In Search of Remembrance ~ Part 3a ~ Destiny Unlooked For

[gfeather]

Destiny Unlooked For

Merlin sat slumped on the stool next to his small table, staring at the flickering candle flame, for once not doing anything to make it dance and sway in unnatural ways. He was going to have to leave Camelot. That seemed to be the only solution to his problem. Three days, and he had come closer to exposing his magic than he had in his entire lifetime in Ealdor. He couldn’t imagine going back to his mother and telling her he had failed. He couldn’t continue to bring her danger, just by his presence, either. Perhaps if he travelled far enough, he’d find a place where magic was accepted. Maybe there were druids somewhere who would take him in. Maybe some place far away...

His thoughts were interrupted by Gaius coming into his room. The old physician was smiling. “It seems you’re a hero.”

“I’m an idiot.”

“No, you’re just too kind hearted for your own good. I knew that from the moment I met you.”

“I used magic, Gaius, in front of all those people.”

Gaius nodded. “You did, but in a way no one noticed. You did a very good thing tonight, Merlin. Perhaps you’ve found a use for your magic.”

“What do you mean?”

“You saved Arthur’s life. Perhaps that’s its purpose. Perhaps that’s the reason it reacts so strongly to his presence.”

“My destiny...” he said sceptically.

“So it would seem,” Gaius said and moved to sit on the edge of the bed, holding a package wrapped in red cloth in front of him. “I have something that belongs to you, Merlin.”

“What is it?” Merlin asked.

Carefully, Gaius pulled back the fabric to reveal an old book, bound in red leather with tarnished metal clasps. “This book was given to me almost twenty years ago. I was told a young man would come seeking help and that this book belonged to him.”

“Twenty years ago?” he asked, accepting the book and tracing his fingers over the worn leather cover. “I wasn’t even born yet.”

“I know. I wasn’t sure at first, but now I’m certain it’s for you. I hope it will help you in ways I cannot.”

Merlin unlatched the clasps and let the book fall open in his hands. The pages were filled with notes and pictures and scraps of paper were tucked in here and there with quickly scribbled words. It would likely take him a long time to read any of it, but even at first glance the subject matter was obvious. “It’s a book of magic.”

“You must keep it hidden,” Gaius said in gentle warning.

He looked up with a smile on his face, which broadened when he saw it echoed on Gaius’. “I’ll study every word. You’ll help me if I have trouble with the reading?”

Gaius nodded. “I promised I would.”

There came a knock on the door to the outside chamber and a voice called, “Merlin, Prince Arthur has sent for you right away.”

“What am I going to do?” he hissed softly.

“It sounds like destiny is calling. You’d best go find out what he wants.”

“How am I supposed to keep my magic secret?”

“It’s obvious to me now that keeping the two of you apart would be next to impossible. Perhaps being close to the prince is what your magic wants. Try working with it, instead of against it.”

“Merlin?” the voice called again.

“Just a moment, I’m coming,” he called back.

Merlin carefully closed the book and wrapped it up in the fabric again. For lack of a better hiding place, he stuffed it under his pillow. Gaius smiled, but Merlin gave him an uncertain look. “Wish me luck. I’ll need it if I’m going to make it to the end of the week alive.”


Arthur stood at the window of his room, overlooking the courtyard frowning. Merlin could already feel the prickle of magic dancing on his skin and was incredibly nervous. The man who had escorted him to the prince’s rooms made a short bow and exited the room, leaving Merlin alone with the prince.

They stood in silence for a long time, before Arthur spoke, "I do not approve of my father's decision."

"Neither do I," Merlin agreed.

"I didn't ask for your opinion on the matter. Don't you know that servants are to be respectful and largely silent?"

"I've never been a servant. I wouldn't know."

"I can tell you don't know much,” Arthur said snidely. “You will be responsible for the running of my chambers as well as attending me throughout the day. I take breakfast in my rooms at first bell in the morning. I expect it to be here on time. Generally, I join the king at council in the morning. While I am occupied with that, you are to clean my room, change the linens, and attend to the laundry and any other tasks that require your attention within my chambers. On most days, I take the midday meal with my father and Lady Morgana in one of the smaller halls. You will attend me at the meals there.

“In the afternoons I will be either training with the knights or on patrol in the lower town or surrounding villages. As there are plenty of competent squires amongst our number, I am not likely to have need of your dubious services at that time. If there are no jobs requiring your attention, you will be at liberty until after training or patrol is finished. When I return, I expect a bath to be waiting for me. Where I take the evening meal depends on events within the castle. You will be kept advised as to where you will be needed to serve. After supper, my armour will need to be cleaned and polished and my swords and knives sharpened. Once these tasks are complete, you will be free for the day, unless otherwise instructed. Is that clear?"

"Hold on, I don't even know how to do most of those things. I've never cleaned armour before."

"I suggest you spend tomorrow afternoon in the armoury figuring it out. One of the squires can teach you. Ignorance is no excuse for incompetence. That goes for everything else as well. Understood?"

"Yes sire," Merlin said condescendingly.

Arthur turned his head sharply and glared. "You will watch your tone, Merlin."

"Yes sire," Merlin said, a touch more respectfully.

"You are dismissed. Remember, breakfast at first bell. Do not be late."

Merlin glared, but said nothing as he turned and strode from the room.


He couldn't do this. The day had barely started and he was already making a mess of things. Merlin had thought he wasn't doing too badly when he arrived in Arthur's chambers just as the morning bells finished striking. Navigating the kitchens had been an overwhelming experience, but he managed catch the attention of a harried looking kitchen maid who had helped him put together a tray of breakfast. He had even managed not to get turned around in the labyrinth of corridors leading to the royal chambers, nor had he tripped and spilled the whole lot on the way there. He was feeling rather pleased with himself when he set the tray on the table. Arthur, however, was less impressed.

"What is this?"

"Breakfast," Merlin responded, guilelessly.

"Is this your idea of a joke?"

Merlin was genuinely confused. "What do you mean?"

Arthur took the spoon and scooped up some porridge, letting it slop back into the bowl wetly. "You may think you're being amusing, but I don't have patience for this, especially not in the morning."

“I honestly don’t know what the problem is. You asked for breakfast in your rooms by morning bell, this looks very much like breakfast to me.”

“Exactly,” Arthur said, cuffing Merlin on the back of the head, “it looks like breakfast for you, but I’ve never been served a breakfast that looked like this.”

