The Ravishes of Age (Or the Complete Reversal Thereof) (Merlin Flashfic Transformation Challenge)
My fic for the merlin_flashfic transformation challenge - Merlin's really only trying to turn some strawberry preserves back into fresh strawberries, but Gaius just had to get in the way. ;D
PG-ish; many thanks to hikariblue for her betaing and suggestions!
The Ravishes of Age (Or the Complete Reversal Thereof)
"... Explain to me again how this happened."
Merlin, who was paging frantically though the book of magic that Gaius had given him, didn't look up as he said, "I was just trying for fresh fruit."
"Fresh fruit. Merlin, what does that have to do with... this?"
Merlin glanced up, was met with a face that was so unfamiliar and yet so disturbingly familiar at the same time, right down to the one raised eyebrow and wryly incredulous expression, and looked back down again at the pages as he turned them. "Well, it involved reversing the effects of time..."
"And you didn't look to see whether it might affect things other than strawberries."
"I thought you might at least knock," Merlin said in his own defense, feeling stupid now rather than anything approaching triumphant.
"And I thought you had the good sense not to practice magic in the middle of the afternoon."
Merlin frowned. It really wasn't his fault, after all - Arthur had set him the task of finding a fresh bowl of strawberries; it was November, for heaven's sake, and where was Merlin to find a fresh strawberry in all of Camelot at this time of year? So he'd tried the next best thing - found the only strawberries he could, in a jar of preserves - and attempted to turn back the clock, magically speaking, until they were ripe and new for that prat of a prince to eat.
He hadn't counted on Gaius interrupting him and getting in the way just as he'd murmured, "Bheith ag cailleadh ama."
Now Gaius stepped behind him, his shadow falling over the page and a hand - Gaius' hand, though it didn't look like it at all anymore - pointed to a phrase on the page. "Here. You should have used 'plandaí óga' in the spell - Merlin, you've got to be specific." The hand disappeared. "Otherwise things like this happen."
This indeed, Merlin thought, and looked up at his mentor again, as though fully facing the problem for the first time.
Merlin had turned Gaius twenty-three. Twenty-three, skinny and pale, with a thatch of brown hair a few shades lighter than Merlin’s. Long, gangly limbs, but still that exact same expression on his face, still his mentor and yet at the same time, so very not.
“Well, are you going to do something about it, then?”
“Right! Sorry.” And Merlin went back to the book, looking frantically for some sort of counterspell or magical reversal that he could apply. “I’m looking.”
“Well, look faster, please. You’re lucky no one is currently in need of my services, or -”
Just then, the door swung open. “Merlin, are you still in here, where are my -” Arthur stopped a few steps into the room, looking from his manservant, who had just slammed an old text on top of the one he was already reading with a suspiciously guilty sort of look on his face, to the young man standing beside him, his expression oddly familiar even though Arthur was quite sure he’d never seen him before in his life.
“Who’s this, then?” he asked, gesturing toward the new fellow, swaggering a little further into the room. “And why are you here reading books when I specifically asked -”
“He’s my - my cousin,” Merlin said quickly, and exchanged a glance with his friend - well, relative, then.
“Hm.” Arthur studied the new boy, all long limbs and pale skin and dark hair, and thought that yes, maybe that was where the hint of familiarity had come from. He was related to Merlin, then; there was a passing resemblance, he supposed, looking closer. “Has he got a name, then?”
“My lord, I’m Ga-”
“Gavin!” Merlin burst out, a bit more loudly than was really called for. “His name’s Gavin.”
Arthur raised an eyebrow; Gavin did as well. Merlin sounded as though he was telling Gavin this information as much as he was telling Arthur. Did the idiocy of his manservant truly know no bounds? Arthur hoped it wasn’t hereditary.
“… Gavin. Right. My lord,” the boy said, watching Arthur carefully through his dark bangs. “I’m only visiting for a few days.”
“Right.” Arthur turned back to his manservant. “Well, seeing as you’ve got… family visiting, I suppose you can forego the strawberries, and you can polish my armor in the morning.” He sighed. “But I expect you to be at the feast tonight to attend me.”
“Yes, my lord,” Merlin mumbled, looking more at the book-atop-a-book that he was reading than Arthur.
“Good.” Arthur looked around, as though he had just noticed something amiss. “And where’s Gaius? Isn’t he usually here this time of day?”
“He’s -“
“Treating a patient,” Gavin said, interrupting Merlin. “He said it might be some time before he returned.”
“Oh.” Arthur shrugged. “Right then. Merlin, I’ll see you later. Six o’clock sharp, and look presentable this time, will you?” And with that, he left the room, shutting the door behind him.
The two young men in the room let out a collective sigh; Gaius had taken up that distinctive one-eyebrow-raised look and turned it upon Merlin once more. Merlin simply ducked his head and pushed Herbal Remedies off of the spellbook and resumed his looking without pause until Gaius spoke.
“I’m hungry,” Gaius announced, and went over to the pot of stew he’d had warming on the hearth. “Goodness, I’d forgotten what it was like to be this age - always hungry, I remember that now. How do you deal with it?”
