Archive of Our Own ^beta

Once upon a time, in a kingdom far, far away, there lived a boy called Merlin.

When Merlin had been very little, his mother, his only parent, had died, and instead of being taken in and looked after by the rest of his village - the usual way when a child was orphaned - a great lady, who called herself Nimueh had swept down upon them and 'taken a fancy' to the young Merlin.

"I've always wanted a little boy," she said, one hand on Merlin's head, and he looked up at her, sensing the lie in her words. "And Merlin will be like a little son to me. The little son I have never had."

Unable to protest against a lady, the villagers had reluctantly agreed to her demands; when Nimueh left the village, she took Merlin with her.

The home she took him to - the home she had promised him - was a huge, forbidding castle up in the mountains, in the middle of a forest. To Merlin, all of seven years old, it was terrifying, and Nimueh found him a room 'all of your own', said with a smile that was meant to be reassuring and actually made Merlin think she was going to eat him. Some people did that, he knew. His mother had told him so when he was bad.

Just thinking about his mother made his lip tremble, and tears well up in his eyes, and he didn't hear Nimueh telling him she had somewhere to go, but that she would be back soon - that she had to make sure she stayed in his room, but he would be allowed to explore when she got back. He wanted to say that he didn't want to be a lady's son, and that he wanted his mother, but by the time he found his voice, Nimueh had already swept out of the room. The enormous door slammed shut behind her, and then - the worst sound of all - Merlin heard a key turn in the lock.

That was it. He was going to get eaten.

He didn't mean to - he was a big boy now, all of seven and very grown up - but he couldn't quite hold back his tears. By the time he started to cry in earnest, great heaving sobs he couldn't have kept back even if he wanted to, the castle was empty.

As he cried, the castle itself, steeped in magic and loneliness, shook in sympathy. Lost in grief, Merlin never even noticed.

**

A little while later, he sat up - all cried out now - and examined the room around him. It was large - about the same size as their whole house back in Ealdor, Merlin thought wonderingly - and furnished with big heavy pieces of furniture in dark wood. In the middle of the room, an enormous four poster bed stood, hung with great thick drapes in dark blue. Merlin couldn't imagine anyone actually sleeping there. It looked like the sort of bed you laid people on when they - died.

That set his lip trembling again, but he was too tired to do much more than stare round the room from his little corner. The door, made of the same thick, dark wood, had a heavy iron handle on the same level as his head, and there was an enormous fireplace. Big enough to roast children in, he thought, and shivered.

Tired, frightened, and worn out by the excitement of the day, Merlin curled up in his little corner of the room. He desperately wanted his mother, but he knew - in the way that children so instinctively do - that she wasn't going to come back. By the time Nimueh returned, he was fast asleep.

**

Nimueh didn't return alone. Merlin was ushered down the main flight of stairs, and saw two little girls - girls - huddling in the hallway. One, rather tall for a seven year old, pale and dark-haired, had her arm around a smaller, dark girl, and was giving both Merlin and Nimueh a baleful look with large green eyes. The dark girl just looked scared, but she managed a weak smile when Merlin looked at her.

"Merlin," Nimueh said, grandly. "This is Morgana and this is Guinevere. I expect you will get on well."

Morgana straightened her already-ramrod-straight back a little further, and held out her hand to Merlin. Merlin noticed, with interest, that it shook a little. He took it, not entirely sure what to do with it, but after letting it rest in his hand for a few seconds, Morgana took it back, much to Merlin's relief. "I am Lady Morgana," she said, firmly, "And this is my handmaiden, Gwen."

"I'm Merlin," he said, with a shrug. "I don't have a handmaiden."

"You wouldn't, you're a boy." Morgana told him, rather scornfully. "Don't you know anything? You'd have a manservant."

"Well, I don't have one of them, either." He said, frankly. "I don't think I'm ever going to."