“What’s wrong with it?”

“You bring me runny porridge and rye bread with no butter and you have the gall to ask what’s wrong with it!?”

“It’s what the kitchens gave me. How was I supposed to know you wanted something special?”

Arthur let out a very put upon sigh. “What, exactly, did you ask the kitchens for?”

“I said I was there to get a tray for breakfast.”

“And it didn’t occur to you to specify who it was for?”

As his irritation grew, Merlin felt the hum of his magic rise as well. The increased intensity of the sensation that being near Arthur brought was easier to deal with this morning than it had been the first time, but strong emotions had always affected his magic and the calm he had been clinging too was slipping away like sand through his fingers.

“This may come as a surprise to you, your highness, but I’ve no idea what I’m doing here,” Merlin said in clipped tones. “I’m not a mind reader. I didn’t grow up in this castle. I’ve not been here a week. How am I supposed to know I’m making a mistake when I don’t know there’s a mistake to be made?”

“Ignorance is not an excuse,” Arthur snapped.

Merlin snapped right back. “Well then sack me and get it over with.”

“I can’t,” Arthur said through gritted teeth.

“Why not?” Merlin asked. “I know you want to.”

“Because my father, who just so happens to be the king, thinks this is a good idea. He won’t let me sack you, at least not until you’ve done something publicly unforgivable, which shouldn’t take too long.”

Merlin glared at the tray with a bowl of steaming hot, milky porridge and two thick slices of fresh bread. It looked better than most of the breakfasts he had eaten in Ealdor and definitely better than anything Gaius was likely to serve him. Drawing a deep breath through this nose, Merlin released it slowly and tried to calm down. If his magic would only settle down a bit, dealing with Prince Prat would be a whole lot simpler.

When he spoke, his voice was even and respectful, mostly. “I’ll return this to the kitchens then. What would you like me to bring you instead? I have no idea what princes eat for breakfast.”

“Don’t bother. By the time you get back, I’ll be expected in council. I’ll send someone capable to bring me something there. Do make sure to ask someone for pointers if taking care of the laundry proves too confusing for you,” Arthur said nastily and stormed out of the room.

Merlin winced as the door slammed shut and slumped into a chair at the table. As bad as it was trying to control his magic around the prince, the void that was left behind when Arthur walked away was worse. If the dressing down hadn’t been enough to make him feel terrible, the drained feeling that weighed heavily in his limbs certainly was. There was an ache in the pit of his stomach, like he had been punched, and for a few minutes all he could do was stare at the small wisps of steam rising in the cool morning air.

It must have taken him longer than he realized to summon the energy to move; because word of his mistake had already spread by the time he exited the prince’s chambers to return the tray of uneaten breakfast to the kitchen. Gwen was hurrying down the corridor towards him, and an expression usually reserved for injured song birds and baby lambs filled her eyes when she caught sight of him.

“Oh Merlin, I was with Lady Morgana when I heard,” she said sympathetically.

Merlin furrowed his brow. “Heard?”

“About the thing with breakfast. Arthur was ranting about it to Sir Leon on the way to council. I think Morgana is going to tear a strip off him for you. She sent me to give you a hand. She’s thoughtful like that.”

“Oh,” said Merlin, “Thanks. I’ll just get this back to the kitchen.”

“Did you get breakfast yourself?”

He shook his head. “I was too worried about being late.”

“Well, there’s no use in letting that go to waste, and you are entitled to two meals a day from the kitchens,” Gwen told him. “Once you’ve eaten, I’ll show you all the secrets of getting things done around the castle.”

“Let’s see if you can turn me into a proper servant,” Merlin said and followed her back into Arthur’s rooms.

She smiled sweetly and shook her head. “Don’t let him get you down, Merlin. Of course you’re going to make mistakes. It’s not like you grew up around the castle or in some nobleman’s household. He’s being completely unreasonable.”

“Ignorance is no excuse,” Merlin said, doing a fair impression of Arthur’s angry tones as he sat once more at the heavy wooden table by the fireplace.

“Oh dear, did he say that?”

Merlin nodded and poked at his food grumpily. It was good, but he wasn’t in the mood to enjoy it much.

“That was uncalled for,” said Gwen. “Not out of character, mind you, but uncalled for all the same. It’s good you stand up to him, Merlin. I don’t suppose it’s easy, but it is really admirable. You don’t know how many of the serving staff he’s had a go at, knowing they wouldn’t dare talk back to him.”

“It was easy when I had no idea he was a prince,” Merlin muttered.

Gwen looked at him in surprise. “You had to know he was someone important when you confronted him the first time. I mean, he was obviously a knight, with swords and knives and armour and all.”

He shrugged. “I’ve not seen many knights. I wouldn’t know what they look like.”

“Don’t the knights patrol the villages?” she asked, while starting to gather clothing into a basket and making small tutting sounds as she picked up items discarded on the floor. “You must have seen them from time to time.”

“I’m not from Camelot,” Merlin explained. “Ealdor is in Cenred’s kingdom, not that you’d know it. We’ve been pretty much ignored. No knights have come through on patrol in years and even the tax collectors don’t make it every harvest. Not sure why we’re expected to pay taxes, anyway. It’s not like we get any protection for it.”

Gwen dropped the rumpled shirt she was holding in shock. “Really? But that’s awful! I can’t say I like everything about the way Camelot is ruled, but Uther generally looks after the villages. I know there are regular patrols going out all the time, though I suppose I don’t really know if there are places that get missed.”

“Ealdor isn’t very prosperous. It must not be worth it to Cenred. Besides, sometimes being ignored is a good thing. We pretty much do things how we want there. We plant the crops that grow best and look after our own. It’s not great, but we haven’t had too many difficulties with bandits in the last few years so it could be a lot worse.”

“I guess I’ve been lucky to have always had the protection of Camelot’s knights.”

Merlin gave her a weak smile that could be interpreted as agreement and set down his spoon. “I feel terrible, sitting here and letting you do all the work. What should I be doing?”

Gwen’s shocked expression faded, and she handed him the basket filled with dirty clothes. “We’ll take care of the laundry first. You want to get there early. The kitchen is always busy and it doesn’t really matter when you bring the dishes in, but you shouldn’t wait on the laundry. There’s always a rush about mid-morning and you don’t want your items to get confused with anyone else’s. It also saves a trip if you pick up the linens while you’re down there.”


