1x01 – When Destiny Comes Calling

"Where's the target?" drawled a mocking boyish voice, full of youthful cockiness. It carried over the noise of the busy street and drew Merlin's attention to the owner.

A young golden-haired, deceptively heroic looking nobleman was doing "moving target practice" with his underprepared, unequipped servant. The servant looked to be perhaps a year or so younger than Merlin, and absolutely terrified as knives came flying at a heavy shield his stick-like arms were straining to hold up to block his head. As the knives – which, to be fair to the noble, were not even coming close to missing the board and causing injury – flew faster and faster, the servant dropped the shield in his haste to evade. It rolled across the ground, the servant scrambling frantically after it.

Merlin put his foot down, quite literally, fed up with the harassment and under the impression that none of the other spectators were going to do anything about it.

"Hey, come on, that's enough," he tried, hoping that this was just a case of friendly teasing taken too far that could be easily solved with a nice, civilized discussion that his mother would approve of. It hadn't particularly looked like that when he walked over, but maybe the young noble could be reasonable, he tried to think optimistically.

Because the alternative was that, on his first full day in a new city, he was about to make enemies out of entitled rich brats who could make his life a living hell. After being explicitly told to keep out of trouble and the first thing he'd seen in said city being an example of what happened to a sorcerer who drew too much scrutiny.

"What?" the noble scoffed, surprise the predominant expression on his face, as though he couldn't believe he heard correctly.

"You've had your fun, my friend." Merlin tried again, still hoping they could do this like civilized adults, even if the other boy was being rather…

"Do I know you?"

"Er, I'm Merlin…"

"So I don't know you."

… like a pompous rude self-absorbed scuffle-mudgeoned bleat-brain.

"No," Merlin said, still aiming for civility but definitely not able to keep up the friendly attitude. He could hear the temperature of his voice drop significantly in that one word, and he withdrew the hand he'd held out to politely introduce himself, feeling stupid for hoping they could do this the nice, easy way.

"Yet you called me friend," the other boy drawled, drawing out the word friend like Merlin had made some laughably audacious claim instead of trying to stop a spoiled-rotten man-child from letting his ego and wealth and blood dictate who was allowed to throw knives at whom.

He made Dareth and all Merlin's other friends back home look like sweet, well-mannered young men. "Yeah, that was my mistake."

The blond noble smugly agreed and began to walk away.

Merlin had two choices right then: he could swallow his pride and dignity and let the noble walk away having put the uppity peasant in his place, and save himself a lot of trouble. Or he could tell this stuck-up rich boy exactly what the people he looked down on for not being born with silver spoons in their mouths actually thought of him - which was something he'd wager no one else had done in a long time, if ever.

"Yeah… I'd never have a friend who could be such an ass."

Having gotten the last word in, Merlin turned to go… only to be stopped by the noble also trying to get the last word in.

"Nor I one would could be so stupid." There was the low but distinct sound of a hand grabbing one of the hilts in his belt.

Turning back, Merlin saw his snarky parting comeback had earned him the young noble's undivided attention. From the look on his face, to the fact that he was gripping his sword, to the equal amounts of rising anger and dislike coursing through Merlin, everything about the situation screamed one thing: this could not end well.

# \ # \ # \ #

"Oh God."

Merlin ducked his head down so he was staring at the pulverized rotten mess on the ground in front of him. He instinctually tried to back away from the objects flying towards his face, but the wooden frame he was stuck in prevented this and dug painfully into his neck besides. A soft object connected with his scalp, bursting on impact and showering him in smelly gooey ooze.

At least the children throwing inedible foods at him seemed to be having a good time and the passersby, including Gaius, were laughing.

"Thanks," he called out after him passive-aggressively, also laughing in spite of himself.

A squishy red fruit he didn't recognize but seemed to be a favourite among the mischievous gathered children hit him squarely in the mouth. He was spitting out repulsive seedy flesh even after an ammunition shortage gave him a short reprieve as his pint-sized tormentors left to restock.

The red hem of a well-made women's cloak of inexpensive cloth came into his view. He looked up, curious over who had dared brave the stench.

She was a girl around his age whose ancestral roots must have come from some far off corner of the old empire, for her dark complexion and frizz of curls were features he'd never seen before. They suited her well, giving her a unique prettiness that was warm and friendly.

"I'm Guinevere, but most people call me Gwen," she said, smiling. "I'm the Lady Morgana's maid."

"Right, I'm Merlin," he stretched his hand through its hole in the stocks as far as he could, awkwardly shaking her hand and hoping doing so didn't smear her with unmentionably awful smelling guck.

They chatted for a bit, and Merlin found he enjoyed talking with someone his age who hadn't grown up hearing strange tales about Hunith's boy and wasn't an uppity noble like Prince Arthur bloody Pendragon – because only Merlin would be able to, in a crowd of people, unwittingly single out and antagonize the son of the man who'd want him dead if he knew who and what Merlin was.

Gwen was like a breath of fresh air, though, the first person in Camelot to show him pure kindness without any drawbacks (like leaving him in the stocks like that traitor Gaius had). She was kind, she had a sense of humour, and she didn't think he was an idiot. He thought that they could be good friends.

Unfortunately, the children came back armed with overflowing baskets of rotten vegetables and the red fruits that Merlin was beginning to hate without ever having tasted. "Oh, excuse me, Guinevere. My fans are waiting."

His new friend beat a hasty retreat so as to avoid joining him in stinking to high heaven, and Merlin was back to his futile flinching from the vile onslaught.

Merlin's entire body was stiff and cramped by the time a smirking guard unlocked him from the stocks. He stretched out with a groan, flicking his wrists to try and get rid of the feeling of pins and needles, and stumbled down streets emptying as stall owners closed up for supper hour. The remaining stragglers parted in front of him in waves of people pinching their noses, and his cheeks warmed with embarrassment.

He passed a little girl outside an odd vegetable stall whose large basket of produce immediately caught his eye. There, among other odd and unfamiliar foods, were the now horribly familiar squishy red fruits.

So this was the origin of half the slime on him.

The fruit girl was about the same age as the children who'd actually thrown her hell fruits. Though easily distinct with much darker features and a truly eye-popping, colorful dress boldly patterned in a way he'd never seen before, the fiendish amusement in her eyes as they flickered over his thoroughly splattered form was all too familiar.

"Yes, yes," Merlin released the sigh he'd been bottling up all day in one half-mocking heave. "I know I look like I've been rolling around in compost, no thanks to you and your evil fruit."

She cocked her head as if she hadn't understood, and he gave a pointed nod to her basket. She glanced down and then back up at Merlin's pulp-plastered upper body. A mischievous grin broke across her face, and she picked up a shiny red fruit.

"Tomatl?" she asked with faux innocence, offering it out to him.

Merlin emphatically shook his head, and she laughed. She drew back her arm as though to throw the hell fruit and after all those hours in the stocks Merlin couldn't help it, he flinched. The girl laughed again and returned her merchandise to its basket, instead pulling out a square of brightly patterned cloth from a pile of others wedged to the side closest to her.

She held the cloth out to Merlin, who took it bemusedly. "Timochipahua," she said, miming scrubbing her face, and repeated slower as though that would make the strange syllables more understandable. "Ti... mo... chi… pa… hua."

"Oh," Merlin said, coloring a bit as he realised she probably hadn't understood him either. He gratefully wiped the worst of the pulp off himself. "Er, thanks."

He continued on his way feeling slightly better now that the street didn't clear in front of him, and when he entered Gaius' quarters the old man raised a brow at him.

