Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin.
A/N: For those of you not fortunate enough to have read or re-read this story recently, there's a convenient summary below or I would recommend reading from Chapter 18 in case you don't want to re-read the whole story. The two reasons I managed to finish this chapter are as follows: I banned myself from reading any fan fiction for a month (suddenly I have a lot more free time and I recommend trying it if you have the same problem as I did of staying up until ridiculous hours just so you can find another story to read) and one of my favorite stories updated after a 4-year hiatus (inspired me like nothing else).
Summary of story so far (I wouldn't blame you at all if you've forgotten): Merlin doesn't know what went wrong with his time-travel spell, so he needs to retrieve the book that he got the original spell from. He'll need a dragonlord, a necromancer, and some way to get months' worth of supplies for the journey. At the same time, he has worry about how much of an effect the changes he's making will have on his own universe. Most recently, Nimueh's attempt to kill Merlin failed, but Gwen discovered that Merlin has magic and still isn't entirely certain that she's comfortable with the fact. Merlin then gets into a 'knife fight' with some squires, which gets him in trouble. Arthur then challenges Merlin to a competition of free combat; Merlin had to last 30 seconds against him or he'll be put on clean-up duty on the dining hall for a month, which would interrupt the free time Merlin needs to perfect his underground rescue plan. So Merlin totally beats Arthur, then heads to the tavern where he finds Lancelot and gets him job. Meanwhile, King Arthur back in the future is completely freaking out.
"Rise and…" Merlin yawned, "…shine."
Arthur's snores continued to drift from the enormous four-poster bed.
Merlin dragged the windows' curtains apart. If the enormous drapes hadn't been so susceptible to being pulled down (a whole different story), he would have planted his face into the satin folds and fallen asleep. Merlin was rather dreading another day of tedious exhaustion, but that's what he got for spending all night finishing his chores, throwing together magical belts, and enchanting roll after roll of parchment for various uses (and Arthur called him lazy).
"Arthur," Merlin said unenthusiastically, trudging towards slumbering bundle.
The prince of Camelot made a flicking motion at his ear, but the soft snores didn't break their slow pattern.
"Arthur!" Merlin said more loudly.
Arthur finally responded, snorting and blearily blinking as his eyes adjusted to the morning light.
The prince groaned. "Is it morning already?"
"Unfortunately, sire," Merlin said, equally optimistic about the day's schedule.
"It's earlier than usual," Arthur noted, pushing himself up, staring bleakly at the windows.
Merlin tried not to sigh. "That's because your father is coming to speak with you," he informed.
Arthur made a face, but his manner became altogether more alert. "Did he say why?" the prince demanded, swinging his way out of bed, flipping the covers behind him as he made a hand motion that insisted on his shirt.
Merlin held out the article of clothing for Arthur to snatch out of his grasp. "No, sire," he said.
"When is he coming?" Arthur inquired.
"No idea," Merlin said with a shrug, watching as Arthur managed to successfully pull the shirt over his head.
Arthur raised his eyebrows incredulously. "Well, that's helpful."
"Tell me about it," Merlin said with a sigh.
O o O
"I thought you said he was going to be here soon," Arthur complained.
Merlin shuffled impatiently. "Your seal, sire," he reminded dryly.
Arthur sighed and pressed his signet ring into the glob of dark wax, officially legalizing the petition.
"I could have slept late," Arthur whined.
"Next one, sire," Merlin said, ignoring him and replacing the sanctioned document with another lengthy exposition.
Arthur sighed again but went along, carefully heating the end of the wax stick.
It wasn't until Arthur had ratified the entire stack of documents that the arrival of the king was announced by short rapping against the door.
Uther swept into the room looking as though he'd been awake for hours (he probably had). "Arthur," the king acknowledged his son with a nod.
"Good morning, Father," Arthur said amiably, no trace of the previous grumblings in his voice.
"I see you've been busy," the king said, giving the documents an approving glance.
Arthur straightened, looking pleased. "Just some paperwork," the prince said modestly. Merlin rolled his eyes; he'd practically shoved the papers in Arthur's face before the young prince would even look at them.
"Good. Good," Uther said. "Tax reports?" he enquired, examining the top sheet.
Arthur nodded. "Among other things… and all ready to be archived," he said with a proud smile.
"Excellent. Have your manservant take them to Geoffrey," Uther ordered off-handedly. "We have things to discuss."
"Merlin?" Arthur said with an air of self-importance.
"Of course, sire," Merlin said with a sarcastic bow, stepping out of the shadows to gather the stack of parchment.
O o O
In the end, Geoffrey got all but one of the documents; the other one had been tucked into Merlin's belt and hidden beneath his jacket – a letter recommending one Lancelot for the position of citadel guard, conveniently endorsed by Arthur's royal seal (served the prat right; Arthur hadn't once glanced at any of the documents he'd been certifying).
"How'd you manage this?" Lancelot stared at the embossed wax with disbelieving eyes.
Merlin shrugged, leading the guard-to-be further into the castle. Lord Ferior, the retired knight who ran the castle's security, had an office in the southern wing of the castle. And since he rose almost the same time as the kitchen staff, it was safe to assume that he would be in said office taking an early lunch.
"Arthur's been moaning about the current lax of talent he's been seeing," Merlin said by way of explanation.
Lancelot still wore a disbelieving expression, but there was a renewed bounce in his stride.
O o O
Merlin shoved his shoulder into the door to Arthur's room, balancing the prince's midday meal on one arm while struggling to keep a grip on the laundry basket with the other. After a dangerous moment of holding up the pitcher with magic, Merlin managed to slip through the door.
"Arthur! Food!" he called with a strained voice.
Merlin let the basket fall to the floor with a thud and caught sight of Arthur sprawled face-down on top of the bed. He snorted with amusement.
"Nap time's over, sire," he informed, setting the tray down with a bang.
Arthur twitched, but didn't rise from the bed. "Where have you been?" he asked, the accusation in his voice muffled by the folds of the blankets.
"Your stinky laundry… plus, we have a new guard," Merlin explained, brightening as he came to the topic of Lancelot. "I was showing him around the castle."
Arthur finally lifted his head. "That isn't your job," he scolded.
Merlin carefully filled Arthur's goblet. "He's a friend," he explained.
Arthur pushed himself to a sitting position. "A friend," he deadpanned.
