Fic: Burn and Be Renewed, 'Merlin': Merlin/Arthur (PG-13): Part 2 (for reel_merlin 2009)
Title: Burn and Be Renewed
Movie Prompt: 'Cinderella'
Word Count:
Warnings: Genderbending; emotional abuse of minors; one mention of physical abuse. Also, a character who is actually insane.
**
It took Merlin nearly an hour just to master walking in the stupid dress without falling over, and to get used to the way his body felt utterly alien to him - parts of him bounced that absolutely should not bounce - because turning up looking uncomfortable and ill-at-ease in his own skin was bound to elicit questions and draw attention to him that he really didn’t want. It was nine o'clock by the time he felt comfortable enough to leave the house, and by his reckoning, he only had three hours before his golem gave out. He had to hurry. Shutting his eyes, he pictured the entrance hall of the palace as exactly as he could from Morgana’s description, and winked out of the empty house without a sound.
He was far and away the last person to arrive; even the latest had already been ushered into the ballroom, so his arrival in the empty hallway went unseen and unremarked. Following the noise, he wandered down an empty corridor, seeing no one but the occasional footmen on their way to or from the ballroom, all of whom gave Merlin respectful nods. It threw him the first few times - did he curtsey back? Bow? He hadn’t factored that into his practising - but when he dithered too long the first time, the footman had already gone on his way, so Merlin was pretty sure they didn’t expect anything. He made sure to smile all the same; after years of being a servant himself, albeit an unappreciated one, it went against the grain not to give some evidence that he’d even seen them.
The ballroom itself was brightly lit and packed with people. A blonde, handsome young man was sat on the throne, looking faintly bored as another sorcerer turned water into wine in front of him, a transformation complete with fizzing stars and a faint 'pop', theatricalities Nimueh had trained out of the three of them before they even had time to think about adding them in. Nimueh herself was holding a court of her own over the other side of the room, indubitably waiting her turn to display her magic and set her revenge in motion, but before Merlin could notice anything else, a piece of paper was thrust at him.
"Sorcerer?" The squire asked, with the bare modicum of politeness. "Last here, last to give a display.” Merlin nodded, and risked a tiny dip of a curtsey, feeling utterly ridiculous.
“Thank you.” For his purposes, that was just fine. He didn’t want to give a display; he just wanted to ruin Nimueh’s. All the same, Merlin found himself at a loss when the squire turned away, so he took a cup of water from one of the servers and turned to check on his golem. It was solemn-faced and bored behind Nimueh’s chair, but still steady and strong, responding to orders or jibes or whatever it was Nimueh was saying to it just as Merlin himself would have done if he’d been there. Merlin nodded to himself and turned to watch.
By the fifth display, Merlin was fighting boredom - but the rest of the court seemed engrossed. It was all so commonplace, so dull, and what use would parlour-tricks be to any court sorcerer? It was possible Merlin was romanticising it all in his head, but surely protection-magic was the most important skill for the court sorcerer, possibly battle-magic - not conjuring songbirds as the current hopeful was trying to do. Badly, too, Merlin thought critically, glancing at Morgana and Gwen with a grin already on his face. Morgana had one eyebrow raised, the very picture of disdain, and Gwen leant across to whisper to her, badly hiding her smile. Morgana laughed, and Merlin wished, not for the first time, that he was there with them, Nimueh gone, and they could all enjoy this. It was so much more than they’d ever had, and even here they were sneaking around and hiding, fighting to be anything other than pawns in Nimueh’s twisted games.
“Let me guess,” a man said, appearing at Merlin’s side, his tone just supercilious enough to get Merlin’s back up. “Either you think you could do so much better, or you’re wondering how on earth they do all that."
Merlin looked up at him - for a moment, he thought the thing he hated the most about this odd new body was the height loss, and then he remembered that he had breasts - and shook his head, fighting down the urge to snap at him. The ballroom, with all its people and noise, was starting to get to him, and he wondered how Morgana and Gwen were dealing with it. “Actually,” he said, as politely as he could, “it all just seems a bit silly.”
“Silly?” the man raised an eyebrow. “The prince is picking a court sorcerer, there’s nothing silly about it.”
“I’m sure conjuring three singing birds will be really useful to the court,” Merlin said, a little of his irritation coming through. “And I don’t like the way they’re all just desperate for the prince’s attention. They’re sorcerers, they should have a little - a little-”
“Yes?” the man prompted, when Merlin trailed off.
“Self-respect,” Merlin snapped.
“Being court sorcerer is a great honour,” he was told, and had to bite his tongue. “And maybe they just don’t want to give away their secrets.”
“If they want to be picked, maybe they should give up at least one of them,” Merlin suggested tartly.
“Maybe the prince has different criteria to you,” the man returned lazily.
“What?” Merlin said, distracted by the new word.
The man’s blue eyes looked incredulous for a second, and Merlin shifted irritably. “Maybe the prince isn’t looking for the same thing in his court sorcerer as you are,” he rephrased, and Merlin shrugged.
“If he’s looking for a man who can conjure songbirds, he can still do better than him. Look how sloppy he is! Wasting magic all over the place, those birds are practically bleeding it. I bet he can’t hold them for ten seconds more.”
“What will you bet me?”
“Hmm?” Merlin asked, eyes on the struggling sorcerer in the middle of the room.
“What will you bet me?” the man repeated.
“Oh. What do you want?”
The man looked at him for a long moment, and Merlin flushed hotly under that weighing gaze. “A dance and we’ll call it even. I make it eleven seconds, by the way.”
“Twelve,” Merlin said and sighed. “They should have lasted for at least half an hour.” He turned to the man and shrugged. “I think I promised you a dance?”
“You did,” the man said with a lopsided smile, and bowed. “Though I think you’d better tell me your name first.”
“Mer - my name's Lin,” he said, and tried a smile to cover the awkward fumble. “Er - short for Linnet.” He held out a hand for the man to shake.
“Call me Art,” the man - Art - said, taking his hand and bowing over it. Merlin bitterly cursed his magic in his head; he could have come as a boy, and then none of this would have happened. It was all so awkward.
He had to shut his eyes for a moment, to rein his magic in. With all the distractions of the ballroom pressing in on every sense, he felt overwhelmed, sick with the effort of trying to hold his magic back and keep the golem a steady, solid presence at Nimueh’s shoulder, and there were too many people.
When he opened them, Art was giving him an odd look. “Are you alright?” he said, apparently more curious than concerned.
Merlin forced a smile. “Fine,” he said quickly. “There are just a lot of people.”
Art looked a little confused, but smiled and gallantly offered him his arm. Gritting his teeth, Merlin took it. “There’s a balcony just along here,” Art told him. “You’ll feel better for some fresh air.”
Merlin could only take his word for it; he could barely remember being around so many people, and he dimly wondered how Gwen and Morgana were coping with it. Getting away from it, even if only for a little bit, seemed like a good idea.
Out on the balcony, Merlin detached himself from Art’s arm and nearly tripped over the hem of the ridiculous dress. Art caught his arm to steady him, grinning a little when Merlin shot him a glare. “You know, most people say thank you,” he said innocently, and Merlin huffed.
“I’m not most people,” he muttered. “And I’m not used to the dress.” He could have slapped himself the minute the words were out of his mouth, but Arthur just looked amused.
“Were you raised by wolves?” he asked, too interested.
“Why would you think that?” Merlin demanded, completely taken aback.
Art shrugged, badly suppressing a wicked grin. “It would explain so much.”
“I think you were raised by wolves,” Merlin returned, but without much heat. It was better out here on the balcony, less stressful away from the crowds, and Art was an oddly comfortable if infuriating companion.
“Why’s the dress such a surprise to you then?” Art asked, leaning casually back against the balustrade, and Merlin shrugged.
“When I’m at home, I wear - less constricting clothes,” he explained, and mentally forgave himself the lie. He’d already told the man that his name was Linnet, and let him believe he was a girl; what were a few more lies on top of that?
Art gave him a critical once-over and Merlin shifted irritably. “Well, if it helps at all, ‘constricting’ is a good look on you,” he said, and Merlin growled.
“I thought,” he said, with what he hoped was freezing politeness, “that gentlemen were supposed to be polite to ladies.”
“You’re not a very good lady,” Art told him airily. “And I never said I was a gentleman.”
Merlin had to forgive him the first part - it was nothing less than the truth - but he did raise an eyebrow at the second part. “Oh? What are you, then?”
Art glanced away, unsettled for the first time. “You haven’t told me anything about yourself,” he misdirected. “Why should I tell you?”
“Let me guess,” Merlin said, grinning, pleased to have wrong-footed his oh-so-sure companion. “You’re pretending to be a nobleman for the night, and you’ll go back to real life when the balls are over.” He could sympathise, after all. For all he knew, after the balls, he, Gwen and Morgana would be heading back to the castle with Nimueh, and the gods only knew how that would end.
Art threw back his head and laughed. “Something like that,” he agreed. “I suppose we’ll just have to remain a mystery to each other forever.”
Merlin smiled. “I suppose I can work with that.”
For a moment, they were silent, Art staring back into the ballroom through the opened doors, and Merlin looking out over the gardens, half-lit with torches. Finally, Art broke the silence.
“So? What about that dance?”
Merlin floundered. “I - dance? What dance?”
“The dance I won,” Art said patiently. “In our bet.”
“Oh, yes. The, er, dance. I- there isn’t any music.”
“Call yourself a sorceress?” Art asked, pushing himself upright off the balustrade. “I’m sure you can manage something. One violin would do it.”
The skill, Merlin thought nervously, would lie in not creating a forty piece orchestra. “Well, I can try,” he said, rather more dubiously than he’d intended.
“I'm sure whatever you manage will be lovely,” Arthur told him, gallantly patronising.
