for the stables, so if Merlin runs through the west wing he could catch him.
Merlin is right. He jumps before the kid, right where the footpath turns behind the buildings. Mordred tries to hide the bruise by scratching his face at a weird angle, and Merlin tries to give him his best strict stare that is hard to do while looking disheveled like a crazy rabbit from all the running:
- So. Who did you fight with?
- I didn't. I had an accident in practice.
- Uhumn.
Even without his previous reasoning, it's clear the kid is lying. There is just something very telling about his expression... Merlin is mildly horrified. Is that how he himself appears to Gaius?
- Do you need the healing ointment? - Merlin tries to look casual. If roles are getting switched, then he wants to be the cool Gaius. He doesn't have enough years lived to be Gaius The dreadful.
Mordred's expression is unreadable, but he doesn't look angry and he doesn't run away. After what feels like half an hour, he speaks:
- Yes. But just give me it, I know how to use it.
Suspicious, but alright.
This happens again. And again. When Merlin takes the ointments yet again, even Gaius, usually unbothered by Merlin's fussing with medicine bottles, pointedly stares at him the entire time.
For some reason, Merlin is reluctant to say why exactly he needs the ointment. He makes up a story about a new boisterous horse.
He hopes he sounds more convincing than Mordred.
At least Gaius doesn't say anything, so Merlin delivers the medicine without delays.
However, it can't be continuing like this. Merlin is all for trusting and letting people solve their own problems, but, clearly, it's not working for Mordred.
So the next morning, Merlin shows up at the training field, even though he should have been doing rounds with Gaius. He chooses that morning not without reason, Arthur is on patrol and no matter how much Leon tries to enforce discipline, he is just too softhearted. The kids shamelessly use it.
Without much difficulty, Merlin identifies the problem. Not forced to do lunges in complete silence, looking straight ahead, kids display their personality better. Someone is slacking off, someone is joking with friends, someone stays just as serious as though the King himself is watching his every move. Mordred is glaring.
He is standing at the front row, to pose as an example, and has the most pissed off expression directed at his fellow exemplary pupils. They, however, don't share the same animosity, merely looking away uncomfortably, after catching Mordred's glare.
It seems Merlin was wrong about it not working for Mordred. He observes still, curious.
The boys Mordred is so mad at are a group of three friends. They are noble, from one of the most well-respected families, judging by the quality of their tunics—soft and embroidered with an insignia of their respective house. Was the deal in that? That they are spoiled and out of touch and think they better than someone from a less honored family or than a commoner (another one of Arthur's novelties)? Maybe.
But why Mordred? In their year, at least a third of all pupils are commoners. Albeit most are not random kids Arthur found on the streets or patrols, but children of tradesmen or craftsmen. Did Mordred let slip about druids or magic?
Soon Merlin finds the answer. Leon announces a little rest. "To drink water," he says, but his eyes have this crazy glow that makes Merlin wonder for who's benefit the rest is.
Kids, that only a minute ago, were signing tiredly, now scramble through the field like a mob of drunk bees, breaking into groups. Mordred mere 10 days ago spending break standing straight at the exact spot he was doing exercises in splendid isolation now hurries to the back of the field. And indeed his friend waives at him and they go to sit away in the shadow of the East wall.
The friend is not noble. His clothes are made from rough linen and judging by size was passed down from someone older, his hair, straight and mousy brown, needs a cut, he himself looks scrawny and younger than Mordred, that looks 10 at the best day. Also, the boy is jumpy, his demeanor reminding Merlin of a small sparrow, getting anxious because of every little noise.
This one will tell Merlin all about what's going on.
Unabashedly he takes a bucket of drinking water from the arms of the other servant who went to refill the common big bucket and goes to the pair.
- Do young masters wish to drink some water?
He says, doing his best to imitate George's voice. Mordred glares at him, his friend, however, jumps from where he sat on the ground, shoulders to his ears, and jabbers:
- No! You didn't have to trouble himself! Thank you so much! But it is really unnecessary, Mr. Emrys! But really, really thank you!
