[Fic] Post hoc, ergo propter hoc (‘After this, therefore because of this.’) - derryere
[ Part I]
(Part II)
Merlin was allowed to retrieve his things from his horse and he turned the mare over to the royal stables to be looked after. He didn’t think he’d have much use for the mount, but it was nice knowing that he wouldn’t need to borrow one of Arthur’s more robust stallions this time around. It had taken him months to feel comfortable riding those massive excuses for a domesticated equine.
Merlin followed a pageboy through several familiar corridors, plus or minus a few tapestries and sconces that had been replaced or upgraded in the intervening years. He was shown into one of the western towers he’d had no reason to visit or investigate during his time as Arthur’s servant, which hadn’t struck Merlin as odd at the time, since there were quite a few places where servants weren’t allowed to venture. But upon reaching the set of rooms at the top, after leaving the boy at the bottom of the steps with an odd expression that had made his eyes look ready to fall out of his head, Merlin realized why no one was bothering to use them.
The place was in shambles. The top room of the tower appeared to contain two spaces, the main floor and a loft that could be reached by a ladder from the first. Merlin only gave that dark and cramped looking space a passing look while he stood under the open hole (the rungs on the ladder looked ready to fall to pieces at any moment), and focused his attention on the state of his future quarters. Only two of the windows in the whole room still had their glass panes, the rest either missing or lying in pieces across the floor, and a cold draft cut through the open space with a temperature much lower than the outside air. Almost every available piece of furniture was broken, rotted through or frayed and chewed, as if the room had served as a dumping ground for items discarded from disuse or poor maintenance. The layers of dust and cobwebs were thick and looked as though they hadn’t been touched in a decade, and Merlin could hear the familiar scritch-scratch of rats hiding among the debris as he stepped around the room. He wouldn’t have been surprised to find that the roof leaked too, come Camelot’s first summer rainstorm. The floor was heavily stained with water damage, bird droppings, and other bits of refuse that Merlin didn’t even want to consider the identity of.
Merlin sighed aloud and rubbed the bridge of his nose. It wouldn’t be nice of him to curse Uther with a nasty case of hemorrhoids, even if it would make him feel better. Much better. It was his own fault for not remembering that Uther’s particular kind of generosity often came with its own set of complications. This time around seemed to be no exception.
What was that saying about lemons? Or was it soured milk? Spilt milk? Merlin couldn't recall, though the mental image of a miserable Uther Pendragon rolling around in bed, suffering a sleepless and painful night, was rapidly calling for his attention and more serious consideration. Merlin had a feeling that years of warfare had made him less prudish about using his powers, and probably a little too eager to engage in petty vindictive behavior, especially when it couldn’t be traced back to him. And sometimes especially because it could be.
A scrabbling on one of the stone ledges caught Merlin’s attention, and he looked over to see Archimedes folding his wings in to fit inside the narrow width of the windowsill.
"Looks like you found me," Merlin said with a smile, to which the bird replied with a series of inquisitive chirps.
"I know, it’s a mess. But it’s going to be our new home for a while. Tell me if you hate it, I’ll understand. I might have you go leave a pellet on the King’s pillow to teach him a lesson. You’d do that for me, wouldn’t you?"
Archimedes’ head was cocked to the side, ignoring Merlin in favor of listening to the faint scurrying of four-legged feet running across the floor. After a few seconds he pushed off from the sill, silent, short wing beats carrying him to a corner of the room, and Merlin watched the owl disappear among the debris with a loud crash and the squeak of an unsuspecting rat finding itself on the short end of Archimedes’ talons.
Merlin rolled his eyes. "Well, at least one of us is happy." He set his satchel down on one of the sturdier looking tables, which promptly toppled over in a cloud of dust and splintered wood. Merlin sighed again, shed his cloak, locked the door with a look, and rolled up his shirtsleeves. He had work to do.
*~*~*
Merlin shouldn’t have been surprised when Gaius was the first one to visit him that evening. Merlin had only ventured outside of his newly appointed rooms twice - once to grab some food from the kitchen, and another time to deliver a suspiciously bulging bag to the castle’s seneschal with the instructions that it was to be burned immediately. He hadn’t run into the physician even once, though Merlin hadn’t been keen on going looking for him either. Seeing Gaius again, alive and well that morning, had been trying enough on his emotions, and Merlin knew that embracing the old man or blubbering into his robes like a girl wouldn't go over well. Gaius already seemed suspicious of him enough as it was, and Merlin was still kicking himself mentally every few hours for that brilliant failure of yarn spinning. Maybe, given enough time and with his disguise as an older man, Merlin could develop a relationship with the physician that would involve much less yelling about Merlin’s stupidity and foolhardy decision-making.
Merlin answered the knock on his door and blinked in surprise at the man on the other side. "Gaius! That is, Gaius, is it? Yes? Please come in."
"Thank you," Gaius said, stepping slowly into the room, as if aware of what horrors might be found beyond the threshold. Merlin saw his eyebrows go up at the sight of the clean floor and the shutters that he’d installed over the broken windows, and couldn’t help smiling proudly. Let it never be said that Merlin didn’t know how to clean his own room once he put his mind to it. And a whole lot of magic.
"You have been busy," Gaius observed, looking pointedly at the cobweb free walls, the stacks of books and assorted bric-a-brac scattered around the room, and the narrow bed with its intact frame, plump looking mattress and freshly laundered sheets. Merlin wasn’t about to admit that he’d nicked the linens from the castle laundry, or that he’d taken the mattress from one of the unused guest chambers; his time as a servant had educated him thoroughly in the way that things had a habit of going suspiciously missing, and he doubted the loss would be remarked upon. He’d only wished there were some bookshelves to be found in the castle, but he’d given up for the time being and had resorted to stacking the books he’d brought with him into knee-high towers that were grouped together around the floor. Most were being used as substitute tables and had become the resting places for his collection of candles, jars, pestles, measuring tools, quills and rolls of parchment.
"Would you like some tea?" Merlin offered, indicating the pot sitting on the one table he’d managed to acquire intact. The candlesticks and crockery he’d brought from the future were laid out on the surface, the remains of his late dinner pushed to one side.
Gaius seemed more interested in inspecting the room, transformed as it was over the course of the last few hours from a rotting mess into a functioning living space, and he shook his head absently. "No, thank you. You’ve arrived with much more than I would have expected."
"Um, well I’m kind of attached to my books. They go everywhere with me. The rest just seem to kind of follow along of their own accord. Ah, ha, but not literally, of course. That would be silly and probably illegal in some manner. Um, was there something I could do for you?" Merlin ventured, wondering now at the purpose of the visit.
"Yes, my apologies," Gaius said, redirecting his attention to Merlin. "I’ve come to perform an evaluation. As court physician, it is my duty to know the infirmities of all residents of the castle. It’s become standard protocol for anyone living here, I hope you understand."
"Oh, um, of course. I don’t mind."
"Very well. Have you any old injuries, any chronic ailments, any contusions or rashes I might need to provide medicine for?"
Merlin shook his head in the negative to each one. "No, nothing. Though I might need something later for spider bites, I don’t think I managed to get all of them."
"That can be easily acquired. Please have a seat then, and I will examine you."
Merlin sat down on the room’s only stool, which he’d had to magically repair along with the bed frame and two smaller side tables. It was a wonder that anyone could have been expected to live in the tower and not flee the castle at first sight, which Merlin thought in retrospect had probably been expected of him from the beginning. On the whole it didn’t speak well of Uther and his lack of sincerity towards Arthur’s education, as he’d apparently let Arthur run off his last tutor and had now virtually exiled the replacement to the farthest side of the castle. It was quite possible that Merlin was even more resolute in staying, as if the outcome of the future hanging in the balance was not enough; this version of Camelot had far more things going wrong for it than he would have suspected. Arthur was little more than a spoilt brat, Uther had no respect for a man of academia, and the knights were even more idiotic than Merlin remembered them being while in Arthur’s service. It was a wonder Camelot had survived through the decade at all.
Gaius went through a visual check-up much like the first one Merlin had received when he’d come to Camelot. He inspected Merlin’s mouth, the whites of his eyes, listened to his breathing, had Merlin raise and lower his arms and squeeze a leather ball for several seconds with each hand. He pinched Merlin’s calves, had him take off his shoes and wiggle all of his toes, and lastly had him demonstrate his flexibility by standing and attempting to grasp his ankles.
"You’re in remarkably good shape for your age," Gaius pronounced when the examination was over, and Merlin shrugged self-consciously. "Though much skinner than I’d like to see my patients. Do you eat enough?"
"Often," Merlin said with a small laugh. "I’ve been this way all my life. It just… doesn't stick around, doesn’t matter how much I eat."
Gaius hummed and crossed his arms to fix Merlin with a look of close scrutiny. "Now, I would like to ask you about your associations with Hunith. You claim to know her, yet I have never in my life heard her speak of you. Only your name, and that was in regards to her son. She and I have been friends for many years, and feel it is my duty to raise these questions on her behalf. Can you explain your relationship to Hunith and her child?"
"Relationship?" Merlin repeated, startled by the sudden turn in the conversation. "Like, as neighbors?"
"No, I think in this instance we’re speaking of something much more serious than that."
"We are?"
"You have implied that you know Hunith very well, yet she has never once told me the identity of the man who sired her son. Are you the father?"
"What?" Merlin squeaked. "What, no! No! I swear, I never touched her, I… oh I can’t even think about it! How could you ask me something like that?"
Gaius rocked back a bit, looking surprised by Merlin’s outburst. "You come from the same village and share the name of her child, what other conclusion was there to draw?"
"Maybe she really liked the name!" Merlin grabbed his hair and almost flinched at the unfamiliar sensation of the thinner strands between his fingers. This was not how he’d imagined a first meeting with Gaius would go. "No, there was no… relationship, of any sort with Hunith. I’m just a friend of the family, I swear it."
"Somehow I’m inclined to disbelieve you. If I were to write to Hunith, to check the veracity of your story, what would she tell me?"
Merlin gulped. "Why would you do that? You don’t need to bother her, she… I’m sure she wouldn’t even remember me."
"And yet you claim that she named her child after you. That does not strike me as something that could be so easily forgotten. Hunith is a dear friend of mine and I wish for you to tell me truthfully, did you sire the boy?"
"No!" Merlin said again, feeling his hopes for waylaying the disastrous conversation going astray. Gaius had always been his best mentor and worst confidant, and he was like a stubborn dog when it came to picking through a lie or latching onto a problem, often leading Merlin to revealing more of the truth than he’d intended. And this seemed no different than any other time Merlin had gotten trouble by saying one thing too many.
"There is still something you are not telling me," Gaius said pointedly. He didn’t sound like he’d believed a word of Merlin’s protests, either.
"Just because I… it doesn’t mean… hang it all, Gaius!" Merlin groaned in frustration, turning to walk away and stand by one of the room’s windows. It offered one of the best views of the city through the lead-lined panes, and reminded Merlin of another time he’d stood at a tower’s open window, watching the moon rise over Camelot for the first time. How innocent and foolishly full of wonder he’d been back then, marveling at a city that did not sleep when the sun disappeared from the sky.
