Cottia fit into Merlin's life like she had always been there. Within a week of her moving in, he could not imagine his home without her curled up on the end of the couch nearest the windows, engrossed in a book she had taken from the piles lying around. She had a definite preference for fiction, although she was equally interested in nonfiction if he explained it to her. Making it come alive, she called it. He was amused by her ability to turn anything and everything into a story.
The piles of books lying around had interested her from the start, and Merlin often found Cottia sitting on the floor trying to read three books at once. She was also fascinated by his music collection. He could tell which songs were her favorites, because when they played, she would stop whatever she was doing and sit motionless, not even blinking, until they finished.
She was done in the library two weeks later, and Geoffrey was once more left to sit in peace in his neat, clean, orderly domain. It had only taken them two months to make it presentable again.
"Cottia's a good girl," he confided to Merlin and to Arthur. "She's intelligent but she can follow orders. She has a good heart."
Arthur was a little reassured by this. Geoffrey had seen so many people come and go in trusted positions in the kingdom that by now, he was a very sound judge of character.
"Maybe you're right, Merlin," he said as they walked away. "Maybe I am letting my first impressions of her cloud my judgement. You know, Guinevere likes her too, and no one is shrewder than her."
Merlin was looking a little uneasy. "Gwen's good with people, and so are you. I don't think there's any active harm in Cottia, but I think that there is - potential."
Arthur stopped. "What is it? Come on. Tell me."
"Did she remind you of someone with that first impression? Is that why you want her watched but are so eager to give her a chance?"
"Morgana," Arthur muttered, fidgeting. "She's just like Morgana as a child - nervous and idealistic and strong-willed." He stopped, seeing that Merlin was nodding.
"I see it too, and I don't want her to become like Morgana. I don't want her to become so bitter."
That conversation was echoing in his head as he watched Cottia now, her golden hair glowing in the candlelight and her face in sharp profile against the dark windows. He was sitting on the other end of the couch, in his usual spot, and pretending to read while he watched her. At last he could not hold back his question any longer.
"Cottia," he said. She started and looked up. Her eyes were still full of the story she had been reading.
"Yes?" She was always tense, coiled up ready to flee.
"I was just wondering how you came to pick your name," he said. "I've never heard it before."
Her half-smile flickered across her face. That seemed to be her default expression for almost every emotion, and it was only by her eyes that they could be differentiated. "It was in a story I read. I was ten. I found the book all torn apart in a heap of old rubbish and stapled it back together."
He nodded encouragingly, and she went on, gradually losing her timidity. "It was written hundreds of years ago, and it was about a man who was a soldier in the Roman Empire and stationed in Brittania. I don't understand that, because everyone knows that Britain is a mythical land. But it was only a story. And he fought to defend his fort and was wounded, so he had to stop being a soldier and go live with his uncle because his parents were dead and he had no money. And he met a slave called Esca and became his best friend, and he had a pet wolf, a real one, not a gene-mix dog, and there was a girl in it too, and her name was Cottia. She was forced to live with her uncle and aunt under Roman rule because her mother did not want her, but inside her she was still of her tribe." And the story poured out of her, and Merlin watched the eager little face in the candlelight as it lost its fear and shyness and wandered in a world where there were no problems that were insurmountable.
"And so he found his father's legion's Eagle and then buried it with honor. And Cottia married him because he understood her and how she wanted freedom and he was not afraid of her even though she was different." She stopped and blinked hard. "And she was happy," Cottia finished in a small voice.
"What was the book called?" Merlin asked gently.
"The Eagle of the Ninth." There was a catch in the girl's voice. "I loved that book. I wanted to live in it. But they caught me with it and they -" She stopped. "They burned it," she whispered. "I don't understand how anyone could do that. And they beat me for reading it." A tear rolled down her cheek and she swiped at it angrily.
"Is that how you got your scars?"
