Merlin lasted as long as he could, pushing the limit on the discontentment he was showing to Lancelot, but Merlin had never been able to keep this straight face when he was excited. And yes, he was very much excited. It was the first time in a long time, but Merlin could feel that budding excitement building up in the pit of his chest…he wanted to see what Lancelot's reaction was going to be more than anything. He wanted to see somebody else happy, because of something HE had done. This happiness was so much more than anything that his strict regimen and routines had given him these last few weeks.

"He said he's willing to meet you!" Merlin blurted out, the words bursting from him faster than he could keep them contained. And he watched as the other in front of him stopped, blinking stupefied as if he had trouble understanding the sudden switch in Merlin's demeanor. Lancelot's stunned expression was more entertaining than he had thought it would be, and Merlin's smile split into such a wide grin, that his cheeks were aching. But it was a good ache, one born out of pure happiness and elation over this situation. Even with Gaius casting him disappointed looks for going to Arthur for anything, wasn't enough to break all the excitement brimming in the air between the two boys. "Now, I wasn't lying about Arthur being…difficult to work with. But he did say he'll meet us down at the training field tomorrow afternoon so he can see what you can do. Trust me when I say…he really needs knights that know just what they are doing around here."

Merlin almost felt a sliver of badness when Lancelot let out a whoop and ran his hands through his hair, eyeing Merlin widely as if he couldn't believe that all of this was really happening to him. If only Lancelot knew what Arthur may be like in person, then perhaps he wouldn't be so excited…he couldn't imagine Arthur going easy on any of his knights. He could only imagine Arthur would go twice as hard on Lancelot because this was somebody MERLIN had sent his way. Merlin wasn't exactly the ringing of endorsement for somebody. He might've even painted a target on the other man's back once Arthur got a hold of him. But…Merlin was sure Lancelot was going to figure out how working under Arthur wasn't worth living out his dreams as a knight. God, he really hoped Arthur could keep his temper calm enough to be able to judge Lancelot on his own merits and not because of his association to Merlin. Merlin had probably agitated the prince for throwing what he had done to Merlin back in his face like he had, but…it was justified. He refused to allow Arthur to sweep anything under the rug, as if their entire past hadn't ended up being built in disgust and fights and abuse. He just hoped Lancelot's dreams didn't get smashed into the dust because he ended up, unfortunate enough, to get in the crosshairs between Merlin and Arthur Pendragon…

"Oh, god! I don't even care how difficult Arthur will be to work with! He is the prince and lead trainer to the knights, so I expect him to be strict. I know it's not going to be easy to impress him, but god. You have absolutely no idea how much it means to me for you to have gotten me this opportunity at all!" Blurted out Lancelot, racing forward several steps. Merlin couldn't blink before he was suddenly wrapped inside of Lancelot's arms, being jerked forward until he had his face buried in the other man's neck…Merlin went ramrod straight, his eyes staring straight at the long vein that ran up the side of Lancelot's neck. It was surprisingly warm, and not at all like the suffocating way his husband had used to pin him down onto stuff. Lancelot, though, seemed to notice Merlin's horrid tenseness and quickly released him, eyes still alit with excitement at what the prospects for his future would be, "I'm sorry, but just…thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you! I don't know how I would've gotten the prince to take me seriously if you weren't there to vouch for me!"

Merlin nodded his head jerkily, feeling Gaius eyeing him concerned, and most likely waiting for some kind of meltdown from Merlin. It was no secret that the consort had his aversion to touch, even when he accepted the light touchings from Gwen and Morgana and the physician himself. But even then, they would often make sure he saw them coming before initiating contact. He wasn't sure how he was supposed to react to Lancelot's touch, but…perhaps he could just let it go. Not get himself all worked up over it…Lancelot hadn't done anything to prove he was a threat. Quite the opposite, actually. So…Merlin had to force his joints to loosen up, relaxed in a way that was decidedly not relaxed, and he would just have to remember Lancelot was nothing like Arthur.

"It…I mean…it wasn't really any problems. Like I said, Arthur owes me a favor and I've seen the knights out there. Trust me, you've practically got this in the bag already." Merlin waved a dismissive hand, smiling thinly as if he's nothing but completely normal. He didn't want Lancelot to know what a complete mess he was…and he decidedly ignored the way Gaius was muttering darkly beneath his breath as he fooled around with his equipment…they both knew it had been a nightmare getting Arthur to agree. Lancelot seemed to be the only one that's obvious to just HOW badly things could've gone for Merlin if the prince wasn't stuck in a permanent state of strangeness. But, speaking of Arthur, the secret consort cleared his throat, "There's just…one stipulation to you being able to join the knights. I don't suppose…you don't just so happen to be a nobleman, are you?"

Merlin was pretty sure Lancelot wasn't, but he still had to ask considering that husband of his was expecting to see a nobility seal upon their arrival. Lancelot though, Merlin was positive he would have known if Lancelot was one of those horrid men Arthur ran around with. Unless he was a nicer noble like Derrick or Dorian…but Merlin was still positive he would know if Lancelot belonged to the noble class. Even wearing peasant clothes, a noble always seemed to carry the air around them…the air that said they were better than everybody else as they swaggered about like they had a pole shoved up their arses. But Lancelot was not carrying that air around him. He was clearly somebody who knew what the meaning of hard labor meant, and whose had to work in order to have what he did…Merlin liked that. He liked that a lot.

"A nobleman? Good lord, no. There's not one drop of nobility flowing through my blood." Lancelot burst out laughing, still high on the news he had gotten, it took a moment for him to see Merlin's expression dropping. There could have been a stone in the consort's stomach, his shoulders sagging helplessly as he realized things had gotten so much more complicated. Arthur had such a huge fit over Merlin becoming consort, it stood to reason he wouldn't care just how good Lancelot was with a blade. His common blood, the same common blood that flowed through Merlin's own veins, made them both worth as much as the mud squishing beneath their feet after a rainy day was. "Err…why is that some kind of stipulation? I mean…you don't have to be…you don't have to be a noble to be a knight, do you?"

Lancelot looked aghast at his own deductions, and it was clear this would have been the first time the warrior had heard of this. Just like it was Merlin's first time hearing it…and Merlin couldn't even say anything to make it better or try to wipe off that lost expression from Lancelot's face. This was literally the end of the road here. Lancelot could train himself everyday for the next decade or two to make himself better, he could work beneath the knights and learn each and everything that entails to the job. He would be permitted to scrub clean all the boots and sharpen the blades and wash the capes and polish armor. But it would all be for nothing because Lancelot's bloodline said he wasn't near good enough to join them. Just like Merlin's bloodline said he wasn't near enough to become a consort…it was strange how mirroring their situations were. And yet, how completely different they were as well…and there was nothing that Merlin could do to change this one.

"It's called the First Code of Camelot." Gaius spoke up for the very first time since Lancelot had came racing down the stairs, and apparently already well versed in everything that had to do with Camelot…maybe Merlin getting hands on that rules and law book Arthur had been talking about wouldn't have been the worse idea he had ever done. Just so Merlin would know which things he could work around, try to find loopholes in unfair laws…it wasn't fair that those born into wealth got what they wanted. And those who weren't wouldn't even be given a chance to prove they could be better. It was like people saw those common born, and wrote them off before they even spoke and showed exactly who they were. "It basically states that only those of noble blood can serve as a knight. Uther officially created the knights to protect the kingdom from all of those who wished to destroy it. But he also knew the people he chose, would have to be people he could trust with his life. So, he chose them from all the families that had sworn allegiance to him. They were some of the first nobles to be officially called Nobility, within Camelot's boarders."

Merlin's lips pursed at how entirely…unfair, such a horrid thing was. Here was Merlin, who didn't even want the title and the land and the wealth that would have came with bearing Consort, in front of his name. And then there would be Lancelot, a man who wanted to become a knight more than anything, who was not all talk but had actually worked his fingers to the bone in order to achieve something that could never be achieved. It would probably feel as if this good decade of life, training day in and day out in order to match the skills of those who didn't even try, had just been wasted. Lost to the sands of time, forced to sit on the sidelines as he watched less deserving people live out the dreams he had always wanted. But it made sense, that Uther would discriminate and cast laws just to make sure nobody 'disgusting' was able to enter inside that circle of 'important people' he insisted on surrounding himself with.