"You look remarkably clean, considering the last I saw you, you were anything but."

Merlin went to change into his spare set of clothes, shouting an explanation about the fruit girl down the stairs. When he came back down in a tunic and trousers that weren't stained and reeking, Gaius commented, "I believe the fruits you're thinking of are tomatoes. A foreigner named Tenoch introduced them to the market thirty years ago, and he's been selling them here ever since. I heard his granddaughter came to help him for the summer - that was probably who you met."

"Where are they from?" Merlin asked, curious about the tomato girl's exotic clothing and language.

"I don't know. Tenoch is very tight lipped about where he and his wares come from."

"Why?"

"Because it gives him a monopoly over the market, I'd expect." Gaius said dismissively, sitting down at the table where supper lay waiting. Merlin's stomach rumbled, and he eagerly sank down across from the old man, reaching towards the food with relish.

Gaius asked far too innocently, "Do you want some vegetables with that?"

# \ # \ # \ #

The next morning Merlin was leisurely checking out the market in the lower town, when a gratingly arrogant voice called out to him,

"How's your knee-walking coming along?"

Just ignore him, Merlin chanted to himself, determinedly putting one foot in front of another and not even looking to where the spoiled prince was. If his mother was here she'd say that refusing to rise to provocation was the best retaliation, and after the fiasco yesterday when ignoring the advice of his elders had led to imprisonment and horrid smells, he wasn't keen on making the same mistake twice.

"Aw, don't run away!" Arthur crowed, as though in ignoring him Merlin had lost by default.

On the other hand, Merlin thought, what his mother didn't know wouldn't hurt her.

He dug his heels into the ground. "From you?"

"Thank God. I thought you were deaf as well as dumb."

"Look, I've told you you're an ass." Merlin turned to face the pampered prince. "I just didn't realise you were a royal one."

The ensuing argument drew more and more people's attention, raising the stakes; after talking big in front of so many witnesses, there was no way Merlin was going to back down as if he thought Arthur was right when he could have defeated this arrogant ass when he was five.

Just two minutes later though, fallen to the ground and backed against a table at a nearby stall, Merlin was questioning if he was in over his head. Then, he got an idea.

It only took a split second for Arthur's mace to jumble around low hanging shop equipment, with no one the wiser for how it had happened. Merlin leapt to his feet, glancing around in triumph, and discretely moved a few more things to gain the upper hand in the fight.

A thrill coursed through Merlin. Revelling in the cheers of the crowd of onlookers, Merlin recalled Gwen's words about the people thinking him a hero. Then Merlin's grin faltered; there, among the throng was, Gaius. His dour face promised a great deal of admonishment in the near future.

Before Merlin could contemplate his impending scolding, however, a hit to the back of his head sent him careening forwards, groaning and disorientated. His eyes had snapped shut in pain, but he could well imagine the prince's smug smirk.

Two gauntleted hands dragged Merlin to his feet, and he inwardly swore blue at his lapse in attention.

"Wait," came an unexpected command from Merlin's opponent. "Let him go."

The hands holding him reluctantly withdrew, as the two red and silver figures in his side vision obeyed. "He may be an idiot," the most baffling bully Merlin had ever met elaborated, "but he's a brave one."

Arthur took a step forwards, a sharp, searching look in his eyes. "There's something about you, Merlin. I can't quite put my finger on it."

With those disquieting words, the prince and his entourage departed, leaving Merlin with his upturned expectations of reality. Arthur had just let him go, after they'd just tried to bash each other's brains in, when only yesterday he'd had him jailed for trying to sock him. What had changed between now and then, to make Arthur… sort of a half-way decent guy, for a spoiled-rotten bully?

Had he gotten some measure of respect from the prince for pigheadedly attempting to smash his head in with a mace, despite all common sense screaming that it was a bad idea?

The thought process of nobles was truly a mystery, Merlin reflected.

Further ponderings of the contradiction that was Arthur Pendragon were put on hold, however, as Merlin's guardian silently marched him back to the Royal Physician's chambers, and began scolding him before even slamming the door.

# \ # \ # \ #

The next day on an errand for Gaius, Merlin entered a lady's chamber to give her a sleeping potion. However, he found himself unable to speak, let alone announce himself, when he looked on her fine ivory face and flowing dark tresses of hair. He was certain he'd never seen anyone so beautiful before, but there was something was nagging at him… something about her… something familiar…

"You know I've been thinking about Arthur," the lady said, too focused on grooming herself to notice her silent visitor's puzzlement. "I wouldn't touch him with a lance pole."

She stepped behind some kind of tall screen. "Pass me that dress, would you, Gwen."

And, visible over the top of the screen, the lady contorted her arms as if beginning to undress.

That snapped Merlin out of his daze. Hurriedly, Merlin glanced around and grabbed the lady's dress, leaving it atop her screen. He silently deposited the sleeping draught on her table, and was sneaking back to the door when the lady called on him again, unknowingly foiling his escape.

The longer he stayed in the room, trapped in his unwitting pretense of being Gwen and therefore duty bound to help the lady, the more he could not speak up to admit that firstly he was not Gwen, secondly he wasn't even a girl, and thirdly he'd been here the whole time she was undressing. He wished desperately, edging towards the door only to be stopped again by the lady herself, that he had just knocked before he came in or else announced himself at the door before she stepped behind the screen – whose purpose was rather apparent now.

"I need some help with this fastening," the lady requested again, giving Merlin a horrible moment of indecision. There was no way he was stepping behind the screen to help her, but the question was this: should he announce himself and pray the lady was good humoured, or make a dash for the door and hope she didn't see him?

"Gwen?" she called out when no maid appeared to fasten her dress.

"I'm here," called back a voice from the doorway. Merlin spun, and there was Gwen, who with just a look questioned what he was doing.

Thanking his lucky stars for her good timing, Merlin tried to express how she was a life saver – perhaps even literally, he didn't know all the laws around here but so far they hadn't been on his side – with just facial expression. He gestured and mouthed his dilemma to Gwen, who nodded and stepped forward to cover for him. She disappeared behind the screen and he shot her one last grateful look, heartened he'd found such a good friend so quickly.

Only once he was half way down the stairs, once his heart rate had calmed and his brain resumed normal function, did he remember that odd feeling that he almost recognised the noblewoman. But no matter how he raked his memory, he couldn't figure out why that was.

# \ # \ # \ #

Logically Merlin knew that the king's son would attend his father's festivities at the castle, but the sight of him laughing idiotically with his gang of bullying cohorts still took away from the otherwise marvellous sights of the court feast. His own name jumped out of the low mumble of whatever story Arthur was dramatically re-enacting to their great amusement, and he could hazard a guess that nothing complimentary was being said.

He wondered what Arthur would do if he caught sight of him – would he goad him again, or would he not want to cause a scene in such a public setting? Yesterday morning Merlin wouldn't have had second thoughts about Arthur acting like a spoiled five-year-old wherever he was, but after he let him go Merlin had to admit that maybe Arthur Pendragon wasn't entirely irredeemable. Still a royal ass, but not the mean-spiritedness incarnated he'd seemed upon their introduction.

Arthur glanced over his over his shoulder just then and his eyes widened. For a split second Merlin thought he was about to have his question answered, but then Arthur's face morphed into a gobsmacked expression. Doubting he could have spurred that reaction, Merlin craned his neck around to see whoever had.

He needn't have bothered, for at that very moment she glided past him, and Merlin was sure his face was just as ridiculously slack jawed as the prince's. Made up perfectly, each strand of hair tied in its artistic place, and dressed in a revealing red gown that daringly showed off her bare shoulders and back, she was easily the most gorgeous woman Merlin had ever seen.

