Title: The Brothers of Callington.
Characters: Every one, even Morgana and (a slightly evil) Lancelot in later chapters. Plus an abundance of OC's
Rating: T
Genre: Adventure/Family
Pairings: erm… not sure yet. If you want to find them you'll have to squint
Notes: 1st Merlin fic and as far as literary powers go, I'm way down on the scale. Suggestions for improvements are welcome with open arms. This takes place post 2:13 so there are spoilers
Summary: there are very few knights left in Camelot so Uther has decided to invite any one eligible (ie not Lancelot) to apply. Not only that but all the Sheriffs are in town to discus taxes. The Sheriff of Callington's sons couldn't be more different and his relationship with his daughter opens Merlin's eyes to a world of politics that he's not sure he likes. But that's only the start of the problems. Morgana is still nowhere to be found and Uther seems ready to accuse just about anyone of magic
DISCLAIMER: I do not own the BBC Merlin. I intend no harm/ disrespect. Please don't sue me!
1. The Youngest Son
Merlin watched the fog settle around the courtyard. Thick wisps of it settled around the steps shrouding the whole area in a greyish tinge. Occasionally the movement of a horse or servant would case the fog to drift somewhere else in thin tendrils, reminding Merlin somewhat of the thick smoke that rises from ashes.
He'd been watching fro some time. Forced to rise early by Arthur's orders he had returned to the crown price's room with the fullest intent of commencing his chores. But once there he had found himself giving in under the weight of sleep. He had only glanced at the window, but then he found he didn't have the energy to look away.
The whole castle had been in turmol for the past few days. Uther was inviting the sheriffs from the outer regions of his kingdom to discus yearly taxes. He had also decreed that anyone wishing to apply to be a knight of Camelot could also come and stay within these 'hallowed' walls. Merlin didn't much care for the situation, all he knew was that everyone, even Arthur, had been rushed of their feet. Merlin's own personal chores included cleaning every piece of armour and every scrap of leather in Arthur's possession, he'd cleaned the horse's stables so many times that he would happily eat his dinner in there and had even been roped in to help with the scrubbing of the castles many corridors. Gaius hadn't escaped the workload; he had spent his time working on a variety of salves and lotions, prepared for all the tournaments that would be no doubt needed in the next few weeks.
Merlin had watched many of the would-be knights arriving. Most of them carried the same conceited I-have-a-big-horse-so-you'd-better-get-out-of-my-way-lowly-peasant look about them. That said, there were a few who looked like they had a discernable touch of humanity, but Merlin couldn't really tell with all the fog.
Merlin sighed as he remembered that he would have to serve them at tonight's feast- a task he relished with the same enthusiasm as cleaning out the leach tank. Arthur had already lectured him on the importance of not making a fool of himself on pain of a spell in the stocks. Merlin had planed to give Arthur a lecture on not being a prat but then he had realised that there would be no point. The visiting lords and ladies would be expecting Arthur to exert the royal 'allure' and if anything, that was one thing Arthur could do flawlessly.
As the number of knights arriving decreased, Merlin remembered that he was meant to be working. He idly strolled over to the fireplace and stoked the burning ashes. Every muscle in his body seemed to protest it and he winced in pain as the iron grazed against his blistered palms. Placing it back on the stand, he realised with a groan that he should have made the bed first. He wiped his hands on his tunic, grimacing as he noticed that his right hand was bleeding, again. To tired to do anything about it he tried making the bed with only his left hand before his sleep addled brain finally remembered that there was a spell for this.
He finished up his chores and worked his way down to Gaius' chambers, grateful that the prince had seen sense for once and given him the morning off. Gaius mumbled a hello as Merlin stepped through the door. He was at work on another salve and the strong odour of Fennel made Merlin's eyes sting a little.
"Are you alright? You've been gone a long time." Gaius asked from his desk. Merlin noticed he had moved it closer to the window for the light with a smile
"I'm fine, it's just slow work with hands this sore" he inspected his palms, "I think my blisters have got blisters"
"There's a slave on the table there…"
Merlin grinned, "Oh, thank you" as he picked up one of many small wooden pots on the table
"It's not for you" Gaius continued, "It's for Sir Boris' youngest son. He had a fight with a thorn bush on the way in and lost"
Merlin put the pot in one of his pockets and made for the door
"I'll give you something for your hand when you get back" Gaius added, sensing that Merlin really was in pain
Merlin turned and smiled at him, "Thanks. Is there anything you want whilst I'm out?"