"I would suggest that you be honest with me, Emrys," Gaius warned after a tense moment, and Merlin couldn't stop the twinge of guilt at the physician’s tone. "I will be forced to go to Uther and inform him of my suspicions, that you are hiding something and are untrustworthy. You have lied about your origins, and that they have direct ties to me leads me to believe that you wish to cause some harm here at court, using credentials which I cannot immediately verify. I promise that you will spend the night in the dungeon if you do not answer my questions. Who are you? Why have you come to Camelot?"
Merlin exhaled against the glass, fingers rubbing against the sleeve of his tunic as the fog from his breath briefly obscured the glittering city. "They weren’t lies." A part of him already was resigned to telling Gaius the truth, aching with the need to trust the man who had been his mentor, who had cared for Merlin like a father and had taken Merlin’s secret with him into death. The years that spanned between the here and now and then were many, but Merlin still wanted to believe, to have a piece of something he’d once thought lost forever back in his life. And he knew that he was being unfair to Gaius by hiding behind the illusions he’d set in place, but the future was a thing no longer certain, and in all honesty Merlin was terrified.
"I didn’t lie about everything," Merlin began again. "But I may have… twisted things, slightly. Everything I said, about the things I know. I can be Arthur’s tutor - those were the truth."
"And the rest of it?"
Merlin rubbed a hand over his beard and behind his neck, frowning slightly at the unfamiliar texture under his fingertips. "The rest is a lot harder to believe. Are you sure you really want to know?"
"I’m afraid I must insist. My duty to the king would not let me say otherwise."
Merlin stiffened, spine straightening as he stepped away from the window. He knew Gaius, loved the man, but a decade was still enough time for someone to change, to have stronger ties in other places and to other people. To a fearsome King that killed out of fear and hatred. Gaius may have practiced magic in his younger years, but he’d also turned on his own kind, aided Uther in the purges, stood by while countless hundreds died. Whatever explanation existed for his actions then might still linger with him now. Merlin supposed that if this all came out horribly sour, he could always throw himself out the tower window and attempt to return another day and under another disguise; and next time he would make sure to use a different name.
"I must warn you, that you did ask," Merlin said stiffly, hands clenched at his sides. He licked his lips and whispered the counter spell softly. "Onwréon."
Gaius gaped, startled and caught off guard as Merlin felt the disguise slip away. There was no doubt that his eyes had flashed gold during the process. "You’re a sorcerer!"
Merlin nodded, fingernails digging sharply into his palms. "Yes. My name is Merlin, and before you have me dragged off by the guard, know that I am the son of Hunith. It was a bit stupid to use my own name, but I didn’t know you’d be there and it was the only thing I could think of on short notice."
"That’s impossible," Gaius said incredulously, but he wasn’t inching for the door or shouting for the guards, which was a good sign. "Hunith’s child is young still. You are a grown man, though I can see not nearly the age you would have us believe."
"Yeah, it’s a spell. I knew it’d be a lot harder to get taken seriously if I looked like this. But I really am Merlin, I was born and lived in Ealdor my whole life, or mostly that is. I’m just… not from this time. Not from the present. It’s complicated."
Gaius’ eyebrows arched impressively. "Are you saying you’re…"
"From the future?" Merlin finished. He nodded and spread his hands to the side. "I’ve come back to fix things. In my time, in the future, it’s all gone wrong. I probably shouldn’t even be saying it but… it’s awful. I had to come back and do something, stop things from happening. You were… and Arthur… it’s bad. Really bad. There’s a war going on and nobody’s winning and it feels like everyone’s fighting on the wrong side and I’m pretty sure it’s all my fault, so I’ve come back, to make sure it goes right this time. So nobody dies. You have to believe me, Gaius."
"I don’t know what to believe," the physician admitted. "Clearly you are a sorcerer, but moving through time is not any type of spell I have heard of being performed before. What you’re saying is impossible."
"It isn’t, I swear it. I’m not saying it was easy, it took me a year to get things right, but I swear that it isn’t impossible. Look." Merlin lifted a hand and pointed it at the table, willing the kettle of water to lift and hover over the floor. He tipped it over and, as the water began to pour, felt a rush of warmth behind his eyes as time slowed and came to a halt. The pot and the stream of water were left suspended in the air.
"Incredible," Gaius whispered, stepping closer to the motionless cascade. "Where did you learn such a spell?"
"It’s not a spell. I’ve always been able to do that. As long as I can remember. Most of my life I didn’t know any spells in incantations, not until I came to Camelot. You were the first person to teach me about magic, about using spells and how to read runes and the old languages and about different kinds of magical plants and creatures. You were a great teacher, Gaius. I learned so much from you."
Gaius turned away from where he’d been poking curiously at the stationary beads of water, and if he heard the growing wistfulness in Merlin’s tone, he didn’t comment on it. "You say that I taught you magic? But magic is banned in Camelot, the practice of it punishable by death. I can’t believe that’s changed in the future, not if Uther is still on the throne."
"It hasn’t, I mean, Uther is still king. I don’t know what made you decide to disobey the law, to be honest. My mum sent me to Camelot to be your apprentice, and you kind of found out I had magic, by accident, when I saved your life, and you figured I was pretty strong so it was a good idea to teach me to control my powers. And, well, I hadn’t planned on it but I saved Arthur’s life too and ended up becoming his manservant, and you said that it could be my purpose, to protect Arthur. Which he really did need, it turns out; it seemed like everyone was trying to kill him. He’d probably be dead a dozen times over if I hadn’t kept on saving his life. That is, he would have, I mean. The Arthur from my time, not this one. It’s a little bit confusing."
Gaius shook his head as if to clear away Merlin’s babble. He looked back at the suspended kettle, and Merlin, feeling a little self-conscious with it floating in the middle of the room, sent the whole thing into a quick reverse that sucked the water back into the pot and placed it on the table once more. Gaius’ eyes widened.
"Amazing. Is that the kind of magic you used to come to the past?"
"No, but it’s what inspired me to try. I didn’t used to be able to do that, just slow things down. But one day we were in battle and I just… I don’t know, something snapped in me. The fighting had gotten so bad, it was turning into a slaughter and… it just happened. Time stopped. Not slowed down, just completely stopped. At first I thought it was like what I’ve always been able to do, but after awhile I realized that nothing was changing, like the whole world except for me had just frozen in its tracks. It was… the scariest thing I’d ever seen," Merlin admitted with a rough swallow. "But I was able to disarm everyone and move the injured off the field to where they could get help. It was the first time I’d done something like that, and I began to wonder if maybe there was more I could do. If there was more to my powers. If I could slow time down and stop it, maybe I could reverse it too. So I started researching and doing experiments and, well, here I am."
"What happened that day?" Gaius asked, and at Merlin’s confused look he continued to clarify. "On the battlefield. What happened when time returned to normal?"
Merlin had to smile a little at the memory. "They were shocked, no one had any weapons or shields or anything. Everyone stopped fighting and went back to their camps."
"Merlin, you…" Gaius began. He paused and fixed Merlin with a stare of shock and awe. "If what you’re telling me is the truth, then you are truly the most powerful sorcerer in history. Your magic is unlike anything I have ever seen or heard of; you have mastered time itself."
Merlin flushed a bit at the praise. "Well it wasn’t easy, I spent a whole year trying to make it work. I thought I could just send something through time at first, like, push it with my mind, but that didn’t work. And then I read about portals in the book you gave me. Yeah," he confirmed at Gaius’ look of surprise. "You gave me your spellbook the same night I saved Arthur’s life the first time. I swore I’d study every word, and I did, eventually. It was all I had for a long time for figuring out spells. So I thought a portal might work, so I built one on this hill where… oh here I’ll show you."
Merlin waved at one of the stack of books, and a few of the tomes and several rolls of loose parchment floated over to the table and spread themselves open on the surface. "It was this incredible place, really strong earth magic all in one spot. Someone had built a church on top of the hill but it had fallen to ruin years ago. I felt a couple of earthquakes while I was there, scared me to death the first time, but it was perfect and the portal worked, better than I expected it to. I mean, I started out simple of course, just sending things like rocks and wood a few minutes into the future. And then I tried sending things to the past, and oh that was so confusing, things popping out before I’d even done anything-"
"Merlin," Gaius interrupted. He sounded worried, even though he’d been peering at Merlin’s scribbles and diagrams with interest. "This is all very fascinating, and I am growing more inclined to believe your incredible story, because you strike me as clever but also uncontrollably garrulous. But you can’t just go around waving your hands like that. What if someone were to walk in, or overhear you chanting a spell? Your life is in danger every moment you stay here. What on Earth possessed you to come here once you’d come to the past?"
Merlin shuffled and tried not to look as contrite as he felt. "Well… that might have been the part I hadn’t completely come up with."
"I am beginning to wonder how you ever managed to live in Camelot as a sorcerer without being discovered."
"I wasn’t, not for awhile at least," Merlin protested stubbornly. "I did magic all the time and no one noticed. I can be careful. I got appointed as Arthur’s tutor, so that part worked out fine!"
"You were arrested for attempting to kidnap the Prince! Was that also included in your plans?"
"No," Merlin grumbled, sighing and taking a seat on the stool. He ran both hands through his hair and looked up at Gaius. "Do you think I’ve botched things up? Uther sent me to this tower like it was a joke. He probably suspects me of being a sorcerer already."
Gaius rolled his eyes and stepped forward, clasping Merlin’s shoulders and drawing him up to stand again. "The king does not suspect you, or you would have been thrown into the dungeons already. He does not trust you, or take your profession seriously, which are very different things. I believe he truly does intend for you to tutor his son, and perhaps this is something that you can use to your advantage."
"What do you mean?"
"I understand that you do not wish to tell me of future events, and I agree that it would be knowledge best not shared carelessly, but from your words earlier I gather that certain things were influenced directly by your own actions, and perhaps Arthur’s and myself? Perhaps it would be best for you to think on what caused them, and what steps can be taken to prevent them from coming to pass, now that you hold a place within the court. You will have the prince’s ear, and to some extent his father’s, if you can prove your usefulness to him. This is not a position to be taken lightly. You can wield incredible power by the strength of your words alone, and combined with your magic, I am sure that you can find a way to prevent that dark future you lived through."
"You’re right," Merlin said, voice wavering as his smile wobbled with emotion. "Thank you, Gaius. It’s… it’s really good to see you again. I know it’s only been a couple of years for me and you don’t even know me yet… but, I’m really, really happy you’re here. You always did have the best advice."
Gaius stepped back and clasped his hands together, his shoulders held with a slight air of awkwardness, but his eyes reflected understanding as Merlin visibly collected himself. The expression was so familiar that Merlin’s heart panged in his chest, threatening to bring those tears that he’d been worried might come spilling out without his consent. It had been three years since he’d last seen his mentor or heard his voice, a time that had been spent among allies that Merlin had never truly felt a part of, lonely and wishing that things had somehow turned out differently. Gaius couldn’t know any of it, but Merlin took solace in his presence and his understanding. It was a relief, to not have to hide from the one person he’d become so used to trusting with his secrets.
"I’m glad to have been of some help. If you wish to speak of anything else, you’re welcome to come see me in the physician’s quarters. I assume that you already know where they are?"
"Yeah," Merlin agreed, smiling winsomely. "I do. And you know, you’re welcome to come up here too. I managed to track down copies of some of your books, after… well, after I left Camelot. But I also found some I’d never seen in your library before. You’re welcome to borrow them, if you like?"