By the time Gwen loaded his arms with a heavy serving tray for the midday meal, Merlin was thoroughly overwhelmed, but had a much better idea of what was expected of him as a manservant. Granted, being Arthur’s manservant was bound to be more difficult, but at least he knew more or less what could and couldn’t be asked of him and which tasks he could delegate when it came to running the prince’s chambers. Gwen had kept up a steady patter of tips to get things done more easily, protocol for attending formal audiences and meals and information about who was who within the castle. He’d be lucky if he remembered any of it by tomorrow morning, but her efforts had been greatly appreciated.

They were placing the serving dishes on the table when they heard voices coming from the corridor.

“Really Father, I don’t see why you are forcing the issue. I don’t want him for a servant any more than he wants to be one,” Arthur said in aggravation.

Uther spoke sternly. “You would do well not to disregard someone who would put themselves in danger for you. That has value, even in a servant.”

“But he’s not a servant, he’s a village boy. He is completely clueless,” Arthur responded with a definite whine in his tone.

“And you’ve done so much to let him know what you expect,” said Morgana in her snidest voice. “You can’t get angry at him for something as silly as bringing you the wrong breakfast if you’ve not told him what your idea of breakfast is. Really, Arthur, has it never occurred to you that we have privileges others do not? It’s not like eating porridge for one day would kill you.”

“I don’t see you volunteering to eat that slop,” Arthur countered.

Morgana’s voice was calm but scathing. “Before I came to court, my life was much less extravagant than it is now. I appreciate the finer things in life far more for having known their lack. A bit of simple living would do you good. Perhaps then you would get your head out of your-”

“-That is enough, both of you,” Uther said, cutting off the sniping. “Arthur, it is your responsibility to ensure he has the knowledge he needs to do his job.”

“Father-”

“-I will not hear another word on the subject. If you are entertaining the notion of someday being king, then you will need to learn to utilize the resources at your disposal, as well as interact with people you do not care for. Consider this a lesson in leadership, one I will be watching closely.”

“Yes, Sire,” said Arthur grudgingly.

Gwen caught his eye and smiled, but Merlin couldn’t find it in him to return it. Beneath the rushing buzz of his magic once again reacting to Arthur’s proximity, he felt a heavy sense of resignation. Clearly there would be no reprieve from the king. It was very nice of Lady Morgana to speak in his defence, but he was stuck as the prat’s servant, and apparently had become some sort of test for Arthur. That was just what he needed, the scrutiny of Uther Pendragon, executer of sorcerers. Merlin carefully filled the goblets with wine, doing his best not to spill, and stepped back to stand against the wall beside Gwen as the king, his son and his ward entered the room and sat down in stormy silence.


Merlin had thought he might need to revise his life expectancy from the end of the week to sunset tomorrow, but at the end of the day, Merlin was forced to admit to himself, and only to himself, that perhaps the king’s scrutiny wasn’t an entirely terrible thing. Arthur had been forced to accept his father’s final decision about sacking his new manservant and was forced to put some effort, or at least be seen to be putting some effort, into making the situation work.

Merlin had fumbled his way through serving the midday meal with Gwen without so much as a raised voice when he missed the cues she had been coaching him to notice. From there, he had been shown to the armoury where Gavin, Sir Ewan’s squire, very patiently showed him how to polish chainmail, remove dents from plate armour and sharpen blades. Gavin was actually friendly towards Merlin and chatted amiably with him while they worked, occasionally making a gently teasing comment about the fight in the market street. Apparently, his run in with Arthur was the best piece of gossip the lower town had had in a long while. According to Gavin, even the knights were amused by the story and most privately thought the prince occasionally needed someone to put him in his place. Merlin didn’t really fancy being the one to do that, but it was nice that some of the knights also thought Arthur could be an ass.

After a couple hours of instruction, he felt fairly confident he would be able to deal with the prince’s armour that evening and he left the armoury before the training session was over. He needed enough time to draw a bath, though Merlin had decided that he was going to cheat a bit with the water. He needed to be seen drawing the water from the well, but he risked a small enchantment on the buckets to make them a bit lighter and help keep the water from spilling. He poured the cold water straight into the large tub he had dragged from the storage room at the end of the corridor and set up behind Arthur’s changing screen. It took a lot of trips, but when the bath was full, Merlin simply heated the water by magic.

Gwen had offered to help him with this chore when she showed him where the storage room was earlier, but he had waved her off. There wasn’t too much he could get wrong and he felt badly for adding to her workload so much already. A small part of him also felt a bit guilty for not wanting her there so he could use magic to make it easier, but he couldn’t bring himself to be bothered all that much. He had to find discreet outlets for his magic, especially now that he would be stuck spending time around the prince. It was risky, but if he was going to be forced to remain in this situation, he was determined to make it as easy on himself as possible.

Watching Gavin in the armoury had given him ideas about which tasks could be done more easily, and probably better than he would ever manage by hand. There might be spells in his magic book, but Merlin hadn’t had a chance to do more than glance through it. Still, if he could chop wood quickly and neatly with very little effort, controlling the whetstone by magic would be equally simple. Certainly caring for the rents and dents to the plate armour would be vastly easier with a bit of carefully applied magic. He had manipulated metal in broken pots plenty of times before.

Merlin felt the rise in his magic shortly before he heard the clink and swish of armour on chainmail indicating Arthur’s approach. He jumped up from the chair he had been sitting on and quickly tested the water to be certain he had gotten the temperature right.

Arthur startled a little upon entering his rooms to find Merlin stepping out from behind the privacy screen, but kept his face and voice carefully neutral. “Is my bath ready?”

“It’s all ready. I set the tub up behind the screen... Sire,” said Merlin, very nearly forgetting the title but managing to use it without sarcasm.

“Well that’s something,” said Arthur.

The prince removed his sword belt and set it down on the table before standing with his arms loosely at his sides and looking pointedly at Merlin. They stood looking at each other for a long moment.

“Any time now, Merlin,” Arthur said.

“Any time now what?” asked Merlin.

Arthur heaved a highly put upon sigh and visibly held back a scathing comment. “I require assistance with my armour.”

“Oh. Oh, right. Of course. Sorry,” said Merlin.