“I can’t tell you how warmed I am by your confidence,” Merlin said, already sending a little magic back into the ballroom to monitor what went on. He couldn’t quite face the idea of going back in there, with all its heat and noise and people, but he had to make sure Nimueh didn’t try anything while his back was turned, or the entire thing would be a waste of time and magic. Slowly and carefully he teased away enough magic to keep to a fiddle and a flute, playing out a simple tune with a strong beat, and Art raised an eyebrow.
“I’m impressed,” he said, and held out a hand. When Merlin, teeth gritted again, put his hand in Art’s, Art bowed low over it. “Shall we?”
“I warn you, I can’t dance,” Merlin said quickly, and Art flashed in him a quicksilver grin.
“I’d imagine the wolves don’t have dancing instructors,” he agreed innocently, and Merlin squeezed his hand in retribution. “Don’t worry, I’m leading, and I’m a very good dancer.”
“And so modest with it,” Merlin agreed, and deliberately trod on Art’s foot when Art tried a particularly ambitious turn. Dancing provided a neat medium for subtle revenge, and Art - whether he was acting a gentleman or drawing on his upbringing - was clearly trying not to mention it; Merlin thought it was hilarious. The magic, sensing an upswing in his mood, shifted from a country air to a lively jig, and Merlin pulled back when Art tried to shift dance to keep up with it. “Now that, I cannot do,” Merlin admitted. “Not even if you lead me through it.”
“Then tell your demon instruments to keep to something you can do,” Art said. “I don’t get a chance to dance that much, and I was enjoying that.”
“All about you, isn’t it?” Merlin said, and forced the magic back in line. “Right, let’s try this again.”
Once he got the hang of the simple steps, the dance was fun, even if he was playing the girl, which he couldn’t say he enjoyed all that much. This was something he’d never done when he and the girls were living with Nimueh, and there were no bad memories associated with it; it was just fun and easy. Unfortunately, once he relaxed into it and started enjoying it, the magic picked up on it, and sped up into something faster, a flute and a clarinet joining in the fun, and Merlin pulled away again.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “It just doesn’t always listen when I’m having fun.”
Art shook his head, looking curious. “It just does what it wants?”
Merlin nodded glumly, then retracted when Arthur began to look alarmed. “Not like that,” he said quickly. “It wouldn’t do anything bad, it’s just that it gets bored.”
“Your magic,” Art repeated slowly, and Merlin nodded. “Your magic gets bored.”
It seemed a perfectly straight forward concept to Merlin, and he wondered why Art wasn’t getting it. “Yes?”
“I didn’t think magic worked that way,” Art said thoughtfully. “Has it always been like that?”
Merlin shrugged. “I suppose so? I never really thought about it. Maybe you just haven’t talked to that many sorcerers?”
“Maybe,” Art agreed, but his eyes were considering in an entirely different way from before when he looked at Merlin again. Finally, after a long, rather uncomfortable pause, he shook his head and held out his hand again. “Come on, we’ll keep trying. Never say die, am I right?”
“I don’t know,” Merlin told him honestly, putting his hand in Arthur’s. “Is that a saying?”
Art grinned as he took Merlin’s hand. “Indeed it is. No adages to howl at the moon, then, among your family?”
Just for that, Merlin trod extra hard on his foot when they shifted into another dance to match the music. Art told him it was a gavotte, and Merlin had no choice but to believe him. It was weirdly fun, dancing on the balcony, just the two of them and phantom instruments playing; Merlin had always assumed that most people out there were like Nimueh, stern and forbidding, but Art was an easy, pleasant companion, and Merlin let himself relax, just for a little bit, and enjoy the evening. His magic wasn’t telling him anything was amiss in the ballroom, and Art was fun to spend time with. He could relax, just for a little bit.
**
Dancing eventually gave way to talking, and at maybe eleven, Art disappeared to fetch ‘rations’ for them, coming back with a plate of sweetmeats and a glass of lemonade for Merlin. “I didn’t see you drinking,” he explained, handing it over, “and I thought you might be thirsty. You see the manners you learn among civilised people?”
Merlin ignored him, and bit into a sweetmeat with a little too much relish. “I don’t care,” he said, “so long as your manners mean you feed me these. Gods, these are amazing.”
Art grinned at him. “I’ve always thought so, but we only get them on feast days.”
“Pig herders not allowed royal fare regularly, then? And I thought it was all so equal here among humans,” Merlin shot back.
Art grinned, hopping up onto the balustrade beside Merlin, who had probably torn his dress and didn’t care in the slightest. “So where did you grow up, then?” he asked, and Merlin shook his head.
“No details, remember? I’m here to try for the place as the Prince’s sorcerer, you’re-” he broke off. “Hang on, you’re not a sorcerer, are you?”
Art shook his head, chewing on a pastry. “No,” he said. “Not a drop of magic in me. Or if there is, it’s never done me any good.”
Merlin chewed in silence. “I don’t know that having magic has ever done me all that much good,” he said quietly, and Art glanced at him.
“Oh?”
Merlin shook his head, and shut his eyes for a minute. “It’s nice,” he said finally. “Being here. It’s - nice.”
He expected Art to make a bad joke about wolves again, and was fully prepared to shove him off the balustrade if it was too awful, but Art was silent for a second before he replied.
“Are you going back there tonight?” he said quietly, and Merlin glanced at him, frowning.
“Where?”
“Wherever it is,” Art shrugged. “Wherever it is that makes you so - unhappy.” He shifted uncomfortably. “I’m not very good at all this,” he apologised ludicrously. “But - if you’re in, in any danger, there are people here who’ll help, you know.”
Merlin thought about it for a minute. Life with Nimueh was awful, most of the time, but he had Gwen and Morgana, and it wasn’t as though Nimueh could actually hurt him, or them, because Merlin could always stop her.
And he thought about telling Art about Nimueh, about everything she had planned, but the problem was, he didn’t actually know what she had planned, and how inconclusive would that sound? ‘That sorceress is trying to kill the prince. I don’t know when or how, but she is, I promise you.’ Someone would question Nimueh; she would deny it; she would know that someone had informed against her, and she didn’t know Merlin knew about her plans, or that he was even at these balls. It would put Gwen and Morgana in danger, and Nimueh would be furious - if there was one time Merlin feared her, it was when she was angry. It wasn’t that she was any more powerful angry than calm, but she made him nervous all the same, just as she had when he was a child.
He’d been silent too long, because something had changed in Art’s stance. “If it’s a man,” he said awkwardly, and Merlin cut him off quickly, before he could say anything even more awkward.
“I’m touched,” he said lightly, and secretly he was, warmed by Art’s awkward concern, “but it’s not like that. My- my family don’t know that I’m here. At some point, I have to explain.”
Art nodded, but didn’t look wholly convinced. “If you need anything,” he said, persevering anyway. “I’ll help. I’ll try.”
“I won’t need it,” Merlin promised, “but I appreciate it.”
After a moment’s pause, he stood and brushed out his ridiculous skirts. “I should probably be heading home now, actually,” he said, because his golem was dying in the ballroom, becoming less and less responsive. “Thank you.” He dipped a little curtsey again, and was amused when Arthur returned it with a little bow.
“Can I walk you out?” he said, and Merlin shook his head, smiling.
“You’ve hidden out here with me all evening,” he said. “I’m sure you have an adoring public waiting for you in there.”
Art grinned. “Something like that,” he agreed lightly. “Will you be here tomorrow?”
“I should be,” Merlin nodded, and tried not to think about how much he would look forward to finding Art tomorrow night. “Will you?”
“Oh yes,” Art nodded. “I’ll - I’ll see you here, then?”
“Right here?”
“Why not?” Art asked, and smiled when Merlin looked surprised. “Meet me on this very spot on the stroke of - well, it’s normally midnight, but shall we say nine?”
“Normally midnight?” Merlin asked confused, and Art just smiled at him.
“It’s a human thing,” he said, and took Merlin’s hand, bowing over it. “Until tomorrow night, lady.”
“Gentleman,” Merlin returned, grinning, and left Art standing there.
**
He watched Nimueh and his sisters across the dance-floor - currently overtaken by a wide green lawn, conjured by a nervous teenager - until Morgana turned to his now pale, sickly golem and sent it to get her a drink. Carefully, Merlin released the magic when the golem was out of sight, and returned with the drink as himself, ‘Linnet’ gone as if she had never been; on his return, he caught Morgana’s eye and nodded, very slightly.
Everything that had happened to him in his absence, every insult Nimueh had given him and drink he had fetched, was crowding in his head, fighting with the memories of his time with Art, because how could one person have two memories of the same moment?
Ruthlessly, he fought them back to their proper place. He could and would have both sets of memories.
Nimueh was holding court with a small, adoring public, mostly men, and Merlin listened to her as she made light, sparkling jabs at the other sorcerers, phrased to sound like small jokes, though they were sharp enough to draw blood. He concentrated on Morgana and Gwen; Morgana, regal in dark blue silk, was sat very straight, staring out over the ballroom and ignoring everything said to her, unless it was Gwen speaking. Her hands were clenched in her lap, and though she was smiling, Merlin knew that she was wishing herself miles away.
Gwen, sweet as ever in her white gown, was keeping up a light flow of inconsequential chatter, to distract from Morgana, but there was an off-note in her voice, and her hands flew nervously as she spoke. Every so often, she glanced at Morgana before starting up another topic. Merlin couldn’t bear it; disappearing, he collected a plate of the same sweetmeats and pastries that Arthur had brought him, and presented them, first to Morgana and then to Gwen.
The look Morgana gave him was eloquent, pleading and apologetic at the same time, and Merlin sighed and glanced at Gwen, who nodded just a little. When he presented her with the plate of food, she feigned not seeing it, and knocked it out of his hands with one over-ambitious gesture.