Merlin couldn’t hide the small grin that crept to his lips at the tirade of an old man coming from the mouth of such a young one.
Gaius spooned stew into two bowls and brought them over to the table, setting one down in front of the book Merlin was paging through. “Can’t solve this on an empty stomach,” he said, and smiled at Merlin as he sat down across from him. “Eat something now; you won’t get the chance again until you’re through serving Arthur.”
Merlin nodded and put the book aside, taking up his own spoon as he watched his mentor’s too-young face while he ate. He looked down at his stew and began eating, but there was something much more pressing in his gut than the simple need for food.
“Gaius,” Merlin said, looking up at the physician worriedly, “what if I can’t undo this? What if you have to stay this way?”
“Hm?” His mentor lifted his spoon to his lips, taking a mouthful of stew and thinking while he swallowed it. His expression was hard to read, and not just because his face was suddenly unfamiliar. “Then I’d venture to say I’ll be the oldest man in recorded history, won’t I?”
Merlin wasn’t sure whether to laugh or lament. Gaius still had that odd look on his face, and it made Merlin’s stomach feel odd. “Gaius, I - ” He frowned, glancing at the table. “I’m sorry.”
“Merlin.” Gaius’ voice was much softer now, and when Merlin looked up again he could see that he was smiling, softly. “I have to admit, not everything about this is bad.” He gave the warlock a wry smile. “When you get to be my age, you’ll see what I mean. Having your body betray you slowly, day by day, isn’t something anyone looks forward to.”
Merlin swallowed and frowned again. He knew that aging was anything but kind. How could he return Gaius to an old man’s body, with all the knowledge that there was more time behind him than ahead? Did Gaius even really want to go back to being an old man? Merlin had just nearly doubled his lifespan, for all he knew - why go back to what he’d been before? It was a dilemma the likes of which Merlin had never faced before, and he didn’t like it. He felt like he was betraying his mentor - his friend - either way.
“Maybe I should stop looking for a solution, then,” he hazarded, watching Gaius’ face carefully.
Gaius sighed. “No. This isn’t right, and while I’m going to enjoy it while it lasts, the balance of the world has to be restored.” He looked at Merlin and smiled again, and while it was tinged with something a little like regret, it was also a genuine smile. “You know that, and I know that.”
Merlin nodded, swallowing another mouthful of stew. “Yes.”
But no solution had presented itself yet by the time Merlin had to scrub himself down and dress in his cleanest, least-patched clothes to attend Arthur that evening. It was uneventful for the most part, as such events usually were - simply a feast to celebrate a good hunting trip, and as Merlin didn’t get any of the spoils of the hunt, he didn’t care much. He let his mind wander, still thinking of possible solutions to his current magical dilemma as Arthur signaled to him for a refill.
“Merlin,” Arthur murmured, as Merlin came forward to fill his empty wine goblet, “that cousin of yours - Gavin. He’s not… betrothed or anything, is he?”
Merlin nearly dropped the pitcher. “What?” he asked, trying to keep his voice down, though Uther turned and stared at him for a moment while he bowed his head. A number of reasons filled his head as to why Arthur might ask such a question, but absolutely none of them made sense. “What?” he tried again, voice lower this time, while Arthur smiled in that way that always frightened Merlin when he did it. “Why do you ask?”
“Oh, well,” Arthur drawled, and picked up his goblet for a sip, “I just thought he was rather handsome, is all. A bit like you, I suppose, but less… homely, I think. And hopefully less stupid.” A sly smile formed on his lips, hidden from the rest of the room by the wine goblet poised before his mouth. “Perhaps he’d like something to remember his visit by.”
Merlin bristled visibly, standing straight up as though he’d been prodded with a needle. “I don’t think so, my lord,” was all he said, rather tightly, and quickly retreated into the alcove behind the throne until he was needed again. He was seething by the time he got to his previous position in the shadows, and he didn’t even know why. Partly, he told himself, it was because this was Gaius, and there was no way anything that Arthur had just insinuated could possibly go well. But partly, he was forced to admit, it was because the thought of Arthur suddenly so interested in a young man as to ask after his company like that was just… it was just…
It was infuriating, was what it was, and so Merlin stood his ground for as long as he could; but eventually it became clear that the feast was winding down and Arthur would probably not require his services for the rest of the evening. And so Merlin slipped out, striding back toward Gaius’ chambers with too many unpleasant thoughts swirling about his mind.
When he arrived, Gaius was busy at his workbench. “Ah, Merlin,” he said, looking up as his charge all-but-stormed into the room. He frowned. “Is something wrong?”
Merlin considered telling Gaius for a moment - but no, it was stupid, and Arthur was stupid, but he wasn’t that stupid, was he? He would stay away… He shook his head, letting out a breath. “No, I’m fine.” He looked at the table, full of glasses and vials of liquid. Had Gaius found a solution in his absence? “What are you doing?”
“Well,” Gaius said wryly, “I may look different, but my mind hasn’t changed at all. And neither has my job. If I’m still… unwell in the morning, you’re going to have to make my rounds for me.”