Merlin's ears are ringing. He turns his head so quickly it almost flies off his neck. Mordred just rolls his eyes at him, unbothered.
- His mom was a druid. – He says as an explanation.
Oh, of course. Merlin would have laughed at Arthur's luck if only he didn't get a whole portion of a headache just now. He levels Mordred with a heavy stare:
- So that's, – he nodded at the other boy, - why you have gotten in the fights?
- It's not his fault! – The boy looks positively horrified. – He was just protecting me! Please don't be mad at him, Mr. Emrys.
Merlin winced:
- My name is Merlin. And, please, keep your voice low.
The boy's eyes widen comically and he slaps a hand over his mouth.
Merlin chuckles, and continues:
- And I'm not mad, just… concerned. Our Majesty's favorite pet pupil is going around all injured! I, a humble little servant, must do something about it.
- There's no need. They won't bother no one again.
Suddenly Mordred seems smug. Merlin is ready to joke about the contagiousness of the knight's terrible bravado, but Mordred continues:
- King Arthur scolded them. He said a man should be judged not by his origin, but by his merit.
Mordred looks proud and Merlin annoyed at himself for being annoyed at Mordred. He should be glad someone else sees the goodness in Arthur. Especially the person who may have been destined to kill Arthur.
Merlin smiles stiffly.
- Good, then.
It is good. Still, he doesn't want to walk away just now.
Mordred raises an eyebrow at him.
- Don't you have things to do?
Merlin ignores him. He sits beside the kids, moving the bucket with water closer:
- Drink up. Or else you would all shake and twitch worse than the old Jeremiah in no time!
Mordred grunted:
- Nonsense.
- Oh, really? Don't remember you being a physician.
- You are not a physician either!
- I am an apprentice to a physician.
- Well, that's not a real physical.
- Well, no water for you then.
Merlin smiles, teasingly batting away Mordred's hands from the bucket a couple of times before letting him be. The next moment he turns to The Mordred's friend:
- What's your name, then?
- D-D-Daegal. – The boy says. The whole time Merlin talked with Mordred, he sat with knees drawn to his chin, eyes nervously darting between them.
Merlin smiles as kind as he can:
- Well, Daegal, the next time you two get in trouble, don't wait up and hide, immediately run to me, heh?
The boy nods his head with such force, Merlin thinks it won't stay on his thin neck.
The boy turns out to be Morgana's spy. Maybe it's true what people say about how words of Arthur's good deeds travel fast. Maybe Morgana heard about him picking up peasant kids and turning them into knights and had one ready, the most non-threatening one. Well, it doesn't matter now, the situation is resolved.
Though it doesn't make Merlin feel better. That's has been kind of the given for the last few years. See, this type of situation makes him think, and that's about his least favorite thing in the world. Not in the sense that he is dumb or lazy, he just always prefers actions. Simple, effective, and all that matters in the end anyway.
Besides, he always had Will to do the thinking. In winter, when the harvest is over, they, as teenagers, they could spend hours just sitting on the bench before Merlin's house. Will would do the thinking out loud thing, where he can't sit still and talks animatedly with himself. Merlin would say "Hm" from time to time and do something useful, like carve wooden utensils or weave a basket.
At first, Merlin laughed at Will, no matter how much he pondered about evils of monarchy or idea that all men created equal or complacency, the morning will come and they all will go to work to pay taxes that "uphold defective regime" and their Kings and Queens will rule them as they have been doing for centuries.
As he grew up a little, he stopped counting the thinking as a complete waste of time. It is a waste of time. But only for certain people. The ones like Merlin.
Now he would give up his right arm for the ability to understand, not only the right and the wrong, but all the intricate ways they are connected and interchanged.
He signs, once again in his mind rolling, like a heavily worn scroll in Geoffrey's library, the scenes of all that occurred.