Gaius chuckled. "I fear the staircases to reach here might be a bit too much for a man of my age, but I would be happy to visit and share a pot of tea once in a fortnight. I suppose it’s fortunate that you’re so far away from the rest of the castle; I’m sure discussions of magical books and spells would not do well to be overheard by someone casually passing by."
"You know, I wish we’d thought of that sooner," Merlin mused as he followed Gaius to the door. He smiled sheepishly at the raised eyebrow that got him in return. "I can’t remember how many times you and I were nearly caught in your quarters with a book of magic lying right there out in the open for anyone to see. Arthur would pop by out of the blue, or some soldier or townsperson would come in wanting a potion or to have an injury looked at, and we’d only manage to cover everything up at the last second."
"My word. Clearly I become senile in my old age," Gaius bemoaned, but he was smiling as he turned to leave. "Goodnight, Merlin. Do be careful."
"Thanks, Gaius, I will. Goodnight."
*~*~*
In the morning, after reapplying his illusion spell, Merlin managed to track down a passing servant, who pointed him in the direction of another, who was then able to take him to meet Prince Arthur’s manservant - a stooped old man named Johnson that looked as if he barely had the strength to lift a full pitcher of wine, let alone the energy to dress an impatient prince in the morning. He informed Merlin that Arthur had already left to attend training with the knights and would not be returning to the castle until the afternoon. Merlin asked him to pass along that he would be returning then to begin Arthur’s studies.
Merlin took the free time to visit the castle’s Hall of Records, where by some miracle he was able to exchange more than five words with Geoffrey and was not once chased out of the room when he expressed an interest in borrowing some of the historian’s books for his lessons. They discussed rather mundane topics like the advantages of vellum versus parchment, book binding techniques, debated on whether or not the ideas of the ancient Greek scholars had any merit in their modern world, disputed the veracity of several famous battles that Geoffrey claimed to have documented himself from reputable sources, and Merlin finally left two hours later with an armload of books and feeling like he’d been completely broadsided by the other man’s ego. It was no wonder Gaius had always warned him off entering into a conversation with the fussy librarian.
Merlin returned to his rooms and found a spot on the floor to place the books, and only realizing once he’d done so that he’d effectively blocked what little space he’d had left for reaching his bed. Merlin left again to track down the castle carpenter.
It was mid-afternoon by the time Merlin made it back to Arthur’s chambers, where he once again found Arthur’s manservant, but the prince was nowhere in sight.
"I’m sorry, sir. Prince Arthur is not here."
"Well, will he be back soon?"
"No, sir. I was to inform you that he would not be available for the remainder of the day."
Merlin frowned. "Then I’ll come back tomorrow."
"Very good, sir."
*~*~*
Three days later and with still no sign of the Prince, Merlin realized that he was being avoided.
"What am I supposed to do, Gaius?" Merlin demanded after barging into the physician’s chambers.
Gaius looked up from his workbench in confusion, almost as if he’d forgotten who Merlin was. "Do about what, exactly?"
"It’s Arthur! He’s avoiding me like the plague! How am I supposed to teach him if he won’t show up for lessons?"
Gaius lifted one eyebrow in consideration behind his spectacles. "I’m afraid I don’t have an answer for that. Prince Arthur is allowed to make his own decisions, and perhaps in this matter he feels his education is unnecessary."
"Oh, I doubt that," Merlin snorted. "The only thing Arthur knows how to do properly is fight with a sword and make sure that the buttons on his coat are perfectly polished."
"You can’t speak of the Prince like that, Merlin," Gaius chastised.
Merlin sighed and plopped down on the bench on the opposite side of the table. "Yeah, I know, you’re always telling me that. Old habits die hard, I guess."
Gaius rolled his eyes to the ceiling, as if asking for patience from a higher power. "Tell me, were you really his manservant? You don’t strike me as the type to do well with forced servitude."
Merlin looked slightly abashed. "It’s not that I don’t respect him, I do. Well, when he’s older at least. At least then he’s got the whole noblesque thing down, self-sacrificing and caring more for his people than his own hide. But he’s still a prat, then and now. Except now he’s shorter and isn’t showing respect to his elders."
"You aren’t really that much older than him, I imagine," Gaius reminded him, peering into a swirling beaker of green liquid. "Prince Arthur will be fourteen at the end of the harvest season."
Merlin groaned. "That doesn’t help me. His manservant won’t tell me anything useful, Arthur’s always gone from his chambers when I get there, they won’t let me into the council room and the guards always run me off when I try to wait around. I never had this much trouble finding him when I was his servant, and usually he was trying to find me! Is there anything I can do?"
"If you’re that determined to catch the Prince, why are you sticking to conventional means?" Gaius asked, setting the glass down on the table. "Arthur has been following the same schedule for several years, and is often in the same few places day after day. Uther has been very clear about Arthur’s responsibilities and is under strict training to become a knight. I don’t imagine that seeking him out at those times will be very difficult at all."
"Hmm, I suppose," Merlin conceded. "Are you sure I can’t go to Uther about this?"
Gaius shot him a doubtful look, and Merlin sighed. "Yes, yes I know. Northwest tower, humiliation, hates scholars and sorcerers alike. Complete waste of my time. Well then."
Merlin rose from his seat and planted his fist on his hips. "I guess I’ll just have to deal with Arthur myself. He needs to learn that no one says no to Merlin. He’ll get a first rate education even if I have to drag him off the training field myself."
"That’s what I’m afraid of," Gaius muttered as Merlin left the room.
*~*~*
Merlin’s plan went into action the next morning. He bypassed Arthur’s chambers entirely and headed straight for the practice fields on the southern grounds of the castle. It looked much the same there as it had in the future, cordoned off areas for sword fighting, targets set up for archery, and a fallowed field for jousting practice. There were knights of various ages in the midst of training, some with faces that Merlin didn’t recognize, others looking many years younger than when Merlin had last seen them. The sight was a bit surreal, especially with the lack of Arthur’s familiar broad frame dominating the field and putting his knights through their paces. Merlin had memories of hours spent standing off on the sidelines, watching Arthur practice when he was free from other duties, sometimes even stopping by on his way to the laundry or a trip to the lower town. Arthur had never chased him off if he spotted him loitering by the fence, though he did reprimand Merlin for his laziness even as he accepted a water skin and shoved his sword and gauntlets into Merlin’s waiting arms.
Merlin spotted Arthur easily among the knights. He was noticeably the shortest figure in their ranks, and was currently sparring with an armored man easily a head taller than the boy. Even at such a young age, Arthur seemed able to hold his own, and was pressing the other knight back with sure, even steps and quick strokes of his sword. The sparring continued for several minutes, until Arthur overcompensated and swung out too far, which got him a slap on his flank with the flat of the other knight’s blade. Then the other knight was pushing Arthur back, swinging hard and with powerful thrusts that quickly overwhelmed Arthur’s defenses, and the limp in his left leg was finally noticeable as he hopped back to put weight on his unhurt foot. Arthur was disarmed quickly shortly after, and gave a stiff bow to the older knight for a fight well played. From his position at the edge of the field, Merlin couldn’t tell if he was upset by the loss, but he could see by the rise and fall of his shoulders that Arthur was breathing hard.
Practice continued for the better part of the morning, and Merlin passed the time by striking up conversations with any of the squires that happened to be nearby. By the end of training he had a small group of the younger men clustered around him, who seemed fascinated by Merlin’s willingness to speak openly to them and divulge embarrassing stories of mishaps during other knights’ practices that he had witnessed. None of them realized they were laughing at tales of their Prince and the very knights they were serving, and Merlin figured there was no harm in revealing events of the future in such a roundabout fashion.
When the knights began dispersing and barking for the boys to follow them, they left Merlin with reluctant waves and trotted off after their masters. Arthur was nowhere in sight at first, until Merlin spotted him a short way off, alone and swinging a sword at a straw practice dummy. He made his way over.
"You, stop there!" Merlin turned at the sound of the booming voice when he was a few yards from the prince. A large man suited in half-armor was standing by and had a hand on his sword pommel. The dark look he was giving Merlin was as much a warning as his tone had been. "What business do you have with his highness?"
Before Merlin could open his mouth, another voice cut through. "Oh come off, Belvidere. You saw him standing there just as long as everyone else. If he was going to kill me he would have done it hours ago."
"Yes, sire," Sir Belvidere replied dutifully, but remained glaring at Merlin.
Merlin watched Arthur stab his sword into the grassy turf and wipe a layer of sweat off his brow. His blond hair was dark and matted against his forehead, and his face was rounder and younger than Merlin remembered. Had they been standing toe-to-toe he would probably only stand as tall as Merlin’s chest, and his shoulders and waist were still narrow and undeveloped, showing none of the muscle that he would acquire in the coming years. But Arthur’s blue eyes and slender nose were the same, and the square cut of his jaw was almost as familiar as Merlin’s own. Merlin was surprised by the small wave of nostalgia that hit him at the thought.
Arthur approached Merlin with a frown on his face. "You’re that clown that my father tried to saddle me with. My tutor, was it?"
Merlin frowned back at the insult. "Yes, as a matter of fact. Your tutor, not the clown bit, I mean. And you’ve been remiss in your lessons. I’ve come to collect you, sire."
Arthur’s eyes widened a little, no doubt surprised by Merlin’s tone. "Collect me? What makes you think that I will be going anywhere with you? I have other duties to attend to, and they don’t include listening to you prattle on about language and philosophy and whatever else it is you think you know. You’re free to leave Camelot whenever you wish, I have no need of you."
"King Uther thinks you need an education," Merlin insisted, following Arthur as he walked away across the practice field. "And he’s right. There’s more to life than beating people with a sword and mace and learning the proper way to hold a shield. There’s a lot to know about the world that you can’t see from inside Camelot’s walls."
"And you would be the expert on this, I assume?" Arthur sneered, peeling off his gloves and vambraces and dumping them in a crate containing other pieces of armor. "Your books claim they spout the truth; that they can tell a man about life, about the law and the proper way to think. Books written by men who have never seen war, never witnessed death except in their own minds, who think somehow that they know better than everyone else. Tell me, Emrys, have you ever held a sword in your life? Have you ever fought against an opponent bent on your death, faced an enemy soldier prepared to cut you down where you stand, stood on a battlefield against an army sworn to destroy your homeland? Have you?"
"I have," Merlin admitted, and was rewarded with Arthur swinging around to face him. He looked startled, which rapidly smoothed into a look of suspicion. Merlin only stared back grimly, and Arthur shifted after a moment under his expression.
"Perhaps you are not entirely useless after all, then," Arthur snorted.
Merlin let that slide. "Please, sire. An hour or two of your day, that’s all I ask."
"No," Arthur said obstinately.
"I will take this matter to the king, if I have to."
"My father?" Arthur laughed incredulously. "You really think my father will listen to you? He sent you to the northwest tower. How’s that working out for you, Emrys?"
Merlin tried not to glower, but it had been worth a try. "Quite well, actually. You’re welcome to visit and stay for a lesson or two."
"I can think of better ways to waste my time," Arthur said flippantly, turning to head back to the castle.
"Like tripping around on a field when your injury isn’t even fully healed yet?"
Arthur stiffened and spun around angrily. "I could have you flogged for your tone. Remember your place!"
Merlin felt something inside him snap like a sharp whiplash. He grinned savagely. "Tutor to the royal brat, you mean then, sire?"