He set to work unfastening buckles that were well out of Arthur’s reach. It hadn’t even occurred to him that armour might be nearly impossible to put on or remove by oneself. Though Gavin had rattled through the basics of the standard pieces of armour, removing it from Arthur’s person was not particularly straightforward. Slowly, however, he managed to remove each item and place it carefully on the table beside the sword belt. To his credit, Arthur managed to keep his impatience to himself for the most part, only letting out small huffs when Merlin fumbled with a section of armour and failed to unbuckle all the fastenings. Merlin’s fingers brushed against the bare skin of Arthur’s neck, sending a shock of sensation through his entire body.

‘Stop grumbling about the state of my armour. You’ll have it fixed with a wave of your hand,’ a teasing voice said.

He gave a small laugh and plucked a leafy twig from where it had snagged in a joint. ‘You are getting a bit careless. Magic can’t fix everything you know.’

Merlin snatched his fingers back and shook his head to clear it. For a moment, the armour Arthur was wearing looked very different, but when Merlin blinked all was as it should be again. Arthur was standing quietly, if somewhat impatiently, waiting for him to finish removing the last piece, and there were no bits of leaves and twigs caught in any of the items lying on the table. He helped Arthur pull the heavy mail off, still shocked by just how heavy it was as he dropped it noisily onto the thick wooden tabletop.

For a moment, Merlin wondered if he was expected to help the prince remove the rest of his clothing, but Arthur stepped out of his reach and walked behind the privacy screen. Merlin heard a small splash of water and Arthur’s surprised grunt of approval.

“The bath is acceptable. At least you managed to get that right. You can take my armour with you to polish. I trust Gavin showed you what you need to do.”

“I think I got it.”

“You think... I very much doubt that. You will have it ready by tomorrow morning. I’ll be taking supper in my rooms tonight. Do make sure you inform the staff in the kitchens who you are serving. I expect something appropriate this time,” Arthur said, tossing his sweaty, red shirt over the top of the screen so it landed on the floor by Merlin’s feet.

Merlin frowned and bit his tongue to stop himself from saying what he was thinking. Instead he forced himself to politely say, “I’ll return shortly with supper.”

He gathered up the awkward and heavy armour and left the prince to his bath, grateful that he had, at least, gotten something right today.



In the next two weeks as Arthur’s manservant, Merlin slowly become accustomed to his new role in the castle. After word of his first ill fated trip to the kitchens had spread, all of the kitchen maids knew who he was. Alys, the girl who had prepared his tray that first morning had been profusely apologetic the next time she saw him. If he arrived early enough, she insisted upon giving him a proper meal and always snuck him something special, a dollop of honey to sweeten his porridge, an extra pat of butter for his bread, or even a few spoonfuls of the blackberry preserves he knew with certainty were not meant for the likes of him. He had tried to assure her he wasn’t upset about the mix up, but after a mouthful of the delicious preserves he made no effort to rebuff her kindness. Merlin wasn’t fond of being Arthur’s manservant, but if he had to put up with the prat, he was going to enjoy some of the perks.

Merlin licked carefully at the corners of his mouth to make sure any signs of his indulgence were gone before he gave a small knock on the prince’s door and let himself in. Although the first morning bell had only just finished ringing, Arthur was already out of bed and dressed for training.

Raising his eyebrows in surprise, Merlin offered a startled, “Good morning.”

“There you are. Come on. I’ve got better things to do than wait around for you,” Arthur said with impatience.

“Hey, I was at the top of the stairs when the morning bell rang. You can’t have been waiting more than ten seconds,” Merlin squawked indignantly.

He set the tray down on the table and arranged the plates in front of the large, comfortable chair Arthur favoured. He retrieved the jug of water from its place on the nightstand and poured the prince a full goblet, leaving the jug on the table. Arthur sat down to his meal, ignoring Merlin entirely. Merlin rolled his eyes and turned his attention on the rest of the room, collecting the clothing scattered about on the floor.

How Arthur managed to go through so many items of clothing in one day still baffled Merlin. He only had four shirts to his name, and even with his clumsiness, Merlin was usually able to wear the same shirt for more than one day, or he had been able to, until he started working for Arthur. The prince seemed to delight in assigning him the messiest chores possible. In the past two weeks he had cleaned the large fireplace twice getting covered in soot from head to toe both times, scrubbed the floors and ended up soaked in dirty wash water and polished all of Arthur’s boots which had left greasy black stains on his clothes that had only come out with the aid of magic. That didn’t even take into account the times he had mucked out the stables, which wasn’t even a part of his job. However, when Merlin had protested that there were stable boys to do that sort of thing, Arthur had threatened him with an afternoon in the stocks for his cheek and he had given up on fighting against it.

Merlin was about to leave the room with the basket of washing when Arthur stopped him.

“Get one of the chamber maids to take care of the bed today. I have other duties for you this morning. Take that down and hurry back with my armour.”

“Your armour? First thing in the morning? How come?”

Arthur heaved a put upon sigh. “I am certain I have informed you that it is not your place to question my instructions.”

“It’s just out of the ordinary, that’s all. I really don’t see how a bit of curiosity or attempting a conversation is disrespectful.”

“I have no desire to have a conversation with a servant.”

“Gwen says she and Lady Morgana talk all the time. It seems like a perfectly normal thing for two people who are around each other that much to do.”

“I am not Morgana.”

“No,” Merlin agreed and grinned cheekily. “She’s a lot nicer than you. Prettier too.”

“Merlin!”

“Right. I’ll just get this down to the laundry and bring you your armour, shall I?” Merlin said and slipped out the door quickly. Behind him he could hear the prince’s aggravated growl, and couldn’t help grinning. He’d likely pay for it later, but winding up Arthur was turning out to be quite entertaining.

Merlin should have known that a change in routine couldn’t possibly be a good thing. After he had fumbled his way through helping Arthur into his armour, Merlin found himself sent to the armoury for protection of his own. Apparently, Arthur had given up on finding an excuse to have him sacked, and was going for the option of killing him outright.

The armour Merlin found was heavily dented and didn’t fit well, but at least the helmet sat securely over his head.

“I thought you had squires for this sort of thing,” he said petulantly.

“I realize that you are rather dimwitted, but surely it hasn’t escaped your notice that I do not have a squire. In the absence of one, I am forced to make do with you. Now, shield up, sword ready!” Arthur barked.

The prince advanced on Merlin, sword swinging. Merlin flailed his arms around in an attempt to block the blows, but his foot slipped on the wet morning grass, and he was sent sprawling on his backside.