Following the footsteps of his new best friend, Daegal ignores all that Merlin made him promise on the training field. Time goes by and young will-be knights include some real fighting in their practice. This, of course, leaves them sore and bruised all over, but none of the kids visit Gaius's chambers to ask for an ointment or two.
One day Merlin eyes all the extra bottles of medicine he brewed and decides to just go to them himself. He knows Daegal won't be able to refuse him face to face.
He finds the kids at the field behind the West wall. They sit under lonely aspen with laps full of scrolls. Upon a closer look, it turns out to be a basic alphabet. Merlin lets out a chuckle.
His mom is from a family of hereditary physicians, so he sometimes forgets that very few people in this world can actually read. Something about that thought brings clammy dread in the pit of his stomach, the way it likens him to certain people.
- Busy as bees, I see?
Merlin flops beside the kids, snatching one of the scrolls from Mordred'd hands and raising his arm.
- Ugh!
In exasperation, Mordred casts a heavenward glance, and the next second his eyes flash golden. Merlin's hand clasps on nothing.
At first, Merlin doesn't know who from the three of them got scared more.
Daegal cries out, Merlin sweats profusely, Mordred freezes. No one ever walks by here, so Merlin is ready to brush it off when Mordred gasps. He folds himself in two, flapping his arms around, and Merlin jumps at his side.
- I can't breathe! – He is crying stunted kind of tears when it's just silently rolling down his cheeks.
"Oh" Merlin thinks with heart dropping, recognizing what's happening. He's had these… attacks and wouldn't wish it on his worst enemy.
- Mr. Emrys, what's wrong with him?!
- Nothing, - Merlin murmurs calmingly, trying to scoop the kid up in an embrace, - nothing is wrong, he's just scared. Right, Mordred? – The kid nodded. – Take deep breaths for me, okay? One-two, one-two…
After that episode, Mordred is especially vicious. Merlin doesn't blame him, he is older and had a certain sense of sensibility by all the physician's assistance work, but can't shake off the feeling of embarrassment each time he gets hurt. Also, Merlin feels guilty for messing with Mordred, so the best he can do is to cheer him up:
- Come on, everything is fine. Besides, it happens. One time I accidentally blew up a pitcher and fainted right in the middle of the Main Hall!
- You're lying! – Mordred sobs from the position of his head, leaning on his crossed on drawn-up knees arms. He scrambled away as soon as his breathing started to go to normal. Daegal, also with red-rimmed eyes and white as a sheet, sits at his side.
- No, I'm not! - Merlin tries to laugh indignantly, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. – I was trying to see how long can I last without using magic at all. And on top of that, I haven't slept for about two days. Yes, there was a feast then…
- Why are you here? – Mordred cuts him off, annoyed.
- Oh! – Merlin shoves his hand in his jacket's inner pocket to produce two bottles, - I wanted to give you that. It's a bruising ointment. For your… bruises. I thought other kids probably have something like this sent from home.
- Half of our class are not nobles, it's a stupid reason.
Merlin chuckles from seeing Daegal's expression go from concerned to disbelieving to suspicious in a flash. This earned Merlin another glare from Mordred.
This is going so much harder than he imagined.
- Share then! Here!
He shoved the bottles in Daegal's hands.
Daegal jaw drops at the medicine as though Merlin gave him gold ingots and he looks at Merlin with the most hilarious conflicted expression:
- Is it really for us?
- Yeah, of course! Someone has to take care of you. Arthur has good ideas, but not always… – Merlin nodded at the scrolls, - down with the people.
- He promised to teach us how to read! Right, Daegal?
The poor boy jumps, being put on the spot like that:
- Y-y-yes! – He doesn't sound enthusiastic. His brows furrow pathetically. – He must've thought we were annoying and an embarrassment for not even knowing that…
- No! – Mordred jumps at the defense of His Majesty but his tone much gentler than the one he was using with Merlin. – He wants to help us. 'Cause that's what knights do, they help people!
- Hm.
- It's true!
Unable to bear this kind of shameless Arthur worship Merlin goes back. Daegal waives his hand at him and it's something.