"And thus, the First Code of Camelot was born, and ever since that day, only the sons of noble families have been allowed to serve as knights." Gaius said, as he continued their impromptu history lesson. But it only made Merlin feel so weighted down…it would've been much easier if it turned out the prince lied to him. Made it up just so Merlin would show up with Lancelot tomorrow where he had a group of his friends ready to laugh and throw tomato's at them for being stupid enough to think they could just show up and everything would work like it was supposed too. But Arthur hadn't been lying, and was probably going to come here and kick Merlin's arse-revealing who he was to Lancelot-for lying to him about Lancelot being noble. Merlin hadn't been thinking much past getting Arthur to agree, he hadn't thought of what would come after. "I believe the last commoners to join the ranks of their army was a good forty years ago and this was only because they were instrumental in some big battle that may've taken Camelot off the map. Nobility was their reward, but there was also only a small handful of families with sons to spare for the armies back then. Nowadays, the nobles don't have to bother with the commoners because they have enough of a presence on their own to deal with any threat."

Merlin shook his head in disgust at this…Uther had gotten what he wanted out of the commoners back then, and he was amazed the king had rewarded them at all, instead of sending them back to the farms where they belonged. But the king didn't want new knights, not outsiders, at least. Uther was possibly losing hundreds of new recruits if he couldn't expand his mind to those who might have a skill set in the villages. How many people were like Lancelot, smart or handy with a weapon in hand, and only needed a bit of proper training to do a great service for such a horrid kingdom. Perhaps Arthur wouldn't have wasted Merlin's time complaining about the new recruits he was training, if he actually had people who understood failure meant going back to baking beneath a hot sun and scraping by just to get scraps back on the table.

"Well, I think Uther should open his horizons a bit more and start looking out the standard rules for knighthood. Especially if the great ones won't have the chance to become great because he sticks his nose up at them." Merlin said in a low grumble beneath his breath, half talking to himself but being completely serious as well. All Lancelot needed to do was show them what he could do, to show them he was better than any new recruit Arthur had trained over the last six months…they would be scrambling to make Lancelot a knight. But they just wouldn't know what they were missing out on…Merlin shook his head as bitter disappointment coated his tongue…he was as depressed as Lancelot was with this. "I just don't understand…" Merlin cast a glance over to Lancelot before he carefully worded what he was going to say in front of him, "If the king can just approve of a peasant man becoming consort and marrying his only heir, then why is making another peasant man a knight so different?"

Gaius gave him a sharp look, and Merlin ducked his head, his ears coming up to his earlobes. He knew complaining about his lot in life wasn't good, it made him want to wallow in his disappointment again and again. One of the things it had been decided on, to help Merlin get better, was to not complain about the things in his life that he couldn't change. And to instead, focus on the things that could be changed, and work on correcting what wasn't impossible. The consort couldn't change the fact that he…was a consort. But he could change how he responded to it, and certain situations…put his foot down and make his stand when he could. But now, apparently…wasn't one of the situations he was able to change. The First Code of Camelot was older than him, and that would be something deeply enriched in Camelot's history. A simple consort couldn't change the laws…no matter how much he might wish to. Not without jumping through a dozen hoops they didn't have time for…getting the support of some of the nobles who wouldn't mind seeing such a change happen. But…all these nobles liked to keep their rank close. Nobody was going to step out of line for an unwanted consort and his new pet project…

"The consort was extremely different circumstances, and has nothing to do with this situation in front of us." Gaius said bluntly, making Merlin's shoulders sag…he knew the other man was right. His circumstances were different than Lancelot's…Lancelot simply wanted to become a knight. And Merlin…he'd been promised to join the king's family before he had been born. Something else he was unable to change, no matter how many times he had pleaded in the past for a different reality than the one he was living in now…Gaius turned back to Lancelot with an almost pitying expression, "But different circumstances non-withstanding, the law is the law and that's just the way it is. I'm sorry Lancelot, I truly am. But there's nothing that can be done about all this."

Gaius shot Merlin another look that basically said their own conversation was not over yet…the physician surely had a few things to say about Merlin going to see Arthur by himself, but he was at least willing to wait until they had the time to themselves. Without Lancelot baring witness to the crap that would be Merlin's life. But Merlin couldn't take his eyes away from Lancelot, with his lost and desolate expression…as if gravity could no longer hold him on the ground after what he'd just heard. After having his dreams ripped straight out from his hands without hesitation, brutally…Lancelot's dreams had been doomed from the start. Ended before they could even begin. And Merlin's heart ached, as it went out for him.

X

One might consider Merlin lucky, when Gaius was called away to deal with a woman giving unexpected birth somewhere in the lower town…it meant Gaius didn't have time to shower Merlin in his concern. Or tell him what a bad idea it had been just running off like that without telling anybody where he was going to go…and Lancelot obviously didn't count, considering he didn't know Merlin or the major flight risk that consisted of his relationship with Arthur. As far as the wannabe knight knew, Merlin had simply met Arthur many times due to the position his uncle had in court. Perhaps he himself, wouldn't have allowed him to go on his behalf, if he knew about the beating and the throwing and all the yelling and dismissals…if he had known Merlin had tried killing himself barely a month ago in order to get away from him. But…Merlin needn't worry about any of those matters, Lancelot would never come to know how weak he had been in the past, as far as he was concerned. He needn't worry about anything but…what he was going to do now.

Without his dreams to keep him steady, Lancelot seemed to have fallen into a permanent state of sorrow, walking around as if he was in a daze…Merlin could not say the other man even knew where he was right now. He just knew he had not spoken a word since he learned all his training had been for naught, a rug being swept out from under him would've given Lancelot a softer blow than all he had endured in the last few hours. Merlin would be the first to say that he's getting worried about it, more and more, as the hours had ticked by them in an eerie silence that only seemed to worsen once Gaius had left, taking away the noise he made as he puttered around. Even when the servants had shown up at his door bearing his lunch of the day from the castle, Lancelot hadn't said a word. Which was probably a good thing, as they ate their sandwiches-Merlin is very proud of having made it a third quarter of the way down before he had set it aside-or he might have been wondering why castle servants were delivering meals to the court physician's nephew. Not exactly the usual thing, but at least the bad news shielded Merlin's real identity, which…wasn't exactly a plus when compared to the pain Lancelot was going through. But…you know. Every cloud had to have a silver lining, and all that.

But in this case, Merlin thought as he watched Lancelot sitting at the table with his head bowed, hands intertwined beneath his skull and gripping at his hair-he had often fallen back into that position during the last few hours, and Merlin had to wonder if it was a similar 'grounding' technique like when Merlin used to dig his nails into his skin-the silver lining was so slim that one could've barely seen it. Wavering in and out of existence until it was there one moment, and gone the next. Never leaving somebody any clue on what it would fall onto this minute…the secret consort breathed heavily through his nose. Lancelot didn't bother looking up as Merlin started digging through drawers, looking for a candlestick to place in the holder hanging from the wall…it was going to start getting dark in the next hour or so. Already, the room felt like it was starting to get dimmer and more ominous looking, but Merlin wasn't sure if that was just because of the late hour or because Lancelot's gloom was strong enough that even he felt it. Like a physical strand in the air, seeping into Merlin's core and making a home, snug and tight, right where his own depression usually laid.

"…Why do you want to be a knight so much?" Merlin murmured, not sure if he was actually asking Lancelot, or just talking to himself because he wasn't able to stand the silence after all the silence he'd dealt with during one of his more depressed episodes. He held the wick of the candlestick he was holding up so the candle that was already in the holder could burn, where the little flicker of fire and light was burning much brighter than either of them. "I mean, there is a thousand different…occupations or trades you could get into. You're clearly very smart and very skilled if you can be so good with a sword. So…why bother sticking to it when you can find something else? With people who may actually appreciate the things you could bring to them."

That was the one thing Merlin had never been able to understand about all of this, a thought that had came to him several times since Lancelot had told him why he came to Camelot in the first place. The knights would probably simply see Lancelot as somebody trying to…steal their jobs, or some such nonsense since he wasn't born one of them. He could beat everybody out there, and all of them would snub their nose at him. Maybe Lancelot didn't realize how bad it could be for somebody with his heritage, trying to barge into their world. But Merlin knew, and he didn't know why anybody would actually subject their own mental health for such a grueling life. There were other options available, as it wasn't like Lancelot had a family farm or anything he was tied down too. It was a time where Lancelot could, perhaps, view other opportunities. Maybe Merlin could introduce him to Gwen and her father…perhaps Tom would be willing to take on an apprentice at his blacksmith shop. Lancelot would still be around all the weaponry, could learn to forge and make them, but…Merlin didn't know if it would be considered a spit in the face if he actually suggested it. A man with Lancelot's skills shouldn't be stuck in the back, getting no credit even as his blades went into the battle with men who didn't know how to weild them with proper precision. But still…there had to be SOMETHING, that Lancelot could've focused his attention onto.

