Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin.
A/N: For those of you who took the pole, it looks like Merlin will have had at least some connection with Freya. Whenever she's mentioned, or if she comes in the story at all, I'll do my best to give her an actual character.
"Wake up, Merlin!"
Merlin groaned and rolled over, blinking into focus Gaius's hunched figure. "S'not time to wake up," he moaned, rubbing his eyes.
"Well, today it is," the physician's said emphatically, pulling back Merlin's blankets. "The Mercian envoy is a day early. They'll be here in three hours.
Merlin sat up. "What?" he asked, eyes narrowed. How could he have forgotten such a vital detail? They arrived early. Maybe his brain had labeled the poisoning incident as higher priority.
"Exactly," Gaius continued. "Arthur would probably like to be ready on time for a change."
"Yes, I imagine he would, in this case," Merlin sighed, stretching. "All right. I'm up."
"You'd better be," Gaius scolded, then left the small room.
Merlin groaned as the door clicked shut, and fell back onto his bed. So much for confronting Nimueh before she waltzed into Camelot. Next time, he thought forcefully, forget Arthur's stupid chore list and just go. That was the whole reason he'd been trying to find the druids in the first place. Nimueh had connections with the druids, some of whom had probably seen her do powerful magic. All he needed was a glimpse of her magical signature, then he could find her with no problem. He was fairly certain that she was the person who'd been obnoxiously scrying him over the past month, but unfortunately, scrying spells couldn't be traced, only blocked.
Now... just great. He'd wanted to surprise her, to wipe that smug look off her face. Now he was going to have to be subtle. Merlin sighed. No wonder he'd been so miserable as a young man.
Gaius swung open the door.
"Merlin! Get out of that bed!"
O o O
Merlin watched King Bayard march his horse through the castle gates. The king held his head proudly, which was only enforced by the squad of blue-clad knights clopping around him. Although, unlike Uther, who liked to work his public image by waving and nodding to the awe-struck watchers, Bayard stared straight ahead, his solemn gaze never losing its focus.
Merlin knew the parade was a complete set-up. There was no way the Mercians would have been able to hold that much dignity the entire two-week journey. They had probably stopped several miles before reaching Camelot in order to assemble their line.
Arthur used the technique himself for years, until he finally admitted to himself that keeping Merlin and Sir Gwaine in their positions was a near-impossible task.
Merlin reexamined the sea blue cloaks. Nimueh was still missing from the line-up. Although, to be honest, he didn't actually know when she'd joined the group.
"Merlin, stop making faces," Gaius ordered. "What if Uther saw you?"
Merlin slouched further down the ramparts. "I'm just ready to get this over with," he said miserably, remembering all the luggage he'd have to carry in later.
"I'm only hoping that it ends well," Gaius murmured in a quieter tone. "If it doesn't, I fear that we might turn the peace treaty into a full-scale war."
Merlin shook his head. "Mercia is scraping the bottom of the barrel for resources – I think something big would have to happen to incite something that drastic," he said. He pretended to stop and consider. "Though I suppose it might happen if Uther shoved Bayard in the dungeons while accusing him of trying to poison Arthur."
Gaius shook his head at Merlin's imagination. "Let's just hope that nothing forces either Bayard or Uther to loose their temper."
"And there's the catch," Merlin said, resting his chin against his arm. He watched Uther step forward to greet the embassy. It was time for the show to begin.
O o O
Once in the throne room, it took Merlin nearly thirty seconds to spot Nimueh within the squad of blue-clad Mercians. When he did...
Merlin spluttered as he tried to cover his laughter with an insatiable coughing fit. Multiple eyes, from both the blues and reds, twitched in his direction. Arthur was looking at the ceiling with his teeth clenched.
One of the servants next to him cleared his throat and gestured for Merlin to pipe down. Uther was about to say something regal and diplomatic, and Merlin (a mere servant) was practically interrupting him.
To show that he was sincere, Merlin pounded his chest and managed to stop the guttural noises, but he couldn't help the enormous smile that spread across his face. I must look like a maniac, he decided. Then he figured he could do worse and allowed himself to keep the expression.
He took another glance at Nimueh.
Bad idea. Apparently expecting what he was going to see hadn't helped much at all.
He clapped a hand over his mouth and squeaked as the captured laughter escaped through his nose. The servants next to him shifted in their embarrassment, looking as though they wanted to be in the kitchens – disregard the honor it was to be a part of the receiving assembly.
Not willing to show any manner of irritation in front of his guests, Uther ignored Merlin and continued to stand regally before the Mercian statues. King Bayard's gaze was also unwavering. He was the only person in his party to not even glance in Merlin's direction.