Merlin has learned his lesson. The next time his thoughts stray to the two gallant little chaps, Merlin just shuffles the rest of glassware he has been washing into the bucket and with the yell "It should soak a little!" he runs to find them.
Surprisingly, they are with Arthur, hunched over parchments and scrolls in the abandoned academy's classroom. Although Merlin muses, it was bound to happen, though he didn't expect Arthur actually fulfill his promise himself.
- Psst, Merlin.
Merlin whisks sideways, barely managing to hold the door, so it won't make noise. Gwen chuckles at him.
- Why are you helping? Did Arthur promise you you'll finally go on a date without me?
- We were having a date without you, but… – She signs. – We were interrupted.
She is trying for annoyed, but her ears are vinous and her eyes are smiling.
Merlin smirks.
- Gwen! How shameless!
Gwen's blush deepens.
- Look at them! They are adorable.
They peek through the crack of the door. Merlin must admit the scene is truly adorable. Arthur with furrowed brows, looking remarkably serious and competent, explaining something to the boys that are catching his every word. For the show, Merlin still winces in disgust.
They sit then together, Arthur's looking torn between wanting to throw work at Merlin and not trusting him with it since his future knights are involved.
- Merlin! You are not showing it right. – Arthur grumbles, grabbing the parchment from Merlin's hand and nearly sending an inkpot flying. He takes a feather and starts to write over the letters. - This letter needs a tail there.
- No, it doesn't. No one uses that except for all the posh people.
- Exactly.
Merlin signs. The next moment, Mordred already showing off his attempt with such a disgustingly hopeful expression. Gods.
Gwen kicks him under the table. She smiles:
- Do druids not teach how to write? For spells and such?
Everyone at the table instantly tenses. In the same time, a realization dawns on Merlin. "Gwen helped to sneak him from Camelot." He sneakily watches her face but it seems there is no hidden intention behind the question.
Finally, Mordred answers:
- I wasn't raised with druids. The place our community lived was raided when I was little, so I was just wandered here and there.
Gwen looks crestfallen:
- Oh. I'm sorry.
Mordred just shrugs.
- Do you think druids are bad?
Daegal's voice came out of nowhere. Arthur jumps and at last throws over the inkpot. Then he straightens, leveling each person at the table with a stare, but his strict demeanor is spoiled by ink stains on his arms and chin:
- They are neither. Some are good, some are bad. Unfortunately, I and our Kingdom mostly met the latter ones. However, - he says, looking into the distance, - it's magic that is the problem. The power it gives… No man can resist the temptation to abuse it.
- But you said that some are good? – Merlin can't stop himself. These topics don't come up naturally and he really wants to know, even though the looks Mordred and Daegal give him are downright pitying.
Arthur kicks him, clearly misinterpreting his question for a try to get a rise out of him:
- Yes, I did. That's the trap of magic. Eventually, it tarnishes your soul, no matter how good your intentions are. Some people are unlucky to be born into the druid community. But it's not a sentence! – He smiles reassuringly at Mordred. – When you learn how to use a sword, you can still protect yourself or others, but without...
He makes one of his incomprehensible gestures. No one answers. Arthur clears his throat.
- Alright! I think we did great today. I'll go check the reports. And Merlin will help you clean. – He nodded to Gwen. – Guinevere. Will you lend your unparalleled wisdom to me this evening?
- Of course!
They smile disgustingly at each other, not at all sneakily.
- Thank you, Your Majesty!
- Yes, thank you! When will you teach us again?
Mordred, the good little student, has already packed his things and is sitting diligently with crossed arms and twinkly eyes. At Daegal question, he directs his full of admiration look at his friend. Arthur helplessly glances at Merlin:
- What is my schedule?
- Tomorrow's Queen Annis' delegation is arriving. They are passing to Genes' mines and will be gone in 2-3 days. After that – it's Friday, so a weekly meeting with town people. Also, a knighting ceremony at the end of next week. That's on top of the usual stuff.