Arthur loomed over him, frowning. “Take me apart with less than one blow, you said. I’m still waiting to see that. Get up, Merlin!”

“If you’re trying to kill me, there are simpler ways of going about it, my lord,” he muttered getting stiffly to his feet.

“If I were trying to kill you, you’d be long dead. Ready?”

“No!” Merlin protested, but as anticipated the prince ignored him.

Arthur called out the different attacks, but Merlin wasn’t able to keep up. “Shield. Body. Body. Shield. Body. Head.”

Merlin’s ears rang and his vision blurred as the sword clanged loudly against his helmet. His magic was itching to break free and trip Arthur, or send the prince’s sword flying or enlarge his shield to ridiculous proportions or anything really that would even the odds, but Merlin held tight to his control with an iron will. Being in Arthur’s presence had become easier over the past two weeks, but it was still challenging to keep from moving things with his magic around the prince.

Merlin staggered around and raised his sword again, determined to get a hit of some kind on the smug git. He squawked loudly when the flat of Arthur’s sword smacked him across the backside.

“Come on. You’re not even trying.”

“Don’t you have knights to do this sort of thing with? I’d think they would offer you better practice than beating on me.”

Arthur stared at him open mouthed. “You aren’t really that thick, are you? Surely it hasn’t escaped your notice that there is a tournament tomorrow.”

“What?” Merlin asked.

“Knights from all over have been arriving in Camelot for the past week. There’s always a tournament in the spring, once the planting is finished and nobles can release their sons to Camelot for the summer.”

“How on earth would I know that? I’m not from Camelot. Remember?” Merlin snapped, dodging Arthur’s renewed offensive.

Arthur dealt him a heavy blow to the head, and Merlin fell backwards again, choosing this time to stay on the ground. When it became clear he wasn’t getting up on his own, Arthur offered a hand and pulled him to his feet. With the brief contact came another of the increasingly regular flashes of images and sensation that made him think he might be going mad.

A strong calloused hand pulled him to his feet. ‘Here, let me help. Are you alright? I didn’t see you.’

His heart leapt in his chest and his magic sang. ‘I’m not hurt. Sorry about the deer.’

He was given a rueful, but warm smile. ‘There’ll be others. You seem familiar. Have we met before?’

Arthur didn’t notice Merlin’s distraction and was shaking his head, incredulous. “You really do live in your own little world.”

“I could say the same of you,” he stated.

“Let me explain this to you. I’ll use small words so you should be able to follow me.”

“I’m not an idiot.”

“That’s a matter of opinion,” Arthur said flatly and ignored any further protests. “Tomorrow morning the tournament will begin and all the knights who have come will fight to be named champion. Are you following me?”

Merlin scowled, which Arthur seemed to take as a yes.

“As I will be competing against said knights, including those from the city’s garrison, we do not spar together the day before the competition.”

“And sparring with me is somehow useful to you?” Merlin asked his tone dubious.

Arthur shook his head. “Not really, but it is somewhat amusing. You are rubbish as a servant, but your one redeeming feature is that you are moderately entertaining on occasion.”

Merlin responded, his voice dripping with sarcasm, “I’m so glad I can be of service, Sire.”

“No you’re not, Merlin. However, as disrespectful and insubordinate as you are, at least you’re honest, which is more than I can say about every other manservant I’ve had.”

“So glad you approve.”

“You should be. Now, sword ready.”


Merlin wrestled with the awkward, dented bits of armour he had hoped would protect him from permanent damage while sparring with Arthur as he shuffled into Gaius’ rooms and dropped them at the end of the table with a clatter. He slumped heavily on the bench and looked mournfully at Gaius.

“Maybe I should just leave,” Merlin said.

Gaius glanced up at his words, looking at him sharply. “Did something happen?”

Merlin shook his head. He hadn’t said anything about his visions, so vivid and rich with sensation that they seemed like memories, to Gaius before. He had no idea what to make of them, but for all that he felt comfortable sharing his thoughts and concerns on magic with his mentor, some part of him balked at revealing this to Gaius. The moments he saw seemed too... private to be shared.

Instead of revealing what was truly bothering him, he tried to reassure Gaius. “Not in a highly dangerous, expose my magic way, no. I’m just sick and tired of being made to feel an idiot.”

“I thought things had been getting better between the two of you.”

“A very little bit, perhaps, but then there’s something else I have no clue about and it starts up again. How was I supposed to know there was a tournament starting tomorrow? Everyone just assumes I know these things, then berate me when they find out I don’t.”

Gaius raised an eyebrow. “Everyone?”

“Well, mostly Arthur, but you do it too. You expect me to be aware of things I’ve never had any reason to know about.”

“I am sorry, Merlin. I was far younger than you are now when I first began my apprenticeship and I have lived most of my life since in the rhythms and routines of the castle and town.”

“At least when you do it, I know you aren’t trying to make me feel stupid. Every time I think I’ve gotten a handle on the endless list of duties his Royal Bossiness has given me, there’s something else to add, and nothing I do is ever good enough,” he complained, wincing at the sharp stab of pain in his shoulder from one of the many blows he took.

Gaius noticed the grimace and moved to help examine the offending joint. While rotating the shoulder and pressing strong thumbs deeply into the sore muscle, Gaius said, “Arthur’s list of duties is most likely just as unending. He’s under a lot of pressure, especially with the tournament coming up.”

“I don’t see the point of the whole thing anyway. Why would fighters come from all over to bash each other around, possibly getting injured or even killed, for fun?”

“The tournament isn’t meant to be fun, Merlin. It’s an opportunity for knights to put their skills to the test under controlled conditions and it is a venue for Camelot to display its strength to other kingdoms. There is a good deal more at stake for the prince, as well.”

“Like what? He won the thing last year. It’s all I’ve heard about today.”

“And he’s under a lot of pressure to hold onto the title of champion. Uther expects a great deal of him, and if Arthur were to lose the tournament it would weaken his position at court.”

Merlin scoffed, “But he’s the king’s only son. Losing a tournament won’t change that.”

“Until his birthday this winter, Arthur must constantly prove himself. He is not officially crowned prince yet and until he becomes the direct successor to the king, his position is unstable. Technically, if Uther were to die tomorrow another noble would take the throne as regent until Arthur comes of age,” Gaius explained.

“But even if that were to happen, it would only be for a few months.”

“A few months is a lifetime in political intrigue, Merlin. A great deal could change very quickly, even in the most cautious and prepared kingdom. If Arthur is seen to be weak, it will damage his future.”