Though Gaius chided him for his distraction from his "work" – learning the names and faces of all of Gaius' patients who were in attendance, from the king himself to the lowliest serving maid, as well as the proper behavior to use with each of them, something Gaius apparently decided he needed lessons on after the fiasco with the prince – Merlin couldn't keep his eyes off of the beautiful noblewoman for long.

"She looks great, doesn't she," came Gwen's voice from his side. He hadn't noticed her approach, but then he had been rather distracted. From the pride in his new friend's words he took it to mean that this was her mistress – the Lady Morgana whom he'd barely escaped an embarrassing introduction to due to Gwen's good timing and kind spirit.

The lady in question was now talking with Arthur, and Merlin peered at them trying to work out their relationship. It would just figure if it turned out that she was Arthur's sweetheart, despite her less than complimentary rant earlier. She hadn't seemed the sort to fall for Arthur for his good-looks and power; but then if she wouldn't touch him with a lance pole, why was she happily chatting with him?

Gwen's face shone with admiration for her mistress as she sighed at the picture the two nobles made. "Some people are just born to be queen."

"No!" burst out from him before he could stop himself.

The lady might be too far above him to do more than admire from afar, but the idea that Arthur would one day marry her, for no better reason than that he was the prince and she was a beautiful noblewoman, was just nauseating. Life, Merlin reflected for the umpteenth time since his arrival in Camelot, was so unfair.

"I hope so, one day." Gwen said, then rushed to add, as though worried Merlin might be thinking she was getting ambitions beyond her station, "Not that I would want to be her." Tacking on rhetorically, as though it was so self-evident any self-respecting woman would think this it hardly needed saying, Guinevere scoffed, "Who'd want to marry Arthur?"

"Oh, come on, Gwen," Merlin teased with a laugh, imagining Arthur's face if he'd heard that. "I thought you like those real rough, tough, save the world kind of men."

"No, I like much more ordinary men like you," she teased back in a somewhat strange tone that he wasn't sure what to make of.

"Gwen, believe me," Merlin laughed, though Gwen was unfortunately out of the loop for how absurd her words were and therefore probably didn't seen the humour in them. "I'm not ordinary."

"No, I didn't mean you, obviously. Not you," Gwen was quick to refute. "But just, you know, I like much more ordinary men... like you."

"Thanks," Merlin said, wondering if he should be offended. As awkward silence settled between him and Gwen, he sought to escape it by feigning fascination in Morgana and Arthur.

Morgana was reeling back, away from Arthur, her countenance very frigid as if Arthur had offended her – which Merlin could well believe. Something about her just then brought on that feeling that he recognized her somehow, but the reason why still eluded him.

Well, at least he had something to dispel the awkward silence. "From the look of things, the crown is slipping away from your lady."

"More like launching away," Gwen retorted good-naturedly, sounding relieved they'd moved past that awkward little hiccup. "As she chucks it at his head."

Merlin laughed at the mental image of Arthur on bended knee offering Morgana a crown, which she then threw back at him. Morgana's face twisted with the haughtiest of distain, and it was easy to believe she would do just that. But more than that, at her cold aloof expression something clicked in Merlin's mind, and he finally realized why Morgana looked so familiar: she was the spitting image of another wealthy young court woman.

"Does Morgana have an older sister named Vivienne?" he asked Gwen, complicated emotions coursing through him.

He doubtlessly owed Vivienne his life, but if he encountered her here in Camelot it could end very badly for him. He hoped desperately she was still off with her crazy cult, or else married to some lord who lived far away. He scanned the sea of faces, but he didn't see hers among either the gathered nobles or servants.

"No," Gwen responded, perplexed. It struck Merlin then that his question had come out of nowhere and must seem quite random; especially as it turned out he was wrong. "Morgana's an only child. Vivienne was her mother's name, but she died years ago when Morgana was very young. She hardly remembers her."

"Oh," Merlin said, his mind in turmoil. "Er, my mistake. I must've misheard that somewhere."

Gwen gave him an unconvinced look, apparently not biting the poor excuse Merlin had just given. But Merlin had a more pressing problem than his pathetic lying skills:

Did I meet Morgana's mother?

It didn't make sense. Morgana looked to be similar in age to Merlin; if her mother died when she was too young to remember her then Merlin couldn't have met her in that awful incident when he was nine. Although it had been years ago – was he misremembering what Vivienne looked like, making a connection where none existed? But it seemed a fantastic coincidence to make up a connection to a woman whose mother bore the same name.

But Vivienne had been so young…

He wrestled with it until the horns sounded to announce the king's arrival, providing a welcome distraction. The assembled courtiers took their places at the tables, standing in rows facing the long empty stretch between the head table and the grand entrance way. Gwen excused herself to go stand behind the tables with the other servants, waiting to be called upon to serve. Merlin, not exactly sure where he was supposed to go, backed into a servants' entrance.

Uther entered from the main doors, dressed in regal yet practical clothes. He was smiling genially, laugh lines creasing the corners of his eyes, looking for all the world like a benevolent ruler. If Merlin hadn't known whose court he was in and heard the man himself announce his name, he never would have pegged this kind looking middle-aged man as the boogeyman of his childhood.

His life had been much simpler when men in red were sinister monsters lurking out of sight, not merely men who also wore clothing that wasn't the colour of blood and had faces that could smile in genuine good will. He wished he hadn't seen Uther Pendragon; it was so much easier to hate someone who was one-dimensional.

The room burst into applause, the courtiers taking their seats, and Merlin realised he'd missed most of Uther's speech. He followed the gaze of the people in the main room, looking to a dais near the entrance. A woman in a bright yellow gown walked on stage and began to sing. Lady Helen, Merlin recognised, a rude and snappish lady with a strange doll and book in her room which had both felt off to him, though he couldn't name why.

Her singing was very lovely but, though he could again see no reason why, something about it set Merlin on edge.

The song crescendoed, more powerful now than sweet, and the unpleasantness sharpened. At the tables, people slumped over in sleep too sudden to be natural, rows upon rows falling as the crescendo rose. Hastily, Merlin covered his ears.

Lady Helen strode forwards, her now muffled voice no less lovely but its tone changing to match the disturbing spectacle, becoming harsher. Around the sleeping figures cobwebs upon cobwebs grew, as though years were passing with each note. Merlin grew frantic. This was undeniably an enchantment, and it didn't look like a harmless one. He glanced around for Gwen, seeing her lying covered in webs on the floor, and Gaius, who was slumped over the table and caught in the master web running down its length.

The enchantress only had eyes for one of her many victims however: the boy seated to the right of the king. Slowly, deliberately, she pulled a knife from her sleeve, raising it as her song crescendoed to an alarming high, shrill pitch. She drew her arm back, the tip of the blade pointed straight at the prince. With a wave of horror, Merlin realised she was going to throw it.

As if guided by a force beyond himself, his eyes rose upwards and alighted upon the chandelier suspended there. All Merlin felt was a desperate idea tug at a corner of his mind, and the pull of his magic rushing out of him to accomplish it. With a mighty crash, the chandelier fell onto the enchantress, breaking her song and sending her crumpled to the floor.

The people at the tables stirred, bemusedly pulling at the cobwebs covering them and blinking around in confusion. Merlin's breathing evened; they were fine.

Then his brain caught up with his actions.

