Chapter Text
Chapter 1
The only warning Merlin got was the loud stomping before the door to King Arthur’s rooms banged open.
“You!” Arthur said, red in the face and out of breath, pointing at where Merlin was sitting at the table mending one of his tunics. Merlin raised his eyebrows in response.
“You!” Arthur repeated, took another couple of breaths, and closed the door in the face of one of the guards who had followed him.
“What is it now, Sire?” Merlin sighed. He had no idea what he had done wrong, but Arthur looked ready to explode, which Merlin found rather unfair, since the only thing he’d done this morning after waking and feeding Arthur was to sharpen his sword and mend his clothes.
“You. Have. Magic!” Arthur roared, pointing at Merlin more aggressively.
“Ah.” That would explain why Arthur had come up to him to yell right in his face. Though, no – not right in his face. Arthur had stayed as close to the exit as he could get. It made Merlin want to snort, but that would be very unwise.
“Ah? Ah? You’re not even denying it?” If Arthur continued like this he would no doubt pass out from the amount of blood that had moved to his very red head.
“You should take a seat.”
“Take a— No, Merlin, I’m bloody well not sitting down! You have magic! You don’t even deny it!”
Merlin sighed. “What’s the point? You obviously already know.” Arthur just gaped, and swayed on his feet a few seconds later because he was very clearly forgetting to breathe in his rage.
“Why— You— How— You—” were the chopped off words Arthur managed to utter before he swayed a bit too far and went down. Merlin scrambled up but it was too late – Arthur had crumpled, but not before hitting his head against the wall like the idiot he was.
Merlin levitated him to the bed and examined him, checking his head for anything worse than a bump, and perhaps letting his fingers linger in the blond tufts for a few seconds.
He then cast a quick healing spell, just to make sure Arthur wouldn’t be even more addle-headed than he already was. He nonchalantly went back to his work, waiting for his king to wake up, pondering how he could salvage this situation. (And mostly trying not to start breathing so hard he would pass out himself.)
How had Arthur even found out? It wasn’t like he’d been any more obvious about it than usual – he wasn’t obvious about it at all, really, no matter what Gaius said.
Arthur sat up in his bed with a loud inhale, almost giving Merlin a heart-attack. The first thing Arthur did when he saw Merlin was point and say “You!”.
This was getting old.
“Yes, me,” Merlin said with a sigh. If he acted like this was no more important than when Arthur got upset at his lack of manserving skills, maybe Arthur would pick up on that and act accordingly. Maybe. If the universe was on Merlin’s side, for once. The universe owed him that, really, given all the hard work he’d done so far.
“You’re a sorcerer!” Which, hadn’t they established that ten minutes ago? This idiotic conversation wasn’t getting anywhere—
Hang on. Arthur was an idiot. Merlin had exploited that so many times already when it came to hiding his magic. Why shouldn’t he exploit it now?
“Me, Sire? A sorcerer? Of course not.”
“You have magic! I saw you! And you don’t deny it either!”
Merlin rolled his eyes in the most ostentatious way possible. “Well yes, of course I have magic. I’m a warlock.”
“You just said you weren’t a sorcerer!”
“Exactly.” He could see Arthur getting red in the face again. At least he was still in bed so if he collapsed once more it wouldn’t be a problem. “I’m a warlock. That’s a completely different thing.”
“How is that different? You have magic!” Good point, Arthur. There was no difference. But how would Arthur know that?
“Druids have magic. And yet, druids aren’t persecuted left and right in Camelot, because you know druidic magic is not the same as sorcerer’s magic. Druidic magic isn’t evil, you know that. I’m a warlock, not a sorcerer.”
Arthur looked so confused. It was adorable. “So… You’re saying that you have magic, but it’s druid magic?”
“Ah, no. Warlock magic is not—” Merlin stopped himself. No need to overwhelm Arthur with technicalities. Besides, some druids had taught him things. “Well, there is some druid magic in there, yes. There is an overlap. But mostly, it’s warlock magic.”
More confused blinking on Arthur’s part. It would actually be rather endearing, if there wasn’t the threat of banishment-imprisonment-execution hanging over his head. “I was born with magic, you see. I used it on the very day I was born. That’s why I can’t be a sorcerer.”
“So warlock magic is…,” Arthur trailed off. Poor Arthur. Merlin was just too good at spinning tales.
“Not evil, my lord. Obviously. You know me. I’m not evil.”
“You’ve had magic since birth and you never told me!” Right. That might not entirely fit within his whole ‘not evil’ rationale. “Lying is pretty evil, Merlin,” Arthur added on when Merlin didn’t respond. At least he sounded more admonishing and hurt than angry now.
“Well, it’s not like I could have told you earlier—”
“You didn’t tell me at all,” Arthur muttered but Merlin soldiered on.
“—you would have burnt me on a pyre for sorcery. Because, you know, you weren’t mature enough to see the difference between a warlock and a sorcerer. Not sure you’re mature enough for it now, but here we are.”
Arthur spluttered indignantly, but Merlin didn’t give him a chance to talk. “Now if you don’t mind, I have other duties to attend to. If you intend to burn me or lock me up or something, it would be great if you could let me know before dinner.”
Merlin walked straight out with Arthur calling him back at increasing volume until Merlin turned the corner. Well, at least Arthur hadn’t told the guards to arrest him. Merlin held onto that sliver of hope.
OOOoooOOO
Merlin rose the next morning to the usual silence – or as silent as mornings at Camelot could get. When he went up to the king’s room to wake up that lazy arse, he found the bed empty. The sheets were undone, so Arthur had slept. Or attempted sleep. Merlin would understand if last night’s revelation troubled his rest – Merlin had barely slept himself.