“So Arthur has to win,” Merlin stated.

Gaius nodded. “Arthur has to win, and your job is to make sure he has everything he needs to do so.”

“Well then,” he said, sighing heavily, “what do I need to know about tournament etiquette before tomorrow?”


Merlin had expected watching the tournament to be much the same as watching the knights fight practice duels on the training grounds, but he discovered quickly that those training sessions were a pale shadow of a tournament battle. He hadn't much cared for watching men hit each other with swords, but the tournament was actually quite exciting. The fighters pushed themselves far beyond what they might in practice and the crowd of spectators added a great deal to the air of excitement. People clapped and cheered loudly for their favourites and shouted and jeered with equal fervour at those they disliked. Just watching individuals in the crowd gasp and teeter on the edge of their seats was entertaining. When he focussed on the actual fighting, he could understand it. It was easy to get caught up watching the heated struggles in the arena.

Arthur had laughed at him when he had been caught watching with interest, but Merlin detected a note of amused pleasure as well at his interest in the match. The prince was testy and on edge as Merlin fumbled with the final adjustments to Arthur's armour, but only made a few scathing comments about his lack of skill.

"Are you nervous?" he asked.

Arthur's voice was tight. "I don't get nervous."

"If you say so. What do you think of your first opponent?"

"Sir Cadwogen is a worthy opponent."

"Have you fought him before?"

"He was a part of the tournament last year."

"Will he be difficult to beat?"

Arthur rolled his eyes and sighed in exasperation. "You don't have to pretend to be interested, Merlin. You do, however, have to finish the last adjustments before I am called in to fight. Focus on your job."

"I'm just trying to make conversation."

"And I distinctly remember informing you that I have no desire for conversation with a servant."

"If I were your squire, would you talk to me?"

"You're not my squire."

"But if I were."

"If you were, you would be a nobleman's son and I would no doubt be obliged to converse with you on occasion."

"Well, I'm doing the job of a squire-"

"-Quite badly-" Arthur interjected.

Merlin ignored the comment and blithely continued. "-So you could just pretend I am one. I'm just trying to make sense of all this tournament whatnot."

"And I am just trying to take the field. Have you finished with the straps or not?"

Merlin finished fiddling with the last buckle and tugged at the leather strap one last time to check that it was fastened securely. He had a moment’s impulse to secure it with magic, the command afaestne springing to mind, and hastily took a step back. He nearly tripped over the rack full of swords in his shock. Sure, he cheated on his chores with magic all the time, but what on earth had possessed him to think of using it on the prince moments before he entered the arena? Rather than becoming distracted by how a spell he had never used before had sprung to mind so readily, Merlin ruthlessly ignored it for the moment. Instead, he handed Arthur his helmet.

“There you are. All ready,” Merlin stated with what he hoped was a confident grin.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” asked Arthur scathingly.

“What’s that then?”

“My sword.”

Merlin flushed and pulled Arthur’s sword out of the rack, dropped it, nearly sliced his thumb off fumbling to pick it up again, and clumsily sheathed it in the scabbard. Arthur huffed in annoyance and frustration, then turned on his heel and stormed away, cape billowing out behind him.

Watching the figure of the prince disappear into the arena, Merlin let out a long, shuddering breath. The book of magic Gaius had given him was filled with countless spells and enchantments, but he had scarcely had time to open it. Reading was not something he found easy and the script of the author was often difficult to decipher. The words seemed antiquated and sounded foreign when he spoke them aloud, and on the whole learning from the book was far more difficult than he had anticipated. As a child, magic had come instinctually to him and he had never needed words to make it work, though it didn’t always do exactly what he wanted it to. The sudden knowledge of the word for a spell startled him, but somehow he knew that when he searched in the book hidden under the loose floorboard beside his bed he would find a spell to secure fastenings just as it was in his head at this very moment. As useful as a spell to keep the buckles of a spaulder from coming undone might be, he was not about to use magic on Prince Arthur of Camelot out in the open in the presence of several dozen heavily armed knights.

In an attempt to ward off the panic that had settled sickeningly into the pit of his stomach at what he had nearly done, Merlin walked towards the arena himself to watch Arthur in combat. Given the excitement of the earlier fights, it was sure to be thrilling to watch. He also hoped that maybe, if his magic was in any way sentient, he might scare the power that leapt to his fingertips without so much as a moment’s hesitation these days into submission. That might, however, be wishful thinking on his part.


Arthur won his first matches easily, or at least that’s what he had said to Merlin as he dropped his gloves onto the table in his tent and held his arms out to have his armour removed. As Merlin worked the fastenings free, several with great difficulty due to dents in the plate that made the buckles difficult to get at, he hummed in a way that might be interpreted as agreement.

“So, Merlin, what do you think of the tournament so far?”

“I thought you didn’t want to have conversations with me.”

“I am possessed of a modicum of curiosity, particularly where swordplay and combat is concerned.”

“You mean you want me to praise your skill at swinging a sword around.”

“Forget it. This is exactly why I don’t attempt to have conversations with you.”

“I don’t think I’m much of judge of skill, but it seemed like you were doing well out there today. Your second opponent already seemed a little worse for wear when he started, though. He had been injured in the first round, hadn’t he?”

“Yes. He won his first bout, but had a gash on his leg. I heard Gaius say something about needing stitches when he didn’t get up after the fight. Will Gaius be needing you for that?” Arthur asked.

Merlin shook his head as he laid the vambrace he had just removed next to the spaulder, couter, and rerebrace on the table and moved to help Arthur out of his mail shirt. “I doubt it. I’m more of a delivery boy to Gaius than an apprentice, it seems like. He probably also expects I’ll be busy attending you at the moment.”

“So you are,” Arthur stated.

The prince lifted his arms to assist in the removal of the mail, grunting a bit as his shoulder rotated. Merlin wondered if Arthur’s shoulder had been hurt from the blow that had dented the metal of the plate armour.

“Is your shoulder alright?” Merlin asked as he dropped the heavy mail with a clatter.

Arthur rotated his shoulder and pressed a spot with his fingers experimentally, and nodded. “It’s just a bruise.”

“I could get something for it from Gaius,” he offered.

“No,” Arthur shook his head, turning to leave, “I have a salve in my rooms.”

A loud cheer rose up from the crowd as Arthur ducked out of the tent. Merlin followed in time to see Valiant striding confidently from the field.