"Camelot welcomes you, Lord Bayard of Mercia," Uther greeted solemnly. "The treaty we sign today, marks an end to war, and the beginning to a new friendship between our people." He regally offered his hand. After only a moment's pause, Bayard reached out and clasped it with his own.
Everyone clapped.
Merlin could feel Nimueh's eyes boring into him. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eyes, readying himself so he wouldn't feel the need to snicker. She was smirking. It wasn't a Morgana smirk; Nimueh's was more... seductive. But it was still a smirk.
Merlin grinned – he couldn't help himself. Wiping the smirks off the faces of evil witches was a favorite pastime of his.
He gave Nimueh another glance. Gray hairs were wisping out of her turban. She honestly didn't look bad for her age (which was probably around Uther's age, around Merlin's age if he wanted to be honest with himself), but she was still old. And there she was, prancing around in a dress made for a woman twenty years younger.
Maybe he wasn't being fair.
After all, to everyone else, she was the epitome of a princess in rags (exotic, figure-enhancing rags). She wasn't to know that Merlin had become so adept at seeing through magical disguises that half the time, he didn't even know they were there.
He bounced on the balls of his feet, eager to get the pomp and ceremony over with so he could contact her. After all, she wasn't called a High Priestess for nothing. Nimueh had some of the most powerful magic Merlin had seen in months; there were few who would have even a chance at defeating her. In fact, Merlin was convinced that if he hadn't surprised her with the lightning bolt all those years ago, she probably would have killed him.
A proper duel with her would be fantastically educational. If he couldn't convince her stop taking revenge against Uther and Arthur, he would definitely do his best to provoke her into one of the most epic battles since him versus Mordred. The thought of the sorcerer sobered Merlin's giddy, slightly immature thoughts. It would be a complete lie if Merlin tried to convince himself that he wasn't scared when it came to that front of destiny.
If Arthur was killed...
Or worse, if Arthur was killed on his watch...
Merlin swallowed and he glanced over at Arthur. How young he looked. It hurt sometimes, when Prince Arthur would look at Merlin, and there would be no acknowledgment in his eyes. The early stages of their friendship was not a place Merlin enjoyed, even if he did appreciate being ahead of Arthur in everything for once.
There were times, usually in the dark hours of the night, when Merlin would sit in his bed, plagued with bouts of insomnia, wishing he could just have a couple minutes to talk with his best friend. As soon as Arthur heard of Merlin's self-inflicted plight, he would probably laugh idiotically, then call Merlin out as mentally challenged. Merlin of course, would have a snappy retort ready, one that Arthur wouldn't be able to respond to – in which case he would tell his court sorcerer to shut up. Then Merlin would become serious and Arthur would ask him if something was troubling him. He would listen to Merlin earnestly, usually at a complete loss as to how he could be of any help. Once, Arthur had come to Merlin, sullen and humbled, mournfully complaining that there was never anything he could do to help his friend. Merlin smiled. Arthur didn't get it. Just being there was all Merlin really needed.
If Arthur died... all right, when Arthur died, Merlin knew that he was going to take years to recover from the loss. He expected that he would retreat into the shadows, and the very name of Emrys would vanish into legend until he found need to come out into the open again – if ever.
Someone cleared their throat. It was one of the servants, signaling that the opening ceremony was over.
Merlin jumped, startled, when he realized that he was still staring at Arthur, who was staring straight back with an incredulous expression on his face.
Merlin grinned, hoping that Arthur hadn't seen his watery expression, then then ducked into the crowd of chattering nobles. Time to do the grunt work. That usually helped clear his head, if nothing else. Maybe he could put some lightening spells on a few of the bags.
O o O
Gaius stopped when he saw Merlin lugging a heavy piece of luggage down the hallway. "How are you doing?" he asked, laughing as Merlin groaned in reply.
He threw down the trunk he was carrying.
"This is the last of it," Merlin said, panting. He hadn't caught sight of Nimueh in the hallway yet, probably because he wasn't using the main routes, instead taking back passageways and a lot less stairs. "I keep having to tell myself that this is doing me some good, but somehow... it's not working," he hissed.
Gaius smiled. "It builds character."
"I've got plenty of character," Merlin sniffed, rubbing his sore shoulders. "In fact, I think I have too much."
"Nonsense," Gaius said.
Merlin didn't see Nimueh until she tripped.
"Oof," she said daintily, and the sheets and pillows she'd been carrying went sprawling over the floors.
