Chapter Text
Cleaning grime off a glass tank with his arms covered in leeches was so far not Merlin’s favourite part of being a physician’s apprentice.
Gingerly, Merlin fingered at his neck until he had curled his hand around the blood-sucking worm that had somehow managed to crawl underneath his scarf. With a hiss, he removed the parasite and unceremoniously flung it into the filthy cauldron resting next to him on the floor. He grimaced. Once he was done with the tank, he would have to clean that next.
Merlin dearly would have liked to use magic for this particular chore. But Gaius was nothing if not insistent that Merlin keep his powers under wraps and use them only in the most dire of circumstances. Leeches sucking his blood were not considered a valid reason.
With a sigh, Merlin dunked the brush into the water bucket in front of him and resumed his tank scrubbing.
Fortunately, not all of his assigned tasks for Camelot’s court physician were quite as miserable or disgusting as this. Gaius also trusted him with much more interesting parts of the trade. Merlin had quickly come to enjoy collecting herbs in the Darkling Woods, grinding ingredients with pestle and mortar, and assisting with mixing up potions.
True fulfilment, however, lay in the actual treatment of people. In the past couple of weeks, Merlin had only tended to a few minor wounds and ailments – under Gaius’s careful supervision, naturally – but the genuine gratitude his patients had shown him in return had proven to Merlin that he had found his calling. Being able to help people was something that even made cleaning a leech tank seem worthwhile.
Besides, working as a physician meant dealing with all sorts of disgusting things, bodily fluids chief among them. Merlin understood he simply would have to put up with the less savoury parts of the job if he wanted to learn the trade and become a physician himself.
“How far are you with that tank?” asked Gaius from across the infirmary. He was busy measuring ingredients on a brass scale at the workbench.
“Almost done, Master Gaius,” Merlin told him and set down the brush but a few moments later, satisfied with the result of his efforts.
“Good,” replied Gaius. “Put the leeches back in, then come join me here. I want to show you how to properly cork up this potion.”
Merlin hurried to comply, only too glad to lock the little blood-suckers up again, then abandoned the rest of his cleaning in favour of joining his mentor at the workbench. One look at the clear potion bubbling away on the burner gave Merlin an idea of what Gaius was cooking up. He had already seen this particular brew several times so far.
“Another sleeping draught?” he asked to confirm.
“Indeed.” Gaius glanced at him, raising an appraising eyebrow. “I see you’ve been paying attention.”
Merlin smiled, ducking his head at the subtle praise. “What do you need me to do?”
Sternly but patiently, Gaius talked Merlin through the steps of finishing the potion and filling it into the prepared glass phials before corking them up.
“Unfortunately, this particular draught does not keep well,” Gaius explained once they were done. “I have to cook up a fresh batch each week for the Princess.”
“Why does Princess Morgana need these so frequently anyway?” Merlin asked curiously.
“Poor girl suffers from nightmares,” Gaius explained, then gestured at the phials. “Why don’t you deliver the draught to Her Highness today, Merlin?”
Merlin grinned, excitement bubbling up in his chest. He had made a few deliveries so far, but none for the royal family. “Me? Really?”
Gaius offered him a small smile. “Certainly. You’ve helped me made it. I think you’re quite capable of carrying it across the castle, too. Take two of these up now, will you? The Princess knows when and how to take them.”
Merlin nodded, grabbed the phials and was out of the infirmary a moment later.
As he swiftly walked across the courtyard and towards the main stairs leading up into the castle, Merlin could not help but feel slightly overwhelmed by the hustle and bustle of the citadel. Even now, four weeks since his arrival, he was only slowly getting used to his new surroundings. Camelot was nothing like Ealdor and the castle especially was quite intimidating. Most of the hallways and staircases looked the same to Merlin and he had a hard time finding his way. Fortunately, the guards and servants of Camelot were usually willing to help.
Sure enough, a helpful hall boy pointed Merlin into the right direction and he soon found himself knocking at the door to Princess Morgana’s chambers under the watchful gaze of two royal guards standing at attention nearby.
The door swung open to reveal a girl with curly brown hair and kind eyes. She was prettily dressed in a pink linen gown, but even Merlin could tell it was too plain a dress for a noblewoman. This was not the Princess herself.