Nimueh, who had been watching them with interest, smiled mysteriously. "We shall see." she said, still sounding grand. "Now-"

"I don't believe you're my aunt." Morgana told her, managing to sound equally grand. Merlin looked at her with new respect - he was going to have to get her to teach him that trick. "I don't believe you have any more right to look after me than King Uther. At least he was a friend of my father's."

"Once upon a time, I was a friend of your father's as well." Nimueh told her, sounding a little less grand now, and a little more snappish. "And when you are older, we will all be like sisters."

"That doesn't make sense." Merlin said, frowning a little. If he couldn't have his mother, he at least wanted to live in a place that made sense. "How can you be her aunt now, and her sister later? And how will I be like anyone's sister?"

Nimueh frowned. "You will understand later."

"I don't think I will. Not unless you explain it now." Merlin said, and Morgana nodded, firmly. Gwen still hadn't said anything.

"We need to know everything before we decide anything." Morgana said, in a recycled sort of voice; Merlin knew that she was quoting something she had heard before, because she sounded like his mother used to when she said things like 'least said, soonest mended' whenever he did something weird again, or when she said "too many cooks spoil the broth' when he tried to help her cooking. Or when she said- but thinking about his mother was a bad thing, and he bit his lip to stop it trembling again.

Nimueh drew Morgana to her, though the little girl was evidently unwilling to go, and stroked her hair. "Such thirst for knowledge." she said, fondly. Merlin hardly heard her - without Morgana, he noticed Gwen was stood, shivering on her own, and he sidled over, and took her hand. There were no other boys here to tell him that girls had bugs. Not even Will, who could always make him laugh.

"Don't worry." he whispered. "It'll be alright."

She gave him a wan little smile, as much as to say 'really?', but Nimueh was speaking again. "Now, I'll take you two to your rooms, and leave you all to get to know each other."

Gwen and Morgana's rooms were as grand as Merlin's, but only Gwen seemed as frightened by it as Merlin. Morgana seemed to think that such rooms were her due, and accepted it with equanimity - so it was a unanimous decision that they should stay in Morgana's room. Morgana treated it with such calmness, both Merlin and Gwen felt far more confident around her.

"Gwen and I already know each other." She told him, still sounding rather grand. "So really, we just need to get to know you."

"And I need to get to know you." he said, simply.

Morgana looked rather taken aback. "Well, yes, I suppose so." She agreed. "So, where are you from? Who are your parents?"

"I'm from Ealdor," he said, as calmly as he could manage. "And my mother's name was Hunith."

"I haven't heard of a fief called Ealdor." Morgana said, slowly.

"No - it was a village." Merlin explained, quickly.

Morgana seemed thrown by this. "Why are you here?" she asked, quietly. "Didn't your mother get angry that Nimueh was taking you away?"

"My mother died." he said, very quickly. If he said it slowly, he would start crying again, and you couldn't cry in front of girls. "Lady Nimueh said she wanted a son."

"Yes. She told me she wanted a daughter." Morgana lifted her head. "I told her that she would have to have two. Gwen and I stay together." She slipped a hand into Gwen's, just as Merlin had.

"Are you sisters?" Merlin asked, curiously.

"No, Gwen is my maid." Morgana said, suddenly sounding rather grand again. "But I wouldn't leave her."

"Won't your parents miss you?" Merlin asked Gwen.

Gwen spoke for the first time, shaking her head. "My dad died of the sweating sickness." She said, very softly. "And Lady Morgana said she needed a maid of her own, so I went to work for her."

"And my father died a few days ago. I was going to go to live with the king, but then Nimueh turned up. And she knew," Morgana glanced at Gwen, looking suddenly unsure. "She knew that I dream."

Merlin frowned. "So do I."

"But when I dream, they come true." she bit her lip. "I know it's not normal," she added, suddenly savage, "But I don't mean for it to happen, and I can't stop them. But when I'm older and grown up, I'm going to stop the horrible things in my dreams from ever happening again." Her chin came up, and her mouth set firmly. "Go on, then." she said, grand once more, but her voice shook a little. "Tell me how unnatural I am." Her hand was gripping Gwen's tightly.