“Ah,” Merlin said, and nodded. Of course - that made sense. It wouldn’t do to have people notice that Gaius was missing - nor could Merlin’s “cousin” make the rounds that were normally Gaius’. But Merlin would attract no attention at all, as he helped the physician on a regular basis. “Good thinking.”
Merlin was just about to sit back down to the table and continue his search for a suitable counterspell when there were footsteps in the hallway. Seconds later, Arthur pushed open the door.
“Merlin, you know, it’s rude to slip out like that. People might think you don’t actually respect me,” he said, his voice clearly carrying a high-and-mighty tone befitting a prince as he strode into the room. Merlin all but glared at the prince, wishing he could tell him that it was equally rude to just stride into rooms whenever he pleased, but he was the prince and Merlin grudgingly had to admit that it probably came with the territory.
Instead he mumbled something that might have been, “Sorry, my lord,” and watched as Arthur looked around the room, his eyes falling upon Gaius, who’d quickly stepped back from the workbench and hunched over the fire.
“Ah, Gavin - it’s actually you I came to see,” Arthur said; the young man turned around, his face the picture of a peasant who’d never expected to raise the interest of the crown prince.
“Me, my lord? But surely…”
“Yes, you,” Arthur said, and his voice had actually dropped a bit, sounding kinder. Merlin didn’t like it one bit. “I would like to... speak with you.”
Gaius blinked, looking to Merlin uncertainly. “But…”
But Arthur was already striding toward him, taking him gently by the arm. “Nonsense, I’m the prince, and you know you can’t refuse me. I’m not as bad as Merlin here might have told you.”
Merlin scowled, but Gaius was actually allowing himself to be pulled toward the door. “But - sire -” Merlin began, his stomach suddenly dropping as he realized what Arthur might actually want Gavin - no, Gaius - for. “You can’t -”
“Now, Merlin, I’m not going to hurt him.” Arthur turned a winning smile upon the man beside him, who was doing a good job of looking a bit starstruck. “We only want to have a conversation, you see, and I promise I’ll return him in good health.”
“I’ll be all right, Merlin,” Gavin said, as Arthur lead him out the open door. “I’ll be back later.”
And then they were gone.
Merlin sat there, staring at the open door with something very much like dread in the pit of his stomach, though it was warring quite heavily with the slow-burning anger that was already there. He thought about getting up and following them, about making up some story about how Gavin had something to do, but…
But he was sure Arthur would have none of it, and so Merlin could only sit there and try not to imagine what he’d just let his mentor get dragged into, unknowingly. He felt restless and angry and wide-awake, and so Merlin tried to put his energy into his research. He began paging through the spellbook again, reading each page as carefully as he could and doing his absolute best to see the words on the pages instead of the horrible images trying to populate his mind.
It was some time before Merlin stopped, his hand shaking slightly. There, on the page - it was exactly what he was looking for! The words were buried within another spell, set to do something that hadn’t really been what Merlin was looking for, but as he read and reread the spell’s origin and meaning and explanation, he became more and more sure that this would do the trick. Yes, Merlin thought, this was what he had been looking for. Gnáthchoinníollacha a athbhunú. He wished it could restore more than just Gaius’ appearance - he wanted whatever uncomfortable feeling was still roiling about his gut to go away, and he wanted to stop being so angry at Arthur for having taken such an interest in “Gavin”.
Finally, he could stand it no longer. He had the solution and, he reasoned, if the images still floating about his mind were possibly correct at all, Gaius might very well need rescuing - he had no idea of what Arthur wanted of him. Merlin couldn’t stand the thought of Gaius actually submitting to something like that solely to cover up something that was, in the end, Merlin’s mistake. The entire situation was almost absurd - well, one more absurdity piled atop the mound he’d created already today, then.
But he could fix it now, and in doing so he hoped to be able to right more than one wrong with the same action. Merlin all but ran down the corridor, confident that he could act the part of the stupid manservant well enough to blunder “accidentally” into Arthur’s rooms. And so he did just that, knocking and then entering and stuttering something about, “I’m sorry, my lord, but I forgot that I -”
And then he stopped. The scene he was faced with was utterly unlike anything he could have imagined. Arthur was standing before the fire, his back to it and his arms crossed; Gaius leaned against the edge of the table, and he’d been talking to the prince in hushed tones. It was nothing like the terrible scene Merlin had been envisioning, and suddenly he wanted to back out the door again like he’d never been there. Maybe he’d just made a terrible mistake -
“Ah, Merlin,” Arthur said, his eyes flicking to Gaius and then over to his manservant. “Yes, was there something you forgot?”
“I…” Merlin began, thinking furiously. “I - yes, your boots, sire.” And he made for them, the nearest objects to him as they sat beside the door, scooping them into his arms. “I’d meant to mend that scratch in the left one, I didn’t want to leave it ‘till morning.”