"No, I've got everything here. Just make sure you're nice to Arthur today; he's got a lot to do this week and very little time to do it in"
"I'm always nice to Arthur!" Merlin laughed, but he knew Gaius was right. This week would have to be filled with as much obedience as he could muster. He'd already made a mental note not to answer back. That was, unless Arthur was about to do something really stupid and life threatening.
It took him a while to find where Sir Boris was staying. All of the visiting sheriffs and knights where lodged in the west wing of the castle, but Sir Boris was a well established knight in Camelot, and his sons were staying with him in his own private quarters. Merlin noticed with a pang how many of the knight's quarters were empty. Sir Boris had been away during the last attacks on Camelot but he was one of few. Nearly all of those still in Camelot had perished, including Sir Leon. Merlin's face burned slightly as he thought about it. He felt responsible somehow.
Merlin was surprised when a very young boy opened the door to Sir Boris' chambers. For a moment Merlin's tired brain thought it might be the youngest son but then he realised that the boy was wearing the livery of a squire.
"I've brought this from the physician" Merlin said, holding out the salve to the boy, "It's for Sir Boris' youngest son"
The squire bowed quite low but didn't take the salve. "My master is not here" the boy must have only been about eleven, but he spoke with remarkable eloquence and control. Merlin was sure that no one had ever bowed so low to him before.
"Would you be kind enough to give it to him?" he asked the squire
"My master ordered that I was to remain here"
"Could you tell me where he is?"
"He is on the practice field with the other knights and his highness"
Merlin thanked the boy and received another low bow from him. He wondered if he had ever heard anyone refer to Arthur as 'his highness' without sarcasm before. Then again, no one had ever treated Merlin with as much respect either. He was only a manservant, albeit to the most important person in Camelot.
Merlin was still musing upon this when he reached the training grounds. He soon realised, with a sinking feeling, that Sir Boris' youngest son would be difficult to find. Nearly every knight, squire or son of the above must be here on the field. The fog had cleared, and now the mid morning sun was reflecting off of hundreds of set of armour. Well, maybe hundreds is a bit much, but it certainly appeared that way to Merlin. They all appeared to be gathering near a large white and gold tent and Merlin made his way towards it, desperately trying to remember what Arthur had said to him this morning.
He remembered as he neared the tent. There was a long table in front of it where three knights sat, one with a box of money and another with a scroll so long it ran over the table and pooled that the knight's feet. Merlin instantly recognised the one in the middle as Arthur himself his blonde hair shining in the sunlight. The one with the scroll was Sir Guy, one of Uther's oldest knights. He was completely bald apart from a crescent of grey hairs just above his ears. He sat with his head nearly touching the scroll as he scratched the quill on it at a painfully slow pace. Merlin saw, with relief, that the other knight was Sir Boris himself. Sir Boris was also one of Uther's knights but he was much younger than Sir Guy. He had very thick brown hair that was only just beginning to grey around the edges. His shoulders were very broad, as was his chin and he had a constant glare that looked like it could wither a rose at twenty paces.
Merlin thought about asking him where his youngest son was but thought it might earn him a box on the ears. Instead he tried to memorise the crest on Sir Boris' armour so that he could match it to his son. It took Merlin ages but at last he found a skinny lad wearing the same network of blue and red stripes. Having handed the salve over (Sir Boris' son was one of the arrogant types so their conversation had been short) Merlin tried to sneak back to the castle but he was caught by a very familiar sound.
"Merlin!" Arthur shouted from his place at the table
He turned, "Yes Sire!" he shouted back
"What are you doing out here?"
"I was…"
Arthur interrupted him, "Come here and stop yelling!"
Merlin did as he was told and moved to the front of the table
"I was…"
"Move" Arthur ordered with a roll of his eyes. Typical Merlin standing in everyone's way…
Merlin moved behind the table, "… delivering a slave to Sir Boris' son"
"Stay there and don't move" Arthur sounded so irritated an exhausted that Merlin almost felt sorry for him, "I want you somewhere I can see you"
Merlin was about to point out that Arthur wouldn't be able to see him anyway, unless he had eyes in the back of his head, but thought better of it.