- Thanks! – Arthur smiled forcedly, not to give his future knights a bad example. Merlin feels bad for him. – Wait for me at the start of the next week then.
- Tha…
- What about the fifth week from now?! – Daegal flames up from the stares. He flusters. – I-I-It's Beggiriah's celebration Triada. I-I-I wanted to pray…
Arthur is every bit of a gracious ruler:
- Do not worry. In Camelot, we respect every religion. We'll arrange our meeting accordingly. Merlin?
- Nothing out of ordinary is planned for that week. I'll remind you not to bother these kids then.
- You better.
With that, Arthur and Gwen go away to do… whatever. Merlin doesn't want to think about it.
- Isn't Beggiriah one of the ancient High priestess?
Mordred asks from out of nowhere. Merlin scoffs. Deagal, the poor thing, looks even more frightened than when he talked with Arthur.
- Oh!... I-I-I forgot… I didn't… I…
- I'm sure it will be fine. She isn't famous at all.
Mordred is barely heard. Somewhere nearer to the end of the evening he became rather slumped. Merlin's brain instantly goes to Arthur's words about magic.
- Mordred, are you sad because of what Arthur said? 'Cause he did not really mean it, he changes his opinion any other week or so.
Mordred cuts him off:
- But he's right. Having that much power does tempt you. And there are no rules, so the risks increase in comparison with using a sword or being a lord.
Once again Merlin isn't sure what to think:
- You know you say such complicated things for someone who can't read.
Mordred glares at him.
- I think it's cool that you do magic, Mordred. And you not evil at all.
Of course, other people don't get a glare when disagreeing with Sir Best Pupil.
- Thanks, Daegal. - Mordred's expressions turn somber, adult-like. - But it's really only something a sorcerer can understand.
Probably that's when Merlin should've noticed that something is wrong. But, frankly, on his list of people who want to use him to get to Arthur little knight trainees, who spent a good portion of the week training in a vicinity of the King anyway, are pretty low. So when Daegal suddenly changes his mind and visits the next day and the next day Merlin is rather… happy. For whatever reason, he wants to know what's happening with his fellow sorcerers.
Besides they are not far in the age that Merlin doesn't remember what's it like to be twelve. To Gwen's endless amusement instead of stealing them sweets or going to the river for a swim Merlin teaches them some practical skills. He is his mother's son after all. So he teaches them how to fix a clay oven and how to dig a stout cellar and how to cook something other than baked in coal potatoes.
The first part is easy – when free Daegal follows him everywhere, including the trips to help the villagers. Merlin came up with the idea a long time ago, when he only started to do rounds with Gaius. Time and time again he noticed leaky roofs, windows, that was not properly done up for the winter, and so on. First, he wanted to blame the town's people's unique character, but Gaius said it's because Camelot is the capital. All the young people, he explained, are either work at the castle or become apprentices.
Well, then Merlin decided that he didn't want to live in the place that's falling apart, so he started to help. He also decided that since most of what knight trainees do is rubbish, so their talents will be most helpful elsewhere. However, he usually takes older trainees. So Daegal mostly listens open-mouthed to the fables other people were telling about knights' missions and Camelot. Mordred mostly stands aside, trying to hide his curious glances.
The second part is more tasking. Despite Camelot being a town, there are fewer ingredients than he had in Ealdor, since there are no wild things and if anyone grows something, it's usually something simple and bland like a whole backyard of cabbages. Merlin is used to rectifying the situation for the two of them: just a few more hours of herb gathering, but for teaching, he uses Gwen's kitchen. With all of Gwen's friends there waiting for a tasty dinner. So not only he has to improvise with his recipes but also be subjected to constant vicious teasing of which only tipsy young women are capable.
After a while, the little boat that is Merlin's life that temporarily has been scampering all over the water has found the new stream and is sailing peacefully. At least to the moment when Merlin finds himself locked in an abandonment castle room, while outside are heard clangs and whistles of weapons of Morgana's army.