Merlin dropped to his knees instantly to pick up the pieces of broken pottery and the ruined food, but it was no use; Nimueh was already glaring at him. With a snap, the mess disappeared, and Nimueh advanced on him, pulling him upright. “I’m so sorry,” she turned to the company she’d gathered around her. “Clearly our servant is tired.” Her voice was light and amused, but Merlin could hear the iron under it and shivered. “And I would so hate for him to be taxed by his duties.” A small ripple of laughter went through the little crowd, and Nimueh smiled. “Come, my dears,” this to Morgana and Gwen, “we’ll away. Until tomorrow?” She glanced from face to face, and was clearly pleased when every one nodded. “I shall look forward to it,” she said sweetly, and led the way from the ballroom.
Merlin sat outside the box of the carriage, and so was spared Nimueh’s wrath for a little while, but when they arrived at the house, he found himself thrown back against the door, held in place by magic as Nimueh stalked forwards, anger sparking in her eyes. He had to swallow his own magic down before it broke her hold on him, wrestling it back into place.
“If that happens again,” she said, danger in every syllable, “if you draw attention to us like that again, or do anything to jeopardise our chances, you will wish you had died with your whore of a mother, do you understand?”
Merlin stared at her, hating her, hating her, and saw, over her shoulder, contrition on Morgana’s face and misery on Gwen’s. Somehow, he managed to nod and drop his eyes when he would willingly have shouted back, destroyed her.
But no. If there was one thing Merlin knew, it was that he could never hurt someone with his magic, he just couldn’t, so. There was nothing to do but wait and watch, as he’d been doing for so many years.
Nimueh released him and he slumped back against the door. “Your chores,” she rapped out. “Get to them. And believe me,” she looked horribly pleased, “I will be watching.”
**
It was hours before Merlin had the chance to sneak up to Morgana’s room, where both his sisters were waiting for him, eyes troubled.
“Thank God,” Morgana said, while Gwen rushed over to hug him.
“I’m so sorry, Merlin,” she said contritely. “I- she was so angry, and I’m sorry, and-”
“You look dreadful,” Morgana said bluntly, drawing him over to the fire, where Merlin sank into the chair with a sigh. “And I’m sorry too,” she added, as Merlin tipped his head back against the chair-back and shut his eyes. “I couldn’t- it was all so much. Thank you, for - for that.”
“Overwhelming, wasn’t it?” Merlin said, without opening his eyes. Morgana and Gwen would understand, they always did. “So many people.”
“Exactly!” Morgana agreed. “And so much noise, and light, and-”
“And magic,” Gwen added, sounding a little sad. Merlin rolled his head over to look at her, and she smiled at him, changing the subject before Merlin could ask how she felt. “Are we- is it...?” she wiggled her fingers at Morgana, their long-held symbol for ‘are we safe here’; after years of practice, Morgana’s skills lay strongly in the field of wards and illusions, and she regularly layered both around her rooms, warding out any listeners and creating simple illusions to lull them into thinking all was as they expected. Nimueh would never even know they were there; and even if she did, Morgana was still sometimes tormented by her dreams; she had a cast-iron excuse to ward her rooms. It made their traditional safe-place just a little safer, knowing that Morgana had her wards up.
“Yes,” Morgana nodded. “I put the wards up when we first came in, don’t worry.” She turned back to Merlin. “There wasn’t as much magic as I thought there would be,” she said bluntly. “Did you notice that?”
Merlin shrugged and nodded. “I did, but - I mean, we’re all so strong, aren’t we?” he appealed to his sisters, then could have kicked himself when Gwen glanced away. “I meant it, you know,” he said to her. “You’re a strong sorcerer. Just not - not the same way Morgana is, or Nimueh.”
“Or you,” she said quietly, and he gave her a weak grin.
“Oh well, no one’s like me,” he said, and accepted it when Morgana threw a pillow at him.
“No one’s as insufferable as you,” she said, but without rancour. “None of the other sorcerers are strong enough to beat Nimueh.”
“Well, we don’t need them to beat her,” Merlin pointed out. “They’re buying us time. Maybe we can - I don’t know, maybe we can find out what she’s planning? One of you could ask her, couldn’t you?” He hated that it might put them in danger, but he couldn’t think of any other way.
“We could ask,” Morgana said dryly, “we wouldn’t be told. Nimueh’s playing this close to the chest. She’ll use our power, but she doesn’t want our opinions.”
“When has she ever?” Gwen asked, an unfamiliar note of bitterness in her tone, and Merlin and Morgana gave her an incredulous look. “I’m sorry,” she said quickly, “I’m sorry, I’m just so tired of it all. The ball was - overwhelming, I know, but there were so many people there, normal people like us, and then we have to come back here and sneak around just to talk to each other, and I know we didn’t have any other choice, but I’m so tired of it.” She gave them a wan smile. “I’m sorry. After seeing all those people, it all just seems so - so silly, that we’re here like this, two of the most powerful sorcerers in the world and me-”
“Another one,” Morgana added loyally, but Gwen waved a hand.
“It doesn’t matter, it’s just so silly - you’re so brilliant, and should have been at court, and Merlin’s the strongest sorcerer we’ve ever met, perhaps anyone’s ever met, and I love both of you and I just wish we could stop. All of this, I want it to stop.” She gave Morgana and Merlin a long look before looking away. “I’m sorry,” she said again, but Morgana shook her head, reaching over to take Gwen’s hand.
“Don’t be silly,” she said, giving it a squeeze. “Do you think we don’t feel the exact same way? I mean, we’ve never spoken about it-”
“We never dared,” Merlin put in, and Morgana nodded.
“-but we all feel the same, and being here in Camelot isn’t helping. It’s just seeing everything we’ve missed out on.”
“I want us to have it,” Merlin said quietly, and Morgana looked at him.
“Oh, well, if you want it,” she said, a teasing note in her voice that didn’t quite dispel the hope in her eyes. “How can we?”
“I don’t know,” Merlin said leaning his head back against the chair again. “I have no idea, but we’re all so miserable with Nimueh. Why shouldn’t we leave? We’ve never needed her, and we’re already in Camelot. Why not just - leave?”
“Maybe one of us could win this competition,” Morgana said, a dreamy note in her voice. Her eyes sharpened again, focussing on the two of them. “You know, I’ve never dreamt of this. I’ve seen you, Merlin, a great wizard, and Gwen, I’ve seen you as a lady at court, but I’ve never dreamed of how we’d get there.”
“Nothing wrong with surprises,” Merlin said, smiling.
“But how can we leave Nimueh?” Gwen asked, very softly. “If we tried, she’d just - take us back. Wouldn’t she?”
“Merlin is so strong,” Morgana said, watching Merlin who shifted uncomfortably under her gaze. “I don’t think there’s anything you couldn’t do, is there? Not if you put your mind to it. We don’t have to kill her, or - or anything like that, but Merlin could stop her, if he got the chance. And we could help, we’re not exactly fainting maidens, Gwen.”
“I can imagine you as a fainting maiden,” Gwen said, straight-faced, and Morgana laughed, surprised. “I can just see it, you sat around doing embroidery and fainting whenever Merlin told you about something particularly daring that he’d done.”
Merlin grinned. “I can see that,” he agreed. “You’ll have to come on quests with me, Morgana, so you remember how not to be a shrinking violet.”
Morgana was smiling again, which had been the point of it. “I never liked either of you,” she said, lying cheerfully through her teeth. “Anyway, I didn’t see you at the ball, Merlin, did your faint heart overwhelm you?”
The dreaded moment of disclosure had arrived. “You might not have recognised me,” he said carefully, and Morgana raised an eyebrow.
“We know you were under a disguise, but we would have recognised you,” she said certainly.
“Ah, it’s, um.” He swallowed. “My magic kind of - it, well. It. Turned me into a girl.”
There was a moment of silence; then Morgana snorted with laughter. “It what?” she demanded, failing badly to keep her face straight.
“Look, it knew I needed a disguise,” Merlin said, shifting irritably. “And it - turned me into a girl.”
Gwen and Morgana exchanged looks. “Well, go on then,” Gwen said encouragingly. “Let’s see.”
“Is that a good idea?” Merlin asked, and Morgana grinned.
“Anyone would think you were shy, Merlin,” she said teasingly. “What better way to cheer up your sisters than this?”
Merlin gave her a filthy look. “I want you to know that I’m already planning my revenge,” he said, and Gwen smiled up at him.
“I’m sure it will be very frightening,” she said reassuringly and Merlin tried not to smile, but failed.
“Fine. But I will put toads in your beds, don’t think I won’t.” Taking a deep breath, he told his magic what he wanted and let it go. When he glanced down at himself, ‘Linnet’s’ alien body was sat in the chair, in the same white dress as before.
Morgana clapped. “I’m very impressed,” she said, sounding almost entirely sincere, and Merlin glared at her, changing back to his normal self.
“Thank you,” he said dryly. “That’s why you didn’t recognise me.”
“Well, Nimueh would never expect that,” Gwen said, not even trying to hide her smile. “I’m very impressed.”
“So you should be,” Merlin said primly. “I had to dance in that dress.”
“Oh, did you pick up a beau?” Morgana asked, and Merlin smiled at her, leaning back in his chair and stretching his legs out in front of him, settling in to swap tales of the evening.
**
The next night, on the advice of Gwen and Morgana, Merlin left his golem at home and headed to the ball before his sisters and Nimueh.
“We arrive late,” Morgana pointed out. “If you always arrive after us, she might get suspicious. I’m not saying it’s likely!” she added quickly, when Merlin opened his mouth to protest, “but she might, and we want to avoid that.”