What had he just done? He'd just seriously injured, possibly even killed, someone. And he hadn't been thinking about unenchanting the room, not at the moment when he acted anyways. It had been because she was pointing a knife at Arthur. Since when did he care whether people threw knives at Arthur? He didn't like him; he was rude, conceited, and a bully – Arthur had been the one throwing knives around the first time they'd met! What on earth had possessed him to assault someone – albeit someone who was acting against innocent bystanders in her murder attempt – to save Arthur, of all people!

With a pained groan, the crumpled figure on the floor pushed herself upwards, revealing the old lined face of the executed man's mother. Pieces fell together in Merlin's head: An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, a son for a son.

With one last desperate spurt of strength, the dying woman threw the knife.

The world slowed around him and, in that split second he had to decide, he found that it didn't matter if it was Arthur, who went around throwing knives himself, who needed saving. Merlin was sprinting forwards as the flying blade drew closer and closer to its target, grabbing Arthur by the shoulder and flinging them both to the ground. Time resumed its normal passage and there was a thud of a sharp object into solid wood - Merlin had made it.

Mrs Collins sank to the ground, either dead or unconscious, but doomed either way. This was Camelot, and she had used magic. She was unable to defend herself now, if she yet lived. Whether or not the chandelier had killed her, she would be dead by the morrow.

Dazedly, Merlin got to his feet, painfully aware of a roomful of eyes on him. Perhaps Gaius was right and he was an incurable fool, because he'd been warned against drawing attention to himself all his life, and within just the last few days he'd gotten into trouble repeatedly for ignoring those warnings. And now, in front of a roomful of witnesses, he'd used magic to save the son of the man who would kill him for it.

You couldn't get much more colossally stupid than this.

The king stepped forwards, and Merlin took an instinctual step back. He wrestled with the urge to run. Most of the people hadn't been completely awake when he'd moved; perhaps it hadn't been obvious that Merlin had been too far away to reach Arthur naturally. If Uther hadn't noticed and he ran he'd incriminate himself over nothing. But if Uther did know… would he be able to run fast enough to evade all the guards and knights in Uther's entire kingdom?

"You saved my boy's life," the king said in disbelieving relief, as though even though he was grateful he couldn't quite believe his own words. "A debt must be repaid."

Honestly, all Merlin wanted was to disappear back into the anonymity of the servants' entrance he had so foolhardily leapt out of. He'd sleep much better if Uther Pendragon forgot he even existed. "Um, well…"

"Don't be so modest," Uther insisted, misinterpreting Merlin's reluctance. "You shall be rewarded."

"No, honestly, you don't have to, Your Highness," protested Merlin, still fighting back the urge to run even though it was clear Uther hadn't noticed Merlin's miraculous speed.

"No, absolutely. This merits something quite special," Uther insisted, obviously not going to let him go until he'd accepted a reward.

The sooner Merlin agreed, the sooner he could leave and pray he'd be forgotten within a week – and who was he to argue with extra money? "Well…"

"You shall be rewarded a position in the royal household." Not exactly what Merlin was thinking of, but it still sounded good. At least until the king continued, as though bestowing a great honour on him, with, "You shall be Prince Arthur's manservant."

# \ # \ # \ #

It felt like for every one step forward he took, the world maliciously set him back two steps.

In what demented, sick person's mind was it an honour to be Arthur's servant? Wasn't that the position the boy Arthur had been throwing knives at held, or did Merlin misinterpret that? Did Uther not care he was putting the poor boy out of a job… or had the poor boy quit, sick of "moving target practice", and Merlin's "reward" was really just Uther filling up a hole in his staff?

In any case, it seemed irony of the cruelest sort that in saving Arthur from a knife thrown at him he'd damned himself to being the one the knives were thrown at, thrown by the person he rescued no less!

Gaius knocked on his door, entering without waiting for acknowledgement or permission. He had a red-wrapped rectangular package tucked under one arm which he moved to hold against his chest as he approached Merlin. "Seems you're a hero."

"Hard to believe, isn't it?" Merlin half-joked, thinking of how just the day before Camelot as a whole seemed happy to dye him red with the pulp of rotting exotic fruit.

"No. I knew it from the moment I met you." Gaius refuted. "You saved my life, remember?"

"But… that was magic," Merlin pointed out, slightly disbelieving that he was being told this by Gaius. Honestly, he'd been half-convinced he was going to get another lecture.

But Gaius just nodded. "And now, it seems, we finally found a use for it."

"What do you mean?"

"I saw how you saved Arthur's life."

Merlin wished that was just a simple statement of a fact, and not an explanation for a possible use for his magic.

"Yeah, and if he wants a repeat performance he'd better be a whole lot nicer to me from now on," Merlin instantly shot down that idea.

Gaius opened his mouth, the set of his face forewarning his plans to override Merlin's retort, but Merlin was having none of that. If it was pure idiotic recklessness to use magic against Arthur, then it was just as reckless to use magic for him. And unlike using magic to humiliate Arthur, Merlin didn't even get momentary satisfaction out of it.

"Look, I don't see why Arthur deserves special treatment. If I can use magic inconspicuously to help somebody I will, even if I don't like them. Indiscriminate help - that's what I'd call a good use of magic. But if Arthur wants me to stick my neck out for him again in front of his father – who'd be more than happy to put an axe through it right this second if he knew what he was actually 'rewarding' me for doing – then he'd better bloody earn it."

Gaius appeared to consider Merlin's words. He must have accepted them for he handed the red parcel to Merlin. "This was given to me when I was your age, but I have a feeling it will be of more use to you than it was to me."

Merlin took it from him, unwrapping the mysterious parcel curiously. It was a book, old and heavy, and bound in fine leather embossed with gold plates. Flipping through pages of beautiful script and illustrations, Merlin eyes went wide, darting over pictures of fantastic things and emboldened lines in a strange language.

As what he'd been given started to sink in, his smile could have outshone the sun.

# \ # \ # \ #

"Feormianlinwæde."

Merlin sat up straighter on his bed as the dirty clothes on his floor lifted into the air and threw themselves into the wash basin, sloshing soapy water over the rim. Merlin watched with a jubilant grin stretching from ear to ear.

It was no great feat of magic – he could have achieved the same result without a spell – but it had taken him twenty-three tries to get the pronunciation right. Merlin quickly flipped the pages of his new book, looking for a spell which would do his washing for him.

He'd initially tried more complicated pieces of magic, but when they'd failed he had been left unsure what the problem was. He'd quickly come to the conclusion he needed to take it slower, by starting off things he could already do. That way if he failed, he knew the cause had to be a garbled incantation.

Finding the spell, Merlin raised his hand towards the wash basin and read out, "Onþwéan linwæde."

Nothing happened, as it hadn't the first time he'd tried the other spells, and Merlin started fiddling around with the subtle nuances on each letter. He was undeterred that this was taking much longer than if he just walked over and did it manually; he needed the practice, and he was worn out from a day of 'assisting' Arthur train for some big tournament.

About half an hour earlier when telling Gaius about his first day on the job, he had summed up his experience in one word: horrible. It was difficult to say whether Arthur just plain didn't know the difference between a practice dummy and a boy whose job it was to clean and fetch things, or if he just especially disliked Merlin and was out to torment him in every way imaginable. Either way, he seemed to be entirely unaffected by the fact that if it hadn't been for Merlin he'd be entombed in cold white marble rather than swinging his sword around at hapless servants protected only by shoddy armour. It was a good thing Merlin hadn't been expecting an overwhelming display of gratitude, because as it was he was tempted to ask Arthur if he had completely forgotten why Merlin had been given the dubious honour of being his dogsbody.

