Lady of Magic

Chapter Six

Merlin arrived in the middle of a court session, which meant by the time Arthur heard anything about it, she had already set to work establishing the clinic for about two hours.

Kicking himself, because while there was no way for him to receive her personally due to important matters of the state, Arthur had not wanted her to just show up without some sort of reception, he hurried to where she was setting up with a feeling of dread. With this new Merlin, there was no telling if she would take offense at his absence.

It had been some time since he had to answer to others. Being a King meant everyone had to work around his schedule. Having to watch for someone else's temper was a bit unpleasant.

Merlin was totally unaffected, as it turned out.

"These go here, these go there, and this goes here, what's that?" She did not even give the servant time to answer. "Hang that up. Move these into the shade, they don't like sunlight, keep that area dry. Leave my clothes alone, I'll deal with them later. Watch it—don't spill that! Your Majesty," She said curtly, before resuming her directions. Gwen moved to stand next to him.

"Gwaine told Lancelot that there was a little run-in with some unfriendly druids, Mordred, to be precise."

"Is everyone alright?"

"No casualties, but Merlin's been spitting fire ever since." Gwen noted the healer.

"Those are my surgical tools, place them in the bottom left drawer. Don't make that face, did you think you could do surgery with pillows and a blankie? Yes that is a saw. Put it away. I want the beds turned this way. That's my reflex hammer, put it on the table." There was a sudden crack of a lightning bolt, startling both Arthur and Gwen. "I won't have rats in my clinic! Those things are diseased! Someone collect that vermin and throw it out. We need a mouser here."

Merlin was still in her travel garb, and her hair was falling out of its knot. She was absently rubbing the back of her neck where it met her skull, an unconscious sign that she was developing a headache. Arthur knew that because of his own habits, and he also recognized that intense light in her eyes as she directed the hustle and bustle around her.

"Move the towels there—what's that thing on your face?"

"Uh…um, 'tis a wart, milady."

"A wart! Didn't you see the druid healers for that?"

"Oh…um," The young woman stammered, "Well, I di'n't think to, ma'am."

"Blast it all, I don't have the things out. Come back tomorrow when the clinic is open and I'll have that seen to. The towels, that way. You! Bring those needles over here, I need to check their condition."

"Healer," Arthur called uncertainly, "Is everything alright here?"

Merlin looked at him, eyes brilliantly blue. "Yes, everything is fine."

"Alright." Arthur glanced at Gwen, trying not to show how uncomfortable he felt at the moment, before quietly leaving.

Merlin had never accepted an official invitation to dinner, so this time Arthur did not even try. He found it appropriate to check on her before the meal, though, and found her lying flat on her back on her bed, hands covering her forehead. She had changed into her healer's uniform, and actually looked quite…striking, in it, all clean and white and pristine.

The healer opened her eyes to regard him, then closed them again, dismissing him.

"Are you alright?" He asked. "Do you need a headache potion?"

"I already took one," She said in a flat voice, "I'm just tired. Is there something you needed?"

"Just checking in," He said quietly.

"I'm fine," Merlin sat up with a sigh, "Moving is hard work, that's all. I don't remember last time being this much work."

"You had less to place, back then."

"True." She glanced at the windows. "Isn't it suppertime yet?"

"Yes." Arthur clenched his fist. "Care to join me?" He asked. Perhaps a verbal invitation would work better than a written one. Written ones felt more impersonal, official. Come to think of it, he wondered why he never thought to do it this way before.

Merlin visibly hesitated, and he could almost see the conflict in her fair features.

"Sure," She said finally, "What are you having?"

It occurred to him, when they did move to the dining room where the dishes were set initially for one, that he had never eaten with Merlin as equals before. He wondered how she would dine, considering that Merlin, for all intents and purposes, had been a stellar actress and despite having a particularly unmanly diet, or as some would argue, inhuman diet, she had eaten her meals like any man would; sloppily.

She was not exactly dainty, this time around, but neither was she outrageous. She was normal and neat, and if Arthur had not been paying attention he would not have seen anything worth noticing.

"Cooks here missed you," He said to her, "They said you particularly liked your vegetables."

"It's true," She seemed to cut herself a slice of meat deliberately, "Though I had to wonder if my diet was the healthiest."