‘Linnet’s’ horrible dress was green this time, and Merlin spent the hour before he was due to meet Art on the balcony wandering through the ballroom, smiling politely at anyone who acknowledged him and speaking to no one. The ball itself had barely started, and it was a little less overpowering than it had been yesterday, but Merlin found, to his surprise, that he was rather shy of people. Instead of worrying about it, he got down to work, surreptitiously placing spells around the ballroom, spells to alert him if anything happened, of protection and strength, in case Nimueh decided to pull the whole thing down around their ears. It was sensible, he knew, and necessary - this was the only reason he had come to the balls in the first place - but it still felt as though he was just biding his time until he was due to meet up with Art.
He hadn’t told the girls about Art, because he wasn’t quite sure what to think about him himself; he could only barely admit to himself that staying Camelot sounded so attractive because it would mean staying near to Art. But Merlin knew he wasn’t good with people; he hadn’t had to deal with anyone other than Nimueh, Gwen and Morgana for eleven years. It was more than possible that his attachment to Art, the instant comfort he found in him, was just how normal people felt when they made a friend.
And Art didn’t even know who he was, anyway. He thought Merlin was a girl, Linnet, and if he liked Merlin, it was because he thought he liked Linnet, who didn’t even exist. When everything was over, if they were free from Nimueh, Art wouldn’t even recognise him.
He was thinking about that when Art appeared on the balcony beside him, holding out his hand and greeting him with a low bow. “Lady,” he said, smiling up at Merlin when Merlin put his hand in Art’s, bowing over it again. “I hope you’re - hang on.” He was staring down at Merlin’s hand, bringing it up to his face, and for one awful moment, Merlin thought he was going to kiss it - but no, he was staring at it, fixedly, long fingers stroking across Merlin’s. “What’s this?” Merlin’s hands had been cut the night before as he picked up the broken plate, and Art was examining one of the nastier, deeper cuts, a martial look in his eyes. “How did this happen?”
Merlin snatched his hand back, glaring at Art. It wasn’t even that bad, but Art was apparently determined to see Merlin - Linnet - as a blushing maiden, and even more determined to play her protector. “I cut myself,” he said firmly.
“How,” Art rapped out.
“I broke a glass,” Merlin snapped, in no mood to be coddled. “By the time I remembered to use magic to clear it up, I’d already cut myself.”
Art was watching him, and for a moment there was a long, uncomfortable silence. Finally, he shrugged. “Fine.”
“We’re done with this?” Merlin asked, only a little sarcastically and Art shrugged.
“I have to take your word for it that you’re fine,” he said, and looked away. “But perhaps-” he broke off and shrugged again. “Perhaps you could stay here. After the balls are over, perhaps your - your family would let you stay at court.”
Merlin thought about his and Morgana’s and Gwen’s plans and nodded. “I think they probably would,” he agreed. “And - I’d like that.”
“Would you?” Art looked back at him, smiling just a little. “I think I would too. Isn’t it odd? I don’t normally like people very much.”
“Well, at least you have practice at it. I don’t even know how to go about liking people,” Merlin confessed, and Art laughed.
“I think you really were raised by wolves,” he said, joking, and Merlin forced a smile. He couldn’t quite shake the thought that, with Nimueh as their guardian, they almost had been.
“So, what is my lord’s pleasure?” he asked, and wished he hadn’t, suddenly all too aware of his odd new body, pleating his fingers into his skirts (dear gods, he was wearing skirts).
Art went a funny shade of red. “I- we could dance?”
“Again?” Merlin groaned. It had been fun, but he hadn’t exactly relished being led around by Art, even though Art’s hand in his had felt - nice, he supposed, he hadn’t examined it too much, and being close to him had been pleasant.
“If you don’t want to-”
“I don’t think it’s a skill of mine,” Merlin pointed out, and Art grinned.
“Well, my feet would have to agree with you there,” he said, “but I could teach you, if you liked. Properly, this time.”
Merlin eyed him. “I don’t think you’d be a very patient teacher,” he said frankly.
“Lin, for you, I would try,” Art told him, sweeping him a low bow, and Merlin grinned, slipping off the balustrade. “What would you like to learn first?”
**
Art was a truly terrible teacher, though he clearly tried, and whenever Merlin felt as though he might be getting the steps, he remembered his new body and stumbled, awkward, or mentally checked on his monitoring spells, tripping over Art’s feet yet again.
Finally, Art pushed him gently away and stood aside, hands on hips. “You are a truly terrible dancer,” he said firmly, and Merlin grinned, insouciant.
“I did warn you,” he said, and Art shrugged.
“I lived in hope,” he returned, but Merlin wasn’t listening. He was looking into the ballroom, where a tall, dark-haired man was leading Gwen out onto the floor to dance, away from the sorcerer currently giving his display to the Prince on the throne. Gwen was laughing, a bright look in her eyes, and Merlin felt an answering smile on his face before he could stop it. Over by Nimueh, Morgana still looked brittle and uneasy, but there was a soft look in her eyes, distinguishable to Merlin even from a distance, and he felt his heart lighten.
“Would you like me to show you something?” he asked Art, before he could stop himself, feeling as though he maybe could dance now. His magic buoyed up the happiness he was feeling until he felt that his heart was in his throat, ready to beat right out of his chest, burst with magic and happiness. This was where he and his sisters were meant to be, and he would make sure it happened, no matter what Nimueh had planned; he could afford himself a few moments of happiness, showing off to a new friend.
Art looked amused. “I thought maybe you wanted to go back in,” he objected, and Merlin shook his head, still grinning like a loon.
“I can see all I need to from here,” he said, and realised a beat too late that his eyes were fixed on Art’s face. Looking hastily away, he said, “no, look -” raised his hands, and let his magic go.
The air out on the balcony lit faintly gold, sparking where it was disturbed by the breeze, flowers curling themselves around the columns without really being there. The torches out in the gardens picked up, different coloured flames appearing among the orange-gold, and from somewhere, music was playing; heavy, solemn, but joyful.
When he dropped his hands, Art’s face was a picture; half-impressed, a little moved, a little surprised. Finally, he swallowed visibly and said, “I thought you didn’t approve of party tricks?”
Merlin laughed, long and loud, longer than he should have, in fact. He just felt so light, and Art’s worried face made everything funnier. “They’re well enough,” he said, still smiling. “I don’t think you should judge a court sorcerer on them, but there’s a time for them, isn’t there? And that,” he waved a hand to indicate everything that had just happened on the balcony, “was how I’m feeling right now.”
Art looked taken aback, but his smile was happy. “I’m glad,” he said quietly. “I’m so glad.”
The elation Merlin was feeling calmed a little, just enough that he felt he could control himself, keep it inside a little better. “I’m sorry,” he offered, though he wasn’t, not really.
“It’s fine,” Art told him. “I’d rather you were happy than anything else. I don’t know, it - the way you act, some of the things you say, it - it doesn’t feel as though you been happy a lot.”
Merlin looked away into the garden. “I thought I was,” he said simply. “Maybe it’s easier to be happy here.”
Art joined him by the balustrade. “That’s why you should stay,” he said simply, and Merlin nodded; but a thought had occurred to him and he swallowed a little before turning to Art.
“If I stay,” he said quietly, “I’m not - I’m not normally like this.”
“All dressed up and on best behaviour?” Art asked, eyebrow raised. “If it helps, I’m not normally like this either.”
“No, I mean-” Merlin broke off in frustration. “I’ve lied to you,” he said finally. “About a lot of things, and I can’t tell you the truth yet. Please believe me,” he said quickly when Art drew himself up beside him, “I want to, but I can’t. When the balls are over, I’ll be the person I normally am, and that’s nothing like I am now. I’ll tell you then, but you - you may not like me as much.”
Art was silent for a long moment. “I won’t care,” he said finally. “No, really,” because Merlin had opened his mouth to protest, “I won’t. I’m sure I should, but I don’t care what you’re like. I like you.”
“What if I was so different that you couldn’t recognise me?” Merlin asked. “What if something you thought was totally fundamental about me wasn’t the same?”
“You’re wearing a glamour, aren’t you?” Art asked, without answering his question.
“No.” Merlin glanced at him. “I don’t look like this normally, but it’s not a glamour.”
Art frowned. “What is it then? What have you done?”
Merlin shut his eyes for a second. “I can’t tell you,” he said miserably. “Tomorrow night, I will, I promise. Everything will be over tomorrow night.”
“It doesn’t sound like you’re just talking about the balls,” Art commented, detached, and Merlin smiled a little.
“Maybe I’m not,” he agreed. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” Art said. “Even if you don’t look like you, I won’t be sorry that I met you. And - gods help me, but I trust you. I'll at least hear you out, I promise.” Merlin smiled, and wondered privately whether Art would feel differently tomorrow. Art was looking at him, he could tell, but he was still a little startled when Art said, out of the blue, “penny for them.”
“A penny for what?” Merlin frowned.
“Your thoughts,” Art said patiently. “A penny for your thoughts.”
“Why would you give me a penny for my thoughts?” Merlin asked, confused. Art sighed.
“It’s just a saying. What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking - I’m thinking I like it here,” he said, and Art looked back into the semi-darkness of the gardens.
“I hope you’ll continue to think so,” he replied formally, though there was no doubting his sincerity, and Merlin smiled. For a moment, he wished he could continue in these moments forever, stay as Linnet and be the person Art thought he was, but he knew it wasn’t feasible, and more to the point he knew he didn’t really want it. He just wanted to be around Art, to have his sisters close and safe, and Nimueh gone from their lives, but Merlin had long since accepted that he could very rarely have everything he wanted - and Gwen and Morgana had been his priority for a very long time. If he had to choose between the two, they would always win. Even if it broke his heart to choose.