"…When I was a boy, my village was attacked by raiders coming from up in the northern plains." Lancelot spoke in a quiet tone, as if he was afraid to have disrupted the quiet in the air…Merlin was almost surprised that the other man had spoken at all. Enough time had passed, that he had thought Lancelot was either ignoring him in his misery or hadn't heard him at all. But he also refused to turn away from watching the candle wick burning, with the fire casting this glow across Merlin's cheeks…he didn't want to do anything that would cause Lancelot to stop talking. He truly wanted to know more. To understand all the motivations for Lancelot's dream. "They were slaughtered where they stood…my father, my mother, and everybody else. Brutally ripped right from me in all but a second. I alone, was the only one to escape my village alive. And it was Camelot knights that later found me and brought me to safety…seeing those red cloaks and how they took charge of the situation…it made me want to be like them. They helped me, and I wanted to do the same. To…never be forced to run away in fear when faced with tyranny, helpless to do anything while the innocent people around me suffer. I vowed, to make sword craft my life. So I'll be able to defend myself. And all those who need it."

Merlin could feel his breath catching in his throat, his eyes staring ahead but no longer taking in the flicker of a candle…he knew Lancelot had been talking about him. Helping HIM, when he had needed it. Merlin could remember how it had felt, helpless and abandoned in the dirt as he waited for some kind of big, magical beast to take him out and end his misery. The fear flooding him as he realized how…alone…he was, too far away from anybody who would've tried to help him after his own foolish pride had gotten him into the situation to begin with. Lancelot may have faltered when he was faced with men he thought would've been his comrades, but he had came through in the end. And Merlin still stood here today because, ironically, these Camelot knights had inspired Lancelot to follow in their footsteps. Maybe not the ones walking around today, but at some point in time…there'd been knights who actually did their duty well. That right there, was practically a miracle.

Though….Merlin understood the fear of raider attacks. His village had luckily never actually suffered through one, considering their remote location. But it wasn't strange to hear news of such things happening to other villages…they had gotten a few bandit attacks through the years. But bandits and raiders had always held a clear distinction between the two. Bandits were usually far less people, and their only goal seemed to be taking things from the village. Food or clothes or supplies they desperately needed. But raiders…raiders were this different breed entirely. They practically ate the flesh of the people who were unlucky enough to fall into their line of sight. Burning whole villages straight to the ground without any sign of care or remorse. Truly horrible things, that had left whole villages desolate and dead. To hear that Lancelot had actually been able to survive one…was almost more startling than him teaching himself how to use the sword without a proper master to train him.

"And every waking moment since the day, I devoted my life to the very art of combat. And when I was ready, when I had faced every opponent I came along and was able to stay standing…I decided to travel forth to Camelot. Where the fates aligned me to come across you, in your own hour of need:" Lancelot said and Merlin could almost hear the passion leaking from his voice, washing him in its juices. Down to the curl of his toes and back up to the thick black jets of hair that stuck out across his forehead. Merlin wasn't able to stop himself from looking back, wanting to see Lancelot's eyes brimming with passion and alight from speaking about something he clearly cared about. Though he also could not say he agreed with the 'fates' willing them to meet. Merlin liked to think it was more of a…surprising twist of odds, rather than the world conspiring just so Lancelot would cross paths with him. And god…Lancelot's passion was not a disappointment in the least. He was only sorry it lasted for a moment before Lancelot's face turned crestfallen again. "Perhaps I should've came to Camelot first, so somebody would tell me this when I came to the castle looking for any instructor who would take me without having anything to pay them with. Then maybe my journey would've ended then. Instead of everything I've fought for…turning into a waste."

Merlin Pendragon thinned his lips, eyes darting out to memorize every feature signifying disappointment into his skull…the frown on Lancelot's lips. The eyes cast down onto the table. The furrow in his brows. The tenseness of shoulders and hunched over form. And Merlin knew…Lancelot's journey just couldn't end right here! He had worked too damn hard, years of it, only to get turned down before he reached the door. This 'law' wasn't fair, and it was stupid, and why did Merlin have everything while Lancelot had nothing? He was a bloody damn consort! Wasn't he? Now, the title had never done him anything good. But the consort just KNEW…there had to be something he could do to rectify such an awful, horrid situation. He didn't care what it took. Merlin might not get to live his dreams-he didn't even know what dreams he had, too lost with his misery to be able to form such high hopes for his future-but he would be damn sure that Lancelot got to live his.

"…Lancelot, I give you my word, whatever it takes…I will make things right. Do you understand me?" Merlin asked, watching as Lancelot lifted his head back up to stair at him heartbroken, clearly believing this was nothing more than an attempt to make him feel better. But, no…this wasn't anything of the sort. The sorcerer could feel his blood stirring hot and heavy in his veins, could feel the bubbling in his chest that spoke of change coming ahead of them. Could feel the washing of determination building in his fingertips…the exact same things he had felt when he had stormed into the council meeting to fight for Gwen's freedom. The exact same thing he felt when he arrived where they were trying to say goodbye to Bayard. And now….here he was. Swearing the same right to Lancelot, making a view that wasn't from one man to the next. But a vow that was spoken from Camelot's Consort-whose blood and strength would bleed to match the drapes of Camelot's color, stronger and surer than any who'd been born here-to the next Knight who would vow to protect Camelot and all of her interests. "Just give me the night to work things out. And I promise you, by the time we are supposed to meet Arthur…I'll have figured out something that can be done."

Merlin didn't know exactly 'what' he could do about this, but…he was going to do something. His power as 'consort' may be all but nothing except when he'd enforced it. But…he was still bloody Merlin. And Merlin, though he had all but forgotten it in these last many months…had never went down without one hell of a fight before. If Arthur wanted to deny Lancelot his rightful spot amongst the ranks of the knights, then he would just have to beat Merlin into silence all over again. But, Merlin wasn't going to make it nearly as easy for him. He was prepared to roar this entire kingdom down to the ground, embrace the flame in his heart and the dragon in his soul, in order to make himself heard. He simply needed to be smarter than Arthur though, which…wouldn't entirely be too hard to be.

First step though, as Lancelot nodded his head blankly, not taking him serious like he should have, was a plan.

Merlin always had a plan.

Even if it was an incredibly dumb one.

X

It was extremely early the next morning, where the sun was just starting to rise in the horizon, several hours before Lancelot was due to meet with Arthur back on the training fields, when Merlin made his first move. He got himself dressed surprisingly quiet, able to move through the dark without waking Lancelot who snored quietly from Merlin's cot…Merlin had insisted the other man sleep in his bed since he was still healing from his injuries. While Merlin himself curled into a ball in the corner, beneath a few extra sheets Gaius had lying around. Merlin had suffered through one hell of a protest from Lancelot though, who had not wanted to displace Merlin when he himself could sleep on the floor. But Merlin had won that argument by lying down on the floor and refusing to get up…and it wasn't like he wasn't used to it. He didn't even have a mattress back home, a floor had been as good as it had gotten! Unfortunately though…the bed would have been far too small for them to share…Merlin ignored the way his ears felt like they were heating up at the mere thought of sharing a bed with the other man. Safe and comforted with a heavy arm slung over his waist, keeping him a warm little ball of comfort…

…Moving on…

Merlin had spent half the night thinking endlessly on the different ways that he could go about this…the different ways he could go using his position in order to get Lancelot his spot. But there was precious few things a consort would've actually been able to do without some kind of backing or support, too much of a backlash would hit if he tried doing things on his own. But…Merlin did have a few…other means at his disposal that might help move things along. It was the only thing he really could do, in the few short hours he had to iron out the finer details of his plan. And perhaps this was treason or treachery…fraud he would most definitely knew it would be considered. But some rules just needed to be broken in order for the right thing to prevail. Which is exactly why Merlin, nice and early, ended up standing outside the Hall of Records. A title which would have to basically mean it was a glorified library. The one thing he would need to get things prepared was right inside, well…he needed two things. But the library is only his first stop of the morning.