Aware that she was summoning the healer within her, possibly as a self-protective measure, Arthur rolled along with it. "Have you altered it since then?"

"I've tried," Merlin shrugged. "It's a hard thing, food. You'd think it's straightforward; eat what's available, and the best of, but there seems to be a threshold for everything." She seemed to relax as she realized he was allowing her to indulge this side of her. "At the clinics I would be exhausted, especially as time went on and it became more well-known. People from all over the lands would show up and it was all I could do to give myself one day off per week. Not that I ultimately rested much—that day off I wound up doing a lot of paperwork and maintenance, but it was a day without patients." She looked at him, and Arthur thought he saw a little of the mischievous, humorous Merlin he once knew. "Patients are a rather difficult lot to deal with, ultimately. They're usually quite nice, but they're usually quite miserable, and you feel miserable along with them."

"I'm sure."

"So when I get tired, I'm usually too weary to eat," She shook her head, "A night of rest does not do much in the long run. As the days went on I realized that something simply was not working. I couldn't seem to maintain my energy and strength. And don't you joke about how it has to be better than sword-waving."

Arthur only smiled. "So, food, then?"

"A little more meat in the diet ended up going a long way," She stuck a piece in her mouth and abruptly stopped talking.

Arthur tilted his head and waited a little for her to finish chewing. "Why didn't you hire some assistants?"

"To what?" Merlin stated a little dryly, "Anyone with magic is either trying to get me to return to Camelot or destroy Camelot. It's actually quite amazing, the lack of neutral parties. Oh! This reminds me, I have to put up wards." Merlin made a face. "Well we're in the middle of the city, I think I can stand to let the clinic hang for a few more hours." She actually looked genuinely distressed then.

"How long does it take to put up wards?" Not that Arthur knew what she meant, but he could guess.

"It would take hours," She glanced at the dark windows and for all her stony facade, seemed on the verge of tears.

"I'm sure you can afford to wait a night," The King said gently, thinking to himself that for her icy mask, the ice was actually quite transparent. "You've just arrived. There are plenty of adjustments that are needed."

"This is true." She speared her meat with her fork. "And the knights of Camelot are far more noble than the knights of Griton." She said this in a preoccupied manner, so Arthur was not sure if she meant for him to hear it.

"If there are any ingredients that are especially important, it's a small matter of stationing one of my men."

"The ingredients," Merlin shook her head, "It's not the ingredients, though I'll have you know I had to wrestle a good number of deals from those fat merchants. It's the patients. I will have none of the politics or ruffled sorcerers when there are frightened, sick, miserable people under my care. The number of idiots I've had to punish back in Griton to get that message across—hopefully that lesson still stands. I hate repeating myself. Which reminds me: my clinic is as good as a sanctuary, Your Majesty. If there is anyone you don't want treated, it's your job to keep him from stepping through the door. Once he's inside, unless he starts threatening all my other patients, your knights have no business conducting any affairs in my clinic. I don't care if that person's Morgana. In fact, I've treated Morgana. I don't care if that person's your worst enemy. You keep that person away from my clinic. If you fail to do so, I will not go back on my oath as healer for you. Understand?"

Arthur leaned back. Honestly, he had expected this sort of condition, based on what he saw of Merlin in the days she had been here, as well as earlier today. "Crystal," He replied, his mind already wandering to something else she had mentioned. "What did you do to get your message across in Griton?"

Merlin blinked. "That's a story for another time."

She was nervous, suddenly, and Arthur regretted indulging in his curiosity. It was far too early, plus, any harassment she had received in Griton was probably not a topic she would want to share.

"It's good to have you back," He finally said to her, "I've…thought of you often."

She said nothing, instead staring determinedly at her plate, as if it would shield her from him somehow. Strange, how she was so terrified even though she had so much power.

"I know you sacrificed a lot for my sake," He bowed his head, "I didn't appreciate you as much as you deserved."

"It's in the past now." Merlin suddenly rose, her expression very closed. Arthur rose with her.

"It might be in the past," He told her, "But it continues to slide between us. You can't ignore that."

She wrung her hands, and Arthur was fairly certain she did not even know that she was doing it.