Cottia seemed to shrink into herself. "Those came later," she muttered. "At the special school. I found a book there called Watership Down, all about rabbits who leave their warren when it is destroyed and found a new one and help other rabbits escape their prison warren. They needed permission to go between Inside and Outside, too."
"The people there did that to you just for reading a story?"
She shrugged. "They don't allow stories anywhere there. They corrupt the mind and distract from work."
"That's not true," Merlin said hotly. "Without stories, there is no hope."
Cottia gave him one of her rare direct glances, her eyes still glistening with tears. "They were the only things that got me to escape. I pretended I was Fiver and ran and ran until I fell through into this world."
"I know how that feels," Merlin said. "You couldn't cope with being you anymore, so you became someone else. I've done that."
She smiled at him, a full smile. "Really? That is good." Her fingers were clinging to the pages of her book. He smiled back. She really is beautiful when she isn't afraid, he thought.
"Would you like to find those books again?" he asked. Her whole face lit up.
"Could you?" she breathed.
"I don't see why not. I will start looking for them tomorrow."
0000
Merlin wasn't there when she got up the next morning. That wasn't anything unusual. The removal of her portal had disrupted the chemistry in her brain. Really, it had been continually altering it from the moment it had been put in, and now that it was out, she was returning to normal. But the change meant that sometimes she could not sleep until it was dawn. They had worked out a routine; if Cottia was awake when Merlin got up, she came out and ate breakfast with him and then did small jobs during the morning while she waited for him to return from looking after the King. If she was asleep, he did not wake her.
She wandered over to the stove and inspected what he had left her. It had come as a surprise to her that he was actually a very good cook. Most of the adult men she had known did not stoop to doing chores, and the boys her age had been boring, selfish, and lifeless to her. Merlin was different. She had actually found him mopping the floor one day when she returned from spending a few hours in the town with Sophie.
Now she sat alone at the big wooden table and wondered what he actually did for the King. Why did it only take a few hours every morning? And why did he call him by his first name? She had even seen them sitting on the steps into the castle keep together, talking like brothers. It was weird. The headmasters and the politicians had had servants, and they were just like animals to their employers.
Cottia washed the dishes and then settled down in her spot on the couch. She spent a few minutes looking out the window before diving into her book. It was still such a luxury to be able to see outside and even open the windows without permission, without worrying about pollution.
The book was a big, heavy red one, handwritten. Merlin had given it to her night before, and she had kept it to start today. "It's a copy I made of the Red Book of Westmarch," he had said. "It's a true story from another world, told to a man from yours who translated it and published it. His descendants escaped into this world and brought a few copies with them. Don't read the end first, however much you want to - it'll really mess you up."
She opened it and looked at the title page. There were two titles. The first was, There And Back Again: A Hobbit's Tale. The second was, The Lord of the Rings. Interesting, she thought, and turned to the first page.
The morning passed very quickly, and Merlin was back before she had even gotten through the Misty Mountains. In fact, Cottia did not hear him come in, and he had to sit down beside her and look at what page she was on to get her attention.
"Sorry," she said nervously, shutting the book.
"Do you like it?"
"Yes," she said fervently. "And this world is real?"
"I've met some of the people from there. Not ones mentioned in the books, but ones who were there during some of the events. It was very interesting to talk to them." Merlin stood up. "But it's washing day, and then there's other stuff to do. You'll want to wash that dress."
Cottia laid the book gently on the table and frowned. "I don't have any other clothes. My only other dress is dirty too."
"Yeah, I thought of that." Merlin picked up a bundle of fabric and held it out to her. "Go put these on and see how much they don't fit."
She took the bundle. "How much they don't fit?"
"They're too small for me now, so I tried to alter them to be around your size. They're probably still too big for you, but if you put them on I can take them in even more."
"These were yours? Why were you wearing a dress?"
"I wasn't! Well, once but - anyway, that was for a really good reason. You're going to need some trousers when you learn to ride, so you may as well have them now."
She wanted to ask him to elaborate on the dress, but she decided she didn't know him well enough to tease him yet. "I thought there was some funny way to ride in a skirt."