“Good morning! The court physician sent me to deliver these for Princess Morgana,” Merlin explained and held up the two phials.
The girl smiled and readily reached for the sleeping draughts. “Thank you, I’ll make sure she gets them.” She looked Merlin over, then added, “You must be Gaius’s new apprentice.”
Merlin took an immediate liking to her warm aura and readily smiled back. “Yes. I’m Merlin.”
“Nice to meet you. I’m Gwen.”
“You work for the Princess?”
“Yes. I’m her lady’s maid.” She paused, then brushed a curl of hair behind her ear as she amended, “Well, royal maidservant now, of course. Not that it matters. Not that it doesnʼt matter, it does—” She cleared her throat. “Sorry.”
“So there’s a difference?” Merlin asked, suppressing a chuckle at Gwen’s fumbling. He could relate to her awkward blundering, clumsy as he tended to be himself.
Gwen nodded. “Well, yes. It’s a higher-ranking position. Though really, it’s more to do with Morgana than with me, what with the recent changes and all.”
Merlin had no idea what Gwen was referring to, but before he could ask, she had already made her excuses, citing a need to return to her duties and wishing him a lovely day before closing the door.
“Gaius,” Merlin spoke up when he had returned to the infirmary to scrub away at the earlier abandoned cauldron. “Do you know anything about recent, um, changes regarding the Princess?”
Gaius looked up from where he was researching something in a book at the dining table. “Recent changes?” he repeated.
“I was talking to Princess Morgana’s maid and she mentioned something like that when I delivered the draughts.”
“Ah, you met Gwen. Lovely girl,” said Gaius and closed the book. He took a moment to gather his thoughts. “You see, Merlin, Morgana was not always a princess. When she came to this court several years ago, it was as the King’s ward. She was introduced as the daughter of a close friend and was Lady Morgana then.”
“What changed?”
Gaius grimaced a little. “The King has recently acknowledged Morgana as his own flesh and blood. A child born out of wedlock, but now legitimised.”
Merlin thought that over as he scrubbed away. He knew all too well what it meant for one’s social standing to be born from parents that were not wed, bastard that he was. “That must have been quite the scandal,” he ventured.
“It certainly caused a bit of a stir,” Gaius agreed. “But current circumstances are… unique, one might say. The court understands the necessity behind the King’s actions.”
Merlin frowned. “What necessity?”
Gaius glanced at the door to the infirmary, then lowered his voice. “King Uther is in dire need of an heir.”
“Oh?” Merlin set down the brush and cauldron to focus fully on the conversation. “I thought he had a son.”
Gaius let out a sigh. “Prince Arthur, yes. I thought you must have heard by now, but I realise you haven’t had much chance to partake in castle gossip.” At Merlin’s questioning look, he elaborated, “Prince Arthur is… unwell. Has been for over a year now. There is reason to believe he might not be able to ascend to the throne after Uther’s death. Therefore, the King is trying to set up a different line of succession.”
Merlin gathered what little knowledge he had about the ways of royalty, then replied, “So he wants Morgana to reign Camelot as Queen after he dies?”
“It’s not quite so simple, I’m afraid. A woman cannot inherit the throne. It would be Morgana’s husband reigning Camelot under his family’s name, not under the Pendragon banner. Uther is currently trying to avoid that very scenario. I won’t bore you with the specifics.”
Merlin let out a little huff. “It all sounds very complicated.”
“It is. And really nothing to concern yourself with, either,” Gaius said firmly, voice turning stern. “Don’t go around tittle-tattling about this, do you hear me, Merlin? It’s not your place.”
“Yes, Master Gaius,” Merlin replied dutifully and focused back on his cleaning.
He had almost forgot about what Gaius had revealed about Prince Arthur when Merlin was confronted with the name again, just a couple of days later.
A servant had come to Gaius for treatment, sporting an impressive bump on his forehead. Gaius took a moment to prod at it, eliciting a hiss from the young man, then said, “Nothing permanent, young Morris. A bruise and a headache, I should think. My apprentice Merlin here will apply some salve while I fetch you the willow bark.”
“Thank you, Gaius,” said the servant – Morris, apparently.