And maybe that had been going a step too far, because Merlin had never seen Arthur’s face turn quite that shade of purple before.
*~*~*
"Merlin, what have you gotten yourself into?"
Merlin looked up sheepishly from his spot on the straw-strewn cell floor. Gaius stood with his arms crossed on the opposite side of the bars, a deep frown on his face. Merlin flushed under the scrutiny and looked away. "I didn’t say anything but the truth. I’m not the one with the temper that abuses their royal powers and throws innocent people into dungeons."
Gaius sighed loudly. "Merlin, this was not what I had in mind for you to gain the prince’s trust."
"I know, I’m sorry. I just… I probably shouldn’t have let my mouth run away from me." Merlin was genuinely sorry that he’d gotten himself thrown into the dungeons, again, but he couldn’t regret a word he’d said to Arthur. The prince had always needed to be brought down a peg or two, and no one had ever seemed willing to admit it except for Merlin. He supposed he was just getting an early start this time around.
"Has the king heard of this yet?" Gaius asked, sounding worried for the first time.
"Erm, yeah…" Merlin admitted, remembering the visit quite vividly. "He came down here about an hour ago. Took one look at me and started laughing. I get the feeling I’m not the first tutor Arthur’s had thrown in a cell?"
"You should be fortunate that Uther still finds this amusing. He will not suffer your foolish behavior if you make this a habit. Now come on, I’ve told the guard that I need your help with a medical treatment and they’ve agreed to release you."
"Thanks, Gaius," Merlin sighed gratefully, standing as a guard approached to unlock the cell door. "I promise you this will be the last time you catch me in one of these."
Gaius raised one eyebrow skeptically. "Yes. Well. We’ll see, won’t we?"
*~*~*
Merlin had never been fond of being an early riser (that honor was solely for Arthur), but times were calling for more drastic measures. After applying his disguise, Merlin ventured down to wait outside of the castle kitchens, familiar enough with the routine and bustle of the early morning to keep out of the way and maintain a lookout. Shortly after dawn, Arthur’s manservant came shuffling down the corridor’s narrow steps, and Merlin promised himself that he wasn’t going to feel bad about this. Not at all.
The elderly man went sprawling two steps from the bottom and landed hard on the stone floor, letting out a pained groan from the impact. Merlin hurried forward.
"Are you alright! That was a nasty spill, here, can you stand? Take my hand."
The servant accepted Merlin’s help and stood shakily. He was pale and had broken out in a cold sweat from the shock of the accident. "Is anything hurt?" Merlin asked, gripping the man’s forearm and looking him over for injuries.
"My knee, sir. I may have-" the man broke off in a hiss of pain, tipping to the side.
"Come on, we’ll get you to Gaius. He’ll patch you up."
"I, I can’t. The Prince… I must attend to him…"
"It’s alright," Merlin soothed, already leading the limping man out of the corridor and toward the direction of Gaius’ chambers. The physician was not going to be happy being awoken so early in the morning. "I would be more than happy to assist. You were planning to bring Prince Arthur his breakfast?"
"Y-yes, sir. But his highness needs-"
"I’m sure I’ll manage just fine," Merlin hastened to reassure him, now walking them down the hallway outside of the physician’s quarters. "I did some work as a servant to a lord, many years ago. I’m sure it can’t be all that different."
"Oh, thank you, sir," the man wheezed as they entered Gaius’ rooms.
Fortunately Gaius was already awake, but still dressed in his nightshift and bent over a pot of bubbling porridge in the fireplace. His surprised gaze landed on Merlin first, and then quickly shifted to the elderly man hobbling alongside him. "What happened?" he demanded, sweeping forward to assist the man into the room.
"Took a slip down some stairs, saw it happen," Merlin explained quickly. He wanted to get out of there before Gaius had a chance to grow suspicious.
Not fast enough it seemed, as Gaius’ hard gaze swerved around to land on Merlin. "I see. And you were nearby to help."
"Yes, fortunate that. But now I must be going, someone needs to bring Prince Arthur his breakfast. Let me know how it turns out!"
Merlin fled back to the kitchens and collected a generous breakfast for the prince, even including a few items he knew that Arthur liked but made a point not to indulge in too often. It all felt ridiculously sentimental of him, but if Arthur was going to abuse his powers for evil, then Merlin had to be willing to do the same. Even if that meant manipulation through the boy’s stomach.
By some stroke of luck, Arthur was still sleeping when Merlin entered his rooms a short time later. He seemed utterly dwarfed by the large canopied bed, just a small lump and a tuft of blond hair poking above the sheets from Merlin’s view in the antechamber. Merlin set out the breakfast dishes as noisily as possible.
Arthur awoke with a jerk, sitting straight up in bed, hair sticking up ridiculously around his ears as he hunted for the source of the noise. When his gaze landed on Merlin, he scowled fiercely. "What. Are you doing here?" he growled, swinging off the high mattress.
"Breakfast, sire," Merlin informed him, smiling pleasantly. "I hope it’s to your liking."
"Where’s Johnson?" Arthur demanded, folding his arms with a glare that Merlin knew would actually work in a few years to make him quake a little in his shoes. Presently, it just made Arthur look like a rumpled cat.
"Had an accident this morning I’m afraid, the poor bloke. Fell down a few steps. Gaius’ is tending to him, and since I was nearby I offered to fetch your breakfast. You should really think about finding another manservant, he doesn’t seem like the sort to keep his feet in a strong wind."
"I demand that you leave at once."
"Come, come," Merlin said cajolingly. He sat down at the wide table and pulled one of the plates closer to himself. "I thought we might have a nice morning chat. Discuss your studies. Things like that."
One of Arthur’s eyes twitched as Merlin plucked a grape free and ate it. "You can’t do that. That’s my breakfast!"
"There’s plenty to go around. You didn’t think I brought all of this for you, did you?" Merlin asked with a chuckle, snapping a few more grapes free from the bunch.
Arthur huffed and threw himself into a chair on the opposite side of the table from Merlin. He reached for a plate (the one with his favorites, Merlin noted), and tore into the food. He ate a few vicious bites with forced gusto, as if that were somehow an act of defiance, before fixing Merlin with an unhappy scowl. "I see you managed to escape from the dungeons."
"Released, actually. Those cells are uncomfortable but we managed to have a good laugh about it. I don’t think anyone took it very seriously."
Arthur’s eyes widened. "They what?"
Merlin blinked, backed up a sentence, and winced. "I meant, your father, the King. He came down to see what the fuss was about. He… well he started laughing. I don’t think anyone was going to take it too seriously after that."
Arthur’s expression shifted and he looked down at his plate, frowning at the bitten ends of sausage and torn sweet rolls. Merlin, knowing from years of experience that this was a sensitive topic, wisely chose to stay quiet; he continued to nibble on the plum he’d already started eating and pretended to look around the room with curiosity.
Arthur spent a silent moment poking at his food, before stabbing a piece of meat and eating it stiffly, shoulders hunched and no longer looking at Merlin. Merlin couldn’t help feeling a bit sorry for him, living under the shadow of his father and yet openly ridiculed for his decisions when they merely reflected the attitude that he’d grown up being taught to model. Arthur had so much to learn that Uther couldn’t give him, tolerance and kindness and compassion for the average citizen and their everyday plights, things that Merlin had seen in him as an adult that, even then, had difficultly emerging beyond the prattish exterior. This spoiled version of Arthur hadn’t even learned yet that respect was something to be earned, not given along with a title, or that knee-jerk reactions would only hinder his subjects’ ability to take him seriously. Merlin was beginning to get the feeling that they had a lot of work to do.
They continued eating breakfast in silence for several more minutes, and when Merlin had finished consuming his fill of the fruit that Arthur had left mostly untouched (as he’d known he would), he drew out two books he’d kept in the pocket of his robe. Arthur, seeing Merlin place them on the table, scowled and pointedly continued eating the remainder of his breakfast.
"I was thinking we might start out simple, establish your level of education first. I’d like to know what languages you’ve studied, what books you’ve read, your level of arithmetic, your knowledge of the classics, and so on. You have been taught to read and speak Latin, I assume?"
Arthur dropped his fork and pushed off from the table. "I’m not having this conversation."
Merlin’s fingers twitched, overcome with the urge to grab Arthur by his nightshirt and give him a good shake. "You can’t keep avoiding the matter, sire. You might think it will deter me, but I’m not going anywhere."
Arthur had approached his wardrobe and was pulling out a set of clean clothes from its depths. He draped a pair of trousers and a shirt over his arms before turning to give Merlin an unsettling smirk. "Huh. It seems to have worked out well so far."
"You can’t lock me up in the dungeons every time I get on your nerves!" Merlin called after Arthur as he disappeared behind his privacy screen.
Arthur’s pale nightshirt was flung over the top of the frame. "If you’re so keen on helping me, Emrys, you can attend to me while Johnson is infirmed. I’ll need my boots polished, my hearth swept out, my laundry folded, my practice sword needs sharpening, my sheets need changing, and take those plates with you back to the kitchens while you’re-"
Merlin almost couldn’t flee the room fast enough. He settled against the door to Arthur’s chambers and thumped his head against the surface with a groan. That had all hit a little too close to home, and the last thing Merlin wanted to do was take up his old position in Arthur’s household. He’d scarcely survived two years of it as it was, and the memories of hours of bruising labor were not his favorites. At least he could have said, once upon a time, that the friendship he’d developed with Arthur had made it somewhat tolerable, on the good days when Arthur wasn’t being a prat or in a terrible mood. Merlin had learned to put up with a lot from Arthur, but this was beginning to be a bit much.
He was going to have to get craftier from here on out. Merlin pushed off from the door and went in search of the quartermaster.
*~*~*
The door to Merlin’s room opened with an impressive bang. Merlin jumped from the noise and looked up in surprise, sparing a moment to be grateful that he’d only been making notes on one of the books he’d borrowed from Geoffrey and not performing magic in broad daylight. And then he realized that it was a panting, harried, and pissed off looking Arthur standing in his doorway.
"You!" Arthur yelled, pointing a finger in Merlin’s direction. "You told the knights that I was… that I… what in god’s name is syphilis anyway!"
"Nothing serious," Merlin insisted. He had a bad feeling he was doing a poor job at keeping a straight face. "But since you’re already here, how about taking a seat? I heard your morning practice has been postponed for the next few days, and no doubt you have a few hours free. I’m sure there’s a book in here somewhere that has information on syphilis, if you’re that curious?"
Arthur, angry and flushed to his ears, colored even further. "No!" he snapped, and shut the door behind him with enough force to rattle a few of the shutters.
Well, that hadn’t gone to plan at all.
*~*~*
Merlin really shouldn’t have put it past Arthur to retaliate somehow.
"Those are my clothes, aren’t they?" Merlin said to Gaius, who stood with him at the wall overlooking the practice field.
Several of the training dummies had been outfitted with several familiar shirts and one particular favorite jacket, and some rather childish and anatomically incorrect faces had been painted on each of them in vivid colors. Merlin narrowed his eyes at the one Arthur was taking particular delight in hacking to pieces, sure that he saw a pair of oversized ears attached to the dummy’s head. But it was hard to be sure from a distance.
Gauis chuckled aloud. "I think that one’s supposed to be you, Merlin," he remarked, nodding toward the field.