“So do I,” he said quietly, and wondered whether he dared.
**
Part Three
Movie Prompt: 'Cinderella'
Word Count:
Warnings: Genderbending; emotional abuse of minors; one mention of physical abuse. Also, a character who is actually insane.
**
It took Merlin nearly an hour just to master walking in the stupid dress without falling over, and to get used to the way his body felt utterly alien to him - parts of him bounced that absolutely should not bounce - because turning up looking uncomfortable and ill-at-ease in his own skin was bound to elicit questions and draw attention to him that he really didn’t want. It was nine o'clock by the time he felt comfortable enough to leave the house, and by his reckoning, he only had three hours before his golem gave out. He had to hurry. Shutting his eyes, he pictured the entrance hall of the palace as exactly as he could from Morgana’s description, and winked out of the empty house without a sound.
He was far and away the last person to arrive; even the latest had already been ushered into the ballroom, so his arrival in the empty hallway went unseen and unremarked. Following the noise, he wandered down an empty corridor, seeing no one but the occasional footmen on their way to or from the ballroom, all of whom gave Merlin respectful nods. It threw him the first few times - did he curtsey back? Bow? He hadn’t factored that into his practising - but when he dithered too long the first time, the footman had already gone on his way, so Merlin was pretty sure they didn’t expect anything. He made sure to smile all the same; after years of being a servant himself, albeit an unappreciated one, it went against the grain not to give some evidence that he’d even seen them.
The ballroom itself was brightly lit and packed with people. A blonde, handsome young man was sat on the throne, looking faintly bored as another sorcerer turned water into wine in front of him, a transformation complete with fizzing stars and a faint 'pop', theatricalities Nimueh had trained out of the three of them before they even had time to think about adding them in. Nimueh herself was holding a court of her own over the other side of the room, indubitably waiting her turn to display her magic and set her revenge in motion, but before Merlin could notice anything else, a piece of paper was thrust at him.
"Sorcerer?" The squire asked, with the bare modicum of politeness. "Last here, last to give a display.” Merlin nodded, and risked a tiny dip of a curtsey, feeling utterly ridiculous.
“Thank you.” For his purposes, that was just fine. He didn’t want to give a display; he just wanted to ruin Nimueh’s. All the same, Merlin found himself at a loss when the squire turned away, so he took a cup of water from one of the servers and turned to check on his golem. It was solemn-faced and bored behind Nimueh’s chair, but still steady and strong, responding to orders or jibes or whatever it was Nimueh was saying to it just as Merlin himself would have done if he’d been there. Merlin nodded to himself and turned to watch.
By the fifth display, Merlin was fighting boredom - but the rest of the court seemed engrossed. It was all so commonplace, so dull, and what use would parlour-tricks be to any court sorcerer? It was possible Merlin was romanticising it all in his head, but surely protection-magic was the most important skill for the court sorcerer, possibly battle-magic - not conjuring songbirds as the current hopeful was trying to do. Badly, too, Merlin thought critically, glancing at Morgana and Gwen with a grin already on his face. Morgana had one eyebrow raised, the very picture of disdain, and Gwen leant across to whisper to her, badly hiding her smile. Morgana laughed, and Merlin wished, not for the first time, that he was there with them, Nimueh gone, and they could all enjoy this. It was so much more than they’d ever had, and even here they were sneaking around and hiding, fighting to be anything other than pawns in Nimueh’s twisted games.
“Let me guess,” a man said, appearing at Merlin’s side, his tone just supercilious enough to get Merlin’s back up. “Either you think you could do so much better, or you’re wondering how on earth they do all that."
Merlin looked up at him - for a moment, he thought the thing he hated the most about this odd new body was the height loss, and then he remembered that he had breasts - and shook his head, fighting down the urge to snap at him. The ballroom, with all its people and noise, was starting to get to him, and he wondered how Morgana and Gwen were dealing with it. “Actually,” he said, as politely as he could, “it all just seems a bit silly.”
“Silly?” the man raised an eyebrow. “The prince is picking a court sorcerer, there’s nothing silly about it.”
“I’m sure conjuring three singing birds will be really useful to the court,” Merlin said, a little of his irritation coming through. “And I don’t like the way they’re all just desperate for the prince’s attention. They’re sorcerers, they should have a little - a little-”
“Yes?” the man prompted, when Merlin trailed off.
“Self-respect,” Merlin snapped.
“Being court sorcerer is a great honour,” he was told, and had to bite his tongue. “And maybe they just don’t want to give away their secrets.”
“If they want to be picked, maybe they should give up at least one of them,” Merlin suggested tartly.
“Maybe the prince has different criteria to you,” the man returned lazily.
“What?” Merlin said, distracted by the new word.
The man’s blue eyes looked incredulous for a second, and Merlin shifted irritably. “Maybe the prince isn’t looking for the same thing in his court sorcerer as you are,” he rephrased, and Merlin shrugged.
“If he’s looking for a man who can conjure songbirds, he can still do better than him. Look how sloppy he is! Wasting magic all over the place, those birds are practically bleeding it. I bet he can’t hold them for ten seconds more.”
“What will you bet me?”
“Hmm?” Merlin asked, eyes on the struggling sorcerer in the middle of the room.
“What will you bet me?” the man repeated.
“Oh. What do you want?”
The man looked at him for a long moment, and Merlin flushed hotly under that weighing gaze. “A dance and we’ll call it even. I make it eleven seconds, by the way.”
“Twelve,” Merlin said and sighed. “They should have lasted for at least half an hour.” He turned to the man and shrugged. “I think I promised you a dance?”
“You did,” the man said with a lopsided smile, and bowed. “Though I think you’d better tell me your name first.”
“Mer - my name's Lin,” he said, and tried a smile to cover the awkward fumble. “Er - short for Linnet.” He held out a hand for the man to shake.
“Call me Art,” the man - Art - said, taking his hand and bowing over it. Merlin bitterly cursed his magic in his head; he could have come as a boy, and then none of this would have happened. It was all so awkward.
He had to shut his eyes for a moment, to rein his magic in. With all the distractions of the ballroom pressing in on every sense, he felt overwhelmed, sick with the effort of trying to hold his magic back and keep the golem a steady, solid presence at Nimueh’s shoulder, and there were too many people.
When he opened them, Art was giving him an odd look. “Are you alright?” he said, apparently more curious than concerned.
Merlin forced a smile. “Fine,” he said quickly. “There are just a lot of people.”
Art looked a little confused, but smiled and gallantly offered him his arm. Gritting his teeth, Merlin took it. “There’s a balcony just along here,” Art told him. “You’ll feel better for some fresh air.”
Merlin could only take his word for it; he could barely remember being around so many people, and he dimly wondered how Gwen and Morgana were coping with it. Getting away from it, even if only for a little bit, seemed like a good idea.
Out on the balcony, Merlin detached himself from Art’s arm and nearly tripped over the hem of the ridiculous dress. Art caught his arm to steady him, grinning a little when Merlin shot him a glare. “You know, most people say thank you,” he said innocently, and Merlin huffed.
“I’m not most people,” he muttered. “And I’m not used to the dress.” He could have slapped himself the minute the words were out of his mouth, but Arthur just looked amused.
“Were you raised by wolves?” he asked, too interested.
“Why would you think that?” Merlin demanded, completely taken aback.
Art shrugged, badly suppressing a wicked grin. “It would explain so much.”
“I think you were raised by wolves,” Merlin returned, but without much heat. It was better out here on the balcony, less stressful away from the crowds, and Art was an oddly comfortable if infuriating companion.
“Why’s the dress such a surprise to you then?” Art asked, leaning casually back against the balustrade, and Merlin shrugged.
“When I’m at home, I wear - less constricting clothes,” he explained, and mentally forgave himself the lie. He’d already told the man that his name was Linnet, and let him believe he was a girl; what were a few more lies on top of that?
Art gave him a critical once-over and Merlin shifted irritably. “Well, if it helps at all, ‘constricting’ is a good look on you,” he said, and Merlin growled.
“I thought,” he said, with what he hoped was freezing politeness, “that gentlemen were supposed to be polite to ladies.”
“You’re not a very good lady,” Art told him airily. “And I never said I was a gentleman.”
Merlin had to forgive him the first part - it was nothing less than the truth - but he did raise an eyebrow at the second part. “Oh? What are you, then?”
Art glanced away, unsettled for the first time. “You haven’t told me anything about yourself,” he misdirected. “Why should I tell you?”
“Let me guess,” Merlin said, grinning, pleased to have wrong-footed his oh-so-sure companion. “You’re pretending to be a nobleman for the night, and you’ll go back to real life when the balls are over.” He could sympathise, after all. For all he knew, after the balls, he, Gwen and Morgana would be heading back to the castle with Nimueh, and the gods only knew how that would end.
Art threw back his head and laughed. “Something like that,” he agreed. “I suppose we’ll just have to remain a mystery to each other forever.”
Merlin smiled. “I suppose I can work with that.”
For a moment, they were silent, Art staring back into the ballroom through the opened doors, and Merlin looking out over the gardens, half-lit with torches. Finally, Art broke the silence.
“So? What about that dance?”
Merlin floundered. “I - dance? What dance?”
“The dance I won,” Art said patiently. “In our bet.”
“Oh, yes. The, er, dance. I- there isn’t any music.”
“Call yourself a sorceress?” Art asked, pushing himself upright off the balustrade. “I’m sure you can manage something. One violin would do it.”
The skill, Merlin thought nervously, would lie in not creating a forty piece orchestra. “Well, I can try,” he said, rather more dubiously than he’d intended.
“I'm sure whatever you manage will be lovely,” Arthur told him, gallantly patronising.