He quickly came to understand why Arthur sounded so exasperated. The process of signing on the would-be knights was long and tedious. Merlin quickly became bored of the ritual. Each knight would go to the table and announce his name. He would give his seals and any other important looking pieces of paper to Arthur whilst Sir Guy would start to write his name on the scroll. The knight would then give a bag of coins to Sir Boris who would log the amount and place it in the box. Arthur would wish the knight luck and then the whole process would start again.
Merlin found his eyes wandering. There were still lots of knights on the field but the scroll was filling with names very fast, even at the speed that Sir Guy was writing. Some stood with squires, barking orders at them. Others stood with friends and some were even on their own. But they all looked proud, haughty and most of all arrogant. Perfect matches for Arthur then.
But then Merlin saw a knight standing on the edge of the crowd who didn't look anything but worried. He stood with a slender girl who appeared to be fussing over him. Merlin shifted slightly so that he could hear their conversation.
"Philippa" said the knight to the girl as she adjusted a strap on his arm, "I'm fine, stop fussing"
"I'm sorry Gwyn" she replied, tucking the strap away under his glove. "Are you sure you've got everything"
"You've asked me that already"
"Ah, sorry"
They smiled at each other and Merlin couldn't help but notice Gwyn checking everything on his person
"Yes, I've got everything" he eventually answered
"Good" Philippa replied, tucking a stand of hair behind her ears. Both Gwyn and Philippa had hair that was a dark gold colour, his slightly darker then hers. His sat messily atop his head in a way that reminded Merlin somewhat of Arthur going to bed with wet hair. Hers looked like Morgana's but instead of being smooth and controlled it hung loosely down her back, following her as she moved like some sort of gold haze.
"Are you ready?" she asked
Gwyn swallowed "Yes"
She lent up and kissed him on the cheek, "You'll be fine"
"What if they don't like me?"
"They will!"
"But if…"
"If they don't like you they don't disserve you"
Gwyn laughed, "Maybe I should wait until Lucan comes back"
"And let him steal all the fun?" Philippa laughed, "Gwyn, you're just as talented as any of the knights here, if not more so…"
"You're meant to say that; you're my sister"
"It's the truth! I believe in you Gwyn"
"And you are never wrong"
"Exactly. Not when I comes to you any way"
This time he kissed her, "Thank you Phil"
It wasn't long before Gwyn approached the table and Merlin watched with renewed interest.
"Name?" Arthur snapped
"Gwyn, youngest son of Sir Rogres, sheriff of Callington" Gwyn fumbled with a handful of papers but eventually managed to hand them to Arthur, who barely glanced at them. Gwyn handed his money with out further mishap. Gwyn was about to leave when Arthur's head finally shot up from the papers
"Your Rogres' youngest son"
"I am sire"
"You have a brother?"
"Yes sire, my brother is Sir Lucan"
"Lucan!" Merlin was sure Arthur was smiling, "Yes, I remember now. Where is he?"
"He is in Gaul at present Sir with a few other Knights of this realm. They are meant to be travelling back to join us here"
"That's good" Arthur sounded genuinely pleased, "and that, is suppose is your sister" he looked over to Philippa who was unfortunately distracted by a robin in the trees.
"Yes sire" Gwyn replied
"Well, I shall look forwards to seeing your brother, Gwyn. Good luck in the tournament"
Gwyn bowed and very quickly left, steering Philippa away from any further distraction.
Sir Boris lent in to whisper into Arthur's ear, "who is Sir Lucan sire?"
"Lucan was knighted here a few seasons ago. He's a very good swordsman. I wonder if his brother will be of the same calibre"
Sir Boris grunted in what Merlin thought was disapproval. True, Gwyn was skinny and nervous looking but Sir Boris' own son was equally slim.
"We shall see, won't we?" sighed Arthur, "people have many sides"
For once, Merlin couldn't agree more.
A/N So I am debating on whether to continue with this. I have plenty planned for everyone. There's betrayals, friendships an adventure-turned-bloodbath, a run away and a certain-someone's magic FINALLY gets revealed (did I say Merlin?- maybe, maybe not...). I could write a trailer and am toying with the idea of doing so.
So, yay or neigh. Do I continue or do I hang my head in shame? Only one way to let me know…