Merlin wished very hard for enough rain to flood the practice field, but it never came.
[ Part III]
(Part II)
Merlin was allowed to retrieve his things from his horse and he turned the mare over to the royal stables to be looked after. He didn’t think he’d have much use for the mount, but it was nice knowing that he wouldn’t need to borrow one of Arthur’s more robust stallions this time around. It had taken him months to feel comfortable riding those massive excuses for a domesticated equine.
Merlin followed a pageboy through several familiar corridors, plus or minus a few tapestries and sconces that had been replaced or upgraded in the intervening years. He was shown into one of the western towers he’d had no reason to visit or investigate during his time as Arthur’s servant, which hadn’t struck Merlin as odd at the time, since there were quite a few places where servants weren’t allowed to venture. But upon reaching the set of rooms at the top, after leaving the boy at the bottom of the steps with an odd expression that had made his eyes look ready to fall out of his head, Merlin realized why no one was bothering to use them.
The place was in shambles. The top room of the tower appeared to contain two spaces, the main floor and a loft that could be reached by a ladder from the first. Merlin only gave that dark and cramped looking space a passing look while he stood under the open hole (the rungs on the ladder looked ready to fall to pieces at any moment), and focused his attention on the state of his future quarters. Only two of the windows in the whole room still had their glass panes, the rest either missing or lying in pieces across the floor, and a cold draft cut through the open space with a temperature much lower than the outside air. Almost every available piece of furniture was broken, rotted through or frayed and chewed, as if the room had served as a dumping ground for items discarded from disuse or poor maintenance. The layers of dust and cobwebs were thick and looked as though they hadn’t been touched in a decade, and Merlin could hear the familiar scritch-scratch of rats hiding among the debris as he stepped around the room. He wouldn’t have been surprised to find that the roof leaked too, come Camelot’s first summer rainstorm. The floor was heavily stained with water damage, bird droppings, and other bits of refuse that Merlin didn’t even want to consider the identity of.
Merlin sighed aloud and rubbed the bridge of his nose. It wouldn’t be nice of him to curse Uther with a nasty case of hemorrhoids, even if it would make him feel better. Much better. It was his own fault for not remembering that Uther’s particular kind of generosity often came with its own set of complications. This time around seemed to be no exception.
What was that saying about lemons? Or was it soured milk? Spilt milk? Merlin couldn't recall, though the mental image of a miserable Uther Pendragon rolling around in bed, suffering a sleepless and painful night, was rapidly calling for his attention and more serious consideration. Merlin had a feeling that years of warfare had made him less prudish about using his powers, and probably a little too eager to engage in petty vindictive behavior, especially when it couldn’t be traced back to him. And sometimes especially because it could be.
A scrabbling on one of the stone ledges caught Merlin’s attention, and he looked over to see Archimedes folding his wings in to fit inside the narrow width of the windowsill.
"Looks like you found me," Merlin said with a smile, to which the bird replied with a series of inquisitive chirps.
"I know, it’s a mess. But it’s going to be our new home for a while. Tell me if you hate it, I’ll understand. I might have you go leave a pellet on the King’s pillow to teach him a lesson. You’d do that for me, wouldn’t you?"
Archimedes’ head was cocked to the side, ignoring Merlin in favor of listening to the faint scurrying of four-legged feet running across the floor. After a few seconds he pushed off from the sill, silent, short wing beats carrying him to a corner of the room, and Merlin watched the owl disappear among the debris with a loud crash and the squeak of an unsuspecting rat finding itself on the short end of Archimedes’ talons.
Merlin rolled his eyes. "Well, at least one of us is happy." He set his satchel down on one of the sturdier looking tables, which promptly toppled over in a cloud of dust and splintered wood. Merlin sighed again, shed his cloak, locked the door with a look, and rolled up his shirtsleeves. He had work to do.
*~*~*
Merlin shouldn’t have been surprised when Gaius was the first one to visit him that evening. Merlin had only ventured outside of his newly appointed rooms twice - once to grab some food from the kitchen, and another time to deliver a suspiciously bulging bag to the castle’s seneschal with the instructions that it was to be burned immediately. He hadn’t run into the physician even once, though Merlin hadn’t been keen on going looking for him either. Seeing Gaius again, alive and well that morning, had been trying enough on his emotions, and Merlin knew that embracing the old man or blubbering into his robes like a girl wouldn't go over well. Gaius already seemed suspicious of him enough as it was, and Merlin was still kicking himself mentally every few hours for that brilliant failure of yarn spinning. Maybe, given enough time and with his disguise as an older man, Merlin could develop a relationship with the physician that would involve much less yelling about Merlin’s stupidity and foolhardy decision-making.
Merlin answered the knock on his door and blinked in surprise at the man on the other side. "Gaius! That is, Gaius, is it? Yes? Please come in."
"Thank you," Gaius said, stepping slowly into the room, as if aware of what horrors might be found beyond the threshold. Merlin saw his eyebrows go up at the sight of the clean floor and the shutters that he’d installed over the broken windows, and couldn’t help smiling proudly. Let it never be said that Merlin didn’t know how to clean his own room once he put his mind to it. And a whole lot of magic.
"You have been busy," Gaius observed, looking pointedly at the cobweb free walls, the stacks of books and assorted bric-a-brac scattered around the room, and the narrow bed with its intact frame, plump looking mattress and freshly laundered sheets. Merlin wasn’t about to admit that he’d nicked the linens from the castle laundry, or that he’d taken the mattress from one of the unused guest chambers; his time as a servant had educated him thoroughly in the way that things had a habit of going suspiciously missing, and he doubted the loss would be remarked upon. He’d only wished there were some bookshelves to be found in the castle, but he’d given up for the time being and had resorted to stacking the books he’d brought with him into knee-high towers that were grouped together around the floor. Most were being used as substitute tables and had become the resting places for his collection of candles, jars, pestles, measuring tools, quills and rolls of parchment.
"Would you like some tea?" Merlin offered, indicating the pot sitting on the one table he’d managed to acquire intact. The candlesticks and crockery he’d brought from the future were laid out on the surface, the remains of his late dinner pushed to one side.
Gaius seemed more interested in inspecting the room, transformed as it was over the course of the last few hours from a rotting mess into a functioning living space, and he shook his head absently. "No, thank you. You’ve arrived with much more than I would have expected."
"Um, well I’m kind of attached to my books. They go everywhere with me. The rest just seem to kind of follow along of their own accord. Ah, ha, but not literally, of course. That would be silly and probably illegal in some manner. Um, was there something I could do for you?" Merlin ventured, wondering now at the purpose of the visit.
"Yes, my apologies," Gaius said, redirecting his attention to Merlin. "I’ve come to perform an evaluation. As court physician, it is my duty to know the infirmities of all residents of the castle. It’s become standard protocol for anyone living here, I hope you understand."
"Oh, um, of course. I don’t mind."
"Very well. Have you any old injuries, any chronic ailments, any contusions or rashes I might need to provide medicine for?"
Merlin shook his head in the negative to each one. "No, nothing. Though I might need something later for spider bites, I don’t think I managed to get all of them."
"That can be easily acquired. Please have a seat then, and I will examine you."
Merlin sat down on the room’s only stool, which he’d had to magically repair along with the bed frame and two smaller side tables. It was a wonder that anyone could have been expected to live in the tower and not flee the castle at first sight, which Merlin thought in retrospect had probably been expected of him from the beginning. On the whole it didn’t speak well of Uther and his lack of sincerity towards Arthur’s education, as he’d apparently let Arthur run off his last tutor and had now virtually exiled the replacement to the farthest side of the castle. It was quite possible that Merlin was even more resolute in staying, as if the outcome of the future hanging in the balance was not enough; this version of Camelot had far more things going wrong for it than he would have suspected. Arthur was little more than a spoilt brat, Uther had no respect for a man of academia, and the knights were even more idiotic than Merlin remembered them being while in Arthur’s service. It was a wonder Camelot had survived through the decade at all.
Gaius went through a visual check-up much like the first one Merlin had received when he’d come to Camelot. He inspected Merlin’s mouth, the whites of his eyes, listened to his breathing, had Merlin raise and lower his arms and squeeze a leather ball for several seconds with each hand. He pinched Merlin’s calves, had him take off his shoes and wiggle all of his toes, and lastly had him demonstrate his flexibility by standing and attempting to grasp his ankles.
"You’re in remarkably good shape for your age," Gaius pronounced when the examination was over, and Merlin shrugged self-consciously. "Though much skinner than I’d like to see my patients. Do you eat enough?"
"Often," Merlin said with a small laugh. "I’ve been this way all my life. It just… doesn't stick around, doesn’t matter how much I eat."
Gaius hummed and crossed his arms to fix Merlin with a look of close scrutiny. "Now, I would like to ask you about your associations with Hunith. You claim to know her, yet I have never in my life heard her speak of you. Only your name, and that was in regards to her son. She and I have been friends for many years, and feel it is my duty to raise these questions on her behalf. Can you explain your relationship to Hunith and her child?"
"Relationship?" Merlin repeated, startled by the sudden turn in the conversation. "Like, as neighbors?"
"No, I think in this instance we’re speaking of something much more serious than that."
"We are?"
"You have implied that you know Hunith very well, yet she has never once told me the identity of the man who sired her son. Are you the father?"
"What?" Merlin squeaked. "What, no! No! I swear, I never touched her, I… oh I can’t even think about it! How could you ask me something like that?"
Gaius rocked back a bit, looking surprised by Merlin’s outburst. "You come from the same village and share the name of her child, what other conclusion was there to draw?"
"Maybe she really liked the name!" Merlin grabbed his hair and almost flinched at the unfamiliar sensation of the thinner strands between his fingers. This was not how he’d imagined a first meeting with Gaius would go. "No, there was no… relationship, of any sort with Hunith. I’m just a friend of the family, I swear it."
"Somehow I’m inclined to disbelieve you. If I were to write to Hunith, to check the veracity of your story, what would she tell me?"
Merlin gulped. "Why would you do that? You don’t need to bother her, she… I’m sure she wouldn’t even remember me."
"And yet you claim that she named her child after you. That does not strike me as something that could be so easily forgotten. Hunith is a dear friend of mine and I wish for you to tell me truthfully, did you sire the boy?"
"No!" Merlin said again, feeling his hopes for waylaying the disastrous conversation going astray. Gaius had always been his best mentor and worst confidant, and he was like a stubborn dog when it came to picking through a lie or latching onto a problem, often leading Merlin to revealing more of the truth than he’d intended. And this seemed no different than any other time Merlin had gotten trouble by saying one thing too many.
"There is still something you are not telling me," Gaius said pointedly. He didn’t sound like he’d believed a word of Merlin’s protests, either.
"Just because I… it doesn’t mean… hang it all, Gaius!" Merlin groaned in frustration, turning to walk away and stand by one of the room’s windows. It offered one of the best views of the city through the lead-lined panes, and reminded Merlin of another time he’d stood at a tower’s open window, watching the moon rise over Camelot for the first time. How innocent and foolishly full of wonder he’d been back then, marveling at a city that did not sleep when the sun disappeared from the sky.