“I can’t tell you how warmed I am by your confidence,” Merlin said, already sending a little magic back into the ballroom to monitor what went on. He couldn’t quite face the idea of going back in there, with all its heat and noise and people, but he had to make sure Nimueh didn’t try anything while his back was turned, or the entire thing would be a waste of time and magic. Slowly and carefully he teased away enough magic to keep to a fiddle and a flute, playing out a simple tune with a strong beat, and Art raised an eyebrow.
“I’m impressed,” he said, and held out a hand. When Merlin, teeth gritted again, put his hand in Art’s, Art bowed low over it. “Shall we?”
“I warn you, I can’t dance,” Merlin said quickly, and Art flashed in him a quicksilver grin.
“I’d imagine the wolves don’t have dancing instructors,” he agreed innocently, and Merlin squeezed his hand in retribution. “Don’t worry, I’m leading, and I’m a very good dancer.”
“And so modest with it,” Merlin agreed, and deliberately trod on Art’s foot when Art tried a particularly ambitious turn. Dancing provided a neat medium for subtle revenge, and Art - whether he was acting a gentleman or drawing on his upbringing - was clearly trying not to mention it; Merlin thought it was hilarious. The magic, sensing an upswing in his mood, shifted from a country air to a lively jig, and Merlin pulled back when Art tried to shift dance to keep up with it. “Now that, I cannot do,” Merlin admitted. “Not even if you lead me through it.”
“Then tell your demon instruments to keep to something you can do,” Art said. “I don’t get a chance to dance that much, and I was enjoying that.”
“All about you, isn’t it?” Merlin said, and forced the magic back in line. “Right, let’s try this again.”
Once he got the hang of the simple steps, the dance was fun, even if he was playing the girl, which he couldn’t say he enjoyed all that much. This was something he’d never done when he and the girls were living with Nimueh, and there were no bad memories associated with it; it was just fun and easy. Unfortunately, once he relaxed into it and started enjoying it, the magic picked up on it, and sped up into something faster, a flute and a clarinet joining in the fun, and Merlin pulled away again.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “It just doesn’t always listen when I’m having fun.”
Art shook his head, looking curious. “It just does what it wants?”
Merlin nodded glumly, then retracted when Arthur began to look alarmed. “Not like that,” he said quickly. “It wouldn’t do anything bad, it’s just that it gets bored.”
“Your magic,” Art repeated slowly, and Merlin nodded. “Your magic gets bored.”
It seemed a perfectly straight forward concept to Merlin, and he wondered why Art wasn’t getting it. “Yes?”
“I didn’t think magic worked that way,” Art said thoughtfully. “Has it always been like that?”
Merlin shrugged. “I suppose so? I never really thought about it. Maybe you just haven’t talked to that many sorcerers?”
“Maybe,” Art agreed, but his eyes were considering in an entirely different way from before when he looked at Merlin again. Finally, after a long, rather uncomfortable pause, he shook his head and held out his hand again. “Come on, we’ll keep trying. Never say die, am I right?”
“I don’t know,” Merlin told him honestly, putting his hand in Arthur’s. “Is that a saying?”
Art grinned as he took Merlin’s hand. “Indeed it is. No adages to howl at the moon, then, among your family?”
Just for that, Merlin trod extra hard on his foot when they shifted into another dance to match the music. Art told him it was a gavotte, and Merlin had no choice but to believe him. It was weirdly fun, dancing on the balcony, just the two of them and phantom instruments playing; Merlin had always assumed that most people out there were like Nimueh, stern and forbidding, but Art was an easy, pleasant companion, and Merlin let himself relax, just for a little bit, and enjoy the evening. His magic wasn’t telling him anything was amiss in the ballroom, and Art was fun to spend time with. He could relax, just for a little bit.
**
Dancing eventually gave way to talking, and at maybe eleven, Art disappeared to fetch ‘rations’ for them, coming back with a plate of sweetmeats and a glass of lemonade for Merlin. “I didn’t see you drinking,” he explained, handing it over, “and I thought you might be thirsty. You see the manners you learn among civilised people?”
Merlin ignored him, and bit into a sweetmeat with a little too much relish. “I don’t care,” he said, “so long as your manners mean you feed me these. Gods, these are amazing.”
Art grinned at him. “I’ve always thought so, but we only get them on feast days.”
“Pig herders not allowed royal fare regularly, then? And I thought it was all so equal here among humans,” Merlin shot back.
Art grinned, hopping up onto the balustrade beside Merlin, who had probably torn his dress and didn’t care in the slightest. “So where did you grow up, then?” he asked, and Merlin shook his head.
“No details, remember? I’m here to try for the place as the Prince’s sorcerer, you’re-” he broke off. “Hang on, you’re not a sorcerer, are you?”
Art shook his head, chewing on a pastry. “No,” he said. “Not a drop of magic in me. Or if there is, it’s never done me any good.”
Merlin chewed in silence. “I don’t know that having magic has ever done me all that much good,” he said quietly, and Art glanced at him.
“Oh?”
Merlin shook his head, and shut his eyes for a minute. “It’s nice,” he said finally. “Being here. It’s - nice.”
He expected Art to make a bad joke about wolves again, and was fully prepared to shove him off the balustrade if it was too awful, but Art was silent for a second before he replied.
“Are you going back there tonight?” he said quietly, and Merlin glanced at him, frowning.
“Where?”
“Wherever it is,” Art shrugged. “Wherever it is that makes you so - unhappy.” He shifted uncomfortably. “I’m not very good at all this,” he apologised ludicrously. “But - if you’re in, in any danger, there are people here who’ll help, you know.”
Merlin thought about it for a minute. Life with Nimueh was awful, most of the time, but he had Gwen and Morgana, and it wasn’t as though Nimueh could actually hurt him, or them, because Merlin could always stop her.
And he thought about telling Art about Nimueh, about everything she had planned, but the problem was, he didn’t actually know what she had planned, and how inconclusive would that sound? ‘That sorceress is trying to kill the prince. I don’t know when or how, but she is, I promise you.’ Someone would question Nimueh; she would deny it; she would know that someone had informed against her, and she didn’t know Merlin knew about her plans, or that he was even at these balls. It would put Gwen and Morgana in danger, and Nimueh would be furious - if there was one time Merlin feared her, it was when she was angry. It wasn’t that she was any more powerful angry than calm, but she made him nervous all the same, just as she had when he was a child.
He’d been silent too long, because something had changed in Art’s stance. “If it’s a man,” he said awkwardly, and Merlin cut him off quickly, before he could say anything even more awkward.
“I’m touched,” he said lightly, and secretly he was, warmed by Art’s awkward concern, “but it’s not like that. My- my family don’t know that I’m here. At some point, I have to explain.”
Art nodded, but didn’t look wholly convinced. “If you need anything,” he said, persevering anyway. “I’ll help. I’ll try.”
“I won’t need it,” Merlin promised, “but I appreciate it.”
After a moment’s pause, he stood and brushed out his ridiculous skirts. “I should probably be heading home now, actually,” he said, because his golem was dying in the ballroom, becoming less and less responsive. “Thank you.” He dipped a little curtsey again, and was amused when Arthur returned it with a little bow.
“Can I walk you out?” he said, and Merlin shook his head, smiling.
“You’ve hidden out here with me all evening,” he said. “I’m sure you have an adoring public waiting for you in there.”
Art grinned. “Something like that,” he agreed lightly. “Will you be here tomorrow?”
“I should be,” Merlin nodded, and tried not to think about how much he would look forward to finding Art tomorrow night. “Will you?”
“Oh yes,” Art nodded. “I’ll - I’ll see you here, then?”
“Right here?”
“Why not?” Art asked, and smiled when Merlin looked surprised. “Meet me on this very spot on the stroke of - well, it’s normally midnight, but shall we say nine?”
“Normally midnight?” Merlin asked confused, and Art just smiled at him.
“It’s a human thing,” he said, and took Merlin’s hand, bowing over it. “Until tomorrow night, lady.”
“Gentleman,” Merlin returned, grinning, and left Art standing there.
**
He watched Nimueh and his sisters across the dance-floor - currently overtaken by a wide green lawn, conjured by a nervous teenager - until Morgana turned to his now pale, sickly golem and sent it to get her a drink. Carefully, Merlin released the magic when the golem was out of sight, and returned with the drink as himself, ‘Linnet’ gone as if she had never been; on his return, he caught Morgana’s eye and nodded, very slightly.
Everything that had happened to him in his absence, every insult Nimueh had given him and drink he had fetched, was crowding in his head, fighting with the memories of his time with Art, because how could one person have two memories of the same moment?
Ruthlessly, he fought them back to their proper place. He could and would have both sets of memories.
Nimueh was holding court with a small, adoring public, mostly men, and Merlin listened to her as she made light, sparkling jabs at the other sorcerers, phrased to sound like small jokes, though they were sharp enough to draw blood. He concentrated on Morgana and Gwen; Morgana, regal in dark blue silk, was sat very straight, staring out over the ballroom and ignoring everything said to her, unless it was Gwen speaking. Her hands were clenched in her lap, and though she was smiling, Merlin knew that she was wishing herself miles away.
Gwen, sweet as ever in her white gown, was keeping up a light flow of inconsequential chatter, to distract from Morgana, but there was an off-note in her voice, and her hands flew nervously as she spoke. Every so often, she glanced at Morgana before starting up another topic. Merlin couldn’t bear it; disappearing, he collected a plate of the same sweetmeats and pastries that Arthur had brought him, and presented them, first to Morgana and then to Gwen.
The look Morgana gave him was eloquent, pleading and apologetic at the same time, and Merlin sighed and glanced at Gwen, who nodded just a little. When he presented her with the plate of food, she feigned not seeing it, and knocked it out of his hands with one over-ambitious gesture.