His blue tunic rose and began to scrub itself against the washing board, but Merlin's glee was cut short by his door flying open. For a heart-stopping moment he thought he'd been caught, but then he noticed it was just Gaius and minutely relaxed. Then next moment he steeled himself against the lecture he knew was coming, and sure enough:

"I am beginning to wonder if those ears of yours are just decorations," Gaius barked out scathingly. "How many times do I have to tell you to be careful! What if I had been someone else?"

"I know, I know," Merlin grumbled. Seriously, how was it that it had only been three days and already Gaius sounded just like his mother?

Gaius raised one eyebrow at Merlin's unrepentance, but mercifully left off further reprimands, merely informing Merlin that supper was ready. Merlin hid the book under a loose floorboard he was planning to put a million protection spells on the minute he worked out how to use them, and then followed him downstairs to the table.

At dinner, Gaius took a deep breath, as though he was bringing up a topic he needed to address but would rather he didn't. "I've been meaning to talk to you about what you did to save Arthur." He paused for a moment as though weighing his words, and continued very carefully with, "Commendable though your actions were, I think it would be best if you didn't use that type of magic again, even to save a life."

"Why?" Merlin asked.

"Some branches of magic affect the balance of the world more than others. Time magic is notorious for unpredictable and widespread side effects, and though on this occasion you seem to have gotten away without any there's no guarantee that next time you'd be so lucky."

Gaius gave him a severe look, but Merlin must not have seemed convinced enough because Gaius stressed, "Don't underestimate the consequences you could reap. Disturbing the flow of time is one of the most ancient of taboos. The last time a sorcerer broke it, it rained blood."

Merlin's spoon stilled halfway to his mouth. His voice sounded strange to his own ears as he asked, "What was that sorcerer's name?"

"Vortigern," Gaius confirmed Merlin's suspicions. He seemed reassured that Merlin was suitably disturbed by the potential side effect, unaware the words hit so personally. "He was the king of Camelot before Uther. I told you that in the days before the Purge people were using magic for the wrong ends; well, the worst of that occurred during Vortigern's reign. He died long before you were born, so you'll have to take my word for it when I say that he was not a sorcerer you'd want to follow in the footsteps of."

Oh but you're wrong, Merlin desperately wanted to say, but didn't know how to voice such a ludicrous story without sounding insane even to someone like Gaius. I don't have to take your word for anything. I saw firsthand the kind of sorcerer Vortigern was.

Faded memories of the incident rose to the surface of his mind like a swimmer struggling from dark depths to reach the light above. All that talk of an ancient taboo. Vortigern declaring that he was the king of Camelot. Vivienne who bore the same name as Lady Morgana's mother. The way no time seemed to have passed when he and Will returned. Vivienne's words about what's-his-name who Vortigern had been trying to summon not having been born yet and her horror at the sight of Merlin.

Merlin had been dragged decades into the past, back to before he was born, and hadn't even realised it.

"So you understand the gravity of distorting the flow of time," Gaius pressed. Though he seemed mostly satisfied Merlin was not taking his words lightly, he also seemed to want a definitive verbal confirmation. Merlin didn't feel up to voicing anything just then, so he nodded instead, his mind feeling detached from his body.

He could have died years before his own birth, and no one would have ever known what happened to him.

Aithusa, he thought suddenly with the usual stab of loneliness and guilt. She'd been locked away under a hill for longer than he'd realised. Thirty years? Forty years? Was she still sleeping, dreaming away of a day that he had only taken baby steps towards in all the decades she'd slumbered through?

Something occurred to Merlin then: if his and Will's presence in a time before their birth had such massive repercussions, why had Aithusa's been overlooked? Judging by the fact that he'd never heard of a land where the sun was blotted out and it rained blood while the heavens and earth shook and stars fell in fiery balls of devastation, he had to assume that after he and Will were returned to their time the portents ended. But it didn't make sense; if time magic was such a strict taboo that nature itself would punish the violator, then why was Aithusa's decades long presence in the years before her birth ignored?

Vivienne had said something about it, if only he could remember what. Something about how as long as Aithusa slept it wouldn't matter that she was there?

Then time magic couldn't be a great unknown of random divine punishment. There were rules, and perhaps it was as simple as not disturbing what had already happened. Vortigern had been planning to kill Merlin, and even after he'd decided not to if Merlin and Will had stayed they would have spoken to people they otherwise couldn't have had the slightest influence on, did things that originally hadn't been done, and just in general made a mess out of what should have happened. Aithusa hadn't done anything other than be present, in the same way as slowing down time to save Arthur hadn't messed up anything that had already occurred. It seemed that small acts of time manipulation that didn't directly harm the fabric of the past went unpunished.

In any case, it was not a theory Merlin was eager to test out, lest he be as wrong as Vortigern about where the line of what nature could and couldn't tolerate was drawn. He didn't want to be the next to rain down woe and doom on them all, all because he'd unwittingly strayed too far down the grey area on a scale of white to black.

# \ # \ # \ #

The next morning, Merlin's thoughts were only of hastily crammed in information about armour and a prayer of eternal gratitude to Gwen, whose last minute instructions were the only reason he was not forced to break down and ask the impatient knight he was suiting up where the hell each chunk of metal went.

"You do know the tournament starts today?" Arthur bit out, the pounding of the tournament drums making him antsy and thus even more rude and unpleasant than usual.

They were both far too aware of how fine they were cutting it for time, but only Merlin was impressed with the progress he had made so far. Arthur was suited up in most of his armour and the tournament hadn't actually started yet, considering only a few hours ago he hadn't known what any of the armour terminology in his book on tournament etiquette meant he thought he was doing pretty well.

Merlin mumbled a semantically polite, but tonally insolent, affirmation and, in what he considered a valiant attempt to put aside the many, many differences and contentions between him and Arthur in favour of building a tolerable working environment between them, asked, "You nervous?"

If he was stuck with Arthur, he didn't want every day to be like the first. Gaius insisted Arthur had a human heart under all that ego. He had to hope that Arthur had some good qualities buried under all his not so good qualities, and this job get less horrible than it had so far been.

"I don't get nervous," Arthur said disdainfully.

That was such an obviously untrue piece of lordly posturing that Merlin, despite his resolve to get on better with the young noble, couldn't pass up the opportunity to nettle him. "Really? I thought everybody got nervous."

"Will you shut up!" Arthur's overly loud yell confirmed any doubts that Merlin might have had over whether Arthur had emotions under all that brawn and arrogance.

Even though Arthur was still rude and looked down on him, shaking his head and brushing past him in annoyance when Merlin forgot to give him his sword, Merlin found him less dislikable now that he could tie some of Arthur's more unpleasant traits to nervousness rather than straight-up unadulterated clotpole-ishness.

During the tournament, to Merlin's surprise, he found himself cheering for Arthur. Maybe it was because he was the only person he knew competing, or maybe it was because if Arthur lost Merlin would be the one bearing the brunt of his resulting bad mood, but he was genuinely satisfied each time Arthur won. He would even say that his victories were impressive, but he felt that Arthur would know if he so much as thought that word in connection with him, so he wouldn't.

Still, when Arthur's matches were over and Merlin was removing his armour, the tournament looked more like a clash of metal upon metal now that he didn't have a specific person to root for. He still watched as he struggled with the clasps on Arthur's armour, trying to recall Gwen's tips from hours before on where they all were and in what order to undo them, but he found himself thinking more along the lines of how Arthur would fare the next day against each contestant than over how exciting each match was on its own.