Merlin washed his hands, picked up the bruise balm from the shelf nearby and carefully spread a small portion of it on the servant’s impressively reddened forehead.
“Try not to touch it, the balm needs some time to seep into the skin,” Merlin told him when he was finished.
Morris nodded, murmuring his thanks. He was a small, dark-haired fellow who looked distinctly subdued.
“How did this happen?” Merlin could not help but ask, gesturing at Morris’s forehead. “It looks rather nasty.”
“Prince Arthur threw a plate at me,” Morris muttered.
Merlin blinked. “The Prince? Really?” He frowned. “That’s no way to treat one’s servant, is it?”
Morris shrugged and looked to the side. “I’m used to it. Prince Arthur… he’s not exactly well, is he?”
At that moment, Merlin remembered Gaius using a similar wording: unwell. Suddenly, he could not help but find himself interested in the Prince of Camelot and his mysterious illness.
“What do you mean?”
Morris only bit his lip in response.
Before Merlin could prod further to satisfy his quickly growing curiosity, the physician had returned with a little sachet of willow bark powder and sent Morris on his way.
“Morris said the Prince did this to him,” Merlin spoke up. He hoped he did not sound too nosy, although he rather was.
Gaius sighed. “Morris is Prince Arthur’s personal manservant.”
When he did not elaborate further than that, Merlin could not help but follow up with, “He told me it happened because the Prince was not feeling well.”
But Gaius only made a vague humming noise, then gruffly told Merlin to pick up the broom and sweep the infirmary floor. Much like Morris, the physician seemed unwilling to discuss the topic. Merlin, however, could not help but feel intrigued by the mystery. What was it about Prince Arthur that had people shy away from the subject? Somehow, he really wanted to know.
From then on, whenever Merlin was out and about to deliver or fetch things for Gaius, he tried to keep his eyes and ears open. He was hoping to hear a word of gossip about the Prince, or maybe even catch a glimpse of the man himself. He did not have much luck, however, and perhaps would have given up on his quest all together had he not quite literally stumbled into Gwen again a few days later.
“So very sorry,” Merlin exclaimed, already crouching down to help her pick up the upended laundry basket from the hallway floor. Fortunately, it looked to be filled with dirty clothes only.
“No, it’s my fault,” the maidservant replied immediately and knelt to grab at the strewn-about gowns. “I didn’t look where I was going.” They both stood at the same time, smiling. “Merlin, right?”
“The very same. And it was definitely my fault,” Merlin insisted and reached for the basket. “Here, let me carry this for you to make up for running you over. I’ve just finished with my errands for Gaius and I’m free to help you.”
“There’s really no need—” Gwen started, but Merlin quickly hugged the basket close and she gave in with an exasperated sort of smile.
By the time they had made it to the castle laundry on the bottom floor, Merlin had learned that Gwen’s actual name was Guinevere, that she was the blacksmith’s daughter, and knew Camelot like the back of her hand. Merlin had promptly asked her all kinds of questions about the citadel and the running of the castle, which Gwen readily answered.
Sensing his chance, Merlin watched her hand over the clothes basket to the laundress with instructions, then followed her as she made back towards the main square. In a low voice, he said to her, “Gwen. May I ask you something else about Camelot?”
Gwen looked him over, raising an eyebrow at his conspiratorial tone. “Sure?”
“It’s just… the Prince? Prince Arthur?”
Gwen immediately slowed her steps and frowned. “What about him?”
Merlin hesitated at her reaction, then said, “People keep saying he is unwell. I was just wondering what that meant.”
Gwen’s frown deepened. She glanced around, then stopped to pull Merlin into a little nook in the hallway. Very quietly, she said, “Why do you want to know about this?”
“Just curious,” Merlin admitted, shrugging a little. “Everyone seems hush-hush about it. Gaius won’t tell me a thing. Is it really that big of a secret?”
Gwen pressed her lips together, then shook her head. “Not really, no. It’s just not talked about. Nobody wants to upset the King.” Merlin tilted his head in question, which had her add, “A year ago, there was an… incident. A witch tried to assassinate Prince Arthur. Revenge, I think, for the King executing her sorcerer son.”