It was the lamest excuse he’d ever come up with, but Arthur seemed unfazed. “Ah, yes. Good idea.” He turned to Gaius, smiling as though something secret had passed between them. “Gavin, I thank you for your help. But it’s getting late, and I don’t want to keep you all evening.” He stood aside, enough to let the young man push off from the table and come round it to the door. “Good night.”
Gaius bowed, keeping his eyes on the prince. “Yes, thank you. Good night, my lord.” Then he turned, and pulled Merlin out the door.
As soon as they were halfway down the hall, Merlin began to apologize. “I’m - I’m sorry, it’s just, I found what I was looking for and then I didn’t know what he might be doing to you and I just had to -”
But Gaius was chuckling; the laughter sounded exactly as it should, the same way it did when Gaius was not a young man, despite the way the timbre of his speaking voice had changed. “No, Merlin, it’s all right. We really were just about finished.”
They traveled the corridors in silence after that; Merlin’s face felt warm, and he still felt foolish, but part of him was secretly glad that Arthur hadn’t done anything worse than have a conversation with the young man Gaius had become. When they finally arrived in the physician’s chambers and had shut the door behind them, Gaius went over to his workbench and stood beside it, looking into the fire for a moment while Merlin dumped Arthur’s boots unceremoniously beside the door, thinking that now he really would have to mend that scratch before morning.
“You know, he was asking me about you,” Gaius said, and there was a funny lilt to his voice as he turned around to face his charge. It took a moment for Gaius’ words to register; Merlin blinked and frowned, turning to face the young man before him.
“What?”
Gaius shrugged. “He wanted to talk to me about you, that was all. Because he thought I was your relative, he thought I might have some… insights as to your behavior.”
Merlin’s stomach dropped. “My… my behavior?” Had Arthur caught on? Had Merlin been too careless with his magic? He stared at Gaius, knowing that he, of all people, would never give Merlin away; all the same, he hated more than anything else in the world the position in which Gaius’ knowledge of Merlin’s magic placed him. It wasn’t fair, to hold Gaius’ life in jeopardy the way his secret did.
“Don’t worry, Merlin - you know I would never tell him your secret.” But Gaius was smiling, a smile that said he knew more than he was letting on. Then he said, “So - you said you found the remedy I required?”
Merlin wasn’t sure if he should ask after Gaius’ conversation with Arthur any more, but he supposed he did owe it to Gaius to attend to his problems first. “Yes,” he said, and brought the physician over to see the page he’d marked in the spellbook. “Here, this is a counterspell designed to undo physical changes. I think it might be what we’re looking for.”
Gaius studied the page, bent over it and supporting his weight on the table with two strong, capable hands. Merlin looked at the curve of his back - not hunched at all, strong and sure - and wondered, again, if this was really what Gaius wanted.
But then the physician straightened, and there was a smile on his face. “Yes, I think this will do the trick.”
Merlin nodded. “Do you want me to try it now?”
“… In the morning,” Gaius said, and his smile turned a bit more wry. “I think that as long as this has happened, I’d like to wake up without my joints aching, just one last time.”
Merlin was forced to return his mentor’s smile, and nodded. He certainly couldn’t begrudge Gaius that. “In the morning, then.”
They spent the last few hours of the evening in companionable silence; Merlin mended Arthur’s boots the old-fashioned way while Gaius puttered about the room, cleaning and replacing stacks of books as though he were truly enjoying the freedom a younger body afforded him. Merlin watched him out of the corner of his eye and tried not to feel guilty about what he was going to do when the sun rose over Camelot the next day.
When Arthur came round the next morning, once more entering without so much as a decent knock, Gaius was measuring potions out at his workbench. He looked up at the prince as he entered, bowing his head slightly. “My lord.”
“Ah, Gaius. I take it the patient you were seeing yesterday has recovered?”
Gaius smiled. “Yes,” he said slowly, “he has, and fully.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” Arthur’s eyes fell upon the closed door to Merlin’s room. “Is he awake yet?”
Gaius shrugged, chuckling lowly. “He was earlier, my lord, but I fear he may have gone back to sleep.”
“Well,” Arthur said, and made his way purposefully across the room, “we can’t have that.”
Gaius smiled to himself, wondering if Arthur was going to put any of the information Gaius had given him the previous night to use. It had quickly become clear to him that the prince had only been interested in Merlin, and he’d brought “Gavin” to his rooms both with the hope of sparking Merlin’s jealousy and to somewhat discreetly discuss the subject of Gavin’s cousin’s interests when it came to trysts and the like. Gaius supposed he could have professed to know nothing, but he was rather sure Merlin wouldn’t mind all that much that he’d told Arthur that Merlin had always been the sort to be unsure and shy around girls; he claimed the family had long since suspected his interests might lean in a... different direction.
He had to admit, he’d never really considered Arthur the type to fall for men; but then, Arthur could be surprising sometimes. He supposed he could grant the boy this one small thing, considering the great number of things that were already expected of him, which would only be compounded when he became king. Especially because it was clear that Merlin felt at least somewhat the same way - Gaius might be old once more, but he’d never been blind.