"Sidesaddle. You'll probably learn that eventually, but it won't be useful for the kind of riding you'll be doing out in the woods. Now go put those on and collect your dirty clothes."
The bundle turned out to be a pair of brown trousers and a dark blue shirt. There was also a leather belt. They were surprisingly comfortable, Cottia decided. The trousers needed another inch or two taken off the bottom, and the shirt was slightly too big in the shoulders, but they were soft and thick and warm and smelled nice. Like cedar, she diagnosed, sniffing the fabric carefully. The belt was too big for her.
Merlin looked surprised when she reappeared with an armful of clothes. "I got your size better than I thought," he remarked. "Put those down here."
"The belt's too big," she said. "It needs about another three holes."
He took it from her and pulled a small knife from somewhere about his person. She looked at him curiously as he began to poke more holes in the stiff leather. He was different.
"What happened to that scarf thing?" she asked, realizing what was different. She'd never seen him without it, and had assumed it was somehow attached to him.
"I do have to wash it occasionally," he said, concentrating on not cutting his fingers.
"What's it for?"
"In case you hadn't noticed, we live in a big drafty castle, and it gets very cold during the winter. And it's useful."
"For what?"
"It saved Arthur's life once."
"Really?"
"Yeah." He held out the belt. It fit her now, but it left a long trailing end. She glared at it.
"Can't I cut this off?"
"Don't do that. You might need a long piece of leather someday. If it bothers you, tie it up in a knot."
He turned his attention to the big sink full of water. As Cottia discovered, doing laundry by hand was actually hard work. Merlin did most of it, leaving her to hang up the wet clothes on racks by the stove, but it still made her shoulder ache.
"You'll need a decent pair of boots, too," he said over his shoulder. "Those little slipper things you have now aren't going to work."
"It sounds like you're planning on us going on an expedition."
"I usually go out with the King's border patrol every month. It takes about four days. Arthur needs me, and I get the chance to find lots of herbs."
Cottia blinked. "Where do you stay?"
"In the woods. You remember riding with Leon and Percival." He turned, saw her expression, and laughed. "Don't worry. There's usually nine or ten knights and men-at-arms, and it's a lot more comfortable when you're not wounded."
"When do I have to start coming with you?" she asked skittishly.
"I'd like you to come on the next patrol. That's set to leave two weeks from today."
"But I don't know how to ride."
"After we're done here, we're going out to the stables and you're going to start learning." He reached out and touched her on the shoulder. "You'll be fine," he said reassuringly. "I won't let anything happen to you."
0000
The stables were dark and smelled like horses and hay. Cottia stayed close behind Merlin. The horses were big, and they made strange noises, and they were staring at her. He stopped in front of a stall in a corner and unlatched it, stepping inside. Cottia hovered around the open door.
The horse inside was smaller than the massive battlehorses they had passed, but it was still big. Merlin patted it on the neck and took it by the halter. "This is Steady. He's mine. Come here."
This was addressed to Cottia. She sidled nervously into the stall, keeping Merlin between herself and the horse. "He's pretty," she said doubtfully. He was a beautiful horse, a light tan with a black-and-tan stripy mane. He was finer-boned than the other horses, she noticed. "Why doesn't he look like the other horses?"
"I'm not a knight. He doesn't need to haul twice my weight in armor around. He needs to be fast and have stamina instead of being strong and slow. He won't hurt you. Steady, this is Cottia. She's never seen a horse before."
Steady's ears twitched at the sound of Merlin's voice and he lowered his head. Merlin grabbed Cottia's hand and made her put it on the horse's forehead. Its skin was silky and warm. She stroked him nervously.
"Good," said Merlin. "He won't hurt you. He knows you're my friend." He led the horse out. Cottia jumped aside as his hooves rattled on the planks.
Outside in the stable yard, Steady didn't seem quite so big, but Cottia was still nervous of him. If he put his foot down on hers, he probably wouldn't even notice. As the thought crossed her mind, he turned and looked at her reproachfully with liquid brown eyes.