Valiant, one of the top contestants who even Merlin would tell was very handy with a blade, approached them after he too was finished his matches.

The older knight's gait was more of a strut than a walk, as though winning on the first day guaranteed his success the following days. When he stopped to congratulate Arthur his deferential smile was lacking sincerity, and failed to mask the cockeyed grin hiding within it. Merlin was certain he was offering civilities to the prince only for appearance's sake, and from the sour flat tone of Arthur's one-word reply he had come to the same conclusion.

"Creep," Merlin muttered after Valiant had walked out, flexing his shoulders in a move that would look ridiculous had it come from anyone not dressed in shiny chainmail.

This comment earned a laugh from Arthur and they exchanged amused looks. The easy atmosphere was quickly nipped in the bud, though, as Arthur's laugh abruptly cut off.

His face turned away from Merlin's as though embarrassed at having looked his way at all. "Uh," Arthur began less than eloquently, sounding more like he was speaking to move past that almost-friendly moment than because he had been planning to say anything. "For tomorrow you need to repair my shield, wash my tunic, clean my boots, sharpen my sword, and polish my chainmail."

Merlin, who wanted to study more of his new book and already had a list of daily duties he needed to attend to that didn't include anything Arthur had just listed, was not pleased. He finished his staple chores and additional chores as quickly as he could, though there were some that he could not use as incantation practice while he studied.

By the next morning Merlin had done everything he was ordered to and was anticipating Arthur's face when he saw it. While fetching the armour he could have sworn he heard Valiant's shield hissing and saw its eyes glow red, but the knight himself had appeared and cut off further investigation. After leaving the room, Merlin was filled with doubt: it was early and he had stayed up late practicing spells, he might have just been dozing off.

He pushed aside bizarre encounters with shields by reminding himself of what was truly important: rubbing everything he got done in Arthur's face. He spread out all the armour on the table in a nice looking presentation, if he said so himself. He enjoyed himself watching Arthur examine it all from multiple angles, looking incredulous but against his will impressed.

"You did all this by yourself?"

Grinning perhaps more than he should at having won at least one small victory over the prince, Merlin wished him good luck in the tournament. And he found, to his surprise, that he did so not just to not have to deal with Arthur in a glowering temper. Arthur didn't respond, an improvement to over loading Merlin with chores to avoid interacting with his servant like a peer. And he glanced at Merlin before walking out with something that could have been appreciation, which Merlin decided to also count as a victory.

Maybe working for Arthur wouldn't have to be horrible.

# \ # \ # \ #

The sound of metal clattering on stone sounded beside him and two new sets of horrible hissing alerted him that the danger wasn't over just because he had beheaded one of the snakes. Not wasting any time, Merlin grabbed the severed head and ran from Valiant's guest room in full sprint, his heart pounding in his ears as he raced back to Gaius' chambers. After Gaius took some of the venom to use in his antidote, Merlin brought the snake head straight up to Arthur's chambers.

He opened the door without knocking, and Arthur looked up from where he was seated at his table eating his evening meal.

"Ah, Merlin, good timing. I need you to-"

"Valiant's using magic to cheat," Merlin cut him off from whatever chore he had been going to give him that was much less important than the life-and-death matter Arthur was unknowingly trapped in.

Arthur blinked at this out of nowhere assertion, furrowing his eyebrows as though he wasn't sure whether Merlin was making a poor attempt at a joke. "What?"

Merlin swallowed, and put the snake head on the table beside Arthur's plate. Arthur gave it only a cursory glance before leveling a look at Merlin that questioned his sanity for carrying a severed serpent head around with him. Then he went back his supper, unconcerned.

It occurred to Merlin then that he'd have to give a fuller explanation if he wanted to be heeded. "Valiant's shield is enchanted so that the painted snakes on it come alive. One of them bit Ewan, that's how Valiant won that match."

Arthur rolled his eyes upwards as though praying for patience in dealing with insane servants, and took a swing of whatever was in his goblet. "And you would know this… how?" he asked skeptically.

Merlin paused, wondering how best to answer that question without admitting to spying on nobles and breaking into their rooms with magic.

"Gaius diagnosed Ewan with a snake bite," Merlin began, deciding to tell the truth but cut out large sections that Arthur didn't need to know and would be better for Merlin if he didn't. "And he needed to get venom from the snake that bit him to make an antidote. I went looking for the snake in Valiant's room, since that's who Ewan had been fighting, and the three snakes on his shield came alive and attacked me. I cut off the head of one-"

"You?" Arthur interrupted skeptically, looking as though the idea of Merlin cutting off a magic snake's head was more unbelievable than the idea of a magic snake living in Valiant's shield had been. "You chopped its head off?"

Merlin forced himself to ignore the implied insult; this was more important than his contentions with Arthur. He tried convincing Arthur, throwing in all the arguments that he could think of, but Arthur didn't look like he was taking anything Merlin said remotely seriously.

At length, unable to think of any more sound arguments, Merlin merely exclaimed, "Look at it!"

He grabbed the snake head off the table and held it out to Arthur. The prince rolled his eyes and looked, as if just to humour Merlin. Merlin pressed, finally having gotten Arthur's attention no matter how shallow it was, "Have you ever seen any snakes like this in Camelot?"

Arthur's mocking smile faded and he took the head, turning it over in his hands with a slight frown.

Merlin took a deep breath. "I know I'm just a servant and my word doesn't count for anything." It was what Gaius had in essence told him, that Arthur's father wouldn't have given Merlin the time of day to even get as far in his account as Arthur had let him. Arthur looked up at Merlin, a complicated expression on his face. "But I wouldn't lie to you."

A moment of silence stretched between them, as Arthur's life hung on his trust in the lower classes. Finally, Arthur asked Merlin to swear he was telling the truth, and when Merlin did he proved himself a better man than his father with four deceptively simple words.

"Then I believe you."

After that it was relatively quick and easy for the prince to summon the court for a trial. Merlin stood behind Arthur as the prince accused Valiant of cheating before his father, handing over the snake head as evidence. He wondered what was taking Gaius so long when he knew they needed Ewan as a witness, but when Gaius did come at last it was alone.

Merlin approached him to ask where Ewan was, and Gaius shattered Merlin's illusions in the simplicity of doing the right thing in just two words said in a low whisper:

"Ewan died."

# \ # \ # \ #

Servants came and went up and down the great stone steps of the Main Square leading into the castle, only a few sparing so much as a glance at the boy sitting on the lowest steps to the side. Merlin's knees were drawn midway up his chest with his elbows folded over on them, his eyes staring into the square blankly. The sound of people and horses passing by on the cobblestone echoed in a constant noise, and all he could think was that it must be great to be them.

They were mercifully unaware that the next day their prince would die an undeserved death and who knew what would happen to their kingdom afterwards, with no natural heir to the throne. Merlin envied their ignorance, because if he hadn't known then he wouldn't have tried to prevent it, and if he hadn't tried to prevent it then he wouldn't have landed himself in the trouble that Gaius had warned him he would.

Just that morning he'd thought things were looking up in the life of Merlin - that maybe Arthur could be sort of a decent person, for a prince, who in time he could get on with. Now Arthur hated his guts, he had no job, and he hadn't even accomplished anything by it.

It stung more than it should have that Arthur had fired him, considering he hadn't wanted the job in the first place and hadn't enjoyed it that much while he had it. His first day had been downright horrible, his second day had been tolerable only because the tournament kept Arthur away from him for most of it, and his third day he'd been dismissed. Three days, he'd only lasted three days; that had to be some kind of record.