Merlin shook his head. "When I get angry or upset, things move, or fires start, or it starts raining." he said. "And if I think really hard about it, time slows down."

Morgana stared. "Really?" she whispered. He nodded. She held a hand out to him. "Then we're the same." She decided.

Gwen spoke up. "I suppose that's why Lady Nimueh wanted you." she said, very quietly, her voice as wobbly as Merlin felt. "But why does she want me? I'm just - a handmaid."

Morgana looked suddenly guilty. "It's my fault." she said, turning to her friend. "I - Nimueh knew about my dreams. I told her I saw you as a great and powerful lady one day. It's not a lie!" she added, quickly. "But I - added stuff."

Gwen laughed, but it spilt the tears in her eyes. "What will she do to me if she finds out?"

**

They found out a few years later. Forced together the way they had been, the friendship between them - started in shared grief and shared fear - grew fast and strong. Nimueh had been teaching them magic, which both Merlin and Morgana took to like duck to water, but Gwen struggled with the spells. Both Merlin and Morgana had learnt early on to send bursts of magic into her spells to make them seem more powerful than they were. Gwen was always going to be a learnt sorcerer - she didn't have anything like Morgana's power, strong but subtle, and not even Nimueh had anything like Merlin's. The first time they tried a spell that Merlin understood, when he knew how to call the magic to him and shape it, the moment he let it go, the windows shattered, and he left a scorch-mark on the great stone flags of the floor.

Nimueh looked at him with something almost like fear, and, deeply shaken, he stammered out an excuse, something about being frightened, and letting it build too quickly. Unbeknownst to him, it was the best excuse he could have come up with, and he backed it up by acting shaky and weak all day, pretending to have drained himself.

Really, the power was humming through his veins, and he felt he could have done anything, could have flown. It wasn't difficult to act as though he felt shaky; holding the power back when it wanted to do things was making his hands shake and his head hurt.

He learnt to hold most of it back, but it was like holding back a dam, and he just didn't know what was going to happen when it burst.

*

They'd been at the castle for three years when Nimueh discovered Morgana's lie. Up until that point, they'd been pampered pets, cosseted and showed as much affection as Nimueh knew how to give; they weren't her children - they didn't want to be - and they hadn't felt safe around her exactly, she wasn't the sort of person one did feel safe around, but... they'd relaxed a little. Gwen still appeared occasionally in Merlin's room late at night, because whatever other magic she didn't have, she had a gift for knowing when either of her friends needed comfort, and both Morgana and Merlin could sometimes lose themselves in grief. Really, Gwen, with her shy strength, was a rock for both of them, and they, in return, quietly adored her.

Nimueh was less pleased with her, constantly reminding her of the destiny Morgana had 'dreamed' for her, telling her how she needed to 'excel', to try harder. Poor Gwen kept trying, but the power she needed simply wasn't there, and she struggled through each day, dreading what would happen the next.

Nimueh had been teaching them mind-magic, the most basic kind - "When you've mastered this, I'll show you how to plant images and thoughts there, how to make people do what you tell them with a snap of your fingers" - how to worm their way inside someone's mind and search their thoughts. And she had chosen Morgana to demonstrate on.

When she left Morgana's mind, she was white faced. "What a thing," she said, very quietly, "For you to lie to me." She turned to Merlin. "And for you to help her!" Finally, she turned to Gwen, advancing on her, seeming to grow as she moved. "And you, palming yourself off on me, making me teach you, a worthless, magickless little grub-"

"Stop!" Morgana said, shaking, even paler than normal. "Just stop it!"

"Shut up." Nimueh snapped at her.

"Don't talk to me like that!" Morgana cried.

Nimueh just looked at her, magic snapping in her eyes, and Morgana shrank back. Merlin's magic hummed through him, begging to be allowed to do something about this injustice, his two best and only friends in the world cowering in front of someone his magic could only see as being less powerful than him. He could do something about this...