"I would suggest that you be honest with me, Emrys," Gaius warned after a tense moment, and Merlin couldn't stop the twinge of guilt at the physician’s tone. "I will be forced to go to Uther and inform him of my suspicions, that you are hiding something and are untrustworthy. You have lied about your origins, and that they have direct ties to me leads me to believe that you wish to cause some harm here at court, using credentials which I cannot immediately verify. I promise that you will spend the night in the dungeon if you do not answer my questions. Who are you? Why have you come to Camelot?"
Merlin exhaled against the glass, fingers rubbing against the sleeve of his tunic as the fog from his breath briefly obscured the glittering city. "They weren’t lies." A part of him already was resigned to telling Gaius the truth, aching with the need to trust the man who had been his mentor, who had cared for Merlin like a father and had taken Merlin’s secret with him into death. The years that spanned between the here and now and then were many, but Merlin still wanted to believe, to have a piece of something he’d once thought lost forever back in his life. And he knew that he was being unfair to Gaius by hiding behind the illusions he’d set in place, but the future was a thing no longer certain, and in all honesty Merlin was terrified.
"I didn’t lie about everything," Merlin began again. "But I may have… twisted things, slightly. Everything I said, about the things I know. I can be Arthur’s tutor - those were the truth."
"And the rest of it?"
Merlin rubbed a hand over his beard and behind his neck, frowning slightly at the unfamiliar texture under his fingertips. "The rest is a lot harder to believe. Are you sure you really want to know?"
"I’m afraid I must insist. My duty to the king would not let me say otherwise."
Merlin stiffened, spine straightening as he stepped away from the window. He knew Gaius, loved the man, but a decade was still enough time for someone to change, to have stronger ties in other places and to other people. To a fearsome King that killed out of fear and hatred. Gaius may have practiced magic in his younger years, but he’d also turned on his own kind, aided Uther in the purges, stood by while countless hundreds died. Whatever explanation existed for his actions then might still linger with him now. Merlin supposed that if this all came out horribly sour, he could always throw himself out the tower window and attempt to return another day and under another disguise; and next time he would make sure to use a different name.
"I must warn you, that you did ask," Merlin said stiffly, hands clenched at his sides. He licked his lips and whispered the counter spell softly. "Onwréon."
Gaius gaped, startled and caught off guard as Merlin felt the disguise slip away. There was no doubt that his eyes had flashed gold during the process. "You’re a sorcerer!"
Merlin nodded, fingernails digging sharply into his palms. "Yes. My name is Merlin, and before you have me dragged off by the guard, know that I am the son of Hunith. It was a bit stupid to use my own name, but I didn’t know you’d be there and it was the only thing I could think of on short notice."
"That’s impossible," Gaius said incredulously, but he wasn’t inching for the door or shouting for the guards, which was a good sign. "Hunith’s child is young still. You are a grown man, though I can see not nearly the age you would have us believe."
"Yeah, it’s a spell. I knew it’d be a lot harder to get taken seriously if I looked like this. But I really am Merlin, I was born and lived in Ealdor my whole life, or mostly that is. I’m just… not from this time. Not from the present. It’s complicated."
Gaius’ eyebrows arched impressively. "Are you saying you’re…"
"From the future?" Merlin finished. He nodded and spread his hands to the side. "I’ve come back to fix things. In my time, in the future, it’s all gone wrong. I probably shouldn’t even be saying it but… it’s awful. I had to come back and do something, stop things from happening. You were… and Arthur… it’s bad. Really bad. There’s a war going on and nobody’s winning and it feels like everyone’s fighting on the wrong side and I’m pretty sure it’s all my fault, so I’ve come back, to make sure it goes right this time. So nobody dies. You have to believe me, Gaius."
"I don’t know what to believe," the physician admitted. "Clearly you are a sorcerer, but moving through time is not any type of spell I have heard of being performed before. What you’re saying is impossible."
"It isn’t, I swear it. I’m not saying it was easy, it took me a year to get things right, but I swear that it isn’t impossible. Look." Merlin lifted a hand and pointed it at the table, willing the kettle of water to lift and hover over the floor. He tipped it over and, as the water began to pour, felt a rush of warmth behind his eyes as time slowed and came to a halt. The pot and the stream of water were left suspended in the air.
"Incredible," Gaius whispered, stepping closer to the motionless cascade. "Where did you learn such a spell?"
"It’s not a spell. I’ve always been able to do that. As long as I can remember. Most of my life I didn’t know any spells in incantations, not until I came to Camelot. You were the first person to teach me about magic, about using spells and how to read runes and the old languages and about different kinds of magical plants and creatures. You were a great teacher, Gaius. I learned so much from you."
Gaius turned away from where he’d been poking curiously at the stationary beads of water, and if he heard the growing wistfulness in Merlin’s tone, he didn’t comment on it. "You say that I taught you magic? But magic is banned in Camelot, the practice of it punishable by death. I can’t believe that’s changed in the future, not if Uther is still on the throne."
"It hasn’t, I mean, Uther is still king. I don’t know what made you decide to disobey the law, to be honest. My mum sent me to Camelot to be your apprentice, and you kind of found out I had magic, by accident, when I saved your life, and you figured I was pretty strong so it was a good idea to teach me to control my powers. And, well, I hadn’t planned on it but I saved Arthur’s life too and ended up becoming his manservant, and you said that it could be my purpose, to protect Arthur. Which he really did need, it turns out; it seemed like everyone was trying to kill him. He’d probably be dead a dozen times over if I hadn’t kept on saving his life. That is, he would have, I mean. The Arthur from my time, not this one. It’s a little bit confusing."
Gaius shook his head as if to clear away Merlin’s babble. He looked back at the suspended kettle, and Merlin, feeling a little self-conscious with it floating in the middle of the room, sent the whole thing into a quick reverse that sucked the water back into the pot and placed it on the table once more. Gaius’ eyes widened.
"Amazing. Is that the kind of magic you used to come to the past?"
"No, but it’s what inspired me to try. I didn’t used to be able to do that, just slow things down. But one day we were in battle and I just… I don’t know, something snapped in me. The fighting had gotten so bad, it was turning into a slaughter and… it just happened. Time stopped. Not slowed down, just completely stopped. At first I thought it was like what I’ve always been able to do, but after awhile I realized that nothing was changing, like the whole world except for me had just frozen in its tracks. It was… the scariest thing I’d ever seen," Merlin admitted with a rough swallow. "But I was able to disarm everyone and move the injured off the field to where they could get help. It was the first time I’d done something like that, and I began to wonder if maybe there was more I could do. If there was more to my powers. If I could slow time down and stop it, maybe I could reverse it too. So I started researching and doing experiments and, well, here I am."
"What happened that day?" Gaius asked, and at Merlin’s confused look he continued to clarify. "On the battlefield. What happened when time returned to normal?"
Merlin had to smile a little at the memory. "They were shocked, no one had any weapons or shields or anything. Everyone stopped fighting and went back to their camps."
"Merlin, you…" Gaius began. He paused and fixed Merlin with a stare of shock and awe. "If what you’re telling me is the truth, then you are truly the most powerful sorcerer in history. Your magic is unlike anything I have ever seen or heard of; you have mastered time itself."
Merlin flushed a bit at the praise. "Well it wasn’t easy, I spent a whole year trying to make it work. I thought I could just send something through time at first, like, push it with my mind, but that didn’t work. And then I read about portals in the book you gave me. Yeah," he confirmed at Gaius’ look of surprise. "You gave me your spellbook the same night I saved Arthur’s life the first time. I swore I’d study every word, and I did, eventually. It was all I had for a long time for figuring out spells. So I thought a portal might work, so I built one on this hill where… oh here I’ll show you."
Merlin waved at one of the stack of books, and a few of the tomes and several rolls of loose parchment floated over to the table and spread themselves open on the surface. "It was this incredible place, really strong earth magic all in one spot. Someone had built a church on top of the hill but it had fallen to ruin years ago. I felt a couple of earthquakes while I was there, scared me to death the first time, but it was perfect and the portal worked, better than I expected it to. I mean, I started out simple of course, just sending things like rocks and wood a few minutes into the future. And then I tried sending things to the past, and oh that was so confusing, things popping out before I’d even done anything-"
"Merlin," Gaius interrupted. He sounded worried, even though he’d been peering at Merlin’s scribbles and diagrams with interest. "This is all very fascinating, and I am growing more inclined to believe your incredible story, because you strike me as clever but also uncontrollably garrulous. But you can’t just go around waving your hands like that. What if someone were to walk in, or overhear you chanting a spell? Your life is in danger every moment you stay here. What on Earth possessed you to come here once you’d come to the past?"
Merlin shuffled and tried not to look as contrite as he felt. "Well… that might have been the part I hadn’t completely come up with."
"I am beginning to wonder how you ever managed to live in Camelot as a sorcerer without being discovered."
"I wasn’t, not for awhile at least," Merlin protested stubbornly. "I did magic all the time and no one noticed. I can be careful. I got appointed as Arthur’s tutor, so that part worked out fine!"
"You were arrested for attempting to kidnap the Prince! Was that also included in your plans?"
"No," Merlin grumbled, sighing and taking a seat on the stool. He ran both hands through his hair and looked up at Gaius. "Do you think I’ve botched things up? Uther sent me to this tower like it was a joke. He probably suspects me of being a sorcerer already."
Gaius rolled his eyes and stepped forward, clasping Merlin’s shoulders and drawing him up to stand again. "The king does not suspect you, or you would have been thrown into the dungeons already. He does not trust you, or take your profession seriously, which are very different things. I believe he truly does intend for you to tutor his son, and perhaps this is something that you can use to your advantage."
"What do you mean?"
"I understand that you do not wish to tell me of future events, and I agree that it would be knowledge best not shared carelessly, but from your words earlier I gather that certain things were influenced directly by your own actions, and perhaps Arthur’s and myself? Perhaps it would be best for you to think on what caused them, and what steps can be taken to prevent them from coming to pass, now that you hold a place within the court. You will have the prince’s ear, and to some extent his father’s, if you can prove your usefulness to him. This is not a position to be taken lightly. You can wield incredible power by the strength of your words alone, and combined with your magic, I am sure that you can find a way to prevent that dark future you lived through."
"You’re right," Merlin said, voice wavering as his smile wobbled with emotion. "Thank you, Gaius. It’s… it’s really good to see you again. I know it’s only been a couple of years for me and you don’t even know me yet… but, I’m really, really happy you’re here. You always did have the best advice."
Gaius stepped back and clasped his hands together, his shoulders held with a slight air of awkwardness, but his eyes reflected understanding as Merlin visibly collected himself. The expression was so familiar that Merlin’s heart panged in his chest, threatening to bring those tears that he’d been worried might come spilling out without his consent. It had been three years since he’d last seen his mentor or heard his voice, a time that had been spent among allies that Merlin had never truly felt a part of, lonely and wishing that things had somehow turned out differently. Gaius couldn’t know any of it, but Merlin took solace in his presence and his understanding. It was a relief, to not have to hide from the one person he’d become so used to trusting with his secrets.
"I’m glad to have been of some help. If you wish to speak of anything else, you’re welcome to come see me in the physician’s quarters. I assume that you already know where they are?"
"Yeah," Merlin agreed, smiling winsomely. "I do. And you know, you’re welcome to come up here too. I managed to track down copies of some of your books, after… well, after I left Camelot. But I also found some I’d never seen in your library before. You’re welcome to borrow them, if you like?"