"His name is Lancelot," Merlin said, ignoring Arthur's tone. "I think you'd like him."
"Sure I would, Merlin," Arthur said. "Why don't I just go and make friends with a guard."
"You should," Merlin said firmly. "And since you aren't getting up, should I assume that'd you'd like your lunch in bed, sire?" Merlin asked innocently.
Without a word (but with a deep scowl sent in Merlin's direction), Arthur hopped off the bed and trudged towards the table.
"I didn't miss an archery session, did I?" Merlin questioned, trying to gauge the reason for Arthur's moodiness and midday nap.
Arthur picked at his food. "Don't be stupid," he said miserably.
"Was it your father?" Merlin asked suddenly.
Arthur bristled. "What?"
"You're brooding."
Arthur turned in his seat to look up at Merlin. "My father told me to sack you," he said.
What?
Merlin blinked slowly. "Does that mean I needn't have done my chores?" he finally asked stupidly.
Arthur frowned. "This is serious, Merlin," he said, sounding like he meant it.
"Are you going to sack me?" Merlin asked.
Arthur pressed his lips together. On the positive side, his delayed answer meant it wasn't a definite "Yes," but on the less optimal side, it meant that it wasn't a definite, "No," either. Arthur had been thinking about sacking Merlin.
"I told my father that I could handle you," Arthur said slowly. He looked troubled.
"Handle me?" Merlin questioned.
Arthur made a face. "You know what I mean," he said grumpily.
"Is this because of the water pitcher incident?" Merlin asked after a moment.
Arthur raised his eyebrows. "No, this is because you were your imbecilic self and decided to shout at the sons of three high-ranking noblemen… don't look at me like that Merlin, I don't care if they deserved it," the prince said crossly. "Apparently they'd gotten the idea after Sir Borin's squire had discovered your apparent talent for catching knives the other day. Catching knives!"
Merlin winced. "That didn't work out quite as well as I had planned," he admitted.
"Sorry to break it to you Merlin, but some nobles don't like the idea of servants being trained in combat," Arthur said. "And apparently you've demonstrated to half the court that not only do you know how to use weapons well, but you're also insolent."
"That's stupid," Merlin snapped. "Servants ought to be trained in combat. I'd be dead a thousand times over if I didn't know how to use a sword." Or not. But Arthur didn't need to know about the magic.
There was a moment of awkward silence. Arthur couldn't refute Merlin's claim – not after the incident with the bandits.
"I know."
Merlin nodded once, acknowledging Arthur's confession that perhaps the unspoken rules of nobility weren't as noble as he had grown up believing them to be.
"I'll be more subtle," Merlin promised.
Arthur sighed. "You'd better be, otherwise my father will have you thrown out of the city," he admitted gravely.
Nothing more was said until Arthur had solemnly finished his meal and Merlin had put away the entirety of Arthur's folded clothes.
"Merlin?" Arthur broke the silence as he stared contemplatively into his goblet.
"Yes, Arthur?"
"Can you really catch throwing knives?"
O o O
After dodging a potentially dangerous conversation with the prince by throwing out a few nasty insults of the said prince's intelligence, Merlin's recompense became a rather lengthy list of chores. ("Two days in a row," Merlin grumbled on his way out.)
As Merlin entered Gaius's chambers later that afternoon (would have been night if not for the magical help he employed in the polishing), he was nearly bowled over by a snarling upstart of a teenager who was making an exit – a noticeable bandage had been applied to his arm. He didn't even send Merlin a side glance, who was beginning to wonder if he'd attracted the wrath of every hormonally-enraged youth in the city.
"What was that about?" he questioned Gaius as he carefully shut the door behind him.
Gaius sighed. "Son of one of the visiting village leaders. Whatever his father has requested, it has been denied," he said sadly.
"Did he get into a fight?" Merlin asked.
"No," Gaius reassured his ward. "It was a wound he received before coming here. Arthur permitted him to see me."
"Hm," Merlin hummed. "That was good of Arthur."
"He has become more thoughtful as of late," Gaius agreed, giving Merlin a meaningful look. "I think we have you to thank for that."
Merlin smiled tiredly. "I hope so, or I've been working too hard for nothing," he said, trying to sound cheerful.
"It's hardly nothing, my boy," Gaius bolstered encouragingly, looking proud.
Merlin sent him a grateful half-smile and turned to leave.
"Is everything ready for the druids?" Gaius questioned before Merlin could hole himself up in his room.
Merlin said without looking back, "I'm ready if they are."
O o O
Lancelot had been thrown into his duties almost as soon as he had set the recommendation letter on Sir Ferior's desk. Apparently the old knight was just as disturbed the current guards' lack of zeal as Merlin was. "They wouldn't know a sorcerer if he blasted them down a hallway!" Ferior had grumbled, his gray, broom-like mustache twitching indignantly. Apparently he was hoping that a man endorsed by the prince himself would lead the way into a new and improved generation of castle guards.
"Tired?" Merlin asked with a smile, grinning across the table.
Lancelot shrugged, setting down his tankard of celebratory mead. "It was work – a nice change from what I'm used to," the new Camelot guard said honestly.
"Have you had a chance to move your things out of the inn?" Merlin asked.
Lancelot nodded. "There wasn't much to move," he pointed out.
"True," Merlin agreed amiably.
They sat in a comfortable silence, watching the other people in the tavern interact.
After a few minutes Lancelot tilted his head. "I take it that you're not much of a drinker?" he noted, nodding his head towards Merlin's untouched tankard.
Merlin shrugged sheepishly. "Both Mother and Gaius say that I get drunk at 'the whiff of a barmaid's apron,' and I have to introduce two boys into Camelot tomorrow morning. It would be best if I didn't have any kind of hangover," he explained, running his finger around the rim.
"Two boys?" Lancelot inquired.
"Gaius's great nephews," Merlin clarified. "They're coming here to work."
"I see," Lancelot said, looking thoughtful.
"They've already got jobs lined up," Merlin continued. "I just need to be there to make it official and to show them around."
"Well I'd say that you're good at tours," Lancelot complimented.
Merlin grinned. "Thanks," he said. "I didn't really have time to show you around much, though."
"I learned enough," Lancelot said with a small smile.
"Meet anyone you like?" Merlin inquired.
"Besides you?" Lancelot asked.