So it wasn't as though he liked his job. It was that with those four nearly magic words from Arthur he'd effectively said that he didn't need any further proof – Arthur hadn't gone to see Ewan or talk to Gaius or any of the other things Merlin had suggested. Merlin had sworn he was telling the truth and Arthur had believed him just with that, it had been that simple and yet so exhilarating.

Then everything went to hell when Arthur was standing before the court with no witness looking like a petty child making allegations against a man just because he didn't like him, with his father staring down at him in stern disappointment. Merlin's word didn't even factor into the king's way of thinking; Arthur might as well have said that his horse saw the snakes come alive. The horse, at least, wouldn't have nearly been arrested for speaking out in court and have to have Valiant smooth talk his release - now that was beyond galling.

But what truly stung was the past tense in Arthur's words afterwards: I believed you, I trusted you. Somehow everything that transpired in the courtroom became Merlin's fault, even though he'd done nothing but tell the truth in an unappreciated effort to save Arthur's life again, and Merlin lost the job he'd never asked for as Arthur effectively threw him out of his life like rubbish that he didn't even want to look at anymore.

Gwen approached him from across the square, voice soft with sympathy as she greeted him. As the maidservant of the king's ward she must have heard about the mockable excuse for a trial. She sat down beside him in a gesture of comradery that Merlin appreciated; at least some people's regard didn't depend on the outcome of a trial.

"Is it true, what you said about Valiant using magic?" Gwen asked, getting right to the point.

Merlin nodded, not wanting to say anything more when words were not his friend today, but from Gwen's sharp breath he could tell she believed him. Believed without having to have him swear an oath of truthfulness at all – and perhaps the comparison wasn't fair, the lady's maid not having been brought up to think all servants inherently unworthy of giving testimony, but Arthur hadn't been fair to him so he was only returning the favour.

He was still looking out at nothing in the square, but from the corner of his eye he could see Gwen's face scrunched up in worry as she faced him fully. "What are you going to do?"

Merlin turned his face halfway to hers. "Why should it be down to me to do something?"

"Because it is!" Gwen insisted as though surprised he'd think otherwise. She amended more uncertainly, "Isn't it?"

When Merlin didn't agree, she continued, "You have to show everyone you were right and they were wrong."

Because trying to prove he was telling the truth had worked out for him so well a few hours ago. Facing her fully, he asked, "And how do I do that?"

She looked as helpless as he felt. "I don't know."

The obvious answer was that Merlin could use magic to save Arthur. But if he interfered with the match, he'd have to do it from somewhere he could see what was going on, from somewhere any one of the people in the large cheering crowd could see him.

Just three days ago he'd told Gaius he wouldn't stick his neck out for Arthur unless Arthur smartened himself up. Arthur had almost gone there, but in the end Merlin was sitting rejected out on the steps instead of having this conversation up in the castle with the person who may not deserve to die, but also didn't deserve to have Merlin die in his place.

Gwen couldn't know about that, though – that Merlin probably could save Arthur, but it would be like juggling knives in the dark. Despite knowing she couldn't be told, something in him needed to justify his inaction.

"I nearly got arrested for telling the truth, Gwen. Arthur's sacked me for trying to save his ungrateful hide." Gwen looked surprised at this, so apparently it wasn't common knowledge yet.

She gave him a look of pity and understanding that he didn't want, because he hadn't wanted the job in the first place so there should be no reason losing it upset him. Not wanting to hear any condolences, Merlin steamrolled on, "The next time I try to help I might just make things worse."

"But Arthur will die if you do nothing," Gwen said gently. It was as though she didn't think she needed to raise her voice or insist to stir him to action, merely remind him of this fact and the reminder itself would do the rest.

"No," Merlin refuted. First Gaius, now Gwen? He didn't know where this mentality that he was responsible for Arthur stemmed from, but he was quickly becoming annoyed at it. "Arthur will die if he does nothing. I already told him about the snakes, all he has to do to be safe is withdraw. If his pride is more important to him than his life, then who am I to argue with that? I'm not his servant anymore; I have no duty to him! He's a horrible person, I don't even like him!"

"You saved his life once before, when all he'd done to you beforehand was insult and imprison you," Gwen pointed out.

"That was… that was different," Merlin responded weakly, having no good argument for it.

How could he explain why he'd saved Arthur's life to her, when he couldn't even explain it to himself? The chandelier had dropped on Mary Collins before he'd thought through what he was doing, and when the dagger was flying all brain power seemed to have rushed out of his ears leaving only instinct behind. She was wrong, he hadn't saved Arthur once; he'd saved him twice within two minutes. The first time he could put down to panic and everyone being asleep, but the second time he'd saved him even though he'd just reflected on Arthur's bullying tendencies and everyone had been waking up. It was a miracle no one had stood up and pointed at him, exposing him with a yell of sorcerer! Even though three days had passed, Merlin still almost expected a figure to pull him into the shadows, whispering, I saw what you did.

"How?" Gwen questioned in non-understanding, looking at him as if to say that there was no difference. She put an arm on his shoulder. "Don't give up - you'll find a way."

Guilt twisted like a knife through his heart at her faith in him. It still didn't occur to her that he wouldn't even look for one. "But why should I have to?" he asked, unable to let her walk away with some erroneous rose-tinted view of him where he tried everything within his power to help but was unsuccessful. "If our places were reversed, would Arthur risk scorn and punishment to help me?"

Considering Arthur had screamed about humiliation right before he fired Merlin, Merlin would wager all his possessions that Arthur would not.

"No," Gwen admitted. She was looking at him so sadly, as though Merlin was falling short of some ideal she'd set for him and though she understood why, it was difficult to witness. "I guess I just thought that you were a better man than that."

Those words pierced him. Because Merlin did want to be a better man than that. He didn't want to be like a rat darting into a hole, saving his own skin and leaving everyone else to out to hang.

"I'll go talk to Arthur again, try and make him see sense." Merlin said, running a hand through his hair. It was all he was willing to commit to, but Gwen smiled beauteously at him.

Arthur had cooled down some during the time Merlin had spent on the steps, but he was still none too happy to see him or take his advice. Merlin tried to convince him to withdraw from the match in vain, his words feeling like they were falling on deaf ears.

Arthur's reasoning surprised him when he began to yell, which Merlin was beginning to work out was Arthur's default response to being upset in any way, "Don't you understand? I can't withdraw! The people expect their prince to fight. How can I lead men into battle if they think I'm a coward?"

Merlin had expected some hogwash about honour or the knight's code or some other kind of noble's bogus morality. That would have been easy to argue against. Arthur's acceptance of the odds he would be facing but stubbornness to live up to the expectations of the people he'd one day rule over was harder to overrule because Arthur should care what his people and his men thought of him.

"It's my duty." Arthur said of his rationale for why he had to fight, even though the odds were stacks heavily against him.

Duty.

The last few days had taught Merlin that it was a servant's duty to do all kinds of menial tasks for people who didn't appreciate it. Ealdor had taught him it was a farmer's duty to grow food for everyone. And now Arthur that it was a prince's to take stupid risks so others would follow him.

What, then, was the duty of an unemployed secret sorcerer-in-training? If he were to ask Gwen and she miraculously accepted his magic, she'd probably tell him it was his job to help people. That was the reason Gaius had given him his book, and the reason he wanted to study magic in the first place. And if he wanted to use magic for something more than just himself, he was going to have to take risks sometime.