Merlin had, in all the exploring he had done inside the castle, knew quite a lot about many places. He knew the great hall, and the throne room. Walked into the kitchens and the armory. Strode through the training grounds and jumped down a dozen or five staircases. Had been down hallways nobody seemed like they would go down, and hallways that had been overcrowded. Had lived in the royal suites, and avoided the dungeons like the plague. He'd been to each one of these places and many more, and yet somehow Merlin-who thrived on what knowledge he now had available to him-had never made it to the library. Merlin was almost nervous, though he didn't know why. So what if there was going to be mountains and mountains of endless books for him to flip through. So much knowledge and history that could be learned, books that might help him when he denied learning anything from Arthur. Why would Merlin need him, when he could learn whatever he needed to on his own. He could probably even find his own 'laws and traditions of Camelot' book, instead of tossing away the one he knew would inevitably end up on his doorstep from Arthur in the form of a gift,

But unfortunately for Merlin, he wasn't here for himself today. Which meant he couldn't spend the day just fooling around and taking his time seeing what the library could offer him. He was here for one reason, and one reason only. All he could hope for, was that he wasn't making a huge mistake that would end with all of their heads being taken off by the executioner's ax, Merlin thought while he was pushing open the door and walking inside. But with such a huge crunch of time on their hands, Merlin was already scrambling as it was. And a damn plan would always be better than no plan at all…Merlin stopped walking right where he stood in the doorway. His jaw dropping just a little as he eyed the mountain and mountain of books like along dozens and dozens of bookcases spanning the entire room. He had been expecting a lot, but he hadn't been expecting it to be more than what Gaius had at his own home. There were just books every place he looked. Crammed on top of each other when a shelf no longer had a space to fit it. Thick and thin, covers made out of material Merlin may've never felt before. In varying shades of color, each one older than the last…the musk of aged ink and parchment filling his nostrils. God, one could've spent…their entire life trying to read every book inside and still not be close to ending after they passed.

Merlin could…learn anything and everything he wanted too.

Arthur wouldn't be able to stop him, if he had full access to the library and its contents…

"Ah, Consort Merlin. I didn't see you standing there, I hope you weren't waiting around for help while I was doing some categorizing in the back." Spoke Lord Geoffrey, master of the library and all its record keeping needs, as he walked out from between two shelves, carrying what appeared to be a large ledger in his hands. Perhaps something he used to keep track of what books he had in his possession, Merlin doubted anybody could truly remember each and every one. The consort was forced to snap back to attention, realizing he had been caught ogling the collection of books….perhaps now would be a good time for Merlin to check his lip. Just to make sure he hadn't stooped so low as to start drooling over it all. "Now-" the record keeper continued to speak as he set his ledger down on a large desk piled high with more parchments than Merlin had seen in one setting, it was heavy and thick enough that a mountain of dust had flown up into the air but Geoffrey seemed largely unconcerned by it. "Is there anything that I can do in order to assist you, my Consort?"

It took Merlin an…embarrassingly long amount of time to realize Geoffrey was speaking to him, it had been quite a while since he'd heard his title being said in such a formal tone. Respectful. But perhaps Merlin could simply blame this being an early hour, for his slow response. Or suck it up and admit he hadn't been expecting to talk to anybody while he was here. Merlin expected to be in and out. Sneak in, find book, find what he needs, and then disappear as fast as he had came. He hadn't expected for anybody to see him, bear witness to his crime, be a possible testifier against him if things took a turn for the worse. But Merlin would remember this if he ever had to slip into the library again…his theory was forever going to be 'Geoffrey lived in the library.' It probably wasn't real, but nobody should be up and hard at work at such an ungodly hour.

Though maybe all was not lost…not as long as Merlin played his part and acted as innocently as possible…

Easier said than done, Merlin decided as he awkwardly cleared his throat, "Err, yes. Thank you, Geoffrey. There's something I'm looking for and I am hoping it will be you who can point me in the right direction." He strode forward across the floor, trying to make it look as if he belonged in such a place. As if he often walked into libraries that belonged to the gods, whether than being stockpiled in a room mortal men rarely used. "Arthur's instructed me to come down here in order to get a book to start my…education into Camelot matters. And it was he, who suggested I start with familiarizing myself with the noble families that live in our boarders. You know, something that…shows me their crests and the things they bring to Camelot…who's married to who and how many children so I know who I'm talking to at the next big event we host at the castle. I suppose Arthur doesn't want me embarrassing him again."

Merlin flashed Geoffrey the best disarming smile he could manage to muster up…he might hate Arthur with the burning desire of a thousand suns. But the consort was most definitely not above using him in order to get whatever he needed. As Merlin had learned in his last four months here, lies were usually best when they stuck as closely to the truth as possible. Less likely for him to screw it up or forget what he was talking about…less likely for him to make this blunder that couldn't be corrected if he got caught in his lie. Besides, it'd been Arthur, who had said in the note he had written on the front cover of the politic book he'd given him, that he wanted to help Merlin with his education. And this would be the Perfect way to kickoff Merlin's formal education. Who needed to know how to greet a foreign dignitary, when he could start with the thousand families that called Camelot their home. This might be for Merlin's own agenda but hey, he was still getting some learning out of it. And who knows, whatever he read today might be something he remembered if he ever actually crossed paths with a member of said family.

"I was wondering if I was going to see you start taking your education more seriously, and start getting caught up to speed with what you need to know as a consort." Geoffrey remarked, though not in an unkind tone. Merlin still ended up smiling thinly…it wasn't as if it was Merlin's fault he had been seen as some uneducated oaf. He had hardly known the library was here at his disposal! Yet alone the thousands of different topics he could end up mulling over, or all the millions of different facts that could live rent free his mind. "Camelot though…I like to say we have the most impressive collection of records, the best in all of the five kingdoms, written down. And that's why I happen to know the perfect book to help see you through your learning experience."

From how pleased Geoffrey was sounding, as he led Merlin straight to a large collection of books on the wall, as if he already knew where to look long before Merlin had told him what he wanted, it was pretty clear Geoffrey would be the sole reason Camelot had such impressive records. One didn't get 'that' happy about books, unless they had a hand in it. Or they were like Merlin, who'd been denied proper learning through his circumstances, and was just now realizing there might actually be one perk to this whole…consort….thing. Merlin could hardly imagine Geoffrey helping out and handing him the thickest book he had ever laid eyes on, if he was a simple peasant…one simply couldn't trust a man to bring back the book in the same pristine condition it had been taken out in…crap. Merlin's arms practically sagged beneath the weight of the book, it took immense effort for him to not drop the thing on his foot, or worse,go straight down with it.

"Now, this book will give you details, the crest and family tree of every single noble family who has lived within the boarders of Camelot during the last fifty or so years." Geoffrey said proudly, tapping the dust covered book that not a soul had touched in probably the last fifty years or so. Seemingly unaware of the strain on Merlin's face, the tapping of hand against book putting far more weight onto it than should be allowed for a single book. Fifty years…fifty years worth of families Merlin was going to have to wade through until he found the perfect one to fit his needs…fuck. There had to be at least fifty million people in this book. Fathers and sons, mothers and daughters, all connected to family after family in some odd way, family trees intermingling with the other until it'd be impossible to tell who joined with another. "You might even be pleased with knowing I had it updated quite recently, I had to have you added, of course, to the Pendragon family tree. It wouldn't do for Camelot's first male consort to go unrecorded in history,"

Geoffrey finished this with a pleased nod of his head, as if he had done quite a wonderful thing. Placing Merlin's name down on the same family tree that held Arthur Pendragon and Uther Pendragon. But Merlin's fingers felt so strangely cold around the book in his hand…numb. Most people would probably be quite pleased to be known as 'Camelot's first Male Consort.' Because first meant he was, well…first. Nobody remembered who the second or third, if there would ever be another after him, to do something was. But everybody was going to remember the first. And did Merlin really want to be remembered as Camelot's 'first male consort.' As if he'd done nothing worthier other than being married to a prince. No added titles that could've been given to him from Merlin's own achievements and efforts. Though Merlin supposed it could always be worse…Geoffrey could've ended up putting Camelot's most 'Unwanted Consort' right beneath his name. Forever immortalizing him as the stain on the Pendragon's family name.

"Now, would you like for me to wrap that up for you so that it doesn't get any dirt on it while you walk back to your rooms?"