"Wow, you're just like me!" Merlin exclaimed, bending over to pick up a few pillows. He averted his eyes from the front of her dress, which was much too low for someone her age.
"Really?" she asked with an unsure smile.
"You trip over air, just like I do!" he said with mock-enthusiasm, handing her the pillows. Gaius gave him a strange look from behind Nimueh's back. In a louder voice, Merlin proclaimed, "It's nice to know that I'm not the only clumsy servant alive. I'll have to tell Arthur. Do you mind?"
Nimueh opened her mouth, looking as though she was regretting bumping into him.
"Of course you don't!" he exclaimed, interrupting her awkwardly. "Can I get a name please?"
Nimueh shifted her position.
"Wait!" Merlin declared, holding up a hand. "Let me guess... Nana? Cindy-Lou? Glinda? No," he conceded with fake frustration. "That's not right. Gaius, what are some popular Mercian names? I'm looking for some that might fit a girl – obviously."
"Merlin, what do you think you are doing?" the old man lectured. He knew that Merlin wasn't acting like himself on purpose, but for the life of him he couldn't figure out why.
Merlin rolled his eyes. "Fine," he said, giving Nimueh a look. "I give up. What is it?"
"Kara," Nimueh said hesitantly.
"Excellent," Merlin said with a grin. "That doesn't sound like a magic-user's name at all. You must be clean."
"I beg your pardon?" both Gaius and Nimueh simultaneously asked.
With a bout of maniacal laughter, Merlin grabbed the too-light trunk (considering it was full of armor), and sped between the inert pair. He could practically feel their taken aback expressions as they aimed their stares at his back.
O o O
"Are you all right today?" Arthur asked as Merlin entered his room, Arthur's already-clean ceremonial robes draped over the manservant's arm and the Arthur's lunch tray balanced over the other.
"What?" Merlin asked, trying to sound confused.
"Don't give me that, Merlin. I'm not blind," Arthur said, arms folded, watching his manservant carefully. "You looked... I don't know, distressed this morning during the greeting ceremony. You were acting really weird."
"An event which was entirely pointless," Merlin added, trying to change topics, "considering the fact that your father already greeted them in the courtyard."
"It's more ceremonial when it's done in the throne room. This is an official visit, Merlin," Arthur said, accustomed to Merlin's complaints against nobles and their time-wasting traditions. "And don't try to change the subject. We're talking about you."
Merlin gave Arthur a look before setting the tray on the table. "I know that I'm an interesting and – let's face it – brilliant person," he said with a wry smile, as he tried to make light of the situation. Arthur snorted. "But I highly doubt you're really that concerned."
There was a moment of silence while Merlin neatly laid out Arthur's outfit across the bed, making sure he hadn't forgotten any of the pieces back in his bedroom.
"Merlin..." Arthur said, his voice sounding hesitant.
"Yes?" Merlin asked stiffly, flaring out one of the shirts.
"Never mind," Arthur said dully, sounding regretful. Merlin closed his eyes, wishing more than anything that he could pour his soul out to the young man who looked and acted so much like his best friend. But it wasn't to be. Not yet. Arthur wasn't ready for that level of trust.
Besides, the prince was terrible at being sympathetic.
"So, Merlin," Arthur began, using a much lighter tone. "Would you like to see what you're going to wear?"
Merlin frowned. Drat. He'd forgotten yet another vital detail.
O o O
"Can I at least burn the feathers?" Merlin asked a minute later, holding up the dreaded hat with a look of distaste.
"If a single thread of that outfit is destroyed or missing, I will see to it personally that it becomes your permanent uniform," Arthur warned, a grin plastered on his face. He was thoroughly enjoying Merlin's discomfort.
Merlin sighed and conceded that at least it wasn't the usual torture (mucking out the stables).
Arthur shrugged. "Well, I'll probably have you do that too," he said matter-of-factly. "Maybe even the whole Mercian entourage."
Merlin glared at the prince.
"Won't it be embarrassing for Camelot if any of its citizens are seen wearing something so ridiculous?" he asked, hanging on to a thread of false hope.
Arthur laughed. "Nice try, Merlin. I doubt anyone important will actually notice you," he said.
"If all goes according to plan," Merlin muttered under his breath.
The prince peeked out from behind his screen. "What was that?" Arthur asked, eyes narrowed.
"I said, 'This costume should be banned'," Merlin said, and meaning it. He ran his fingers over the worn, crimson fabric.
"Not as long as you're around," came the insufferable reply.
Merlin stuck out his tongue.
A/N: This chapter was going to be longer, but its been so long since I've updated that I figured I'd just post what I had.