Merlin raised his eyebrows and chuckled.
Lancelot grinned then said thoughtfully, "I met a nice fellow by the name of John. He and his patrol partner, Eadgar, were in charge of showing me my assigned areas. I didn't mind Eadgar, but he seemed a little young."
"Immature, you mean," Merlin snorted. The young man didn't take his duty of protecting the lawmakers of Camelot seriously.
"He's very informed about the best times to sleep," Lancelot agreed with a half-smile.
"Quite," Merlin said with an eye-roll. "So, have you met any girls yet?" He was curious to know if Lancelot's attraction to Gwen would be lessened if he met other girls he liked first.
Lancelot gave Merlin a look. "I didn't have much time to meet many of those," he said, countering Merlin's teasing tone.
"Just checking," Merlin said cheerfully.
O o O
A few hours before dawn, Merlin sat uncomfortably beneath the tangled branches of a giant oak tree, trying not to be irritated by the delayed arrival of the druids. It wasn't as though they had the luxury of teleporting or of proximity, so really their lack of punctuality was to be expected.
Either that or they were lost. It would be a first – druids had an uncanny sense of direction that made Merlin often wonder whether they spent their free time memorizing the forest.
"Lord Emrys."
Merlin's drooping eyes shot open. "Iseldir," he wheezed, a hand rubbing the middle of his chest in an attempt to calm his pounding heart.
The druid straightened out of his bow and gave Merlin as close to a smug look as his stoic face would allow. Behind Iseldir, four others also arose, their movements the only thing distinguishing them from the fog-ridden foliage surrounding them.
Eerie, eerie people.
Standing up and brushing off his slightly damp breeches, Merlin didn't even bother to act dignified, knowing they had won that round. "Are Erin and Collin ready?" he inquired.
"We are," came the unified answer.
Merlin looked past Iseldir to meet their eyes. "I hope you slept well. Gilroy will probably have you working as soon as you get there," he warned.
"We are prepared, my lord," Collin responded.
Merlin raised his eyebrows. "Starting now, you may not call me by my title," he said. "To you and Erin, I am only Merlin."
Collin and Erin shifted uncomfortably.
Merlin had to hold back an eye roll as he redirected his attention to Iseldir. "I have some things for you," he stated, patting the bag at his side. The druid leader made a mildly inquisitive face that Merlin accepted as a suitable enough response to continue. He flipped open the bag and started pulling out items, handing them to Iseldir one by one. "Give one candle to each clan you're in contact with – light one of these and I have a matching one that lights as well. I'll meet you as soon as I can. They should last longer than most candles, but try not to burn them too often. The parchment's for written communication. Write a note, and I'll be able to see it on my own piece. Do you know the spell for erasing ink? Oh, perfect. It'll last for a while then. I stole some from Arthur so there should be around six sheets. Have them all? Oh, good, I was worried I'd forgotten one. And the extra one's a list of protocols we ought to follow in case we do need to meet up. I can't keep popping off at random moments like I have been. And here's some bread. Thought you all might be hungry."
Iseldir, delicately juggling the candles and parchment, almost fumbled when Merlin pulled out the moderately-sized loaf.
Merlin held back his soft smile, willfully keeping the goofy one on his face so they wouldn't be embarrassed. He knew that as efficient as the clans were with their supplies, they rarely had the means to eat anything so rich, even if it was a day old from the kitchen.
"We thank you, Lord Emrys," Iseldir answered with a small bow.
"Oh, it was nothing," Merlin said, secretly pleased by the small acknowledgement. "All that stuff will keep me from having to teleport everywhere all the time."
"We will use it well," the chief accorded.
"I'm counting on it," Merlin said. "Now, that thing we discussed..."
Iseldir frowned slightly. "They are willing, and I have given my permission, but do not assume that it is either desirable or feasible," he said.
"It's feasible," Merlin insisted. "I told you I've done it before. And better – this time it's not permanent." Still, the frown remained. "Roll up your sleeves, boys. Let's see the tattoos."
The boys stepped forward bravely, doing as Merlin had ordered, with the three older druids flanking them in a show of support (probably prepared to defend their youth in case anything unsavory occurred). Both of them had their tattoos on their inner forearms, making them more accessible, and thus speeding up the process considerably.
It took about fifteen seconds.
When Merlin stopped and took his hand from around their arms, all eyes were on him as though waiting for a giant ball of fire to appear out of the sky. "It's done," Merlin said dryly after a few seconds.
The teenagers blinked and looked down at their arms, simultaneously flinching when they realized that the tell-tale symbol of their tribe and beliefs had vanished. They cowered as they looked over to see Iseldir's reaction, who was staring unblinkingly at their fleshy arms.
"He's not going to punish you for doing something I told you to do," Merlin pointed out. The boys looked up at him, slightly ashamed. "They'll reappear once your mission is over."
"We will do out duty," Collin said gravely.
Merlin touched the boys' shoulders. "It will save a lot of lives because you're willing to do this," he promised. He turned to Iseldir. "I'm afraid I don't have much time. Arthur's giving me a whopping list of chores, but I'll contact you if we need to discuss anything further."
"It is time to part, then," Iseldir accepted.
"For now," Merlin added.
Iseldir nodded. He turned to the pair of teenagers and said solemnly, "May the gods be with you, and magic keep you." Collin and Erin straightened bravely in response, wordlessly taking a small chunk of the bread Iseldir had ripped off for them.
With one last look at Merlin, the three older druids vanished into the morning fog.
"We'll follow you, Emrys," Erin said stoically after a moment.
Merlin whack the side of the boy's head, causing the young druid to gasp in surprise and give Merlin an offended stare.
"Mer-lin. Merlin," the warlock emphasized. "Call me Emrys again and you'll have your tongue stuck to the roof of your mouth."
Wide-eyed, both boys immediately responded, "Yes, Merlin."
"Exactly," Merlin said with expectant eyebrows. "Come on then."
O o O
"So these are my great nephews," Gaius observed carefully as Merlin pushed the two teenagers forward. The sun's light had just begun to break through the morning fog, making it a bit easier to see inside the physician's dim chambers.
Popping in between the two boys, Merlin propped his arms around their shoulders. "Erin could have your ears," he said pragmatically, pulling at one of the boy's earlobes.
Erin winced slightly, but didn't move away from the warlock.