No. He told himself, firmly. He was ten years old, and what he made up for in raw power, he lacked in knowledge and finesse. He would never manage it.

When he spoke, it was in a voice far older than his years. "We'll come back when you've calmed down." he said, standing straight and as tall as he could manage, and sounding every bit as grand as Morgana sometimes was.

Nimueh stared at him. "Get out." she managed, sounding choked. "Before I slap one of you."

Morgana and Gwen scurried out, more frightened than they were willing to admit. With his magic flowing golden through him, Merlin forced himself to walk, but he sagged back against the door when Nimueh slammed it behind him from the other side of the room. An unearthly shriek shook the castle, and Merlin ran from the magical temper-tantrum happening behind him, and up to Morgana's room, where he knew he would find his foster-sisters.

They were huddling on the bed, Gwen sobbing into Morgana's shoulder, while Morgana stared ahead, her mouth very set, a militant look in his eye, one arm round her smaller friend.

Still feeling very strange - very grown up - Merlin shut the door quietly behind himself, and said, slowly, "It will all be alright, you know."

Morgana scoffed, but Merlin knew by now that she was angry because she was scared. She might say some terrible things now, but she would deflate and be horribly upset about it later. There would be tears, she might hug him, and then everything went back to normal. "How could it possibly be alright?" She asked, acidly, her arm tightening about Gwen.

"We've got to find something that will make her angrier than this. So she forgets about it."

Gwen raised a tearstained, woebegone face. "What could do that?" She asked, miserably.

Merlin thought for a moment, still leaning back against the door. "One of us, Morgana, needs to refuse to learn magic."

She stared. "What?"

"One of us needs to refuse to learn magic." He repeated. "She'd be so angry about it. And there must be some way we can just give a little of our magic to Gwen, so Nimueh doesn't think she's magickless. That's the dangerous thing, I think."

Morgana shook her head. "I can't stop learning." She whispered. "I have to know." They all knew why. Morgana still had her dreams, ones she woke from screaming for Merlin and Gwen, and she didn't yet have the power to prevent what she saw.

"Then it will have to be me. You can teach me whatever I need to learn, so I don't get behind. And if I'm not learning, Gwen can have some of my magic." It worked fine, to his mind. He had more than enough to spare, and he knew, he just knew, that he could learn from Morgana just as well as from Nimueh. He hardly needed the spells anyway. Once he'd learnt them, he knew the shape of the spell, and then they were nothing more than words; all he had to do was tell the magic to take the right shape.

"I don't see why that would make her angry enough." Morgana said, frankly.

"She was furious when Gwen had no magic except what she'd learnt." Merlin said, slowly - he hadn't thought how it would work, he just knew it would. "If one of us had it and refused to do anything with it..." he trailed off.

Gwen gave a miserable little hiccup. "But how will you - give me magic?" she asked, her breath hitching in the way it always does after a crying fit.

"I don't know." He said honestly. Pausing for a second, working on instinct, he took her hand, concentrated, and pushed.

Magic baulked, glowing brightly in protest, fighting and breaking away from him; it didn't want to leave. Grasping it tightly, he explained; and though it hurt to feel it leaving him - like having teeth pulled out, unnatural and unbearable - he got through it. For a moment their hands glowed , then Gwen looked up at him. Her eyes, tear-damp, were golden before going back to their normal brown.

"What did you do?" Morgana breathed, sounding awed.

"I don't know." he said, still a little bemused himself. "Gave Gwen my magic." He didn't say that he still had plenty left, and neither of the girls pushed him to elaborate. They'd all grown up a lot in this last couple of hours, and had seen just how dangerous it was for each other to know too much. Merlin wouldn't endanger Gwen or Morgana any more than was absolutely necessary.

**

It was a long and painful interview with Nimueh, who had calmed down but was still inclined to be vicious, when he said he wouldn't learn magic anymore. He said he didn't enjoy it - not true - that he didn't need to learn - mostly true - and that he didn't trust someone who was so obviously using them - resoundingly true.