“No,” Gaius said, and his smile was evident in his voice as he watched the prince take hold of Merlin’s door and fling it open, wondering just how long it was going to take Merlin to realize what Arthur had been trying to do last night, and just how well it had worked. “We can’t.”
[ Link to the original post here. ]
PG-ish; many thanks to hikariblue for her betaing and suggestions!
The Ravishes of Age (Or the Complete Reversal Thereof)
"... Explain to me again how this happened."
Merlin, who was paging frantically though the book of magic that Gaius had given him, didn't look up as he said, "I was just trying for fresh fruit."
"Fresh fruit. Merlin, what does that have to do with... this?"
Merlin glanced up, was met with a face that was so unfamiliar and yet so disturbingly familiar at the same time, right down to the one raised eyebrow and wryly incredulous expression, and looked back down again at the pages as he turned them. "Well, it involved reversing the effects of time..."
"And you didn't look to see whether it might affect things other than strawberries."
"I thought you might at least knock," Merlin said in his own defense, feeling stupid now rather than anything approaching triumphant.
"And I thought you had the good sense not to practice magic in the middle of the afternoon."
Merlin frowned. It really wasn't his fault, after all - Arthur had set him the task of finding a fresh bowl of strawberries; it was November, for heaven's sake, and where was Merlin to find a fresh strawberry in all of Camelot at this time of year? So he'd tried the next best thing - found the only strawberries he could, in a jar of preserves - and attempted to turn back the clock, magically speaking, until they were ripe and new for that prat of a prince to eat.
He hadn't counted on Gaius interrupting him and getting in the way just as he'd murmured, "Bheith ag cailleadh ama."
Now Gaius stepped behind him, his shadow falling over the page and a hand - Gaius' hand, though it didn't look like it at all anymore - pointed to a phrase on the page. "Here. You should have used 'plandaí óga' in the spell - Merlin, you've got to be specific." The hand disappeared. "Otherwise things like this happen."
This indeed, Merlin thought, and looked up at his mentor again, as though fully facing the problem for the first time.
Merlin had turned Gaius twenty-three. Twenty-three, skinny and pale, with a thatch of brown hair a few shades lighter than Merlin’s. Long, gangly limbs, but still that exact same expression on his face, still his mentor and yet at the same time, so very not.
“Well, are you going to do something about it, then?”
“Right! Sorry.” And Merlin went back to the book, looking frantically for some sort of counterspell or magical reversal that he could apply. “I’m looking.”
“Well, look faster, please. You’re lucky no one is currently in need of my services, or -”
Just then, the door swung open. “Merlin, are you still in here, where are my -” Arthur stopped a few steps into the room, looking from his manservant, who had just slammed an old text on top of the one he was already reading with a suspiciously guilty sort of look on his face, to the young man standing beside him, his expression oddly familiar even though Arthur was quite sure he’d never seen him before in his life.
“Who’s this, then?” he asked, gesturing toward the new fellow, swaggering a little further into the room. “And why are you here reading books when I specifically asked -”
“He’s my - my cousin,” Merlin said quickly, and exchanged a glance with his friend - well, relative, then.
“Hm.” Arthur studied the new boy, all long limbs and pale skin and dark hair, and thought that yes, maybe that was where the hint of familiarity had come from. He was related to Merlin, then; there was a passing resemblance, he supposed, looking closer. “Has he got a name, then?”
“My lord, I’m Ga-”
“Gavin!” Merlin burst out, a bit more loudly than was really called for. “His name’s Gavin.”
Arthur raised an eyebrow; Gavin did as well. Merlin sounded as though he was telling Gavin this information as much as he was telling Arthur. Did the idiocy of his manservant truly know no bounds? Arthur hoped it wasn’t hereditary.
“… Gavin. Right. My lord,” the boy said, watching Arthur carefully through his dark bangs. “I’m only visiting for a few days.”
“Right.” Arthur turned back to his manservant. “Well, seeing as you’ve got… family visiting, I suppose you can forego the strawberries, and you can polish my armor in the morning.” He sighed. “But I expect you to be at the feast tonight to attend me.”
“Yes, my lord,” Merlin mumbled, looking more at the book-atop-a-book that he was reading than Arthur.
“Good.” Arthur looked around, as though he had just noticed something amiss. “And where’s Gaius? Isn’t he usually here this time of day?”
“He’s -“
“Treating a patient,” Gavin said, interrupting Merlin. “He said it might be some time before he returned.”
“Oh.” Arthur shrugged. “Right then. Merlin, I’ll see you later. Six o’clock sharp, and look presentable this time, will you?” And with that, he left the room, shutting the door behind him.
The two young men in the room let out a collective sigh; Gaius had taken up that distinctive one-eyebrow-raised look and turned it upon Merlin once more. Merlin simply ducked his head and pushed Herbal Remedies off of the spellbook and resumed his looking without pause until Gaius spoke.
“I’m hungry,” Gaius announced, and went over to the pot of stew he’d had warming on the hearth. “Goodness, I’d forgotten what it was like to be this age - always hungry, I remember that now. How do you deal with it?”
Merlin couldn’t hide the small grin that crept to his lips at the tirade of an old man coming from the mouth of such a young one.