Gaius sighed. "Merlin, I do hope you know what you are doing."
"I have to know what I'm doing," Merlin said with a grim smile. "We aren't going to get any second chances."
"We are willing to die, if need be," said the shorter teen curtly.
Merlin patted his shoulder. "That's good, but not the point, Collin. We are trying to keep everyone alive," he reminded.
Gaius nodded as the druids thinned their lips, looking as though they preferred playing the brave martyr. "Merlin is right, you know. You do no good to anyone dead."
Erin nodded and said politely, "We will do what we can."
"All I needed to hear!" Merlin clapped his hands together. "We're all agreed then – stay live as possible."
He moved away from the druids and motioned for them to follow. "So these are Gaius's chambers."
"...and mine," he added as an afterthought, pointing to the wooden door. "This is where we'll be meeting if I call you for anything. Your cover as family will give you plenty of reason to come here as often as you like."
"How will you be contacting us?" Erin asked.
Merlin smiled. "That will take some explaining on my part – and more time than I have at the moment. But rest assured that you'll have down a majority of the operation by the end of today."
"Will it require the use of magic?" the darker druid asked.
"What do you think?" Merlin asked. He looked to Gaius. "Have you got the cover story down well enough?"
"Well enough," the physician answered mildly. "But I doubt many people will ask questions."
"Well, it's good to have either way," Merlin said, looking proudly around at his tiny group of rebels. He had to stop himself from clapping giddily. "I've got to attend to the prince now. So Gaius will be taking you down to speak to Gilroy, the castle's head of staff."
The two boys nodded their heads, just barely managing to not make the action look too subservient. "Yes, Merlin," they answered dutifully.
Merlin beamed at them. "Good, you remembered!" he exclaimed. He turned to Gaius and answered the unasked, "I've had to train them to not call me 'Emyrs' while they're here."
"I see," the physician answered dubiously.
"Good luck!" Merlin sent back at them as he bounced out the door.
Gaius shook his head as the was shut with more force than necessary, slightly unnerved by the boys' unchanging stares in response to Merlin's giddy behavior. Then again, druids never had been known for their animation.
Gaius sighed. "I'll finish up my potion and then we'll leave."
O o O
Merlin spent five minutes watching Arthur do paperwork before realizing that his presence was redundant, even if the prince didn't think so.
"I promised Collin and Erin that I would show them the castle," Merlin said patiently before Arthur could argue further that Merlin ought to stay and help him.
After a moment of pondering the prince remembered, "Gaius's nephews?"
"Great nephews," Merlin corrected needlessly.
"It must be interesting to meet his family," Arthur said, for once actually looking interested. "I never knew he had any siblings."
"There was a step sibling that he never really got to know," Merlin explained. "Apparently these are his grandchildren."
"Well I'm glad he has someone to look after him now," Arthur said with a slight smile on his face. "He's not getting any younger – it's probably a relief to have family around."
Merlin scowled. What am I? Chopped liver? He's got me. As if sensing his servant's indignance, the prince added saucily, "They're bound to be more reliable than you, at any rate, Merlin."
"At least I can do paperwork by myself," Merlin retorted with a haughty sniff. Whirling on his heels, he marched out of the room, purposefully tuning out all of Arthur's umbrageous replies so he wouldn't be tempted to stay and banter. Best friends were useful for all sorts of things, including distractions.
After some quick meditative breathes (difficult while walking briskly), Merlin began contemplating whether it would be faster to visit the stables or the kitchen and whether it would be worth it to pass by the kitchen at all. If only he'd had more time this morning, then he could have presented the druid boys with their magical, extremely-efficient-in-cases-like-these belts, and he wouldn't have to wander the whole castle searching for them. Erin, having an affinity for animals (it could have been magic, but innate talent was also just as likely), had been put in charge of caring for the ladies' horses. He was probably going to be in the stable – stable boys weren't given many errands, especially not the new ones. Kitchen boys, like Collin, on the other hand, were usually sent all over the castle and its surrounding property.
Hopefully they kept him in the kitchen today, Merlin thought, then immediately decided he should find Erin first. He might have overheard Collin's duties before they were separated.
As he'd predicted, Erin was at the entrance of the stables, being taught by Tyr Seward of all people how to properly polish a saddle.
"How'd you get roped into doing the training?" Merlin inquired with a smile as he approached the duo.
Tyr started at the sound of the warlock's voice, but greeted him with a wave once he realized who had snuck up on him. Even Erin looked more relaxed than the whole time Merlin had known him. "No one in the royal family's ridden for a couple days," the stablehand explained. "Master Gilroy thought I ought to make myself useful."
"Well, no one knows the horses like you do," Merlin said fondly.
"Erin here's not so bad himself," Tyr said, slapping the boy on the shoulder. "He might even surpass me one day."
Erin ducked his head, hiding an uncharacteristic blush.
"I'm glad you're getting along," Merlin said. "Mind if I borrow Erin for an hour to show him around? You're not in the middle of something, are you?" He ignored the fact that they were surrounded by scrub brushes and rags.
"Well... yes we are, but I can finish up, Merlin. Don't you worry," Tyr said graciously.
"You're the best, Tyr, don't let anyone tell you otherwise," Merlin said gratefully.
"You've done my mucking-out job often enough," Tyr pointed out.
"You can thank his royal highness for that," Merlin said dully. "No need to give me any credit."
Tyr sent him a repressed grin. "I'm surprised you even have an hour," he said.
"I don't," Merlin said with a dramatic sigh. "But giving tours is much more desirable than cleaning out the dog kennel."
"Isn't Clayton in charge of the dogs?" Tyr asked.
"Not when Arthur's cross with me," Merlin replied. "Come along, Erin. We've got to find Collin."
Erin sent Tyr a questioning glance, who nodded encouragingly. Looking more certain, the druid boy stood up and said formally, "Thank you for your help."
"You're a good student. I'll still be here when you get back," Tyr promised. Erin nodded, a slight smile on his face.
"Bye, Tyr!" Merlin said with a wave as they left the stables. He turned to Erin. "I don't suppose you know where Collin is?"
Erin shook his head. "I'm sorry, no," he answered. Merlin sighed. "Master Gilroy had someone in his office there to take him away."
"So prepared..." Merlin muttered. "Alright, then. Let's check the kitchens and pantries. If he isn't there, we'll track him down magically."