Gaius chuckled. "I fear the staircases to reach here might be a bit too much for a man of my age, but I would be happy to visit and share a pot of tea once in a fortnight. I suppose it’s fortunate that you’re so far away from the rest of the castle; I’m sure discussions of magical books and spells would not do well to be overheard by someone casually passing by."
"You know, I wish we’d thought of that sooner," Merlin mused as he followed Gaius to the door. He smiled sheepishly at the raised eyebrow that got him in return. "I can’t remember how many times you and I were nearly caught in your quarters with a book of magic lying right there out in the open for anyone to see. Arthur would pop by out of the blue, or some soldier or townsperson would come in wanting a potion or to have an injury looked at, and we’d only manage to cover everything up at the last second."
"My word. Clearly I become senile in my old age," Gaius bemoaned, but he was smiling as he turned to leave. "Goodnight, Merlin. Do be careful."
"Thanks, Gaius, I will. Goodnight."
*~*~*
In the morning, after reapplying his illusion spell, Merlin managed to track down a passing servant, who pointed him in the direction of another, who was then able to take him to meet Prince Arthur’s manservant - a stooped old man named Johnson that looked as if he barely had the strength to lift a full pitcher of wine, let alone the energy to dress an impatient prince in the morning. He informed Merlin that Arthur had already left to attend training with the knights and would not be returning to the castle until the afternoon. Merlin asked him to pass along that he would be returning then to begin Arthur’s studies.
Merlin took the free time to visit the castle’s Hall of Records, where by some miracle he was able to exchange more than five words with Geoffrey and was not once chased out of the room when he expressed an interest in borrowing some of the historian’s books for his lessons. They discussed rather mundane topics like the advantages of vellum versus parchment, book binding techniques, debated on whether or not the ideas of the ancient Greek scholars had any merit in their modern world, disputed the veracity of several famous battles that Geoffrey claimed to have documented himself from reputable sources, and Merlin finally left two hours later with an armload of books and feeling like he’d been completely broadsided by the other man’s ego. It was no wonder Gaius had always warned him off entering into a conversation with the fussy librarian.
Merlin returned to his rooms and found a spot on the floor to place the books, and only realizing once he’d done so that he’d effectively blocked what little space he’d had left for reaching his bed. Merlin left again to track down the castle carpenter.
It was mid-afternoon by the time Merlin made it back to Arthur’s chambers, where he once again found Arthur’s manservant, but the prince was nowhere in sight.
"I’m sorry, sir. Prince Arthur is not here."
"Well, will he be back soon?"
"No, sir. I was to inform you that he would not be available for the remainder of the day."
Merlin frowned. "Then I’ll come back tomorrow."
"Very good, sir."
*~*~*
Three days later and with still no sign of the Prince, Merlin realized that he was being avoided.
"What am I supposed to do, Gaius?" Merlin demanded after barging into the physician’s chambers.
Gaius looked up from his workbench in confusion, almost as if he’d forgotten who Merlin was. "Do about what, exactly?"
"It’s Arthur! He’s avoiding me like the plague! How am I supposed to teach him if he won’t show up for lessons?"
Gaius lifted one eyebrow in consideration behind his spectacles. "I’m afraid I don’t have an answer for that. Prince Arthur is allowed to make his own decisions, and perhaps in this matter he feels his education is unnecessary."
"Oh, I doubt that," Merlin snorted. "The only thing Arthur knows how to do properly is fight with a sword and make sure that the buttons on his coat are perfectly polished."
"You can’t speak of the Prince like that, Merlin," Gaius chastised.
Merlin sighed and plopped down on the bench on the opposite side of the table. "Yeah, I know, you’re always telling me that. Old habits die hard, I guess."
Gaius rolled his eyes to the ceiling, as if asking for patience from a higher power. "Tell me, were you really his manservant? You don’t strike me as the type to do well with forced servitude."
Merlin looked slightly abashed. "It’s not that I don’t respect him, I do. Well, when he’s older at least. At least then he’s got the whole noblesque thing down, self-sacrificing and caring more for his people than his own hide. But he’s still a prat, then and now. Except now he’s shorter and isn’t showing respect to his elders."
"You aren’t really that much older than him, I imagine," Gaius reminded him, peering into a swirling beaker of green liquid. "Prince Arthur will be fourteen at the end of the harvest season."
Merlin groaned. "That doesn’t help me. His manservant won’t tell me anything useful, Arthur’s always gone from his chambers when I get there, they won’t let me into the council room and the guards always run me off when I try to wait around. I never had this much trouble finding him when I was his servant, and usually he was trying to find me! Is there anything I can do?"
"If you’re that determined to catch the Prince, why are you sticking to conventional means?" Gaius asked, setting the glass down on the table. "Arthur has been following the same schedule for several years, and is often in the same few places day after day. Uther has been very clear about Arthur’s responsibilities and is under strict training to become a knight. I don’t imagine that seeking him out at those times will be very difficult at all."
"Hmm, I suppose," Merlin conceded. "Are you sure I can’t go to Uther about this?"
Gaius shot him a doubtful look, and Merlin sighed. "Yes, yes I know. Northwest tower, humiliation, hates scholars and sorcerers alike. Complete waste of my time. Well then."
Merlin rose from his seat and planted his fist on his hips. "I guess I’ll just have to deal with Arthur myself. He needs to learn that no one says no to Merlin. He’ll get a first rate education even if I have to drag him off the training field myself."
"That’s what I’m afraid of," Gaius muttered as Merlin left the room.
*~*~*
Merlin’s plan went into action the next morning. He bypassed Arthur’s chambers entirely and headed straight for the practice fields on the southern grounds of the castle. It looked much the same there as it had in the future, cordoned off areas for sword fighting, targets set up for archery, and a fallowed field for jousting practice. There were knights of various ages in the midst of training, some with faces that Merlin didn’t recognize, others looking many years younger than when Merlin had last seen them. The sight was a bit surreal, especially with the lack of Arthur’s familiar broad frame dominating the field and putting his knights through their paces. Merlin had memories of hours spent standing off on the sidelines, watching Arthur practice when he was free from other duties, sometimes even stopping by on his way to the laundry or a trip to the lower town. Arthur had never chased him off if he spotted him loitering by the fence, though he did reprimand Merlin for his laziness even as he accepted a water skin and shoved his sword and gauntlets into Merlin’s waiting arms.
Merlin spotted Arthur easily among the knights. He was noticeably the shortest figure in their ranks, and was currently sparring with an armored man easily a head taller than the boy. Even at such a young age, Arthur seemed able to hold his own, and was pressing the other knight back with sure, even steps and quick strokes of his sword. The sparring continued for several minutes, until Arthur overcompensated and swung out too far, which got him a slap on his flank with the flat of the other knight’s blade. Then the other knight was pushing Arthur back, swinging hard and with powerful thrusts that quickly overwhelmed Arthur’s defenses, and the limp in his left leg was finally noticeable as he hopped back to put weight on his unhurt foot. Arthur was disarmed quickly shortly after, and gave a stiff bow to the older knight for a fight well played. From his position at the edge of the field, Merlin couldn’t tell if he was upset by the loss, but he could see by the rise and fall of his shoulders that Arthur was breathing hard.
Practice continued for the better part of the morning, and Merlin passed the time by striking up conversations with any of the squires that happened to be nearby. By the end of training he had a small group of the younger men clustered around him, who seemed fascinated by Merlin’s willingness to speak openly to them and divulge embarrassing stories of mishaps during other knights’ practices that he had witnessed. None of them realized they were laughing at tales of their Prince and the very knights they were serving, and Merlin figured there was no harm in revealing events of the future in such a roundabout fashion.
When the knights began dispersing and barking for the boys to follow them, they left Merlin with reluctant waves and trotted off after their masters. Arthur was nowhere in sight at first, until Merlin spotted him a short way off, alone and swinging a sword at a straw practice dummy. He made his way over.
"You, stop there!" Merlin turned at the sound of the booming voice when he was a few yards from the prince. A large man suited in half-armor was standing by and had a hand on his sword pommel. The dark look he was giving Merlin was as much a warning as his tone had been. "What business do you have with his highness?"
Before Merlin could open his mouth, another voice cut through. "Oh come off, Belvidere. You saw him standing there just as long as everyone else. If he was going to kill me he would have done it hours ago."
"Yes, sire," Sir Belvidere replied dutifully, but remained glaring at Merlin.
Merlin watched Arthur stab his sword into the grassy turf and wipe a layer of sweat off his brow. His blond hair was dark and matted against his forehead, and his face was rounder and younger than Merlin remembered. Had they been standing toe-to-toe he would probably only stand as tall as Merlin’s chest, and his shoulders and waist were still narrow and undeveloped, showing none of the muscle that he would acquire in the coming years. But Arthur’s blue eyes and slender nose were the same, and the square cut of his jaw was almost as familiar as Merlin’s own. Merlin was surprised by the small wave of nostalgia that hit him at the thought.
Arthur approached Merlin with a frown on his face. "You’re that clown that my father tried to saddle me with. My tutor, was it?"
Merlin frowned back at the insult. "Yes, as a matter of fact. Your tutor, not the clown bit, I mean. And you’ve been remiss in your lessons. I’ve come to collect you, sire."
Arthur’s eyes widened a little, no doubt surprised by Merlin’s tone. "Collect me? What makes you think that I will be going anywhere with you? I have other duties to attend to, and they don’t include listening to you prattle on about language and philosophy and whatever else it is you think you know. You’re free to leave Camelot whenever you wish, I have no need of you."
"King Uther thinks you need an education," Merlin insisted, following Arthur as he walked away across the practice field. "And he’s right. There’s more to life than beating people with a sword and mace and learning the proper way to hold a shield. There’s a lot to know about the world that you can’t see from inside Camelot’s walls."
"And you would be the expert on this, I assume?" Arthur sneered, peeling off his gloves and vambraces and dumping them in a crate containing other pieces of armor. "Your books claim they spout the truth; that they can tell a man about life, about the law and the proper way to think. Books written by men who have never seen war, never witnessed death except in their own minds, who think somehow that they know better than everyone else. Tell me, Emrys, have you ever held a sword in your life? Have you ever fought against an opponent bent on your death, faced an enemy soldier prepared to cut you down where you stand, stood on a battlefield against an army sworn to destroy your homeland? Have you?"
"I have," Merlin admitted, and was rewarded with Arthur swinging around to face him. He looked startled, which rapidly smoothed into a look of suspicion. Merlin only stared back grimly, and Arthur shifted after a moment under his expression.
"Perhaps you are not entirely useless after all, then," Arthur snorted.
Merlin let that slide. "Please, sire. An hour or two of your day, that’s all I ask."
"No," Arthur said obstinately.
"I will take this matter to the king, if I have to."
"My father?" Arthur laughed incredulously. "You really think my father will listen to you? He sent you to the northwest tower. How’s that working out for you, Emrys?"
Merlin tried not to glower, but it had been worth a try. "Quite well, actually. You’re welcome to visit and stay for a lesson or two."
"I can think of better ways to waste my time," Arthur said flippantly, turning to head back to the castle.
"Like tripping around on a field when your injury isn’t even fully healed yet?"
Arthur stiffened and spun around angrily. "I could have you flogged for your tone. Remember your place!"
Merlin felt something inside him snap like a sharp whiplash. He grinned savagely. "Tutor to the royal brat, you mean then, sire?"