Merlin tried not to show any reaction to the mention of magic that Gwen might find suspicious, though he could not quite suppress a shudder at her words. “Oh?”
“She didn’t manage to kill him, but the Prince… he was injured. I’m afraid I don’t know the details.” She fell quiet and glanced over her shoulder when another servant passed them by in the hallway. “Anyway, he’s still… suffering because of that.” She shook her head, grimaced a little before she gave him a wonky smile. “I really must go now, Merlin. It was nice talking to you.”
With that, she was gone, leaving Merlin to mull over what she had revealed. It was more than he had known before, though the exact circumstances of the Prince’s unwellness still escaped him.
One more week passed before Merlin collected another clue. He was tending to dinner, stirring the stew bubbling away on Gaius’s hearth, when a knock announced the arrival of a visitor. Merlin looked over his shoulder to see the Prince’s manservant, Morris, enter the infirmary. He was out of breath and looked rather frantic, his hair in a state of disarray.
Gaius, who was setting out bowls at the dinner table, immediately straightened up and frowned. “The Prince?” he asked.
Morris nodded, still catching his breath as he panted, “It’s really bad tonight.”
“I’ll come right away.” Gaius abandoned the dishes and walked over to a shelf. He took down a metal coffer from up above, then reached for his belt to remove a small, silver key Merlin had never noticed before, to unlock the box.
Merlin stood from where he was still crouching at the hearth, hoping to get a better look. He saw Gaius retrieve a small, earthen phial with a thick, red wax seal spread over the cork. There were several more such phials in the coffer. Gaius set the little bottle aside, then locked and stowed away the box again. This was when he noticed Merlin staring.
“Make sure dinner is ready when I return,” he said gruffly and turned to follow Morris out of the infirmary, taking the earthen phial with him.
Merlin was of half a mind to follow, though of course he knew he could not. Still, he was burning with curiosity, and by the time Gaius had returned and Merlin was ladling out dinner into two wooden bowls, he was brimming with the need to ask questions.
Gaius seemed to sense it, too. After eating but a bite or two of the stew, he sighed and put down the spoon. “What is it, my boy?”
“What was that medicine you brought up to the Prince?” Merlin asked immediately, almost stumbling over the words in his eagerness.
Gaius frowned. “You are too nosy for your own good, Merlin,” he said and pointed accusingly with his spoon.
Merlin aimed for an air of professionalism when he replied, “Well, I’m your apprentice, am I not? Of course I’d like to learn about all that you do here.”
Gaius arched an eyebrow at his tone and drawled, “Of course,” then fell quiet. Just when Merlin was sure his mentor was set on keeping his secrets, he added, “It’s called theriac. It’s a very powerful medication. Expensive, too.”
“Never heard of it,” Merlin admitted. “What makes it so powerful?”
“It contains poppy tears,” Gaius explained. “Very potent stuff, brought here by ship from the warmer lands far beyond Albion.”
Merlin leaned forward over his bowl, finding himself distinctly intrigued. “What does it do?”
“Eases pain very effectively,” Gaius elaborated.
“Better than willow bark, mandrake and henbane?” Merlin guessed.
“Much better,” Gaius replied. “In fact, it is the most effective treatment for pain known to men. Relaxes the muscles and soothes the mind, too.”
Merlin thought that over for a moment. “Why don’t we use it more often if it’s such a powerful medicine?”
Gaius arched both eyebrows. “The price, for one. Besides, it can have certain side-effects. It needs to be used with care. Personally, I would only prescribe it in the most dire of cases.”
Most dire of cases? “Is the Prince really suffering that much?” Merlin dared to ask.
Gaius nodded gravely. “I’m afraid so.”
“May I ask—?”
“Eat your stew, Merlin,” Gaius cut him off and pointedly returned to his own dinner.
Merlin knew there was no point in insisting. Gaius had already revealed much more than before. In time, perhaps, Merlin would come to learn the exact details of the Prince’s illness.
That time came much faster than Merlin would have thought likely. In fact, it was only half a week later when Gaius urgently shook him awake very early in the morning, looking tense. “I need to make a trip to the village of Willowdale. Half of the residents have taken ill. I believe it’s an outbreak of smallpox, but the King wants me to investigate to make sure there is no sorcery involved.”