Erin's eyes widened at the blatant mention of magic, glancing around wildly for signs of curious ears, but everyone was well out of ear-shot. "Must you speak of magic so lightly?" he murmured, probably attempting to keep the irritation out of his voice in light of the fact it was Lord Emrys he was speaking to.
Merlin looked over at the boy, amused. "If you're worried you'll get your head chopped off, just know that Collin and I are fully prepared to rescue you," he said.
"My aunt was beheaded five years ago," Erin informed grimly.
Merlin's light mood dimmed somewhat. "Erin... Maybe you don't believe me now," the warlock said slowly, a serious expression covering his face, "but I promise that, if I can help it, no one will be executed for having magic in Camelot ever again."
Erin didn't answer.
Merlin sighed. Druids were culturally solemn with a lot of tragedies added to their history – his attempts in speaking with Iseldir often ended in the same manner. "Try to pay attention to the route between the stables and the kitchen," he said mildly.
O o O
As it turned out, Erin wasn't lucky enough to witness Merlin's magical-tracking techniques, because Collin had been assigned to butter churning and hadn't left the stool where he'd been sat by Cook since the early morning.
"Did they tell you anything at all?" Merlin asked incredulously once he'd rescued the poor teen. The druid's arms were shaking and he kept rubbing them with his hands in a futile attempt to calm his screaming muscles. Their clan didn't own any cows, and Collin had never needed the muscles for butter churning before that moment.
"They told me to churn butter," Collin said dryly. Erin winced.
Merlin scowled and muttered, "Audrey is vicious."
"One of the other servants told me that she was testing my resolve," Collin informed.
"Oh, she was," Merlin said, narrowed eyes. "She did that to me with a tray of bread rolls to see if I could carry them across the castle without stealing any on the day she knew I hadn't eaten."
The two boys raised their eyebrows.
Merlin shook his head and lead them out into the courtyard of the castle, where the tour would start. He knew that both of them wanted to ask, but he wasn't going to answer. If they'd known him at all, it would have been obvious anyways: of course he'd failed Audrey's test. He stole food from Prince Arthur almost daily; he wasn't worried about some cook.
Much.
"All right students," he said, clapping his hands together, guiding their eyes towards the balcony where King Uther usually presented himself on special occasions. "Let us begin..."
Collin and Erin couldn't help but notice that as their leader plowed through the castle like he owned the place, showing them every nook and cranny with a story to go behind it, wondering how on earth they were going to remember everything, that the majority of Merlin's comments led straight back to one man: Arthur.
"And that's where your Once-and-Future King hid for two hours in order to avoid Morgana's wrath," Merlin stated happily, pointing out a small space behind the pillars. That would actually happen in the future, when Arthur would purposefully hide all of Morgana's training gear to keep her from distracting his men during practices, but they didn't need to know that.
"Will we get to meet him sometime?" Erin asked timidly. Collin sent his friend a dour glare.
"Arthur, you mean? Most likely," Merlin said off-handedly. "He might not say much to you though – he's not that advanced in his sensibilities yet."
"How do you get away with referring to him so informally?" Erin continued. "All of the servants here refer to him as 'the prince' or 'his highness.'"
"I earned it," Merlin said firmly, a bright glint in his eyes, "with jail time, ridiculous chores, and weekly rescue missions."
And he was Emrys, the two thought simultaneously. That probably had something to do with it as well. The Once-and-Future King and Emrys were practically two sides of the same coin.
Minutes later, the warning spell for Arthur tugged at Merlin's heart like an unbroken horse. The only thing that kept Merlin from immediately teleporting to Arthur's aid was the condensed population of the hallway. Unfortunately, it also happened during his favorite part of the the grand tour.
"And this corridor leads to the dungeons," Merlin had been gesturing with enthusiasm, then lowering his voice, had said with a conspiratorial grin, "You'll be spending a lot of time here, if all goes according to plan."
Erin and Collin gave the corridor a thoughtful look, the first time either of them had allowed any sort of interest to show during their traipsing through Camelot.
"Emr- Merlin," Collin said with concern when the warlock's back arched and the man began to look around wildly. "What's happening?"
"Arthur," Merlin muttered, panicking. "Something's wrong with Arthur."
Collin and Erin glanced around at the other servants and guards, then Erin asked lowly, "What's wrong?"
Merlin was two frantic to pay either boy much attention. "You'll have to find your way back by yourselves. Sorry," he said, then sprinted off in the direction they'd come, with every eye following him incredulously, and two dazed druids attempting to process the situation, unsure if they were supposed to help.
The spell pin-pointed Arthur's location like a beacon. He was close... but not close enough. Once Merlin had sprinted through an area void of prying eyes, he slowed time. Anyone he ran past at that speed wouldn't think of him as any more than a passing breeze if they noticed his presence at all. He passed several guards who were also in the middle of running – they must have heard part of the commotion. Arthur was very close. Hopefully Merlin's trust in the prince's skills wasn't unfounded; generally Arthur could hold off most attacks (even magical ones) long enough for Merlin to reach him.
Wen he determined that he was close enough, Merlin ended the spell just in time to nearly send himself over a flight of stairs with the added momentum.
"Merlin!" an unexpected voice came from the bottom of the stairs.
"Lancelot?" Merlin choked, peering down. For about one second, his mind was racing in utter confusion as he caught sight of Lancelot leaning over a prone Arthur with his sword drawn. Why would Lancelot attack the prince? he wondered hysterically. Then his eyes focused enough for his brain to catch up and he realized that Lancelot's sword was at the throat of another man, who's thin form was mostly hidden behind Lancelot.
As Merlin rushed down the stairs, dodging the scattered sheets of parchment that littered the steps, Lancelot said, "Prince Arthur has a head wound, and I believe something is wrong with his leg. This one," he jabbed his sword at the perpetrator, who winced and looked in the opposite direction, "pushed him down the stairs then attacked him with a knife."
Merlin sent the criminal a death glare before kneeling beside Arthur, who was semi-leaned against the stairs. "He's unconscious..." he muttered, worried as he checked the prince's pulse. Arthur's heartbeat was steady. Merlin pressed his lips in a thin line and took off his jacket, folding it into a pillow to place beneath his friend's head. To his horror, when he brought his hand out, it was covered in blood.