She had glared at him, and threatened him, and finally told him that if he wouldn't learn magic, he was no use to her, but Merlin stood firm.

"Fine, then." she said, her voice very tight, and Merlin could hear the frustrated scream beneath the surface. "If you won't learn magic, you can do all of our chores by hand. The fires, the cleaning, the cooking. Maybe that will teach you the value of magic." She glared at him. "When you're ready to learn again, I will accept your apology."

And make him rue every minute of his defiance, Merlin could tell, and vowed she would never hear an apology from him.

*

Everything changed, after that. Nimueh's plans had been thoroughly ruined, and she gave up her pretence of fondness, teaching Morgana and Gwen with a grim expression and an iron fist. She had re-included Gwen in the lessons - after a period of manual work with Merlin - as a companion to Morgana, nothing more, and had been surprised when, after turning to Gwen with a sneer and asking her whether she would like to try this spell, Gwen pulled it off with hardly a second thought.

Gwen herself was delighted, but said, later,

"It's not me, you know. It's your magic."

"It's you shaping it."

Gwen chewed thoughtfully on a fingernail. "No, I don't think it is." She said, quietly. "It's like your magic wants to get out. It wants to do things, because it's not where it wants to be." She laid a hand on his arm. "Later, when things - when things are better," she said, eyes very sincere, though none of them were sure whether this would ever end. "Just ask for it back. It's yours, after all."

**

Eight years passed - eight long, difficult years - with the three of them seeing each other through the awkward teenage years, Nimueh a grim presence in the background. Too worried that Nimueh might take her ever-present anger out on one of his sisters if she wasn't angry with him, Merlin kept to his promise about not learning magic from her, and spent the eight years doing chores round the castle, chores which had been done by magic before, and which were now done by Merlin. Admittedly, he did cheat.

In front of Nimueh, Morgana and Gwen were careful to be cold and distant, feigning disdain for the magickless little nobody who cooked their meals and cleaned their clothes for them, but at night, he sneaked down to their rooms and learnt the spells of the day from Morgana. Their friendship was a great comfort to all of them.

The day Nimueh called both of the girls down early, Morgana left the door open, and Merlin listened from the hallway, as Nimueh explained in hurried tones.

"King Uther Pendragon is looking for a sorcerer for his son's retinue." She said, eyes flashing, though Merlin couldn't see it. "And it will/i> be one of us."

Morgana risked a question. "Why?" she asked, curiously.

"I brought you here for this." She told them, having long given up sugar coating things for any of them. "He wronged me, and I promised myself revenge. I will have it."

"Through us?" Morgana raised an eyebrow. At eighteen, she was taller and far more regal than Nimueh, but she didn't dare push her too far.

"After all I've done for you, all I've taught you," Nimueh snapped. "You can do this for me." Neither of them dared say that they had never asked for it. "And I am going to strike at the very heart of Camelot. My revenge will come to Uther's son."

Morgana said nothing. There was nothing she could say.

Outside the door, Merlin vowed that he would do everything he possibly could to make sure that the prince never suffered whatever revenge Nimueh had planned for him. Nothing Uther had done could merit the suffering Nimueh would wreak on his son.

"Uther is hosting three balls to choose this sorcerer, who will serve his son and become court sorcerer on his own death, when the prince assumes the throne." Nimueh was saying, "There will be displays of magic, and the prince will be deciding the person he is most compatible with..."

Gwen frowned. "We're a long way from Camelot here. How will we get there?"

Nimueh's smile - Merlin could see it in his mind's eye - was vicious. "I have organised a house for us. We will be long gone before its owner realises that his rent was paid in fairy gold."

"I suppose we will be taking Merlin," Morgana said, distantly.

There was a snap to Nimueh's words as she replied - she had never forgiven him for refusing to use his magic. "Why on earth would we?" she asked.