"You've grown," He said, "And so have I. There were many things I have done in the past that were blatantly foolish. I just want you to know I am sorry."

She looked at him, and then looked away.

"Hm!" She exclaimed, "When I forget how much of a prat you were, sometimes I missed you too."

Then Merlin fled—it was really the only way to describe how she left.

Arthur found himself unable to contain the grin that split his face.

Merlin opened up her clinic to a busy first day, which indicated a huge success. Arthur could see why she would be tired, as everyone flocked to the clinic, some of them with rather minor ailments, such as the servant with the wart on her face. Others were there out of curiosity, but Merlin indulged them kindly, and in that she was the same Merlin Arthur had always known.

As Healer Emrys, Merlin was extremely professional, but when she came across babies she cooed and ahhed at them as much as any woman.

"Here, check this out, Artie," She called to him when he came near; he was not wearing his crown, which would have startled the patients, and she obligingly did not refer to him as king although it might be more because she wanted to grate on his nerves. "Look at Lily—she's a week old," And the scrunched up red face blinked sleepily up at him, "I love demonstrating this. Caius! Here, come over here, I'm going to show you the primitive reflex. They go away starting at about four to six weeks. See here," And she balanced the baby in her arm so it was curled up in a fetal position, arms and legs tucked against its body. "This is also called the 'startle reflex'."

Then she dropped the baby.

Well, not drop, exactly. She did suddenly lower the baby's head so it must have felt like she had dropped it, and in reaction the baby suddenly extended its arms and legs. It was something Arthur would have thought to be only natural, but seeing it in this context made him realize…

It's a reflex…in this squirming little thing. Whenever someone dropped it like that, it would react this way.

That's kind of amazing.

Caius, a young druid boy, gaped at the sight, while Lily started making disgruntled noises.

"You catch that? See how she extended? She has a pretty strong one, this means this part of her neural development is intact. We're going to try and find an older infant and you'll see the reflex is much smaller. Here, let me do this again," She tucked the baby's arms and legs back to the fetal position as Arthur stared at its mother, wondering what she thought of all this, but the mother stared incredulously at her own child and seemed to trust Merlin. The next time Merlin 'dropped' Lily, the baby became fed up and started wailing.

"Awwww I know you didn't like that, awwwww," Merlin made comforting noises to it, "You see that, Artie?"

Arthur made a face. "Yes." It was actually pretty fascinating, but he maintained that babies were awful creatures. Men should leave taking care of them to women.

"Aww, alright, let's do something that you'll like a little more, alright? This is called the grasp reflex…"

After she tortured the baby some more, interlaced with exclamations of what a good baby Lily was, she handed it back to its mother and turned to Arthur.

"Do you need something?" She asked, and it seemed working with the child could not dampen her spirits because there was a smile on her face.

"Just checking to see how you are doing."

"You've been doing that a lot," She noted.

Not sure how she would take an honest answer, Arthur attempted to lace it with a half truth. "I'm also curious about what you're doing."

"Liar," Merlin said immediately, unimpressed, "Though you're free to watch. Maybe something you see here will prove useful to you."

He did stay a while, though soon he had to leave. Merlin worked all the way until late in the evening, and she was so tired that when Arthur took her by the elbow, she did not even complain.

"You don't have to work so hard," He told her, as he walked her to the kitchens to get something to eat, "You need to take care of yourself too, you know."

"I know how to take care of myself," She said with some annoyance, "I've been doing so for five years, mind you. It's just that today was the first day. First days are always hard."

"She's settling in well," Lancelot noted as they adjusted their weapons during training. "Kind of odd though, always knew her as a servant. She's so demanding."

She was, but it was hard to criticize her when the same trait made her ruthlessly efficient. Arthur wondered how he ever managed to think of Merlin as a hapless idiot. Considering all the other things she hid, it was probably a front, placed so that he would never suspect her of hiding anything simply because she did not look capable of doing so.

"The people love her though," Arthur murmured.

"Didn't think anyone would actually like going to the clinic," Lancelot grimaced, "Though I'm betting, part of the reason is because she's…well, a woman."

The idea that people in Camelot were coming to see Merlin for that made Arthur inexplicably annoyed.