Gaius spooned stew into two bowls and brought them over to the table, setting one down in front of the book Merlin was paging through. “Can’t solve this on an empty stomach,” he said, and smiled at Merlin as he sat down across from him. “Eat something now; you won’t get the chance again until you’re through serving Arthur.”
Merlin nodded and put the book aside, taking up his own spoon as he watched his mentor’s too-young face while he ate. He looked down at his stew and began eating, but there was something much more pressing in his gut than the simple need for food.
“Gaius,” Merlin said, looking up at the physician worriedly, “what if I can’t undo this? What if you have to stay this way?”
“Hm?” His mentor lifted his spoon to his lips, taking a mouthful of stew and thinking while he swallowed it. His expression was hard to read, and not just because his face was suddenly unfamiliar. “Then I’d venture to say I’ll be the oldest man in recorded history, won’t I?”
Merlin wasn’t sure whether to laugh or lament. Gaius still had that odd look on his face, and it made Merlin’s stomach feel odd. “Gaius, I - ” He frowned, glancing at the table. “I’m sorry.”
“Merlin.” Gaius’ voice was much softer now, and when Merlin looked up again he could see that he was smiling, softly. “I have to admit, not everything about this is bad.” He gave the warlock a wry smile. “When you get to be my age, you’ll see what I mean. Having your body betray you slowly, day by day, isn’t something anyone looks forward to.”
Merlin swallowed and frowned again. He knew that aging was anything but kind. How could he return Gaius to an old man’s body, with all the knowledge that there was more time behind him than ahead? Did Gaius even really want to go back to being an old man? Merlin had just nearly doubled his lifespan, for all he knew - why go back to what he’d been before? It was a dilemma the likes of which Merlin had never faced before, and he didn’t like it. He felt like he was betraying his mentor - his friend - either way.
“Maybe I should stop looking for a solution, then,” he hazarded, watching Gaius’ face carefully.
Gaius sighed. “No. This isn’t right, and while I’m going to enjoy it while it lasts, the balance of the world has to be restored.” He looked at Merlin and smiled again, and while it was tinged with something a little like regret, it was also a genuine smile. “You know that, and I know that.”
Merlin nodded, swallowing another mouthful of stew. “Yes.”
But no solution had presented itself yet by the time Merlin had to scrub himself down and dress in his cleanest, least-patched clothes to attend Arthur that evening. It was uneventful for the most part, as such events usually were - simply a feast to celebrate a good hunting trip, and as Merlin didn’t get any of the spoils of the hunt, he didn’t care much. He let his mind wander, still thinking of possible solutions to his current magical dilemma as Arthur signaled to him for a refill.
“Merlin,” Arthur murmured, as Merlin came forward to fill his empty wine goblet, “that cousin of yours - Gavin. He’s not… betrothed or anything, is he?”
Merlin nearly dropped the pitcher. “What?” he asked, trying to keep his voice down, though Uther turned and stared at him for a moment while he bowed his head. A number of reasons filled his head as to why Arthur might ask such a question, but absolutely none of them made sense. “What?” he tried again, voice lower this time, while Arthur smiled in that way that always frightened Merlin when he did it. “Why do you ask?”
“Oh, well,” Arthur drawled, and picked up his goblet for a sip, “I just thought he was rather handsome, is all. A bit like you, I suppose, but less… homely, I think. And hopefully less stupid.” A sly smile formed on his lips, hidden from the rest of the room by the wine goblet poised before his mouth. “Perhaps he’d like something to remember his visit by.”
Merlin bristled visibly, standing straight up as though he’d been prodded with a needle. “I don’t think so, my lord,” was all he said, rather tightly, and quickly retreated into the alcove behind the throne until he was needed again. He was seething by the time he got to his previous position in the shadows, and he didn’t even know why. Partly, he told himself, it was because this was Gaius, and there was no way anything that Arthur had just insinuated could possibly go well. But partly, he was forced to admit, it was because the thought of Arthur suddenly so interested in a young man as to ask after his company like that was just… it was just…
It was infuriating, was what it was, and so Merlin stood his ground for as long as he could; but eventually it became clear that the feast was winding down and Arthur would probably not require his services for the rest of the evening. And so Merlin slipped out, striding back toward Gaius’ chambers with too many unpleasant thoughts swirling about his mind.
When he arrived, Gaius was busy at his workbench. “Ah, Merlin,” he said, looking up as his charge all-but-stormed into the room. He frowned. “Is something wrong?”
Merlin considered telling Gaius for a moment - but no, it was stupid, and Arthur was stupid, but he wasn’t that stupid, was he? He would stay away… He shook his head, letting out a breath. “No, I’m fine.” He looked at the table, full of glasses and vials of liquid. Had Gaius found a solution in his absence? “What are you doing?”
“Well,” Gaius said wryly, “I may look different, but my mind hasn’t changed at all. And neither has my job. If I’m still… unwell in the morning, you’re going to have to make my rounds for me.”