Merlin blinked for a moment, and then he blinked again…eyeing the book in his hands that already had a nice layer of dust thickly caked onto the surface. The consort was pretty positive that even he wouldn't be able to get more dirt on it than what was already on it. Not even if he dropped it in the pin that housed all of the pigs. Though…bringing this book to his room wasn't really the option he could go with. He didn't want to risk running into anybody who might be smart enough to realize what he was really doing when they saw him carting along a brand new Lancelot around. And god forbid if Gaius saw him with this…he was sure his uncle would know Merlin had no real desire to familiarize himself with the noble families of Camelot. It would take only one hint of this book before his uncle shut down his idea immediately, as something that was too foolish or dangerous for them to do. But that was exactly why Merlin NEEDED to do this. Nothing worth getting in life was going to be easy. And didn't Lancelot deserve to have this? More than any of those stuffy nobles on the training field who are unbothered by their own failures at making an impression because they have a wealth of family to fall back on during troubling times.

"No, no. I'm just doing a bit of research, taking some notes down and stuff on the more important things I need to know. It probably won't even take me that long if I get straight to work." Merlin said quickly, the lies pouring off from his tongue almost faster than he could think whether or not they made sense to what lies he had already said. "Maybe I can just sit at one of those tables that you have in the back?" He asked, glancing over to where he could see several long dust covered tables peeking out through the gaps in the bookcases. They also looked as if they hadn't been touched in ages, but that was only assuring Merlin he would have the upmost privacy back there. "And do some reading…I have…consort things that I need to tend to later on anyway. So I don't need to take it with me, considering I only have this time to work on it, you know?"

Geoffrey stared at him contemplatively for the longest moment, the kind that seemed to stretch on for eternity, and lasted just long enough for Merlin to get a stress induced droplet of sweat to trickle out of his hairline. He was starting to mentally go over each and every scrap of word he had spoken to Geoffrey since entering the library, trying to figure out whether or not he might've said something that contrasted something else, or had said something that would have given away what he was really doing, when Geoffrey nodded his head to him. Gesturing for Merlin to go on ahead and claim a spot at one of the tables so he could get to work…Merlin's exhale of relief was exhilarating, muscles in his chest and arms and legs loosening up. It appeared, as Geoffrey went back to work on the ledger at his desk, that Merlin was getting better at this whole lying thing. He wasn't exactly sure how he felt about that, but the implications of being a good liar-something all sorcerer's needed to be if they wanted to live past their teenage years-wasn't something he could mull over right at this very moment. Lying had, after all, somehow convinced Arthur that Lancelot is a real noble…

Now he just needed to make sure Lancelot had the papers to prove it.

And then they could worry about Lancelot 'looking' like a noble.

Merlin ducked in between two of the shelves, feeling almost small and dainty for the first time in his life considering his gangly limbs, when he was almost swallowed by the endless amount of books on either side of him. He wanted to get lost within the stacks, breathe in their aged scent, read words far too tiny for his eyes but fascinating all the same. There could be more texts among the numbers regarding medical training…he could perhaps read over how to do all those emergency field stitches that Gaius had been talking about, until he had the free time to actually work with Merlin on getting them done. Or maybe he'd find other things of interests…information about the great plague, or perhaps any kind of history that might pertain to magic users. Could there be books on magic? Hidden amongst the stacks? Or had his uncle been right when he said Uther had destroyed them all…surely the king would've been alerted if there'd been anything of the sort within his own extensive library. And who knows just what else there was for Merlin to learn, things he could perhaps bring back to his home…

No.

Merlin had to keep reminding himself, even after four months, that he lived in Camelot now. And he was never going to see the great expanse of the forests that surrounded it again, or the dirt roads…he was learning everything that he could simply for him. And nothing he learned was going to benefit the people he knew back home…he could learn field stitches, but he'd never actually be able to treat somebody back home. Wouldn't be able to help splint the leg of Old Man Jenkins if he tripped off his front porch…again. Never be able to get ointment to Rebecca, a woman who lived with her three kids on the other side of the village, but had strange rashes that appeared on his skin…some kind of exposure to something she was allergic too, but nobody knew exactly what the allergen was. Never be able to…do anything like that. So why should he bother if he couldn't actually use it…no. Merlin wasn't going to think like that, since it was one step removed from him falling down the rabbit hole of depression. He had to remember…there was nothing wrong with learning things just because it MIGHT come in handy someday. Or just because he felt good about himself to know things…

It wasn't wrong to feel good about himself now and again…

Merlin was just exiting the row of books, the book of family trees still heavy in his arms, when he caught sight of something on the very end of the aisle. The only reason Merlin's eye was drawn to it at all, among all the other books that were on the shelf, was because of the bright pink color. It was definitely just as old and as faded as the others were, but the pink was startling when among all of the dark blues and browns and blacks the others seemed to be. And Merlin had to tilt his head some in order to read the title along the spine in this fancy faded gold calligraphy, LOVE AND SEX FOR ALL GENDERS…Merlin blinked at it a few times. Running that title around in his head again and again as he tried to make sense of it, but in the end…he only shrugged and continued along his way without giving it a second thought to spare.

Merlin wasn't all that…interested…in knowing such things. It wasn't as if there were any plans in his life to bed a woman, though Arthur would surely get one hell of a scornful laugh if he knew Merlin had even glanced at the book. Most likely was laughing himself silly since Merlin was going to die a virgin, unable and unwilling to take a woman, let alone read about the things that…may make her tick. And clearly Arthur…wasn't a virgin. Not with the way Merlin had once walked into his bedchambers to find him allowing Clarissa to slide a hand right under the front of his pants. And plus…a man that kissed as violently as Arthur had kissed him, was a man that wasn't shy about kissing. As horribly bad as he was at it…

Merlin finally sat down at one of the rickety chairs situated at the table, and he felt it wobbling beneath him…one would think Camelot would've sprung to get much better chairs at least, but perhaps it was meant to be a deterrent so that less people hung about in the library? Ruining the books? That sounded like a thing Geoffrey might try to pull…and set the book down on the table with such a heavy thump that the table itself shook. A cloud of dust, just like the ledger Geoffrey had been dealing with, blew up in his face and Merlin coughed as he waved it away impatiently. A little bit of dust on his lungs wasn't going to stop him from finding what he needed. Arthur HAD been the one that said Lancelot was going to need to bring his royal seal in order to prove his claims of being a noble. Now, while Lancelot didn't actually Have a noble seal, Merlin had spent a few hours in the dead of night practicing a 'transference' type of spell found in his spell book. His technique hadn't been perfect by the time he had put the thing to rest in order to get at least 'some' hours of sleep, but he thought he'd done the best he was going to get. He just hoped nobody looked too closely at what Merlin was about to produce…

And Merlin flipped open the heavy text, flipping through a few of the first thick pages in order to get a feel for what he would find in the book…maybe it would not be a bad idea for him to thank Arthur after he admitted Merlin was right to bring Lancelot to him. If Arthur hadn't let it slip that Lancelot would need this 'royal seal' in order to identify himself, then they would've shown up with only empty hands. The jig would've been up right then and there. A noble, just like Lancelot was going to have to be, would've known better than to meet a prince without having the proper identification papers on hand. At least now, because of Arthur, they had a fighting chance at getting this little…charade…to work for as long as possible. And who knows, maybe it would be a few years before any realized Lancelot wasn't who he and Merlin said they were. And by the time…it might've been possible that Lancelot was already such a staple amongst them, it would be a loss to do away with him just because of his peasant heritage….

Merlin could hope, at least.

Merlin flipped a few more pages, looking at the glossy colors soaked into the pages. Each page seemed to hold a coat of arms at the top with all manner of varying designs. One had an elk's head, with two swords crossed beneath it on a red symbol that looked vaguely shield shaped. Another looked like it's meant to be a bear roaring, but Merlin had to tilt his head to the side far enough that his neck ached just to make out that much, resting on top of a blue shield. But it became clear to Merlin that the nobles seemed to prefer using an animal as the main attraction on their crest. Raccoons or lions or bears or bucks…it was like the strongest and biggest of the animals were meant to be the best. And some, though not all, seemed to have some kind of fancy Latin scrawled along the bottom of it, phrases that were special sorely to the family itself. He had stopped to read some of them for the first few pages…most seemed to like it was different versions of 'staying pure' and 'the strong shall win'. Just different ways to, once Merlin begin reading between the lines, seem to be promoting how important their noble lineage was.