Lancelot looked over as Merlin cursed, watching the servant reposition the prince's head and wincing when he realized that he left half of Arthur's blonde hair was plastered in blood.
"Stupid idiot," Merlin murmured, tearing off the bottom half of Arthur's sleeve (the prat was rich enough to afford a new one). "After everything – it was the stairs."
"Who are you anyways?" the servant turned and snapped at the captured man by Lancelot's feet, the cloth pressed to Arthur's head already turning a dark red.
The criminal (in reality less than a man and probably even younger than Erin) didn't look at Merlin, his eyes stubbornly fixed on the opposite wall. Merlin raised his eyebrows at Lancelot, who shrugged.
Shouts from above indicated the arrival of the guards Merlin had passed on his way there, and the warlock's attempt at interrogation was cut abruptly short. Interestingly enough, the guards looked to Merlin rather than Lancelot for an explanation.
"He was the one who arrived first," Merlin said, nodding at Lancelot, happy to give him the credit. The teenager on the floor was beginning to twitch anxiously, especially when two of the guards flanked him.
"Who're you?" the guard who was still standing on the staircase asked, staring at Lancelot.
"My name is Lancelot. I recently got a job as a castle guard," he said politely. "I was going to report to Eadgar for duty when Prince Arthur called for help."
"Down this corridor?" the man asked suspiciously.
Lancelot ducked his head, but to his credit didn't sound embarrassed. "I haven't yet learned all the paths through the castle," he admitted.
"Hm," the guard harrumphed, then faced his other comrades and commanded, "Take this boy to the dungeons. Lancelot and I will report to his majesty. Merlin, I'll send a servant to fetch for Gaius and some men to help you with the prince."
"Thank you. Tell him that we'll probably need a stretcher and some splints," Merlin informed. The man nodded. Before long Merlin would probably be forced to rip off Arthur's other sleeve... either that or use magic. It would be a relief to have even a small window of time to work with no one around.
Lancelot was guided away (attempting not to look apprehensive about meeting the king of Camelot for the first time) and the two other guards pulled the boy criminal forcefully from his downed position on the ground and began dragging him in the opposite direction. Aside from a few grunts, the prisoner went quietly. Merlin was more concerned with Arthur's condition than the rogue teenager, but when he caught sight of a neatly-wrapped bandage on the teenager's arm, a memory from the day before popped into his mind and he recognized the youth.
He was the son of one of the village man who's request had been rejected by Uther – the angry one who had nearly knocked Merlin over when he came out of Gaius's chambers.
When everyone else was out of eyesight, Merlin smacked Arthur's shoulder. "After everything you've been through, you're defeated by a magicless teenager and a staircase," he scolded in a whisper. "I hope you thank Lancelot for this... though, really, I have no idea how he's supposed to respect you now. Last time you were at least able to duel with him... ride out and defeat a griffon with him. Where's your sword anyways? And why were you carrying all of those papers around? I bet that's why he managed to catch you off guard, because you were attempting to read one. You're not that bright, Arthur. Walking and reading seems a bit much for you to handle."
Merlin sighed when the prince didn't respond with anything more than his breathing. It was going to be a long day.
Hopefully Collin and Erin wouldn't be lost in the castle for too long.
O o O
Arthur's managed to stay unconscious when Gaius set his femur – a clean break luckily – but awoke soon afterwards in time for the physician to stitch up his head. Merlin had a slight headache himself from staying in slow time for over two minutes, but this time, Arthur's pain rivaled his own.
He still couldn't find it within himself to feel sorry for the prince, however.
When anyone else was in the room, Arthur was the perfect painting of a resilient prince (the hour Morgana sat vigil, Merlin noted with mild surprise, was practically heaven). As soon as the room's occupants were diminished to just him and Merlin, the prince would rage and complain as if it were Merlin who'd pushed him down the stairs. If it weren't for the possibility of making the head injury worse, Merlin would have put a sleeping spell on him.
It probably would have helped if Arthur weren't in so much pain. Merlin's anesthesia spells weren't ineffective, but were surprisingly complicated. It probably would be difficult to cast one on Arthur while the prince was still awake.
King Uther came in for a few minutes to make sure his son would recover, and also to verify the story Lancelot had given him. After Arthur had related his version, Merlin suddenly realized how close his best friend had been to dying. If Lancelot hadn't shown up... And apparently Uther's thoughts matched up with Merlin's because he almost immediately declared a grand reward would be offered to Arthur's rescuer.
Arthur had seemed sullen at the thought.
Then again, he had been nearly defeated by a staircase, and soon everyone would know it.
O o O
Luckily for Merlin, as soon as Arthur's adrenaline rage wore off, the prince slept. Except for the moments when he was hungry, in need of the chamber pot, or in such pain that all he could do was complain, Merlin was left in merciful silence. Sometimes he was able to change Arthur's bandages without waking him up.
The only gossip about the village boy assassin that ever reached Merlin was through the servants assigned to bring him food. Aside from the excited fact that he'd attempted to kill Prince Arthur, there wasn't too much about the boy worthy of gossip, including his name. Though there were rumors that the boy's father was in trouble as well.
No real news came until the following afternoon, when Merlin answered the door knock and found Lancelot on the other side.
"They told me I could check to see how the prince was doing... seeing as I saved him," Lancelot explained, rubbing the back of his head.
"No, come in!" Merlin said gratefully. "He's actually sleeping now... but he's been waking up one and off all day."
"The prince was actually quite impressive," Lancelot said admiringly, taking the seat at the table Merlin had pulled out for him. "He managed kept Kyler Wen off him until I got there even though he was barely conscious. I was kind of amazed by his willpower."
"Kyler Wen? Is that the assassin's name?" Merlin asked.
Lancelot made a regretful face. "He's hardly an assassin. From what I heard, it was a last-minute decision – an unfortunate one caused by his frequently hot temper. Apparently he was angry at the Pendragons for abandoning his village."
Merlin frowned. "What will happen to him?" he asked.
"Death by beheading," Lancelot answered solemnly, "for both Kyler Wen and his father. The king was furious."
"For Kyler Wen's father as well? I can't say I'm surprised, though. How did he react?" Merlin inquired.
"Kyler Wen or the father?" Lancelot asked.
"Both," Merlin said.