Merlin tried to do his duties to the best of his non-magical capabilities – and maybe some with his magical capabilities as long as no one else was around – but it was hard to do his work properly because, well. He was Arthur’s manservant. As in, he was supposed to serve Arthur. And Arthur was nowhere to be found. Normally he would be rather happy with that, since it rarely happened and he could do with a break, but…
Arthur hadn’t suddenly vanished. That had been Merlin’s first thought when after the first couple of hours he hadn’t seen him anywhere. But the guards and knights were adamant; they had seen the king just a few minutes prior, they swore. Wherever he went, it was the same story. Arthur must have told them to spin that lie – he was avoiding Merlin, that was clear. And that hurt. A lot. But Merlin did his best to stop looking for Arthur around every corner and did his best to do his work regardless.
He brought lunch up to the king’s room because he didn’t know where else to take it. When he came back from checking on Arthur’s horse – and make sure it was still in the stables – the food was half eaten. The same thing happened for dinner. Merlin could have ambushed Arthur, certainly, but antagonising someone who could order you to the dungeons or worse was a bad idea. Besides, he didn’t want to know what kind of expression would be on Arthur’s face when he saw him. Hurt? Anger? Disgust? He could imagine it well enough, thank you very much.
Merlin really wanted to know how Arthur had finally found out his secret, though. Arthur had been so sure Merlin had magic – he must have seen it with his own eyes, surely. Merlin had been careful, he always was. The last time he’d used magic in a more out-in-the-open, rather obvious way was during the patrol last week to a nearby village that had disappearing and rampaging cattle and horses. The monoceros that had been ‘freeing’ those poor animals had been quite the pain to deal with. But Arthur had been very much occupied with the mind-controlled cows – how could he have seen anything?
Arthur’s ‘absence’ lasted three days. Or rather, Merlin made it last three days, because he couldn’t continue polishing a breastplate when Arthur was holding the trial of a sorceress in the throne room. It was a stroke of luck that he’d heard two pages gossiping about it, really. This was why Merlin couldn’t leave Arthur’s side for two minutes. Disaster always struck when he wasn’t around. (Not that disaster didn’t strike when he was around, but at least he could do something about it then.)
Merlin snuck into the throne room through one of the servants’ doors just in time to hear the farmer accuse the bound, kneeling woman of using sorcery.
“I swear, my lord, her potion made my son glow blue and his fever broke instantly! That’s not the work of a physician!”
“You are the one who paid this woman to heal your son, correct?” Arthur asked.
“Yes, but I never paid for my son to be infected by sorcery!”
“And is your son well now?”
“Yes but that’s not the point. Sorcery is outlawed, my lord! Aren’t you going to do something about it?” The court erupted in murmurs, and Merlin heard the closest noble mumble something about the pyre.
Merlin could see the conflict in Arthur’s eyes and it gave him a glimmer of hope. Arthur addressed the woman. “Do you deny healing his son?”
“No, your highness. I did indeed brew a potion to heal him.” She glanced up at the farmer. “By the way, I saved your son. You’re welcome,” she spat at him.
“Shut up, sorceress!” the farmer spat back.
Arthur sighed. “And do you deny using sorcery to brew that potion?”
Suddenly Merlin had an idea.
“No, I don’t—”
Merlin rushed forward. “No!” he said loudly, stepping in front of the kneeling woman and luckily interrupting her on time.
“Merlin,” Arthur growled.
“Arthur, she’s not a sorceress!”
The farmer spluttered. “Of course she is, I saw her.”
Merlin shook his head vehemently. “She’s not a sorceress, Sire. She’s a witch.”
An eerie silent fell over the court and Merlin felt the intensity of all the stares directed his way.
“And what, pray tell, is the difference?” Arthur asked. His tone indicated he very much wanted to pinch the bridge of his nose and sigh, but his face remained impassive and kingly instead.
“Obviously this woman uses witchcraft, not sorcery. Witchcraft is based mostly on potions or potion-enhanced magic.” Merlin turned around and caught the woman’s eye. He widened his eyes and discretely nodded Arthur’s way.
“Ah, yes. Sire, it is true, I am a witch.”
“And witchcraft is based on natural ingredients – and you know nature is where druidic magic comes from,” Merlin continued. The woman made agreeing hums beside him. “So witchcraft is linked to druidic magic.”
Arthur was frowning. “And sorcery?”
“Is not. Obviously.”
“I see. So you are not a sorceress?” Arthur asked the woman.
“No, my lord.”
“And you have not used sorcery?”
“No, my lord. Only witchcraft, my lord. And only to help people.”
The court was an angry beehive at this point, and Arthur silenced them by standing up. “This is my judgement. This woman is not accused of sorcery.” The farmer started to protest, saying she had still used magic, and Arthur glared at him until he closed his mouth with an audible snap. “However, she has healed this man’s son using witchcraft which is not what he paid for. Therefore her punishment is to pay this man back one and a half times the price for the trouble it caused him,” he announced.
The farmer looked outraged, and Arthur walked up to him to firmly stare him down. “You can use the money to see a non-magical physician who can tell you if your son is adversely affected by the magic in the potion.” He turned around with a swish of his cape. “I declare this petition closed!”
A guard came to undo the woman’s bindings, and she left with a nod at Merlin, loudly bickering with the farmer all the way out of the throne room and down the corridor. Merlin turned to Arthur with a smile on his lips, but the throne was empty and there was no crown peeking out among the crowd anywhere.
Ah. Merlin breathed through the pinch in his chest. Arthur was still avoiding him like the plague, then.