Beneath the crests was usually the family's surname, written in these bigger blocked letters, as if the writer had been terrified the reader would somehow miss which family they were looking at. SMOTHERLING, COLTEN, DIXON, and CHAZELER, were only some of the family names he read. None of which Merlin had ever came across before, but they were clearly among Camelot's heritage if they were written down right here. But the people written beneath the name seemed to go back for generations, some with dozens and dozens of families spread out across the two pages the family was allotted to have. Crammed so neatly among the pages…names with birth dates and death dates marked right beneath it. Lines stretching to show who had married who, and which children had been born to which couple. Ending with the most recent generation-with no death date, or a death date that indicated the family line had ended without an heir to take control-at the bottom of the page.

But none of the pages Merlin looked at, was the right page he needed. It could not be a family that had an extensive and complicated history…it may've been easy to slip Lancelot's name amongst the many children walking around, but it also meant too many people knew them. And Merlin couldn't risk anybody who was trying to be 'helpful' pointing out Lancelot wasn't the name of any in that particular family. He also had to carefully read the small description scrawled in the upper right corner, in order to see the specifics of this family-what they contributed to the kingdom and where they were located-to make sure that he didn't pick somebody who lived too close to the inner city. Again, Merlin would be faced with the same problem…somebody knowing the family and realizing it was an impersonator running around claiming the family title. Something that's as serious as what Merlin was trying to do…it needed to be handled with all of the delicacy and care in the world. He couldn't just pick any old family, in case Lancelot and him got picked up for…attempted Line Theft, or something.

Merlin doubted people would take kindly to somebody claiming they happened to be the member of an important Camelot family, only for it to…not be true in the least…

Merlin flipped through a few more pages, somehow finding a flaw in each one he came across…this one lived too close to the city. Or this one was said to be a member of the court. Or this one only had three daughters and no sons and he couldn't risk a male heir popping up out of nowhere. Or this one was said to be a big part of the trade circle in Camelot, so he probably traveled a lot which meant he had probably met a lot of people, and the less remote the noble was, the bigger chance of being outed would be. And finally…Merlin's hand froze on the corner of the most recent page he had came across. A family tree that was stretched out for what seemed like miles, written mostly in a vibrant red ink to contrast against the golden lines that indicated a marriage, and blue lines that indicated an heir being born.

PENDRAGON, was the name scrawled along the top of the page in these thick, jagged letters. Harsh and stark against the white of the page. And just above the name was the dragon crest that had been emblazoned on each and every flag, drape, or tapestry that adorned Camelot's walls. Golden flames coming out the mouth, red wings spread as if it was about to take off into flight, just so fierce and strong. Powerful and destructive. A force of nature unlike any in the world had ever seen before…Merlin knew Geoffrey had mentioned that this family tree was part of this book. But he somehow hadn't expected to actually have came across it. He had simply…assumed he would have found what it was he was looking for before he found this particular tree. Or since he was simply skipping about, maybe he would've skipped over it without realizing. Because out of fifty thousand pages full of family tree information, what were the odds of him ACTUALLY finding it.

Apparently pretty fucking high…

'Pendragon, originally extended from Dragon, is the name that was given to the founders and protectors of The Camelot Kingdom. Each Great King has brought attention onto Camelot with the One Great Deed that became known by upon the time of their deaths. Culminating with the most recent King, Uther Pendragon, who is already known for bringing attention to the problem that is magic and seeking to rectify the situation by starting The Great Purge. It's only a matter of time before his heir, Arthur Pendragon, already known as the only member of a Royal Family to publicly marry a male lover, takes over the entire kingdom and makes it his own. His Husband, Merlin Pendragon, has became already known for being instrumental with securing a treaty with the Kingdom of Mercia, ending a decades long feud.'

The summery had been as brief as it could be, giving away only the briefest of details on the three most recent royals in their history…him, Arthur and Uther…and Merlin's hand trembled across the page. There was something unsettling about seeing his name written on the page, something wrong about seeing his name next to his one public achievement. They made it sound as if Merlin was some kind of hero for securing the treaty, as if that had been his plan all along, when the only thing he'd wanted to do was extend his apology. The summary didn't bother mentioning the tired ache that had been in Merlin's bones, how it had taken every bit of strength he had in order to walk down those stairs and not fall flat on his face. How he was practically still on death's door and should not have been out and about quite yet…how Merlin was sure he was only going to make Bayard more upset with him than he already was, but knowing that he still needed to try. Merlin hadn't been some brave hero who looked trouble into the face and laughed, confident enough in himself and his abilities to not get worried about the little things. No…Merlin had been a trembling mess who had only been wanting to fix his own mistakes before it was too late and some war ended up on their doorstep. But the book sure didn't mention THAT.

Though it was also kind of funny, the only achievement Arthur had that'd been worth mentioning in the brief summary was his marriage to Merlin. Merlin was sure there were more extensive records that showed dozens and dozens of all manner of things Arthur had done in his short twenty years (perhaps there was even extensive records on Merlin, that he was itching to get his hands on just to see what they had to say about him), but had been neglected by the author of the summary. But Arthur would probably have an aneurism if he also read a summary like this…the man had been scared to death of people thinking he's gay for marrying a…male lover? Was that a term meant for a 'partner' who was also a male? Another way of saying 'husband-to-be' since wife and bride were obviously out. But anyway…Arthur had been scared to death, and yet, his gay marriage was what had been included in the summary. Which was only further proof of how outlandish such a thing was.

Merlin's eyes drifted further down the page, his finger trailing along the lines that marked the family tree until it rested upon Uther Pendragon closer to the bottom of the script. With a golden line that stretched from his name, straight to the name of Ygraine De Bois, the former Queen of Camelot and the mother of Arthur. Which is why it wasn't any surprise when Merlin followed the blue line in the middle of their name down to Arthur Pendragon. The golden line he saw that attached Arthur Pendragon to Merlin, felt almost like it was some kind of mockery. Merlin's name was the only name, probably in the whole book, that did not have a former surname attached to it. Peasants didn't typically have a surname to begin with, and the book made it glaringly obviously what Merlin's heritage was without even saying it. Merlin might be proud of his heritage and who he came from-his mother was a great woman, after all-but not mentioning his heritage in words only seemed to make the lack of surname-even Arthur's surname-purposely deliberate. A silent snub most people wouldn't have seen or bothered to notice. Or maybe Merlin was just too bloody sensitive and just looking for reasons to be mad.

But whatever, Merlin decided as he purposely flipped through several more of the pages in order to get as far away from the Pendragon family as he could've reasonably gotten. It wasn't as if staring at his name on that parchment would do Lancelot any good. No, he needed to stay focus on finding the best family-the most perfect family-Lancelot could join. A family that wouldn't be noticed if a son dropped out of the woodwork. A family that would survive if it ended up under scrutiny if anybody doubted their story…if anybody noticed the little things Lancelot didn't do, but all nobles did on some subconscious level. Like the whole fancy dinner with multiple forks thing…Merlin still didn't know which spoon was meant for his soup and which was meant for his dessert. They were going to have their work cut out for them, making Lancelot a believable noble, but hopefully other people saw the…noble quality Lancelot carried about with him, and that would stop them from asking questions. Many nobles wouldn't have thought a peasant capable of being….'noble.'

Anyway, as Merlin stopped flipping so aggressively and started reading more intently on the next few families he came across, he still couldn't stop thinking of Arthur bloody Pendragon. Which was not only bad for Merlin's actual blood pressure, but also bad for the book that had to suffer with crinkled pages as Merlin gripped onto it too hard. Or more specifically, Merlin wasn't able to stop thinking about the 'date' he had unfortunately had with Arthur. From the very beginning where Merlin had been two seconds away from succumbing to one of his panic attacks, to Arthur offering to buy him stuff, to Arthur letting it slip that the only reason they were talking was because of Uther's interference, to Arthur's faux concern about his well being after the creature attacked, to the way Merlin had handled getting Arthur to agree to see Lancelot, and right onto the end where Merlin had shoved his scars in Arthur's face. Physical proof that would remind Merlin of how…untrustworthy the prince was.