"Kyler Wen got violent when they told him his father would be sentenced along with him," Lancelot said, his eyes full of a deep feeling Merlin couldn't quite interpret. "I didn't hear how Drest – the father's name, I believe – reacted. When I saw him later, he seemed calm enough."
Merlin place his arms on the table and propped his chin on them, even though his arms were almost too skinny to be more comfortable than the hard wood. "And their village..." Merlin began quietly, "What will happen to their village?"
Lancelot pressed his lips together tightly before answering. "There's talk that Uther will punish them severely," he said.
Merlin's eyes narrowed. "Uther knows that this wasn't a planned assassination attempt, right?" he asked.
"Yes," Lancelot's answered seemed clipped.
"I hope Lord Orion intervenes," Merlin muttered.
Lancelot tilted his head and inquired, "Who's Lord Orion?"
"Drest and Kyler Wen are both his serfs," Merlin explained. "I hope that Orion thinks it worth it to protect them."
"He should," Lancelot agreed.
"We'll just have to wait and see," Merlin said with a sigh. "So how was it? Your first time talking to the king?"
Lancelot smiled slightly then launched into a short description. They ended up talking for another ten minutes, attempting to lighten their moods, before Lancelot admitted that he needed to get back to work.
"Stop by anytime," Merlin said as he walked Lancelot to the door.
Lancelot glanced back at Arthur's snoozing figure. "Merlin, I'm not sure I can just 'stop by' the prince's room," he said with a smile.
Merlin grinned. "Oh, well. Stop by my rooms then. They should let me back there within a day or so. I have to sleep sometime."
Lancelot made a face. "Where do you live?" he asked.
"With Gaius, the court physician," Merlin answered. "I'm sure I already told you."
Lancelot shrugged. "Since you're the prince's servant, I figured you stayed in the servant's wing," he said. It was a logical assumption, really. Most nobles did have their personal servants sleep in smaller quarters next to their own.
Merlin shivered. "Arthur's servant quarters are flea-infested. No matter how many times we burn the mattresses, they keep coming back," he said, wrinkling his nose.
Lancelot shook his head. "Well, then. I'll have to stop by your other home sometime," he promised.
"You'd better," Merlin said with a smile. He watched the future knight exit and closed the door after him.
"Merlin..."
Merlin whirled around, startled. "Arthur, you're awake!"
"Kind of," Arthur said honestly. "Everything's... a bit fuzzy around the edges."
Merlin hummed and walked towards the bed. "Do you need anything?" he asked.
"My father..." Arthur said slowly, concentrating. "I want you to get my father."
Merlin raised his eyebrows. "The king?" he asked, seeking confirmation.
Arthur rolled his eyes. "Yes, Merlin – that father," he said, voice dripping with sarcasm.
"Why?"
"Why should I tell you?" Arthur snapped.
"Because I'm the one he's going to sack if I interrupt his important meetings for something stupid," Merlin pointed out.
Arthur scowled out of the depths of his pillows. "The village," he finally said. "I can't let him... ruin it. Not because of one person."
Merlin tried to keep the look of pride off his face. "Very well, then, sire. I'll see you soon," he said, and turned to march off. "Just don't fall asleep or this will turn awkward very quickly."
O o O
Merlin didn't even look at Uther when the man swept out of Arthur's room forty minutes later, but did meet the eyes of his mentor, who sent him a tired smile.
"He'll spare the village," Arthur slurred after Merlin had slunk back into the bedroom.
"Very good of you," Merlin said soothingly, tucking in the blankets around the prince's prone form.
O o O
The second day of Arthur's bed rest, Merlin found himself lying on the stone floor at the foot of Arthur's bed, bored as a cat presented with an apple and unable to concentrate enough to plan anything important.
A part of Arthur's ceiling was Pendragon red.
"Make it blue," Merlin murmured and flicked his pointer finger at the ceiling. Blues blotches suddenly covered the red ones. One of them was shaped a bit like a broomstick, he realized lazily. In a fit of fancy, Merlin jabbed a bit of magic at it and made it drift around in a drunk, sweeping motion, pushing all of the other colored spots into a corner that got tighter and tighter until the only blue on the ceiling was the broomstick.
After a couple of long minutes staring at the broom, Merlin ordered, "Strawberries!"
The broom quivered and smushed itself together, but the result looked nothing like a fruit.
"Red again, then," Merlin commanded. The color turned a faithful red this time, looking a little less Pendragon and a little more strawberry.
"Now... strawberries," Merlin said, eyes flashing.
The blob quivered and flowed into a familiar pattern.
Merlin chuckled.
"Freya would laugh if she were here," he said, shaking his finger at the pimpernel flowers. "My wife still teases me because I can't manage strawberries."
A small gasp from the doorway made him jump, breaking his train of thought.
"Ah," Merlin said, wincing, turning his head so he could see her. "Gwen..."
Guinevere's lips were pressed in serious line as she glared at him. "Merlin," she acknowledged curtly.
"I wasn't expecting anyone," Merlin said weakly, picking himself off the floor and quickly erasing the magical evidence from off the ceiling. He really should have placed a ward on the corridor.
"Clearly," Guinevere responded, her eyes narrowed.
"Erm... Were you here to visit Arthur?" Merlin asked awkwardly.
Guinevere nodded her head. "Morgana wants to know how he's doing," she said, taking a quick glance at the prince.
"Tell her that he's cranky and in pain," Merlin reported. "And see if she can't make him stop fiddling with his broken leg. There's a reason we put a splint on it, after all. Right now you can't talk to him directly because I put a anesthesia spell on him that should last for a few hours."
"Merlin..." Guinevere said, sounding annoyed.
Merlin squeezed his eyes shut.
"What wife?" she asked.
"Wife?" Merlin asked, trying to sound innocent.
"Yes," Guinevere said, her eyes narrowing at his attempt to blow it off. "Your wife, Freya."
Merlin let out a deep breath. If it had been anyone else who'd asked, he probably would have come up with a random excuse that would have made him sound like mad comedian, but to lie to Gwen... and he'd already been leading her on for too long. But how was he supposed to explain a wife who only existed in another universe and existed in this universe as a druid girl who only knew him through his reputation?
"Well... she's not really around... right now," he said awkwardly.
Gwen's eyes widened in horror. "She died?" she asked. Merlin was already so young.
Merlin looked sideways at the floor. "She's not around anymore," he repeated, more softly. "No one knows about her, not even Mother."