Merlin dropped to his knees instantly to pick up the pieces of broken pottery and the ruined food, but it was no use; Nimueh was already glaring at him. With a snap, the mess disappeared, and Nimueh advanced on him, pulling him upright. “I’m so sorry,” she turned to the company she’d gathered around her. “Clearly our servant is tired.” Her voice was light and amused, but Merlin could hear the iron under it and shivered. “And I would so hate for him to be taxed by his duties.” A small ripple of laughter went through the little crowd, and Nimueh smiled. “Come, my dears,” this to Morgana and Gwen, “we’ll away. Until tomorrow?” She glanced from face to face, and was clearly pleased when every one nodded. “I shall look forward to it,” she said sweetly, and led the way from the ballroom.
Merlin sat outside the box of the carriage, and so was spared Nimueh’s wrath for a little while, but when they arrived at the house, he found himself thrown back against the door, held in place by magic as Nimueh stalked forwards, anger sparking in her eyes. He had to swallow his own magic down before it broke her hold on him, wrestling it back into place.
“If that happens again,” she said, danger in every syllable, “if you draw attention to us like that again, or do anything to jeopardise our chances, you will wish you had died with your whore of a mother, do you understand?”
Merlin stared at her, hating her, hating her, and saw, over her shoulder, contrition on Morgana’s face and misery on Gwen’s. Somehow, he managed to nod and drop his eyes when he would willingly have shouted back, destroyed her.
But no. If there was one thing Merlin knew, it was that he could never hurt someone with his magic, he just couldn’t, so. There was nothing to do but wait and watch, as he’d been doing for so many years.
Nimueh released him and he slumped back against the door. “Your chores,” she rapped out. “Get to them. And believe me,” she looked horribly pleased, “I will be watching.”
**
It was hours before Merlin had the chance to sneak up to Morgana’s room, where both his sisters were waiting for him, eyes troubled.
“Thank God,” Morgana said, while Gwen rushed over to hug him.
“I’m so sorry, Merlin,” she said contritely. “I- she was so angry, and I’m sorry, and-”
“You look dreadful,” Morgana said bluntly, drawing him over to the fire, where Merlin sank into the chair with a sigh. “And I’m sorry too,” she added, as Merlin tipped his head back against the chair-back and shut his eyes. “I couldn’t- it was all so much. Thank you, for - for that.”
“Overwhelming, wasn’t it?” Merlin said, without opening his eyes. Morgana and Gwen would understand, they always did. “So many people.”
“Exactly!” Morgana agreed. “And so much noise, and light, and-”
“And magic,” Gwen added, sounding a little sad. Merlin rolled his head over to look at her, and she smiled at him, changing the subject before Merlin could ask how she felt. “Are we- is it...?” she wiggled her fingers at Morgana, their long-held symbol for ‘are we safe here’; after years of practice, Morgana’s skills lay strongly in the field of wards and illusions, and she regularly layered both around her rooms, warding out any listeners and creating simple illusions to lull them into thinking all was as they expected. Nimueh would never even know they were there; and even if she did, Morgana was still sometimes tormented by her dreams; she had a cast-iron excuse to ward her rooms. It made their traditional safe-place just a little safer, knowing that Morgana had her wards up.
“Yes,” Morgana nodded. “I put the wards up when we first came in, don’t worry.” She turned back to Merlin. “There wasn’t as much magic as I thought there would be,” she said bluntly. “Did you notice that?”
Merlin shrugged and nodded. “I did, but - I mean, we’re all so strong, aren’t we?” he appealed to his sisters, then could have kicked himself when Gwen glanced away. “I meant it, you know,” he said to her. “You’re a strong sorcerer. Just not - not the same way Morgana is, or Nimueh.”
“Or you,” she said quietly, and he gave her a weak grin.
“Oh well, no one’s like me,” he said, and accepted it when Morgana threw a pillow at him.
“No one’s as insufferable as you,” she said, but without rancour. “None of the other sorcerers are strong enough to beat Nimueh.”
“Well, we don’t need them to beat her,” Merlin pointed out. “They’re buying us time. Maybe we can - I don’t know, maybe we can find out what she’s planning? One of you could ask her, couldn’t you?” He hated that it might put them in danger, but he couldn’t think of any other way.
“We could ask,” Morgana said dryly, “we wouldn’t be told. Nimueh’s playing this close to the chest. She’ll use our power, but she doesn’t want our opinions.”
“When has she ever?” Gwen asked, an unfamiliar note of bitterness in her tone, and Merlin and Morgana gave her an incredulous look. “I’m sorry,” she said quickly, “I’m sorry, I’m just so tired of it all. The ball was - overwhelming, I know, but there were so many people there, normal people like us, and then we have to come back here and sneak around just to talk to each other, and I know we didn’t have any other choice, but I’m so tired of it.” She gave them a wan smile. “I’m sorry. After seeing all those people, it all just seems so - so silly, that we’re here like this, two of the most powerful sorcerers in the world and me-”
“Another one,” Morgana added loyally, but Gwen waved a hand.
“It doesn’t matter, it’s just so silly - you’re so brilliant, and should have been at court, and Merlin’s the strongest sorcerer we’ve ever met, perhaps anyone’s ever met, and I love both of you and I just wish we could stop. All of this, I want it to stop.” She gave Morgana and Merlin a long look before looking away. “I’m sorry,” she said again, but Morgana shook her head, reaching over to take Gwen’s hand.
“Don’t be silly,” she said, giving it a squeeze. “Do you think we don’t feel the exact same way? I mean, we’ve never spoken about it-”
“We never dared,” Merlin put in, and Morgana nodded.
“-but we all feel the same, and being here in Camelot isn’t helping. It’s just seeing everything we’ve missed out on.”
“I want us to have it,” Merlin said quietly, and Morgana looked at him.
“Oh, well, if you want it,” she said, a teasing note in her voice that didn’t quite dispel the hope in her eyes. “How can we?”
“I don’t know,” Merlin said leaning his head back against the chair again. “I have no idea, but we’re all so miserable with Nimueh. Why shouldn’t we leave? We’ve never needed her, and we’re already in Camelot. Why not just - leave?”
“Maybe one of us could win this competition,” Morgana said, a dreamy note in her voice. Her eyes sharpened again, focussing on the two of them. “You know, I’ve never dreamt of this. I’ve seen you, Merlin, a great wizard, and Gwen, I’ve seen you as a lady at court, but I’ve never dreamed of how we’d get there.”
“Nothing wrong with surprises,” Merlin said, smiling.
“But how can we leave Nimueh?” Gwen asked, very softly. “If we tried, she’d just - take us back. Wouldn’t she?”
“Merlin is so strong,” Morgana said, watching Merlin who shifted uncomfortably under her gaze. “I don’t think there’s anything you couldn’t do, is there? Not if you put your mind to it. We don’t have to kill her, or - or anything like that, but Merlin could stop her, if he got the chance. And we could help, we’re not exactly fainting maidens, Gwen.”
“I can imagine you as a fainting maiden,” Gwen said, straight-faced, and Morgana laughed, surprised. “I can just see it, you sat around doing embroidery and fainting whenever Merlin told you about something particularly daring that he’d done.”
Merlin grinned. “I can see that,” he agreed. “You’ll have to come on quests with me, Morgana, so you remember how not to be a shrinking violet.”
Morgana was smiling again, which had been the point of it. “I never liked either of you,” she said, lying cheerfully through her teeth. “Anyway, I didn’t see you at the ball, Merlin, did your faint heart overwhelm you?”
The dreaded moment of disclosure had arrived. “You might not have recognised me,” he said carefully, and Morgana raised an eyebrow.
“We know you were under a disguise, but we would have recognised you,” she said certainly.
“Ah, it’s, um.” He swallowed. “My magic kind of - it, well. It. Turned me into a girl.”
There was a moment of silence; then Morgana snorted with laughter. “It what?” she demanded, failing badly to keep her face straight.
“Look, it knew I needed a disguise,” Merlin said, shifting irritably. “And it - turned me into a girl.”
Gwen and Morgana exchanged looks. “Well, go on then,” Gwen said encouragingly. “Let’s see.”
“Is that a good idea?” Merlin asked, and Morgana grinned.
“Anyone would think you were shy, Merlin,” she said teasingly. “What better way to cheer up your sisters than this?”
Merlin gave her a filthy look. “I want you to know that I’m already planning my revenge,” he said, and Gwen smiled up at him.
“I’m sure it will be very frightening,” she said reassuringly and Merlin tried not to smile, but failed.
“Fine. But I will put toads in your beds, don’t think I won’t.” Taking a deep breath, he told his magic what he wanted and let it go. When he glanced down at himself, ‘Linnet’s’ alien body was sat in the chair, in the same white dress as before.
Morgana clapped. “I’m very impressed,” she said, sounding almost entirely sincere, and Merlin glared at her, changing back to his normal self.
“Thank you,” he said dryly. “That’s why you didn’t recognise me.”
“Well, Nimueh would never expect that,” Gwen said, not even trying to hide her smile. “I’m very impressed.”
“So you should be,” Merlin said primly. “I had to dance in that dress.”
“Oh, did you pick up a beau?” Morgana asked, and Merlin smiled at her, leaning back in his chair and stretching his legs out in front of him, settling in to swap tales of the evening.
**
The next night, on the advice of Gwen and Morgana, Merlin left his golem at home and headed to the ball before his sisters and Nimueh.
“We arrive late,” Morgana pointed out. “If you always arrive after us, she might get suspicious. I’m not saying it’s likely!” she added quickly, when Merlin opened his mouth to protest, “but she might, and we want to avoid that.”