As Merlin was reading a family summary that said there was a daughter whose married to a councilman in Uther's court-which was still too close for comfort despite said daughter living in the countryside who wouldn't be around to insist she didn't have a brother, one of his hands drifted to cup his wrists. Where the scars lied, becoming one with his flesh as if it had always been this blemish on his skin. He was almost too ashamed of himself for causing all these mutilation scars on himself, he just knew he would never be able to show one single soul the proof of how bad his life had been. How low he had fallen…he had simply been driven by anger and determination to drive his point home when he had made Arthur bear witness to them. Another way of proving to himself that he was going to make sure things were different this time around, make sure that Arthur himself understood the days of Merlin the dormouse were long over.

He regretted showing Arthur his vulnerability…

Just as much as he didn't regret it at all…

It was conflicting, that was for sure.

But Merlin was no stranger to conflicting emotions.

Merlin shook his head and focused on the page he had just flipped onto, and as he started to read, he straightened up a bit in his seat. Studying the page in its full glory…this was the one, he told himself. His fingers gripped the corner of the page just a little bit harder, a soft jolt going through his chest…he just knew this was the one he had been looking for. Everything about it almost felt a little too perfect, and he had to read over it at least two or three more times just to make sure he wasn't missing any crucial details that would get the both of them found out. But no. No matter which way Merlin angled the page, there wasn't a single discernible fact he could find. A grin started playing along the corner of his lips, and Merlin cast a quick glance back over his shoulder just to make sure Geoffrey wasn't looking in his direction. Merlin was half hidden with the bookcases in the way, but he didn't want to take any chances just because he couldn't be bothered to check his surroundings before he did magic.

Sue him for being more cautious after what had happened with Gwen…

But no.

Geoffrey was still sitting at his desk exactly where Merlin had left him. He had his head bent down low, eyes nearly all the way pressed up against his ledger in order to see the tiny script it was probably written down in. Jotting down all manner of notes or creating a new record of some event Merlin didn't know of that existed. Which meant Merlin was entirely in the clear…the consort turned his back to the aged librarian, not noticing the older man glancing up as if he had felt Merlin's eyes on him. And the consort didn't notice the aged librarian starting to rise out of his chair, too busy with pulling out this rolled up piece of parchment he had brought with him entirely for this purpose. He couldn't very well ask Geoffrey for a piece, not when he was hoping to sneak this parchment out of here without detection under his coat.

Merlin carefully spread open the thick piece of parchment along the desk right next to the book, it looked fresh and crisp, new, when compared to the old and dingy parchment of the book. Which could only be a good thing. Merlin found it incredibly easy to imagine how many times a year nobles would replace their identification papers just to keep it looking new. One wouldn't want to end up mistaken as-gasp-poor, if they were dared caught with something that wasn't the newest or latest item around. But no matter, Merlin would repeat the spell as many times as it would take over the next few years, in order to keep things secret for as long as possible. And Merlin darted his eyes over every detail on the page in the book, and back to the empty page beside it. Imagining colors bleeding across the page, ink forming in the air and staining the page with the information, every single curve and jagged shape of the writing marked down to perfection. Not a single line would be able to falter, not a single word would be allowed to be slightly misshapen. The orange of the shield that stood right behind the symbol needed to be the right hue…too dark or too light…he could not risk the simplest of mistakes. And when the consort felt like he was ready, he lifted his hand over the blank piece of parchment. Feeling the magic slowly stirring in his blood…

"Ic us bisen hræd tán hwanon."

The ancient syllables, thick and heavy on his tongue, fell from his lips with the ease that only came with practice. The magic in his blood thrummed, warming him up from the inside out as his blood heated, and though he couldn't see for himself, he knew his eyes were shining a brilliant gold color. And he watched it unfold before his very eyes, watched as the colors started forming on the page one section at a time. It only took a few quick moments, before the dark haired boy was staring at an exact forgery. The gold faded from his eyes as he looked over the exact duplication from the page in the book. Flawless in a way that no ordinary hand could've done, a slight shimmer to the ink as a way to duplicate the fancy ink that only nobles could get their hands on. No peasant could have gotten such a perfect copy made in such a short amount of time, and that was exactly why Arthur would fall for it, Merlin thought with a slight grin as he took the parchment in hand. He gave it another look over, just to make sure nothing was out of place.

But no, it was all there.

Each and every line of ink from the page in the book, copy and pressed onto the parchment in his hand.

The orange shield behind the design that made up the noble coat of arms was an almost exact shade to what the sunset looked like. Peaceful and calm as it said goodbye to yet another day. The design itself wasn't the most threatening of shapes, like most nobles seemed to favor. It was the white horse looking as if it was in mid-gallop that had been the first to catch his eye…it almost looked like a unicorn, only without the horn on its head. Not that he would have known since he had never seen a unicorn before, wasn't even sure if they still existed in this day and time and people's destructive attitude towards everything they considered abnormal. But the horse on the shield was no less beautiful, almost life like…the artist who had drawn it had clearly known what he was doing. The two crossed swords directly below the horse gave it a certain…Merlin wouldn't say 'fierce' because the horse looked too calm for that but perhaps 'strength' would've been a better word. Strong and noble, which perfectly aligned to the Latin words scrawled along the outer curve of the shield.

'Virtus Veneratio Fidelitas'

If Merlin's reading level had strengthened since he started living with Gaius, it had nothing on how good he had gotten with his Latin reading. Considering his magic book was basically written entirely in Latin, and his spells were always spoken in Latin-the ancient tongue in which all magic was deprived from-he'd concentrated on it a bit more fervidly. Which was why he knew the Latin words said 'strength, honor, faith.' Each word felt like it was practically designed for Lancelot. Merlin hadn't met anybody as strong as Lancelot, who had as much honor as he did, and whose faith in Merlin would be undeniable after he would somehow manage to pull all this off. Could the phrase have been more perfect than it was?

And then there was the description, that basically said this family lived on the other side of the kingdom…they were practically hovering on the boarder that separated Mercia and Camelot. Which meant they couldn't possibly be coming to Camelot every other weekend, the trip alone would probably take two weeks just to get here and back on horseback and carriage. No noble would stay that long away from their estate without leaving it in the proper hands to care for it. AND the 'head of the household' also had four sons. That was four heirs…who would notice if there was a fifth son? The youngest son nobody talked about-Merlin's fingers traced over the little addition at the end his spell had added to the parchment, Lancelot's name shining just as bright as his 'brothers' were-who had decided to travel to Camelot. To fulfill the duty that all noble families seemed to have…submitting a son to represent their family in the royal army.

"Ahem."

The light coughing behind him, the tell tale sign of somebody trying to catch his attention, nearly made Merlin jolt out of his chair like a frightened rabbit caught in a trap. In one swift motion, the consort let the parchment go, where it immediately rolled itself shut, and turned around to face Geoffrey. The aged librarian was staring at him with a raised eyebrow, eyes falling onto the page he had open, and Merlin casually slid his elbow onto the page, trying to shield as much as he could while looking as innocent as he could. But even as he smiled at the librarian, Merlin's heart thundered painfully in his chest…just how long had Geoffrey been standing there? Had he been standing there long enough to see what he did? How had Merlin missed him coming up behind him. Just how could Merlin have been so STUPID to do this in plain view, he should've known the bookshelves wouldn't have been acceptable cover.

"As I told you before, Consort Merlin, if there is any questions you have about what you are reading, or anything that I can do to help you, the only thing you have to do is ask. I'm always at the service of the royal family and all members who claim the title." Geoffrey said blandly, calm as could be for somebody who had been seconds away from stumbling upon Merlin's biggest secret. But all of that calm only meant one thing…Geoffrey hadn't seen him. Or Merlin would've already been being escorted out in iron cuffs by the guards…it wasn't enough to calm him entirely. But…he felt a little bit better about himself, knowing that Geoffrey hadn't seen him. At least until Geoffrey started spying over Merlin's shoulder in order to see which page he had been so intensely studying. "If you would like to learn more in depth things, I do have several tomes that will give you more details. I am sure there will be a section on the…"

Merlin's heart leaped into his throat, and he immediately slammed the book shut before Geoffrey could get a good look…he would probably recognize the bits of the shield that Merlin's thin arm hadn't been able to cover. The older man nearly fell back himself in surprise, the thudding of the book just as loud and as dangerous for their eardrums as the dust flying into their lungs could be. And while Geoffrey was still in a state of stunned surprise-he was probably thinking how incredibly rude Merlin was-and trying to figure out what had just happened, Merlin was jumping up. He picked up the book with one hand and slipped the parchment inside his shirt while Geoffrey was distracted with the book being thrusted back into his hands.