“Ah,” Merlin said, and nodded. Of course - that made sense. It wouldn’t do to have people notice that Gaius was missing - nor could Merlin’s “cousin” make the rounds that were normally Gaius’. But Merlin would attract no attention at all, as he helped the physician on a regular basis. “Good thinking.”
Merlin was just about to sit back down to the table and continue his search for a suitable counterspell when there were footsteps in the hallway. Seconds later, Arthur pushed open the door.
“Merlin, you know, it’s rude to slip out like that. People might think you don’t actually respect me,” he said, his voice clearly carrying a high-and-mighty tone befitting a prince as he strode into the room. Merlin all but glared at the prince, wishing he could tell him that it was equally rude to just stride into rooms whenever he pleased, but he was the prince and Merlin grudgingly had to admit that it probably came with the territory.
Instead he mumbled something that might have been, “Sorry, my lord,” and watched as Arthur looked around the room, his eyes falling upon Gaius, who’d quickly stepped back from the workbench and hunched over the fire.
“Ah, Gavin - it’s actually you I came to see,” Arthur said; the young man turned around, his face the picture of a peasant who’d never expected to raise the interest of the crown prince.
“Me, my lord? But surely…”
“Yes, you,” Arthur said, and his voice had actually dropped a bit, sounding kinder. Merlin didn’t like it one bit. “I would like to... speak with you.”
Gaius blinked, looking to Merlin uncertainly. “But…”
But Arthur was already striding toward him, taking him gently by the arm. “Nonsense, I’m the prince, and you know you can’t refuse me. I’m not as bad as Merlin here might have told you.”
Merlin scowled, but Gaius was actually allowing himself to be pulled toward the door. “But - sire -” Merlin began, his stomach suddenly dropping as he realized what Arthur might actually want Gavin - no, Gaius - for. “You can’t -”
“Now, Merlin, I’m not going to hurt him.” Arthur turned a winning smile upon the man beside him, who was doing a good job of looking a bit starstruck. “We only want to have a conversation, you see, and I promise I’ll return him in good health.”
“I’ll be all right, Merlin,” Gavin said, as Arthur lead him out the open door. “I’ll be back later.”
And then they were gone.
Merlin sat there, staring at the open door with something very much like dread in the pit of his stomach, though it was warring quite heavily with the slow-burning anger that was already there. He thought about getting up and following them, about making up some story about how Gavin had something to do, but…
But he was sure Arthur would have none of it, and so Merlin could only sit there and try not to imagine what he’d just let his mentor get dragged into, unknowingly. He felt restless and angry and wide-awake, and so Merlin tried to put his energy into his research. He began paging through the spellbook again, reading each page as carefully as he could and doing his absolute best to see the words on the pages instead of the horrible images trying to populate his mind.
It was some time before Merlin stopped, his hand shaking slightly. There, on the page - it was exactly what he was looking for! The words were buried within another spell, set to do something that hadn’t really been what Merlin was looking for, but as he read and reread the spell’s origin and meaning and explanation, he became more and more sure that this would do the trick. Yes, Merlin thought, this was what he had been looking for. Gnáthchoinníollacha a athbhunú. He wished it could restore more than just Gaius’ appearance - he wanted whatever uncomfortable feeling was still roiling about his gut to go away, and he wanted to stop being so angry at Arthur for having taken such an interest in “Gavin”.
Finally, he could stand it no longer. He had the solution and, he reasoned, if the images still floating about his mind were possibly correct at all, Gaius might very well need rescuing - he had no idea of what Arthur wanted of him. Merlin couldn’t stand the thought of Gaius actually submitting to something like that solely to cover up something that was, in the end, Merlin’s mistake. The entire situation was almost absurd - well, one more absurdity piled atop the mound he’d created already today, then.
But he could fix it now, and in doing so he hoped to be able to right more than one wrong with the same action. Merlin all but ran down the corridor, confident that he could act the part of the stupid manservant well enough to blunder “accidentally” into Arthur’s rooms. And so he did just that, knocking and then entering and stuttering something about, “I’m sorry, my lord, but I forgot that I -”
And then he stopped. The scene he was faced with was utterly unlike anything he could have imagined. Arthur was standing before the fire, his back to it and his arms crossed; Gaius leaned against the edge of the table, and he’d been talking to the prince in hushed tones. It was nothing like the terrible scene Merlin had been envisioning, and suddenly he wanted to back out the door again like he’d never been there. Maybe he’d just made a terrible mistake -
“Ah, Merlin,” Arthur said, his eyes flicking to Gaius and then over to his manservant. “Yes, was there something you forgot?”
“I…” Merlin began, thinking furiously. “I - yes, your boots, sire.” And he made for them, the nearest objects to him as they sat beside the door, scooping them into his arms. “I’d meant to mend that scratch in the left one, I didn’t want to leave it ‘till morning.”
It was the lamest excuse he’d ever come up with, but Arthur seemed unfazed. “Ah, yes. Good idea.” He turned to Gaius, smiling as though something secret had passed between them. “Gavin, I thank you for your help. But it’s getting late, and I don’t want to keep you all evening.” He stood aside, enough to let the young man push off from the table and come round it to the door. “Good night.”