Gwen stepped forward and ran her eyes back and forth across his face, trying to sense any form of lie in his expression. "Will she come back?" she asked.
Merlin gave her a small, crooked smile. "I may never see her again," he said.
Gwen opened her mouth, then closed it again.
"She didn't leave me, if that's what you're wondering," Merlin said, not wanting Gwen to ever think ill of Freya. "But we were separated."
"Will you try... to ever love anyone else?" she asked timidly.
Merlin reddened slightly. He knew what she was really asking. There had been a kitchen girl and a laundry girl during his years as Arthur's manservant who'd both asked him something similar. The first time, he'd had no idea what the girl was really asking and left her depressed for weeks with his awful response. The second time, he'd been wiser, but still had ended up with a red palm print on the right side of his face.
"I think Freya deserves better than that," he said honestly, hoping it would be suitably romantic enough for Gwen to take pity on him. Her expression did soften slightly, even if it did seem sadder.
Gwen sent him a trembling smile, and asked, "She wouldn't mind all of our picnics and outings, would she?"
Merlin let out an incredulous snort. "If I did anything differently she would probably scold me. You're one of my best friends, Gwen," he said sincerely.
Gwen smiled, but it didn't entirely reach her eyes. "Yes, we are good friends, aren't we?" she considered.
"You know about my magic and let me complain about Arthur," Merlin said. "Of course we're good friends."
"Can Freya do magic?" Gwen asked.
Merlin repressed a sigh. "Yes," he answered shortly. Maybe one day I'll tell you more about her, but not here," he said desperately.
Gwen almost asked why, then her eyes landed on Arthur and her mouth closed.
"I put a spell on him, but it's a little unpredictable," Merlin explained. It was a partial lie. The spell was unpredictable at times, but Arthur was the excuse and not the reason for his desire in a topic change.
"So how is Arthur, really?" Gwen asked, sensing his desperation, even if she missed the motive.
Merlin smiled at her gratefully. "His head still hurts, but not as much as it did before," he answered. "I'm a bit worried about his leg, though. It should take a couple months before he'll be able to put any weight on it, and even then he shouldn't do any of the stunts he's used to pulling. But I'm worried that Arthur will try them anyways."
Gwen gave him a sympathetic look. "Are there any... spells you could use to help him?" she asked bravely.
Merlin smiled. "I'm not very good with healing magic, and I only know how to cure a broken bone instantly. It would be too suspicious if I did that now," he said, "unfortunately for Arthur."
Gwen nodded and sighed, "Arthur's a bully, but I certainly wouldn't wish this on him... or on anyone for that matter."
Merlin smiled fondly at her. "You're an angel, Gwen. I've certainly wished broken bones on him before – guess I never considered the fact that I would be the one taking care of him afterwards," he joked.
Gwen sent him a scolding expression that transformed into a smile after a few seconds. "You cursed yourself, Merlin," she teased.
"Don't I know it," Merlin said with a dramatic sigh. "At least I've got tonight to look forward to."
"What's special about tonight?" Gwen asked, confused.
"I get to sleep in my own bed," Merlin said, grinning. "Uther wants someone to stay with Arthur every hour for a few more days at least, but Gaius told him that he still needs me, so they rounded up a few servants to take my place when I'm not there."
"Where have you been sleeping up to now?" Gwen asked. "I know you haven't been using the servant's quarters.
Merlin pointed towards Arthur's desk chair.
Gwen shook her head in sympathy. "You probably could have taken one of Arthur's pillows without him noticing," she suggested slyly.
"I did," Merlin answered dryly.
O o O
Hours later, Merlin's ecstasy of climbing into his own bed was short-lived and interrupted by a familiar, but grating voice.
"You are troubled by something, young warlock," Kilgharrah said as he settled on his rock island.
"You woke me up for that," Merlin said flatly. "You realize that I've barely slept in the last few days."
"I could sense your distress," the dragon stated, "and believed that I could be of assistance."
Merlin settled cross-legged onto the floor. "Very well then, but don't blame me if I nod off in the middle of one of your speeches," he warned.
Kilgharrah sent him a light glare. "There are few brave enough to fall asleep in my presence," he said.
"Arthur claims it's stupidity that makes me like this, not bravery," Merlin replied with a slight smile.
"Hm, he was almost killed a few days ago, was he not?" Kilgharrah said, directing the topic of conversation to where he wanted it.
Merlin sighed. "It was nicer when I could predict the attacks on Arthur," Merlin admitted.
"And this is why you are concerned," Kilgharrah confirmed.
"Partly," Merlin said. "It's definitely part of the reason. For whatever reason, Kyler Wen attacked Arthur now, but didn't the last time didn't. Maybe he was dead or somehow in another part of the castle, I don't know. But it will be harder now to keep everything under control when I don't know what's going to happen."
"The consequences of changing even the smallest part of the past are often far-reaching," Kilgharrah said. "I have already warned you of this, young warlock."
"How far can I go?" Merlin asked. "How far can I change things before it becomes completely
impossible to return to my time and home?"
Kilgharrah lifted his head. "I am limited in my knowledge on time travel," he reminded. "Perhaps if I were to leave this cave-"
"I already told you that I'll find away to get you out," Merlin cut him off tiredly.
"Be careful, young warlock," Kilgharrah said, ignoring Merlin's outburst. "Destiny and fate are not meant to be so easily altered. The more you fight it and change it, the deadlier the consequences."
Merlin frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?" he asked.
"It means, young warlock, that your goal of getting home must become a priority, and you must alter as little of the events as possible, in case the changes make it impossible for you to leave."
Merlin's frown deepened.
"Go and sleep now, young warlock," Kilgharrah said, his tone half-annoyed and half-fond. "And think upon what I have said."
Merlin gratefully scooped himself off of the floor. "G'night, Kilg'rah," he murmured, and felt the dragon's eyes watch him until he'd disappeared far enough into the tunnel, his mind heavy as he made his way back to his bed.
And that's how Merlin found himself staring at his ceiling contemplating the best way to get Arthur to let him have a short holiday.
A.N. Feel free to point out inconsistencies, it's been a while since I've worked on this story. Thanks, by the way, for all the reviews I've gotten in the past few years. Some of things pointed out may be stuff I go and fix one day... one day.