And maybe that had been going a step too far, because Merlin had never seen Arthur’s face turn quite that shade of purple before.
*~*~*
"Merlin, what have you gotten yourself into?"
Merlin looked up sheepishly from his spot on the straw-strewn cell floor. Gaius stood with his arms crossed on the opposite side of the bars, a deep frown on his face. Merlin flushed under the scrutiny and looked away. "I didn’t say anything but the truth. I’m not the one with the temper that abuses their royal powers and throws innocent people into dungeons."
Gaius sighed loudly. "Merlin, this was not what I had in mind for you to gain the prince’s trust."
"I know, I’m sorry. I just… I probably shouldn’t have let my mouth run away from me." Merlin was genuinely sorry that he’d gotten himself thrown into the dungeons, again, but he couldn’t regret a word he’d said to Arthur. The prince had always needed to be brought down a peg or two, and no one had ever seemed willing to admit it except for Merlin. He supposed he was just getting an early start this time around.
"Has the king heard of this yet?" Gaius asked, sounding worried for the first time.
"Erm, yeah…" Merlin admitted, remembering the visit quite vividly. "He came down here about an hour ago. Took one look at me and started laughing. I get the feeling I’m not the first tutor Arthur’s had thrown in a cell?"
"You should be fortunate that Uther still finds this amusing. He will not suffer your foolish behavior if you make this a habit. Now come on, I’ve told the guard that I need your help with a medical treatment and they’ve agreed to release you."
"Thanks, Gaius," Merlin sighed gratefully, standing as a guard approached to unlock the cell door. "I promise you this will be the last time you catch me in one of these."
Gaius raised one eyebrow skeptically. "Yes. Well. We’ll see, won’t we?"
*~*~*
Merlin had never been fond of being an early riser (that honor was solely for Arthur), but times were calling for more drastic measures. After applying his disguise, Merlin ventured down to wait outside of the castle kitchens, familiar enough with the routine and bustle of the early morning to keep out of the way and maintain a lookout. Shortly after dawn, Arthur’s manservant came shuffling down the corridor’s narrow steps, and Merlin promised himself that he wasn’t going to feel bad about this. Not at all.
The elderly man went sprawling two steps from the bottom and landed hard on the stone floor, letting out a pained groan from the impact. Merlin hurried forward.
"Are you alright! That was a nasty spill, here, can you stand? Take my hand."
The servant accepted Merlin’s help and stood shakily. He was pale and had broken out in a cold sweat from the shock of the accident. "Is anything hurt?" Merlin asked, gripping the man’s forearm and looking him over for injuries.
"My knee, sir. I may have-" the man broke off in a hiss of pain, tipping to the side.
"Come on, we’ll get you to Gaius. He’ll patch you up."
"I, I can’t. The Prince… I must attend to him…"
"It’s alright," Merlin soothed, already leading the limping man out of the corridor and toward the direction of Gaius’ chambers. The physician was not going to be happy being awoken so early in the morning. "I would be more than happy to assist. You were planning to bring Prince Arthur his breakfast?"
"Y-yes, sir. But his highness needs-"
"I’m sure I’ll manage just fine," Merlin hastened to reassure him, now walking them down the hallway outside of the physician’s quarters. "I did some work as a servant to a lord, many years ago. I’m sure it can’t be all that different."
"Oh, thank you, sir," the man wheezed as they entered Gaius’ rooms.
Fortunately Gaius was already awake, but still dressed in his nightshift and bent over a pot of bubbling porridge in the fireplace. His surprised gaze landed on Merlin first, and then quickly shifted to the elderly man hobbling alongside him. "What happened?" he demanded, sweeping forward to assist the man into the room.
"Took a slip down some stairs, saw it happen," Merlin explained quickly. He wanted to get out of there before Gaius had a chance to grow suspicious.
Not fast enough it seemed, as Gaius’ hard gaze swerved around to land on Merlin. "I see. And you were nearby to help."
"Yes, fortunate that. But now I must be going, someone needs to bring Prince Arthur his breakfast. Let me know how it turns out!"
Merlin fled back to the kitchens and collected a generous breakfast for the prince, even including a few items he knew that Arthur liked but made a point not to indulge in too often. It all felt ridiculously sentimental of him, but if Arthur was going to abuse his powers for evil, then Merlin had to be willing to do the same. Even if that meant manipulation through the boy’s stomach.
By some stroke of luck, Arthur was still sleeping when Merlin entered his rooms a short time later. He seemed utterly dwarfed by the large canopied bed, just a small lump and a tuft of blond hair poking above the sheets from Merlin’s view in the antechamber. Merlin set out the breakfast dishes as noisily as possible.
Arthur awoke with a jerk, sitting straight up in bed, hair sticking up ridiculously around his ears as he hunted for the source of the noise. When his gaze landed on Merlin, he scowled fiercely. "What. Are you doing here?" he growled, swinging off the high mattress.
"Breakfast, sire," Merlin informed him, smiling pleasantly. "I hope it’s to your liking."
"Where’s Johnson?" Arthur demanded, folding his arms with a glare that Merlin knew would actually work in a few years to make him quake a little in his shoes. Presently, it just made Arthur look like a rumpled cat.
"Had an accident this morning I’m afraid, the poor bloke. Fell down a few steps. Gaius’ is tending to him, and since I was nearby I offered to fetch your breakfast. You should really think about finding another manservant, he doesn’t seem like the sort to keep his feet in a strong wind."
"I demand that you leave at once."
"Come, come," Merlin said cajolingly. He sat down at the wide table and pulled one of the plates closer to himself. "I thought we might have a nice morning chat. Discuss your studies. Things like that."
One of Arthur’s eyes twitched as Merlin plucked a grape free and ate it. "You can’t do that. That’s my breakfast!"
"There’s plenty to go around. You didn’t think I brought all of this for you, did you?" Merlin asked with a chuckle, snapping a few more grapes free from the bunch.
Arthur huffed and threw himself into a chair on the opposite side of the table from Merlin. He reached for a plate (the one with his favorites, Merlin noted), and tore into the food. He ate a few vicious bites with forced gusto, as if that were somehow an act of defiance, before fixing Merlin with an unhappy scowl. "I see you managed to escape from the dungeons."
"Released, actually. Those cells are uncomfortable but we managed to have a good laugh about it. I don’t think anyone took it very seriously."
Arthur’s eyes widened. "They what?"
Merlin blinked, backed up a sentence, and winced. "I meant, your father, the King. He came down to see what the fuss was about. He… well he started laughing. I don’t think anyone was going to take it too seriously after that."
Arthur’s expression shifted and he looked down at his plate, frowning at the bitten ends of sausage and torn sweet rolls. Merlin, knowing from years of experience that this was a sensitive topic, wisely chose to stay quiet; he continued to nibble on the plum he’d already started eating and pretended to look around the room with curiosity.
Arthur spent a silent moment poking at his food, before stabbing a piece of meat and eating it stiffly, shoulders hunched and no longer looking at Merlin. Merlin couldn’t help feeling a bit sorry for him, living under the shadow of his father and yet openly ridiculed for his decisions when they merely reflected the attitude that he’d grown up being taught to model. Arthur had so much to learn that Uther couldn’t give him, tolerance and kindness and compassion for the average citizen and their everyday plights, things that Merlin had seen in him as an adult that, even then, had difficultly emerging beyond the prattish exterior. This spoiled version of Arthur hadn’t even learned yet that respect was something to be earned, not given along with a title, or that knee-jerk reactions would only hinder his subjects’ ability to take him seriously. Merlin was beginning to get the feeling that they had a lot of work to do.
They continued eating breakfast in silence for several more minutes, and when Merlin had finished consuming his fill of the fruit that Arthur had left mostly untouched (as he’d known he would), he drew out two books he’d kept in the pocket of his robe. Arthur, seeing Merlin place them on the table, scowled and pointedly continued eating the remainder of his breakfast.
"I was thinking we might start out simple, establish your level of education first. I’d like to know what languages you’ve studied, what books you’ve read, your level of arithmetic, your knowledge of the classics, and so on. You have been taught to read and speak Latin, I assume?"
Arthur dropped his fork and pushed off from the table. "I’m not having this conversation."
Merlin’s fingers twitched, overcome with the urge to grab Arthur by his nightshirt and give him a good shake. "You can’t keep avoiding the matter, sire. You might think it will deter me, but I’m not going anywhere."
Arthur had approached his wardrobe and was pulling out a set of clean clothes from its depths. He draped a pair of trousers and a shirt over his arms before turning to give Merlin an unsettling smirk. "Huh. It seems to have worked out well so far."
"You can’t lock me up in the dungeons every time I get on your nerves!" Merlin called after Arthur as he disappeared behind his privacy screen.
Arthur’s pale nightshirt was flung over the top of the frame. "If you’re so keen on helping me, Emrys, you can attend to me while Johnson is infirmed. I’ll need my boots polished, my hearth swept out, my laundry folded, my practice sword needs sharpening, my sheets need changing, and take those plates with you back to the kitchens while you’re-"
Merlin almost couldn’t flee the room fast enough. He settled against the door to Arthur’s chambers and thumped his head against the surface with a groan. That had all hit a little too close to home, and the last thing Merlin wanted to do was take up his old position in Arthur’s household. He’d scarcely survived two years of it as it was, and the memories of hours of bruising labor were not his favorites. At least he could have said, once upon a time, that the friendship he’d developed with Arthur had made it somewhat tolerable, on the good days when Arthur wasn’t being a prat or in a terrible mood. Merlin had learned to put up with a lot from Arthur, but this was beginning to be a bit much.
He was going to have to get craftier from here on out. Merlin pushed off from the door and went in search of the quartermaster.
*~*~*
The door to Merlin’s room opened with an impressive bang. Merlin jumped from the noise and looked up in surprise, sparing a moment to be grateful that he’d only been making notes on one of the books he’d borrowed from Geoffrey and not performing magic in broad daylight. And then he realized that it was a panting, harried, and pissed off looking Arthur standing in his doorway.
"You!" Arthur yelled, pointing a finger in Merlin’s direction. "You told the knights that I was… that I… what in god’s name is syphilis anyway!"
"Nothing serious," Merlin insisted. He had a bad feeling he was doing a poor job at keeping a straight face. "But since you’re already here, how about taking a seat? I heard your morning practice has been postponed for the next few days, and no doubt you have a few hours free. I’m sure there’s a book in here somewhere that has information on syphilis, if you’re that curious?"
Arthur, angry and flushed to his ears, colored even further. "No!" he snapped, and shut the door behind him with enough force to rattle a few of the shutters.
Well, that hadn’t gone to plan at all.
*~*~*
Merlin really shouldn’t have put it past Arthur to retaliate somehow.
"Those are my clothes, aren’t they?" Merlin said to Gaius, who stood with him at the wall overlooking the practice field.
Several of the training dummies had been outfitted with several familiar shirts and one particular favorite jacket, and some rather childish and anatomically incorrect faces had been painted on each of them in vivid colors. Merlin narrowed his eyes at the one Arthur was taking particular delight in hacking to pieces, sure that he saw a pair of oversized ears attached to the dummy’s head. But it was hard to be sure from a distance.
Gauis chuckled aloud. "I think that one’s supposed to be you, Merlin," he remarked, nodding toward the field.
Merlin wished very hard for enough rain to flood the practice field, but it never came.
[ Part III]