Gaius bowed, keeping his eyes on the prince. “Yes, thank you. Good night, my lord.” Then he turned, and pulled Merlin out the door.
As soon as they were halfway down the hall, Merlin began to apologize. “I’m - I’m sorry, it’s just, I found what I was looking for and then I didn’t know what he might be doing to you and I just had to -”
But Gaius was chuckling; the laughter sounded exactly as it should, the same way it did when Gaius was not a young man, despite the way the timbre of his speaking voice had changed. “No, Merlin, it’s all right. We really were just about finished.”
They traveled the corridors in silence after that; Merlin’s face felt warm, and he still felt foolish, but part of him was secretly glad that Arthur hadn’t done anything worse than have a conversation with the young man Gaius had become. When they finally arrived in the physician’s chambers and had shut the door behind them, Gaius went over to his workbench and stood beside it, looking into the fire for a moment while Merlin dumped Arthur’s boots unceremoniously beside the door, thinking that now he really would have to mend that scratch before morning.
“You know, he was asking me about you,” Gaius said, and there was a funny lilt to his voice as he turned around to face his charge. It took a moment for Gaius’ words to register; Merlin blinked and frowned, turning to face the young man before him.
“What?”
Gaius shrugged. “He wanted to talk to me about you, that was all. Because he thought I was your relative, he thought I might have some… insights as to your behavior.”
Merlin’s stomach dropped. “My… my behavior?” Had Arthur caught on? Had Merlin been too careless with his magic? He stared at Gaius, knowing that he, of all people, would never give Merlin away; all the same, he hated more than anything else in the world the position in which Gaius’ knowledge of Merlin’s magic placed him. It wasn’t fair, to hold Gaius’ life in jeopardy the way his secret did.
“Don’t worry, Merlin - you know I would never tell him your secret.” But Gaius was smiling, a smile that said he knew more than he was letting on. Then he said, “So - you said you found the remedy I required?”
Merlin wasn’t sure if he should ask after Gaius’ conversation with Arthur any more, but he supposed he did owe it to Gaius to attend to his problems first. “Yes,” he said, and brought the physician over to see the page he’d marked in the spellbook. “Here, this is a counterspell designed to undo physical changes. I think it might be what we’re looking for.”
Gaius studied the page, bent over it and supporting his weight on the table with two strong, capable hands. Merlin looked at the curve of his back - not hunched at all, strong and sure - and wondered, again, if this was really what Gaius wanted.
But then the physician straightened, and there was a smile on his face. “Yes, I think this will do the trick.”
Merlin nodded. “Do you want me to try it now?”
“… In the morning,” Gaius said, and his smile turned a bit more wry. “I think that as long as this has happened, I’d like to wake up without my joints aching, just one last time.”
Merlin was forced to return his mentor’s smile, and nodded. He certainly couldn’t begrudge Gaius that. “In the morning, then.”
They spent the last few hours of the evening in companionable silence; Merlin mended Arthur’s boots the old-fashioned way while Gaius puttered about the room, cleaning and replacing stacks of books as though he were truly enjoying the freedom a younger body afforded him. Merlin watched him out of the corner of his eye and tried not to feel guilty about what he was going to do when the sun rose over Camelot the next day.
When Arthur came round the next morning, once more entering without so much as a decent knock, Gaius was measuring potions out at his workbench. He looked up at the prince as he entered, bowing his head slightly. “My lord.”
“Ah, Gaius. I take it the patient you were seeing yesterday has recovered?”
Gaius smiled. “Yes,” he said slowly, “he has, and fully.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” Arthur’s eyes fell upon the closed door to Merlin’s room. “Is he awake yet?”
Gaius shrugged, chuckling lowly. “He was earlier, my lord, but I fear he may have gone back to sleep.”
“Well,” Arthur said, and made his way purposefully across the room, “we can’t have that.”
Gaius smiled to himself, wondering if Arthur was going to put any of the information Gaius had given him the previous night to use. It had quickly become clear to him that the prince had only been interested in Merlin, and he’d brought “Gavin” to his rooms both with the hope of sparking Merlin’s jealousy and to somewhat discreetly discuss the subject of Gavin’s cousin’s interests when it came to trysts and the like. Gaius supposed he could have professed to know nothing, but he was rather sure Merlin wouldn’t mind all that much that he’d told Arthur that Merlin had always been the sort to be unsure and shy around girls; he claimed the family had long since suspected his interests might lean in a... different direction.
He had to admit, he’d never really considered Arthur the type to fall for men; but then, Arthur could be surprising sometimes. He supposed he could grant the boy this one small thing, considering the great number of things that were already expected of him, which would only be compounded when he became king. Especially because it was clear that Merlin felt at least somewhat the same way - Gaius might be old once more, but he’d never been blind.
“No,” Gaius said, and his smile was evident in his voice as he watched the prince take hold of Merlin’s door and fling it open, wondering just how long it was going to take Merlin to realize what Arthur had been trying to do last night, and just how well it had worked. “We can’t.”
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