Merlin sat up in his bed, rubbing at his eyes and suppressing a yawn. “Shall I come?”
Gaius shook his head. “No, I need you to stay here and act as my stand-in. Come, and I’ll give you instructions for the time I’ll be gone.”
Merlin quickly got dressed, washed his face, then sat down at the table with Gaius to go over the list he had written out. After nearly two months now of working with Gaius, Merlin knew where most of the medicines were stored and felt confident that he could tend to the physician’s regulars during rounds, as well as any minor cuts and bruises that might be sent his way while Gaius was gone.
He was not prepared, however, for Gaius to say, “Now, let’s talk about tending to Prince Arthur.”
Merlin stiffened on the bench, gaping as he repeated, “The Prince?”
“I will be gone for two nights, at least,” Gaius pointed out gravely. “There is no way around it. You must take over my duties with him, in case he needs assistance.”
Finally, it seemed, Merlin would learn about Prince Arthur’s mysterious malady. His eyes automatically strayed to the shelf where the metal coffer rested.
“No,” Gaius said immediately, voice uncharacteristically sharp. “You are not to touch that box, do you hear me? In the wrong dose, poppy tears can be lethal. You are nowhere near experienced enough to work with theriac.”
“So if Morris comes here…?” Merlin probed.
“Willow bark powder and mandrake extract,” Gaius replied, pointing at the list he had written out. “If the Prince insists, a drop – and I mean a single drop – of henbane a day. Remember to keep the antidote ready.”
Merlin swallowed. “I understand.”
Gaius sighed. “You really don’t,” he said cryptically. “But there’s nothing else for it. I told the King you’re not ready to replace me, but he insists I go to Willowdale myself…” He trailed off, then muttered, “Perhaps I should have introduced you to His Highness beforehand. But it’s too late now.”
Merlin opened his mouth to ask more questions – he still did not know what exactly it was that caused the Prince so much pain – when a knock interrupted them.
A serious-faced, curly-haired man opened the door, wearing the red cape and shiny armour of a knight. “Gaius? All set to leave?”
“Yes, Sir Leon. I’m ready.” With that, Gaius got up from the bench and grabbed the two bags he had packed for the journey. He refused Merlin’s offer of help and then, he and Sir Leon were gone, leaving Merlin behind in the physician’s tower.
Merlin could not help but stare at the closed door with rising anxiety. All of a sudden, he was acting physician of Camelot, with barely two months of experience under his belt. He was not ready for this! He was only an apprentice!
But there was nothing to be done now. Gaius was gone and he had left Merlin in charge.
He grounded himself by focusing on his established routine – porridge for breakfast, rounds and deliveries after – and by the time he had successfully bandaged up a shallow cut from a sword on a squire and offered a soothing salve to a scullery maid for her chafed hands, he felt a little more confident.
Of course, his self-assurance went right out of the window when Morris showed up that very afternoon, sporting what looked like a freshly split lip.
“Another bad one,” he announced when he entered the infirmary, then looked around, frowning. “Where’s Gaius?”
Merlin set down the pestle where he had been grinding beetle shells at the workbench, apprehension making his stomach squeeze. This was just what he had been afraid of! “Gone for at least two nights,” he explained warily. “Urgent business outside the city.”
Morris cursed heartily in response. “Sorry,” he added sheepishly at Merlin’s stare. “It’s only… the Prince…”
Merlin gestured at the servant’s bleeding lip. “Did he throw a plate at you again?”
“He’s in pain,” Morris replied, as if that was an explanation or an excuse.
“Well, I can help. Gaius left instructions,” Merlin told him, aiming for a firm voice to cover his nervosity as he walked over to the shelf. On a whim, he skipped right over the willow bark powder and went straight for the mandrake and henbane.
Morris eyed him sceptically. “If you’re sure. Come with me, then, quickly now.”
Merlin stuffed the medicines into Gaius’s rounds bag, pulled the leather strap over his shoulder and followed the manservant out of the tower.
As they rushed across the main square, up the grand stairs and into the main building, Merlin tried to calm his nerves. This is what he had wanted for weeks, was it not?
He would finally find out about Prince Arthur’s ailment.