"She's far less silly without that blasted haircut, 'tis true. She's no real beauty though. Too odd-looking."

"It could be that. Beauty's not the only thing that attracts a man," Lancelot reminded him, "It could simply be that she's strange, and you don't see too many female healers about."

"No," Arthur conceded. The two then scattered to train with the other knights.

It was after training when Lancelot picked up the topic again.

"So now that she's here, what are you going to do?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, when you were looking for her, Sire, I don't think you were quite expecting this."

It was true. Arthur had no idea what he was expecting, but for one thing, he was not expecting a competent healer out of Merlin. He never actually thought she was an idiot, but going from a servant to a doctor was a pretty huge metamorphosis, and all of the sudden she was somehow getting away with not answering to him, not obeying his orders, not even really swearing fealty, really.

"I don't know," He shrugged, running his fingers through his sweat-soaked hair. "I can't really expect her to go into servitude, not with how she is now. She's free to do what she pleases, and she's already done a lot for this kingdom. She seems to enjoy what she does, and I can't complain about the state of affairs."

"Hopefully she settles down," Said Lancelot, "We managed to steal her from Griton, let's hope that no one steals her from us."

"Hm." Arthur was a bit distracted with Gwaine. Ever since returning with Merlin from Griton, the normally extroverted knight had been awfully withdrawn.

Lancelot seemed to notice the same thing. "Oi!" He called to Gwaine, "What's been up with you lately? Our resident enchantress hurt your sensitive feelings?"

"What are you on about?"

"What do you mean what am I on about? Crazy ol' chap," Lancelot swung his arm around Gwaine's dusty shoulder, "Brooding does not suit you, my friend, and that is what you are doing."

"I'm not brooding."

"Says the brooder. I know that certain lasses go for the dark, mysterious type, but you just can't pull it off, my friend."

Gwaine's face broke into a smile. "Is that a challenge?"

"Nay, 'tis the sad truth. Some things, Gwaine, even you can't do."

"Oh obviously," The knight exclaimed, and Arthur hid a smile; sometimes he really enjoyed the dynamics between his men, "But anything to do with lasses, I can do."

"Oh?" Lancelot raised his eyebrows. "Even Merlin?"

"Merlin!" Gwaine raised his eyebrows. "Are you daring me to seduce Merlin?"

"Not 'seduce'," Lancelot groaned, but then his expression changed, "Unless you are interested. Is that why you were brooding, Sir Gwaine?"

And with that, Arthur's inner smile disappeared.

"Heavens, no," Gwaine then remarked, "I would not dare. They were not kidding when they said she was powerful, you know."

The King blinked. Lancelot, who was very insightful as well, picked up the same thing.

"You are spooked!" The man exclaimed, "Is Sir Gwaine actually spooked by the lass?"

"Not spooked," Gwaine scowled, "But 'twould be far too insensible—even for me—to pursue such a meaningless excursion with the most powerful sorceress in Albion. Nay, some women are better left alone."

He was spooked, no doubt by that incident with the druids that Gwen said Merlin was spitting fire about. Arthur wondered what happened, but knew better than to ask. As King, he could always order Gwaine to reveal it, but he also knew how important it was to protect a man's pride, especially if that man was his ally. Whatever Merlin did had truly terrified Gwaine, and strangely, he sensed that the better person to ask might actually be Merlin herself.

Merlin was feeding one man a vast amount of liquor when Arthur next went to her clinic.

"I know you're feeling in a bad way," She said to the man, "Just because something has the word 'spirit' in its name does not mean you should drink it. Wood spirits were used for embalming, my man. Next time, stick to drinks you're familiar with—though I suppose at this point you are quite familiar with the side-effects of wood spirits."

"What happened?" Arthur asked, curious what sort of ailment would warrant liquor as a treatment.

"Wood spirit, nasty things, those," Said the young woman, "Drink it down. I know you feel sick. If you need to vomit, do so. This thing's half life is about two days." She then focused her voice on Arthur. "Close enough to regular spirit to warrant experimenting by brave, adventurous individuals—far enough from regular spirit to be distinctly unsafe to drink. Blindness is the least of our worries."

"Why the liquor?" He asked.