But was sometime now? It would be easier to do it when he was better trained and in less public setting. But something in him felt that if he stood back and did nothing now it would always follow him. He had the book and the magic which could save Arthur's life, if not the training to use either well, and if he decided to let him die anyways then when would sometime be? At what point would he be prepared enough to give aid without it seeming like juggling knives, and what if he couldn't recognize it when he reached it?

If he never gambled he would never lose, but neither could he ever win.

So looking into the blue eyes of a young man who knew he was going to die but wouldn't abandon his duty, Merlin decided that before the death match the next day he'd better figure out how to juggle.

# \ # \ # \ #

The banquet hall was decorated lavishly, and Arthur and Morgana were picturesque walking arm in arm down the entrance carpet. Merlin clapped along with everyone in the room as the tournament champion entered, but couldn't resist leaning over to Gaius and whispering,

"See, I told you he gets all the girls and the glory."

"And he owes it all to you."

The evening before he'd hit inspiration after seeing a dog statue, though it wasn't until long after the sun peaked over the dawn horizon that the former statue leapt at him barking. He'd arrived in time to enchant Valiant's shield to come alive while Arthur was at a safe distance, exposing his treachery and stripping him of his greatest advantage in one fell swoop.

It would seem that no one thought anything of Valiant's horrified I didn't summon you, being too busy lauding their prince with all the credit for defeating the dishonest knight. This slightly rankled Merlin's pride, but mostly it was a cause for relief; if anyone knew of the part he played, his reward would be an escort to a rendez-vous with Lady Gallows.

The party broke up into small groups, and since Gwen and Gaius both turned to people Merlin didn't know he decided to dive into the true main feature of the night: food. Standing at the long table with an already heaping plate, he was looking up and down its length trying to see if he'd missed anything when directly behind him he heard a lordly grousing of,

"Can you believe Morgana? She says she saved me. Like I needed any help."

Merlin looked over his shoulder to where Arthur's brain seemed to have caught up with his mouth, bringing the realization that he'd just stuck his foot into it. An awkward silence lay between them with the reminder that whether Lady Morgana tossing Arthur a sword was critical to his survival or not, he had needed Merlin's help to avoid the snakes – though Arthur was out of the loop on just how much Merlin had done.

Arthur looked unbearably uncomfortable when he said, "I wanted to say I made a mistake. It was unfair to sack you."

The words didn't constitute an apology, but the tone was right and Merlin knew it was the best he was going to get. He got the feeling from Arthur's discomfort that he didn't even do quasi-apologies often, so Merlin was sort of flattered that he got one.

"No, don't worry about it," he found himself saying, surprised at how he mostly forgave his ex-master for the impromptu dismissal. Even after the disastrous trial Arthur had still believed him about the snakes, after all, and he'd sort of apologized. "Buy me a drink and call it even."

"Uh, I can't exactly be seen buying drinks for my servant."

Merlin could only stare at him, certain he'd heard wrong. "Your servant? You sacked me."

Arthur replied with casual simplicity. "Now I'm rehiring you."

A mishmash of opposing emotions brought on indecision of the finest caliber. Merlin was touched by the gesture and insulted Arthur hadn't thought to ask if he even wanted to job back, he was relieved they had regained whatever flimsy amiability they'd built up and horrified at the thought of going back to that endless grunt work.

As much as being fired had stung, logically he could see it was for the best. Aside from the unpleasantness of the job itself, as Arthur's servant he'd be closer to the Pendragons and higher profile than it was safe for a sorcerer to be. He'd already stepped into the limelight when he pulled Arthur out of the path of a dagger, but if he stepped away now he could still fade back into obscurity even if anonymity was lost to him, as with time and distance most of those who'd witnessed his actions would forget him. If he wandered the castle most of the day, every day, following in the prince's footsteps then his face would stick in their memories, which couldn't be a good thing.

Being Arthur's servant might not be totally horrible all the time, but overall it was unpleasant, dangerous, and just because Merlin didn't grit his teeth at the very sound of Arthur's arrogant drawl anymore didn't mean he wanted to live like his shadow.

"My chambers are –" Arthur went on, apparently taking Merlin's speechlessness as confirmation he would leap at a chance to take back his three-day job.

"No thanks," Merlin blurted.

It seemed to take a few seconds for Arthur to work out what he meant. He looked as though he thought he must have arrived at the wrong conclusion even though he couldn't find a more fitting one. "What?"

Guilt poked Merlin like millions of red hot little needles. Considering Arthur was raised by the man who'd punish a commoner for speaking in court and still showed no signs of admitting he made a mistake despite nearly losing his son, he was being amazingly fair, thoughtful, and generous in giving Merlin his job back. It seemed cold-hearted to throw Arthur's good deed back in his face, but the thought of attending to his stables day after day and running around after Arthur while hiding who he really was the whole time was enough motivation to steel Merlin's resolve.

Trying to not offend Arthur while still holding his ground, Merlin uncomfortably shifted from foot to foot. "Look… we both know I didn't actually want the job in the first place. So, um… yeah, I still don't want it so… thanks, I appreciate the offer, but no thanks. You'll have to find another servant."

When destiny comes calling, be sure to be polite when slamming the door in its face. *shakes head* Ah, poor, naive Merlin. We'll see how well this works out for him.

You didn't think Merlin was actually going to put up with Arthur without Kilgharrah feeding him a great spiel about Fate and Destiny, did you? Of course, poor Arthur's just been given the shock of his life! Yes, Arthur, unfortunately you cannot depend on Merlin believing one day you'll be this great glorious king who'll ushering in a Golden Age where magic is free because, well, he doesn't. You're going to have to give him some indication of that yourself, because a giant winged lizard isn't going to do it for you.

Originally this was two chapters, one for each episode. But I hated the first chapter so much it one of the reasons for my god-awful long hiatus - I cringed at the very thought of posting it. Recently I realized this was because it felt like basically an uninspired rehash of the show. So I cut out everything except the introduction of our main characters (and the tomato people, who are really minor but coming up next chapter so need some introduction here) and stuck the episodes together. I'd realized the story arc of 1x01 doesn't end until Merlin responds to his call, which is not when he pulls Arthur out of the way of a dagger in this version but when he tells Arthur 'thanks, but no thanks!' And finally I had something that I felt was at least stomachable, and could post so we could get to the chapters that I actually am happy with what I've written.

On a few side notes:

I've uploaded this story to my archiveofourown account, so if you prefer that format you can read it there.

It is my head canon that Gwen is the distant descendant of a Roman soldier originally from North Africa who had some kind of a great and tragic tale as to how he went from Africa to Rome to the cold, remote British Isles. And even more tragically, he arrived just before the collapse of the Roman Empire, which stranded him there. At least he found love, as evidenced by Gwen's existence.

(Because when I see an actor in a racially incorrect setting my first thought isn't "these film makers are so progressive!" or "that's not historically accurate, how dare they!" but rather "must. create. backstory." Anything is explainable, if you're inventive enough.)

Merlin's spells are from an Old English online translator. They are most likely laughably ungrammatical, but I've forgotten what I even wanted them to mean so it doesn't bother me.

"Tomatl" actually means "tomatillo" and the real Nahuatl word for "tomato" is "xitomatl", but I decided I don't care. For the sake of easy linguistic transfer, fifteen hundred years ago everything was called "tomatl" at least in the region my tomato vendors are from, which was then corrupted to "tomato" on their introduction to Camelot.

"Timochipahua" is "you clean yourself" ... I hope. I don't exactly speak classical Nahuatl.

The room where Valiant's trial takes place is called "the Council Chamber of Doom" in the wiki transcript. That made me laugh.