‘Linnet’s’ horrible dress was green this time, and Merlin spent the hour before he was due to meet Art on the balcony wandering through the ballroom, smiling politely at anyone who acknowledged him and speaking to no one. The ball itself had barely started, and it was a little less overpowering than it had been yesterday, but Merlin found, to his surprise, that he was rather shy of people. Instead of worrying about it, he got down to work, surreptitiously placing spells around the ballroom, spells to alert him if anything happened, of protection and strength, in case Nimueh decided to pull the whole thing down around their ears. It was sensible, he knew, and necessary - this was the only reason he had come to the balls in the first place - but it still felt as though he was just biding his time until he was due to meet up with Art.
He hadn’t told the girls about Art, because he wasn’t quite sure what to think about him himself; he could only barely admit to himself that staying Camelot sounded so attractive because it would mean staying near to Art. But Merlin knew he wasn’t good with people; he hadn’t had to deal with anyone other than Nimueh, Gwen and Morgana for eleven years. It was more than possible that his attachment to Art, the instant comfort he found in him, was just how normal people felt when they made a friend.
And Art didn’t even know who he was, anyway. He thought Merlin was a girl, Linnet, and if he liked Merlin, it was because he thought he liked Linnet, who didn’t even exist. When everything was over, if they were free from Nimueh, Art wouldn’t even recognise him.
He was thinking about that when Art appeared on the balcony beside him, holding out his hand and greeting him with a low bow. “Lady,” he said, smiling up at Merlin when Merlin put his hand in Art’s, bowing over it again. “I hope you’re - hang on.” He was staring down at Merlin’s hand, bringing it up to his face, and for one awful moment, Merlin thought he was going to kiss it - but no, he was staring at it, fixedly, long fingers stroking across Merlin’s. “What’s this?” Merlin’s hands had been cut the night before as he picked up the broken plate, and Art was examining one of the nastier, deeper cuts, a martial look in his eyes. “How did this happen?”
Merlin snatched his hand back, glaring at Art. It wasn’t even that bad, but Art was apparently determined to see Merlin - Linnet - as a blushing maiden, and even more determined to play her protector. “I cut myself,” he said firmly.
“How,” Art rapped out.
“I broke a glass,” Merlin snapped, in no mood to be coddled. “By the time I remembered to use magic to clear it up, I’d already cut myself.”
Art was watching him, and for a moment there was a long, uncomfortable silence. Finally, he shrugged. “Fine.”
“We’re done with this?” Merlin asked, only a little sarcastically and Art shrugged.
“I have to take your word for it that you’re fine,” he said, and looked away. “But perhaps-” he broke off and shrugged again. “Perhaps you could stay here. After the balls are over, perhaps your - your family would let you stay at court.”
Merlin thought about his and Morgana’s and Gwen’s plans and nodded. “I think they probably would,” he agreed. “And - I’d like that.”
“Would you?” Art looked back at him, smiling just a little. “I think I would too. Isn’t it odd? I don’t normally like people very much.”
“Well, at least you have practice at it. I don’t even know how to go about liking people,” Merlin confessed, and Art laughed.
“I think you really were raised by wolves,” he said, joking, and Merlin forced a smile. He couldn’t quite shake the thought that, with Nimueh as their guardian, they almost had been.
“So, what is my lord’s pleasure?” he asked, and wished he hadn’t, suddenly all too aware of his odd new body, pleating his fingers into his skirts (dear gods, he was wearing skirts).
Art went a funny shade of red. “I- we could dance?”
“Again?” Merlin groaned. It had been fun, but he hadn’t exactly relished being led around by Art, even though Art’s hand in his had felt - nice, he supposed, he hadn’t examined it too much, and being close to him had been pleasant.
“If you don’t want to-”
“I don’t think it’s a skill of mine,” Merlin pointed out, and Art grinned.
“Well, my feet would have to agree with you there,” he said, “but I could teach you, if you liked. Properly, this time.”
Merlin eyed him. “I don’t think you’d be a very patient teacher,” he said frankly.
“Lin, for you, I would try,” Art told him, sweeping him a low bow, and Merlin grinned, slipping off the balustrade. “What would you like to learn first?”
**
Art was a truly terrible teacher, though he clearly tried, and whenever Merlin felt as though he might be getting the steps, he remembered his new body and stumbled, awkward, or mentally checked on his monitoring spells, tripping over Art’s feet yet again.
Finally, Art pushed him gently away and stood aside, hands on hips. “You are a truly terrible dancer,” he said firmly, and Merlin grinned, insouciant.
“I did warn you,” he said, and Art shrugged.
“I lived in hope,” he returned, but Merlin wasn’t listening. He was looking into the ballroom, where a tall, dark-haired man was leading Gwen out onto the floor to dance, away from the sorcerer currently giving his display to the Prince on the throne. Gwen was laughing, a bright look in her eyes, and Merlin felt an answering smile on his face before he could stop it. Over by Nimueh, Morgana still looked brittle and uneasy, but there was a soft look in her eyes, distinguishable to Merlin even from a distance, and he felt his heart lighten.
“Would you like me to show you something?” he asked Art, before he could stop himself, feeling as though he maybe could dance now. His magic buoyed up the happiness he was feeling until he felt that his heart was in his throat, ready to beat right out of his chest, burst with magic and happiness. This was where he and his sisters were meant to be, and he would make sure it happened, no matter what Nimueh had planned; he could afford himself a few moments of happiness, showing off to a new friend.
Art looked amused. “I thought maybe you wanted to go back in,” he objected, and Merlin shook his head, still grinning like a loon.
“I can see all I need to from here,” he said, and realised a beat too late that his eyes were fixed on Art’s face. Looking hastily away, he said, “no, look -” raised his hands, and let his magic go.
The air out on the balcony lit faintly gold, sparking where it was disturbed by the breeze, flowers curling themselves around the columns without really being there. The torches out in the gardens picked up, different coloured flames appearing among the orange-gold, and from somewhere, music was playing; heavy, solemn, but joyful.
When he dropped his hands, Art’s face was a picture; half-impressed, a little moved, a little surprised. Finally, he swallowed visibly and said, “I thought you didn’t approve of party tricks?”
Merlin laughed, long and loud, longer than he should have, in fact. He just felt so light, and Art’s worried face made everything funnier. “They’re well enough,” he said, still smiling. “I don’t think you should judge a court sorcerer on them, but there’s a time for them, isn’t there? And that,” he waved a hand to indicate everything that had just happened on the balcony, “was how I’m feeling right now.”
Art looked taken aback, but his smile was happy. “I’m glad,” he said quietly. “I’m so glad.”
The elation Merlin was feeling calmed a little, just enough that he felt he could control himself, keep it inside a little better. “I’m sorry,” he offered, though he wasn’t, not really.
“It’s fine,” Art told him. “I’d rather you were happy than anything else. I don’t know, it - the way you act, some of the things you say, it - it doesn’t feel as though you been happy a lot.”
Merlin looked away into the garden. “I thought I was,” he said simply. “Maybe it’s easier to be happy here.”
Art joined him by the balustrade. “That’s why you should stay,” he said simply, and Merlin nodded; but a thought had occurred to him and he swallowed a little before turning to Art.
“If I stay,” he said quietly, “I’m not - I’m not normally like this.”
“All dressed up and on best behaviour?” Art asked, eyebrow raised. “If it helps, I’m not normally like this either.”
“No, I mean-” Merlin broke off in frustration. “I’ve lied to you,” he said finally. “About a lot of things, and I can’t tell you the truth yet. Please believe me,” he said quickly when Art drew himself up beside him, “I want to, but I can’t. When the balls are over, I’ll be the person I normally am, and that’s nothing like I am now. I’ll tell you then, but you - you may not like me as much.”
Art was silent for a long moment. “I won’t care,” he said finally. “No, really,” because Merlin had opened his mouth to protest, “I won’t. I’m sure I should, but I don’t care what you’re like. I like you.”
“What if I was so different that you couldn’t recognise me?” Merlin asked. “What if something you thought was totally fundamental about me wasn’t the same?”
“You’re wearing a glamour, aren’t you?” Art asked, without answering his question.
“No.” Merlin glanced at him. “I don’t look like this normally, but it’s not a glamour.”
Art frowned. “What is it then? What have you done?”
Merlin shut his eyes for a second. “I can’t tell you,” he said miserably. “Tomorrow night, I will, I promise. Everything will be over tomorrow night.”
“It doesn’t sound like you’re just talking about the balls,” Art commented, detached, and Merlin smiled a little.
“Maybe I’m not,” he agreed. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” Art said. “Even if you don’t look like you, I won’t be sorry that I met you. And - gods help me, but I trust you. I'll at least hear you out, I promise.” Merlin smiled, and wondered privately whether Art would feel differently tomorrow. Art was looking at him, he could tell, but he was still a little startled when Art said, out of the blue, “penny for them.”
“A penny for what?” Merlin frowned.
“Your thoughts,” Art said patiently. “A penny for your thoughts.”
“Why would you give me a penny for my thoughts?” Merlin asked, confused. Art sighed.
“It’s just a saying. What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking - I’m thinking I like it here,” he said, and Art looked back into the semi-darkness of the gardens.
“I hope you’ll continue to think so,” he replied formally, though there was no doubting his sincerity, and Merlin smiled. For a moment, he wished he could continue in these moments forever, stay as Linnet and be the person Art thought he was, but he knew it wasn’t feasible, and more to the point he knew he didn’t really want it. He just wanted to be around Art, to have his sisters close and safe, and Nimueh gone from their lives, but Merlin had long since accepted that he could very rarely have everything he wanted - and Gwen and Morgana had been his priority for a very long time. If he had to choose between the two, they would always win. Even if it broke his heart to choose.
“So do I,” he said quietly, and wondered whether he dared.
**
Part Three