"Lesser of two evils," Said Merlin, "Though I do wish we had something purer. Clearing toxins can be quite tricky with magic, unless the toxins are magical themselves. His eyesight may suffer either way, though I definitely will be able to keep him from going completely blind. Is there something you needed?"

"Nothing that can't wait."

"I'm not exactly doing something very involved right now," She pointed out, taking away the bottle to allow the patient to wallow. She looked at him, and Arthur was struck by her expression; it was so similar to her expression as his manservant, except she no longer had the boyish haircut.

He felt uncertain how she would react to his question. "Do you know what is going on with Gwaine? He has been acting strangely ever since you two returned.

"Oh." Merlin gestured so they could move to somewhere more private. "I imagine he's not use to seeing damsels taking care of themselves."

"What do you mean?"

"We were attacked by Mordred's group. You remember him?"

Yes, Arthur remembered him.

"Let's just say there was a showdown, one that's far more effective than any of your sword-waving. I would wager that I gave Sir Gwaine something to think about." Merlin reached out to pick out a chart. The wall hummed a little. "Blast it, the wards are being temperamental." She glared unhappily at the wall, which started glowing. "Oh for crying out loud," She whacked the wall once, and it stopped glowing. "Something about these stones just doesn't like the wards."

"Gwaine's seen a lot of things," Arthur mused, "I don't know. You're not the first sorceress he's come across."

"I don't know, why don't you ask him?"

Arthur sighed.

"I slaughtered them all," Merlin then appended, sounding a bit defensive, "I might have gone a little over the top, but I didn't want a repeat of what Morgana did to me."

"Of course not." Just the idea gave Arthur chills. For a moment, he was back in the throne room, the ice melting around them in a rush and flooding around Merlin, her hair swirling with the red blood that was washed from the floor and from her belly.

"I let Mordred go," Merlin released a hiss, "I still don't know why I did that."

"…" She did what now?

"Healer!" One of the druids called to her, and Merlin whisked past him to address whatever issue had come up. The wall next to him started humming again.

"Uh…Merlin? The wards…?"

"Just whack it," She called, "You're good at that, last time I checked."

Intrigued, the King did so and was rewarded.

"Huh. Is that how you deactivate it?"

"Of course not. Here, take this," She told the patient, "One drop in each eye, before bedtime. I'll see you in about seven days to check and see how that pressure is doing. Caius, can you take over for a moment? These wards are only going to act up more and more," She then hurried over to the King, "Alright, what's wrong with you," She said to the wall, and began tracing a line only she could see with her fingers.

Arthur stepped back, watching her work. "Is Mordred going to be a problem?" He asked.

"I'm not sure, I'm not a seer," She replied, and for a moment her eyes flashed bright gold. She seemed to shift something very heavy, enough that had Arthur not remembered he did not have magic, he would have offered to help, or something about as daft. "Supposedly he will be creating trouble for Camelot for a long time to come. Don't ask me why I didn't just kill the brat because I don't know."

"If that is his destiny," Arthur said slowly, "We'll take it as it goes. It's not worth the price, usually, when you go against something like that. I'm glad you didn't try."

She turned around to consider him, her eyes still faintly gold.

"Where'd you learn that?" She asked, "I never taught you that."

"Merlin," Arthur slipped unconsciously into a mock sneer, "When have you ever taught me anything?"

"I've taught you a fair few things, like how to put on your shirt."

"I knew how to put it on long before you arrived, lass."

"Right," Merlin smirked, and Arthur was suddenly filled with the strange urge to kiss that smile. "In that case, I should have just let you walk out in public with your shirt inside out, or on backwards."

"I was never a morning person," Arthur defended, "Only you could be so chipper in the morning. I swear, you were the worst servant I ever had."

"And you were undoubtedly the worst master I ever had," She teased back and she was beautiful, with her sparkling eyes and cheeky grin.

"I'm the only master you ever had."

"Semantics, semantics."

"Healer!" Caius ran to her, "Do I infuse more alcohol?"

"Let's see how much he's vomited," Merlin turned away, calling to another patient that she will be right with her. Arthur smiled to himself and silently withdrew from the clinic. He still was not sure what was going on with Gwaine, but at least he had some material to work with.