Tossing his helmet carelessly at one of the page boys, the foreign knight snapped, “Make sure it’s properly cared for this time,” and turned to give the prince an insincere smile.

“Congratulations on your victories today.”

Arthur appeared to ignore the condescending tone and simply nodded. “Likewise.”

“I hope to see you at the reception this evening,” Valiant said blandly and disappeared into his tent.

Merlin felt a shiver run down his spine. There was something about Valiant that made him uneasy in a way none of the other knights he had met did. Unconsciously, he muttered, “Creep.”

An unrestrained snort came from Arthur and for a moment they shared a small smile. Quickly, however, the mirth was gone from the prince’s face.

“You need to repair my armour, sharpen my sword, fix the dents in my shield, clean my boots and wash my tunic. You will be required to serve at the reception tonight as well.”

Merlin bit back a scathing comment about being expected to do the job of three servants, and nodded. Even with magical assistance, it was going to be a long night.


Yawning widely, Merlin stumbled into the armoury early the next morning. Arthur had decided his helmet from the previous day impeded his vision too much and wanted to use one of his others today and sent Merlin down to fetch it when he arrived with breakfast. It was dark and quiet in the armoury, a stark contrast to the hum and clatter that usually filled the building as squires and knights tended to their equipment. Arthur had described the helmet he wanted quite clearly, but when confronted with several shelves of very similar looking helmets, it took Merlin several minutes to find the right one.

He had just found what he thought was the helmet the royal prat wanted when he heard a strange noise coming from across the room.

Merlin glanced around. “Hello?”

No one answered. He set down the helmet and moved quietly around the room. His head jerked when the sound came again. It sounded like... hissing. Along the far wall was a space provided for knights who were visitors to Camelot. The shelves were filled with highly polished armour and well sharpened weapons hung on the rack. On the floor, leaning against the wall, were several shields, each bearing unfamiliar coats of arms identifying the visiting nobles. One shield bore a design of three snakes intricately intertwined. He was certain the sound had come from this side of the building and he had thought it had been hissing. He raised a hand towards the shield, feeling the skin of his hand pricking, and then snatched his hand back when he thought he saw one of the snakes blink. Just then, he heard footsteps approaching.

He had just stood and was backing away from the wall when Valiant entered.

“What are you doing?” the knight demanded.

Merlin was startled and momentarily struggled for words. “I was... I just needed... My master sent me to fetch his helmet... my lord.”

He quickly grabbed the helmet from the table, silently praying it was the right one, and left the armoury as quickly as he could without seeming to be fleeing. On his way back to Arthur’s rooms, Merlin wondered if he had been imagining the hissing. Perhaps it was just his mind playing tricks on him. Valiant gave him the shivers in a way most other knights didn’t, but the snakes on his shield were just decoration, surely, nothing more. Besides, he thought resolutely to himself, it was none of his business. He had enough troubles keeping up with Arthur and his ridiculous list of duties. He really didn’t have time to worry about a shield that he may or may not have heard hissing early in the morning following a night with very little sleep.


The second day of the tournament, the fighting became more intense. It was plain to Merlin now that the first day had been a chance for the serious contenders to feel out their opponents and watch to see who might present the greatest challenge. When Arthur wasn’t fighting, the prince observed the matches with several of Camelot’s knights, including those who had already been knocked out of the competition. Merlin stood close by, listening to their critiques of the different competitors. The most commentary and speculation arose during the fights where Sir Valiant was involved. Apparently, Merlin hadn’t been alone in his assessment of the knight as someone who rubbed a person the wrong way.

Sir Ewan was up next to fight Valiant. Just before he left to ready himself, Arthur pulled him aside briefly and gave what appeared to be some last minute advice. Ewan nodded and left for his tent, where Gavin no doubt was waiting to recheck his armour and weapons.

When Ewan and Valiant took the field, it was clear that Camelot’s knight was gaining the upper hand. A few of the other knights commented that the foreigner had started too strong in his earlier matches and was suffering for it now. Valiant, however, didn’t have the look so many other knights had worn when they were outmatched. Swords clanged loudly against each other and after several easily blocked attacks, Valiant managed a lucky blow that threw Ewan off balance and sent him falling backwards. As Ewan attempted to rise, Valiant blocked his ascent with his shield and pushed him back to the ground. There was a struggle as both men pushed desperately against their shields, then Ewan slumped and Valiant raised his sword in victory.

The cheers of the crowd died out quickly when it became obvious Ewan wasn’t able to get up. Merlin retreated to where Arthur was fussing with his gloves for the next round, occasionally glancing at the prostrate form of one of his knights and attempting to look unconcerned.

“Do you think he’s badly hurt?”

“Gaius will tend to him,” Arthur replied, sounding less than entirely confident. “Check the straps of my rerebrace, Merlin. It feels loose.”

Merlin cast one more glance at where Gaius was kneeling beside the injured knight, and then turned his attention back to Arthur.


When Merlin returned to Gaius’ chambers that evening, it became apparent that Sir Ewan’s injuries were quite serious. The knight lay on a cot beside the hearth, stirring occasionally, but otherwise unconscious as Gavin knelt beside him, wiping his brow with a cool cloth.

“How is he?” Merlin asked.

Gavin shook his head. “He hasn’t woken up properly since the fight and now he has a fever.”

“Mmhm.” Gaius’ distracted hum of agreement came from behind a tall stack of books. “It’s most odd.”

The physician rose from his desk and came around to the stool beside the cot. He sat down and put a hand on Gavin’s shoulder. “Merlin can assist me for a while. Why don’t you go and get yourself some supper.”

“Are you sure?” Gavin asked, his voice betraying his worry.

“Yes. Until I have a more complete diagnosis, there is little to be done. You won’t be doing him any good by starving yourself. Go on,” Gaius said shooing Ewan’s squire away.

When the door closed, Gaius gestured to Merlin and pointed at a spot on the unconscious man’s neck. “Have a look at this.”

Merlin leaned in and saw two small puncture wounds side by side. His brow furrowed and he said, “That doesn’t look like something a sword would do.”

Gaius nodded in agreement. “Nor any other piece of weaponry or armour. It looks like a snake bite.”

“A snake bite? How is that possible?”

“I don’t know. The distance between the puncture wounds is too great for any kind snake generally found around here, but the symptoms are consistent with poisoning. Slow pulse, fever, paralysis...”