'I would notice.'
No, he hadn't actually said that, but she knew that was what he had meant.
"Hold him," said Merlin, showing her where to hold the halter. "I'll go get his saddle."
Cottia hung on to the strap under the horse's chin and gazed up it at helplessly. The horse made a snorting noise and blinked. Its tail flicked. She jumped. The horse just stood there placidly.
Merlin came back with the saddle and put it on Steady's back. Cottia watched. There were a bewildering amount of buckles and straps on it. But Merlin knew exactly what he was doing and it only took a few moments until it was ready.
It was a long way down to the ground from horseback. Cottia hung on to the reins and tensed at every movement as Merlin led Steady slowly forward. He looked up at her.
"Relax. Let yourself move with the horse. It's not like riding in a machine; you have to work with him."
Cottia bit her lip nervously and tried to stop being so afraid. Steady turned his head and looked her right in the eye.
'You won't fall off, silly girl.'
"Watch me," she muttered under her breath.
By the end of half an hour, Cottia had relaxed enough to take the reins and tentatively guide the horse around the yard herself. Merlin still walked beside them, but he wasn't leading it anymore.
Getting off the horse was almost as much of a gymnastics exercise as getting on, and it was a lot scarier because the ground was much further away. And you had to get on and off on a specific side of the horse. Cottia was grateful that Merlin caught her as she half fell out of the saddle. He put her down and grinned.
"You did really well," he said. "We'll do the same thing tomorrow. If you do as well then, we can start going for proper rides."
"My shoulder hurts," Cottia grumbled. Merlin looked bewildered.
"Why?"
She held her ribs with the other hand and scowled at him. "Because the horse is bumpy."
"Do they feel swollen?"
She shook her head begrudgingly. "Not yet," she muttered.
"You're all tense. That won't help it. Go lay down and stretch when we get back home." She followed him into the stable, kicking rocks on the way.
He made her give Steady an apple. The horse had scary big teeth, but Merlin had put his hand under hers and Steady had picked it up gently with soft lips and afterwards had butted his head into her chest. She had nearly fallen over. Merlin had laughed.
"He likes you. He tolerates most people, but he's always been a good judge of character."
"What does that mean?"
"That means he knows that you like him even though you're scared of him, and he knows you'd never hurt any animal."
"I'm not scared of him!"
"Is that why you keep hiding behind me?" he teased.
She glared at him. He could see the anger in her eyes.
"Come on," he said, closing the stall gate and going out into the yard. "We can drop by the cobblers' on our way back."
They arrived back home in half an hour. Cottia had been promised a new pair of boots in a week. She was doubtful.
"He'll have them done," Merlin said confidently. "You're one of the royal servants. He knows better than to let one of us down."
"Why?" Cottia asked listlessly.
"Arthur gets angry if we aren't looked after."
"Why does he let you call him Arthur? What do you do for him?"
"I take care of him. I keep his room clean, make sure he can find his clothes, look after his armor, help him get dressed, and ride with him whenever he goes out on patrol."
"Why?"
Merlin glanced at her, intrigued by the confusion in her voice. "Because it's my job."
"But why do you talk to him like he's part of your family? The servants I've seen would have been put in prison for that. They all hated their jobs. Why is he any different?"
"He's my friend." Merlin was confused now. There was a rising note of bitterness in the girl's words.
"But he's a king! They don't have friends. They use people and toss them away."
They were walking down one of the long galleries several floors above the courtyard now, and no one was in sight. Merlin stopped and fixed Cottia with a hard stare. "He is the best friend I have ever had. He is a brother to me. That's why I serve him - because he loves me. I held him in my arms as he died and the world ended and the last thing he said was 'Thank you'. He's not like any leader you have ever known. Yes, he can be thoughtless and impulsive and a complete ass sometimes, but he is kind and just. You don't know him, Cottia; don't judge anyone on someone else's reputation."