"We must maintain a presence." Morgana said, with all the assurance of the Lady she would have been. "A page boy is only appropriate. And even as sorceresses, it would raise eyebrows if we lived without any servants; it would be assumed that we could not afford him."

"An excellent point, Morgana." Nimueh agreed, snake-sweet. "We will bring him with us."

"And how are we going to get there?" Gwen asked, worried.

"The trick, my dear Guinevere, is easier than blinking..."

**

The house Nimueh had reserved for them was large, grand and as near the palace as it was possible to be; the moment they arrived - mere seconds after they had left the castle - she set Merlin to airing beds and shaking out their gowns (though she didn't say it like that, because she had no idea of what was included in her blanket order of 'get everything ready for us'). The gowns they had travelled in were as crisp and clean as they were when they had put them on, since the four day journey had taken less than a minute for them, and Nimueh decreed that they were to go out and familiarise themselves with the town.

"It can only help us to be familiar with it." She said, sounding as grand as she had that day long, long ago when she had first brought them all to the castle, eleven years ago now.

Merlin rather enjoyed being left alone in the house. It was so different to the huge, draughty, gloomy castle, and much more convenient. Merlin set his magic - bored after a period of an hour or so of inactivity - to opening windows and unpacking clothes, while he made up the beds. A thought stocked the cupboards with some basics, a flick of his fingers smoothed the few wrinkles out of Morgana and Gwen's clothes. A snap added more wrinkles to Nimueh's - she would tell him to iron them out, but it would take less then a moment to smooth them out, and it would be worth it to see her frustration.

The first ball was the next night, and none of them yet knew how they were going to deal with this, though they were all agreed that they couldn't let Nimueh exact her revenge on anyone. No one deserved that sort of suffering and none of them had any doubts that Nimueh would have something truly dreadful planned for the poor Prince.

"But we're the most powerful, that's why Nimueh chose us." Morgana said, hopelessly. "And one of us is bound to win this stupid competition."

Gwen frowned. "I suppose we're just going to have to hope that someone else more powerful turns up?"

"Oh, as if that's going to happen." Morgana said, scornfully.

Merlin shook his head, staring at Gwen. "No, she's right." he said, quickly. "Someone could."

"Who?" Morgana challenged.

"Well, don't take this the wrong way, but - me." He said, carefully.

"You gave your magic to Gwen," Morgana objected.

"Not all of it," Gwen said, and both of them stared at her.

"What!?"

"How did you know!?"

She shrugged with a rather sad smile. "It's not whole." she said, simply. "It kept wanting to get back to the rest of it. That's why I master spells so quickly."

Morgana looked a little put out for a moment, before regaining her composure. "Well, that's good." She said, firmly. "But if you turn up, Nimueh will kill you."

"I'll disguise myself!" he said quickly.

"Merlin," She said, patiently. "She's expecting you to come with us as a page boy, or you'd be stuck in that bloody castle still, remember?"

He shook his head, determined. "There's bound to be a spell of some kind."

"She'll notice if there are two of you at the balls."

"And we're back to the disguise." Merlin pointed out.

"How could you possibly disguise yourself well enough?"

He wiggled his fingers, exaggeratedly. "Magic."

**

Merlin refused to tell them about how he was going to create a living, speaking golem of himself before the ball, since they never knew when Nimueh was going to try reading their thoughts, and they had enough trouble making sure that they were all shielded enough that she never saw the way Morgana and Gwen taught Merlin their spells. It just wasn't worth the risk.

Before the ball, though, he took Gwen aside. "I'm sorry to have to ask this, now of all times, but-"

"You need it back."

Merlin nodded. "Not right this minute. Just before you go - so I have enough tonight."

She gave him a knowing look. "You'd have plenty without the bit you gave me." he opened his mouth. "I understand, though." She assured him, gently. "You don't have to explain to me. It's been bad enough having this little bit and feeling incomplete. It must have been horrible for you, for so long." She gave him a hug. "I'm so grateful, Merlin."