"Thank you so much, but I think I have learned everything I need to right now, and just like I said, there are some other…consort duties I need to attend to at the moment." Merlin said, his voice coming out rushed and hurried as he very carefully circled around Geoffrey so he was closer to the door. The other man was still looking down confused, clearly baffled by Merlin's sudden and quick interest in leaving. But Merlin wasn't going to give him the chance to ask any real questions, quickly reaching out to give the book a harsh knock along the cover to distract him. "But thank you for giving me such a…real page turner. It was absolutely riveting. I might just stop by later and read over a few more of the families in there. I never realized how…spread out, the nobles in Camelot were until just now."

And on that note, Merlin quickly turned on his heel and sped walked as fast as he could to the door without making it look as if he was trying to make a quick run for it. Leaving Geoffrey to flip the book over his hands to look at the title of the book, just to make sure he had given Merlin the right book…a book that he had never heard described as 'riveting' before. But Merlin didn't care about all of that. He simply needed to get out of the library, the parchment underneath his coat feeling like an explosion waiting to go off at any time…he didn't have much time to spare if they were going to make it down to the training grounds in time, and he still needed to stop by Madame Teresa to get some very much needed supplies…

And Merlin could hopefully forget how easily it had been to fall back into that aged old habit of calling himself stupid. Forget how easy it had been to think he couldn't do anything right. Forget how easy it would've been for him to go digging his nails back into his skin, ripping open the scars on his wrists as if they had never closed up. How calming the familiar feel of blood beading up underneath his fingernails would've been…Merlin just needed to keep getting distracted. And focusing on Lancelot would be the easiest thing to keep being distracted by, and maybe…maybe with his distraction, the urges wouldn't keep coming as frequently as they did.

X

There comes a time in every young man's life, where he would have to face the facts for what they were and learn how to deal with them. But that was exactly the thing, Lancelot didn't know 'how' to deal with the facts that he's gotten. It was hard, working towards this one goal for so many years, and then forced to float by without said goal to work towards. Lancelot had always known what he was going to do with his life, but now he had an endless future in front of him and he had…no idea what he was meant to do with that. Sitting alone at one of the many tables that decorated the home of Merlin and his uncle, the warrior knew he needed to figure it out. It wasn't like he could just stay here for some undefinable amount of time. Sooner or later, Gaius would get tired of housing him and kick him out. And Lancelot didn't like feeling…useless. He needed to have 'something' he could put his whole heart behind.

But his entire heart had always belonged to the blade.

And he didn't have any other love that could match something like that.

Lancelot knew Merlin had mentioned…finding a trade and making a life out of doing that, but there was precious few things Lancelot could see doing for the long term. He had worked dozens of jobs over the years, making a real honest living when he was short on coin, though he had never put anything before his training schedule. He'd been a farm hand mostly, familiar with the work since it had been a farm he grew up on after the raiders attacked his home. But he had spent some time doing small home repairs, fixing holes in a family's roof to get a night of sleep in the barn or a small meal in return. Spent some time focused on caring for horses…he used to imagine it as practice for the day he would've gotten his own fierce steed that he would ride into battle on. But he had never imagined himself doing any of those things longer than it took for him to ready himself for moving onto the next town.

But…Lancelot just wasn't ready to put his real dreams to rest quite yet. Now, he knew he was going to need too. This…First Code of Camelot would hardly be going anywhere anytime soon. But…there had to be something he could do so the skills he had worked so hard for, wouldn't go to waste. But swordsmen wasn't exactly a career option…maybe he should just find work somewhere in the stables perhaps. Make himself useful, stop banking on the hospitality that had been given to him, and maybe even pretend his work was just yet another stop on his journey to being a knight. Though Lancelot had never been a man who denied the truth right in front of him, he didn't like living in fantasies and daydreams, pretending his life was anything but what it actually was.

But that had been exactly what he had been doing all these years, hadn't it?

Imagining himself as a swordsman…imagining himself kneeling in front of the very king himself as he was rewarded with knighthood. Wearing the red cloaks that had stayed in his dreams ever since that one knight, the one who'd found him first among the ruins of his people, had wrapped him tightly inside it. Just being able to…make his family proud of who he had became had been…literally the only thing that had kept him going all these years. Focusing on his training had been such a…huge help in dealing with the trauma of his youth. He didn't know where he would be today if he hadn't had this to keep him on the rightful path. Didn't know WHO he would be, if he didn't have a sword in his hand.

Who was Lancelot without a blade?

Who was Lancelot without a dream?

WHO was Lancelot when he had….nothing?

The front door swung open, and Lancelot looked up just in time to see Merlin coming in through the door, carrying a large basket on his hip with something folded on top of it, like a fancy cover to keep debris or dirt from getting in and ruining whatever rested inside. Perhaps Merlin-who'd been long gone before Lancelot had woken that morning, far later than he would usually allow himself to sleep for…why bother waking up early to train when he didn't have any real reason to train anymore-had been doing his laundry? Lancelot wasn't able to imagine the concubine clothes Merlin used for his own…career in warming the prince's bed, could be washed any old way. Merlin probably knew exactly how all those silks and satins needed to be washed from any…fluids….trying to get the fabric stained beyond fixing. The cover on top of the basket was probably also meant as a shield….it would make sense that Merlin wouldn't want to be advertising what he did, considering what that information could do to him if the Great Consort discovered what relationship his husband had with the very nephew of their court physician.

"Oh, thank god you are still here. I half thought you would've gotten excited about meeting Arthur and disappeared to the training grounds earlier than we have to be there." Merlin immediately said, striding over to the table before he set down the large basket beside their feet, looking immensely grateful now that he didn't have the extra weight on him. But Lancelot looked at him confused to the extreme, not entirely sure why Merlin was speaking as if Lancelot was truly going to show up today. As much as he had always wanted to meet the prince himself, his training regiment was said to be the stuff of legends and there was so much Lancelot could learn from a proper teacher like that, he couldn't have said he was as enthused to meet a man cheating on a husband who had done so much for his kingdom in such a short amount of time. But it wasn't like the prince would want to still meet him anyway, once he knew Lancelot was only a simple commoner. "You will never believe what I have for you! It's something I think will solve all of our problems."

Lancelot hesitated, looking at Merlin's expectant face, and the warrior sighed heavily. What he really should've told Merlin was goodbye…he needed to find a place of his own to stay. So it wouldn't feel like he was taking advantage of the pity being given to him by Merlin and Gaius. And since he wasn't exactly doing anything around here to earn his keep…he really should move on. Try to figure out his next steps and all, but…Merlin interrupted that train of thought after he pulled a rolled up piece of parchment from the inside of his jacket. Looking at Lancelot as if he was supposed to know what it was…Lancelot sighed again. It was almost a sure thing that Merlin would try to protest Lancelot leaving, as he seems like the type of guy who would insist Lancelot hadn't been overstaying his welcome and could stay for as long as he needed, and Lancelot wanted to delay that for a little bit longer. He wasn't sure if he would actually be able to go if Merlin expressed an interest in him staying. It had been…quite some time since Lancelot had been able to talk to somebody he knew he would be seeing for longer than a week as he passed through town. So, he nodded for Merlin to go on, eyeing the parchment Merlin had just handed him.

"That, would be your seal of nobility."

Lancelot had just been unrolling the parchment when Merlin said this, and the man froze where he sat. The parchment only half unrolled, trying to figure out what he had just heard. He was holding…a seal of nobility? HIS shield that was meant to show his noble lineage. But…Lancelot didn't HAVE a noble lineage…only the king himself could've made Lancelot noble. But he wouldn't do such a thing for a man like Lancelot, somebody he had never met before. And he did not care if Merlin was sleeping with the prince. No matter how…good-and this felt awful for Lancelot to think of Merlin in such a disgraceful manner-the boy was at what he did with Arthur, there was no chance Merlin was somehow able to convince the prince to convince his father to make something like this truly happen. But normal people weren't exactly handed off seals of nobilities every day…Lancelot finally understood what was going on when he snapped the seal open all the way. Finding his name buried deep beneath a series of names that he had no knowledge of.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Merlin continued in a pleased and exaggerated tone. "I will be proud to introduce you to Sir Lancelot, the fifth son of Lord Eldred of Northumbria."