“Can you heal him?”

Gaius stood and picked up a book from the top of the pile on his desk. “If it is a snake bite, I’ll need to extract venom from the snake that bit him to make an antidote. The wounds don’t match those of any snake I have a sample for.”

“Aren’t snakes all more or less the same?”

“Each snake has slightly different toxins in its venom. Using the wrong antidote will in all likelihood speed his decline.”

“And if he doesn’t get the right antidote?”

“Then I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do for him. He’s going to die.”

Merlin looked at Sir Ewan, normally strong and full of life, laying helplessly on the cot and frowned. A snake bite on the neck in the middle of a tournament battle was utterly preposterous. There might be a slim possibility that an adder of some kind might go unnoticed on the ground, but there would have been some sign of it when Gaius arrived to tend to Ewan in the arena. Besides, Gaius was right, the fangs that made a wound like that must have come from a far larger snake than anything he’d ever seen. Still, he had heard some strange hissing in the armoury that morning...

“He was fighting Valiant,” he murmured, jaw dropping slightly as a horrible thought occurred to him.

Without another word, he spun on his heel and strode from the room. The visiting knights had all been given rooms on the first floor on the north side of the castle. The hour was late, but there were still a few servants hurrying back and forth. The tournament had brought plenty of extra guests and everyone was busier than usual. He attempted to smile at people he recognized, but knew it probably looked strained. Fortunately, everyone else seemed to look either frantic or exhausted, so his less than genuine smile wasn’t likely noteworthy in any way.

Valiant’s room was only two doors away from the broad landing where all the staircases from different corners of the castle met. For the moment everyone seemed to have gone their own way, but there wasn’t anything particularly useful for hiding behind in case someone came. The last thing he needed was to be caught spying on a knight and end up in the dungeons again, or worse.

Glancing around nervously, he began muttering to himself as he tried to come up with a solution, “I need to not be seen. I need everyone to ignore this corridor, or something. How can I keep anyone from looking down here? I need something like... bedigle.”

A warm shiver ran down Merlin’s spine and all the skin on his body prickled. He stumbled in his nervous pacing and froze as he heard footsteps coming down the east stairs. A page boy he recognized came bounding past him and knocked on door near the end of the corridor. Light spilled out the room and a hand from within accepted the note the boy carried and sent him on his way. The page walked back towards him, much less hurried this time, but although Merlin raised his hand in a small wave, the boy passed by without so much as a nod in his direction. A moment later, the boy disappeared back up the stairs.

Slightly disconcerted, Merlin looked down at himself, but noticed nothing out of the ordinary. He looked much the same as he always did, but his skin still prickled faintly. For the second time in as many days, a completely unfamiliar word had sprung to mind, but this time he had actually said it aloud. Screwing his eyes shut again, he tried to remember what exactly he had said.

“Bedigle,” he whispered and felt the prickling on his skin increase.

Still baffled, but desperately hoping that whatever it was he had just said was some kind of spell to keep him hidden, Merlin moved quietly towards Valiant’s door and peered through the keyhole. He could see the shield decorated with twining serpents propped up on a chair. Booted feet walked heavily on the floor and a moment later the knight appeared in his line of sight with a small covered basket. Valiant reached inside and pulled out a mouse, holding it by the tail as it squeaked and twitched trying to get away.

“Dinner time,” he said with a mean little chuckle and sat down on the bench across from the chair with the shield.

Merlin heard it first, the same hissing that had grabbed his attention in the armoury that morning, then gaped he saw one, then two, then three large snake heads come out of the shield, swaying back and forth on the sinuous bodies that followed after. Valiant tossed the struggling mouse in the air and one head struck forward, snapping it up. Two more mice were pulled from the basket and each of the other heads devoured them.

Startled by what he had just witnessed, Merlin pulled back from the door, stumbling and knocking it hard with his foot. He could hear the knight jump to his feet and the clatter of what must be a sword. For a moment he forgot about being magically concealed and dashed back towards the staircases. There were a couple large pillars at the landing and he pressed himself against the nearest one, whispering his spell again and praying that it actually worked.

Valiant appeared a moment later, sword drawn, and he circled around the landing. Cocking his head a couple times as if he heard something, the knight frowned and looked directly at the spot where Merlin was peeking out from behind the pillar, glanced around the landing once more then turned and went back to his room. Merlin’s heart was in his throat, pounding frantically, as he listened to the footsteps retreating. For one horrible moment, Valiant had looked directly at him, but there had been no recognition, no obvious sign he had been seen. He had gotten very lucky. On shaking feet, he took the stairs that led up to Gaius’ chambers as quickly and quietly as he could.

When Merlin burst through the door, Gaius was sitting at his desk searching through a thick dusty tome. Gavin had yet to return and Merlin let his story spill out unchecked. “I just saw the snakes on Valiant’s shield come alive. That’s how Ewan was bitten by a snake. Valiant’s using magic!”

“You saw this?” Gaius’ expression was dubious. “It’s hard to believe a knight would be foolish enough to use magic right under the king’s nose.”

“I know what I saw. He was feeding them mice. He threw them up in the air and the snakes struck out and ate them. It must have worked the same way during the fight. Valiant had Ewan pinned under his shield. No one would have been able to see it.”

“True.”

“I have to tell Arthur.”

“Now hold on just a minute. You can’t just go running around making accusations against a knight.”

“Why not? It’s the truth.”

“Do you have any proof?”

“Don’t you believe me?”

“Yes I do, but Uther will never believe the word of a servant against the word of a knight. You’ll land yourself in trouble. How will you explain what you were doing in Valiant’s chambers?”

“What does that matter? He’s using magic to cheat in the tournament!”

“You can’t make accusations against a knight. That’s not the way the world works Merlin.”

“Doesn’t my word count for anything?”

“Very little, I’m afraid.”

“So what am I supposed to do? Let Valiant kill someone else in the next round? Let him kill Arthur?”

“You do what you can, and you stay out of trouble. If Valiant is cheating in such a manner, then he is a dangerous man. Do not underestimate him.”

Merlin and Gaius stared at each other for a long moment, before Merlin turned and moved to Ewan’s bedside. He picked up the cloth on the man’s forehead, rinsed it in the basin of cool water and dabbed at the sweat beading on Ewan’s face. They didn’t speak, and when Gavin returned to attend Ewan, Merlin disappeared into his room without a word.



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