He hugged her back. "If it's any consolation, you shouldn't need it after this thing is over. I've got a feeling it will all come right for us when it's over."

"It will be strange, not having magic anymore." She said, rather wistfully.

"You'll have the time to learn it for yourself." he said. "At your own pace, without her breathing down your neck."

"I suppose." she agreed. "But it won't feel the same."

"It will be better." He promised. "It will be all you." Turning away, he paused and looked back at her. "Oh, and, tonight, do something for me - forget something, send me to pick something up for you, so I can send the golem back with it."

"It's done."

*

As they left the house that night for the first ball, Gwen turned to Merlin with a supercilious frown that looked completely alien on her warm, kind face. "I've forgotten my mask." She told him, as haughtily as she knew how. "Fetch it for me."

"Yes, my lady." he sketched a bow, and sprinted back into the house, summoning the little half-mask with half a thought, concentrating on the golem he had to create. A glow grew in the hallway, moulding to a human shape, features like Merlin's forming, clothed in his page's get-out, and carrying the mask.

He looked at it, critically for a moment. It was good, but it wasn't going to last very long at all - three, maybe four hours at the most. Still, three or four hours a night to attract the prince's attention and save him from Nimueh's scheming was no bad thing. Really, it was lucky he had refused to let Nimueh teach him all those years ago; it had given them this unexpected opportunity.

Now to regain his magic. He could, he was sure, do it through the golem - it was part of him, and anything that came through it would come to Merlin eventually. Maintaining the initial strong link would ensure the magic he had leant to Gwen came back to him immediately.

He sent the golem out, and it handed the mask to Gwen; feeling their hands touch, Merlin shut his eyes and pulled.

The golem couldn't hold any of it, and all the magic he'd given Gwen years ago flowed back to him through it, with all the eagerness it had lacked when he had pushed it away, slotting back in neatly. Merlin barely had time to cut the too-strong connection with his golem. As Nimueh herded his sisters away, followed dutifully by the golem, Merlin fell to his knees in the hallway, eyes glowing impossibly gold, bright and painful. For a few moments, it felt as though the world was going to explode. He could have flown, or raised forests, or put kingdoms to sleep for a thousand years. He could have lived for a thousand years, and never felt or looked a day older than he did now.

All he had to do was ask for it.

The safeguards he'd put on his magic, holding it back, fell under the sudden increase, and it pounded through him, burning as it went, branding itself onto him again. And though it hurt, though he would never get it under control the same way again - it felt wonderful. When he opened his eyes, they stayed golden.

His disguise was going to be a problem, though. What could he do to himself to make himself unrecognisable? With his eyes golden, that was part of him disguised, but what to do about the rest?

He would have a mask on, which was one bonus, and though most of the sorcerers would take them off before the end of this night, it wouldn't be too unusual if he kept his on all the way through the series of balls. But what even so, Nimueh was sure to recognise him. Sure to.

His magic answered the question for him, so eager to be doing something again that it didn't even wait for him to ask. Feeling his body change, he looked down in horror, he watched as his sensible, rather tired shirt and trousers turned into a deeply impractical - and deeply cut - dress.

Oh, dear.

**

It took him an hour or so to master simply walking in a dress without falling over, and to get used to the way parts of him bounced that absolutely should not bounce, but he did eventually manage it. Thankfully, a handy pumpkin was only too willing to turn into a coach with a little persuasion - and those mice all but begged to be turned into horses. He was a sorcerer, and he didn't need to bother with a coachman; making an entrance in a bright orange carriage was enough of a 'presence' in itself. No matter what he said or did, the 'carriage' remained stubbornly orange, and in the end, he gave up. It was nine o'clock already, and by his reckoning, he only had three hours before his golem gave out. He had to hurry.

He was far and away the last person to arrive at the ball, wandering down an empty corridor, the occasional footmen the only other person he saw until he reached the ballroom, brightly lit and packed with people. A good looking blond 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 little stars and a faint 'pop', theatricalities Nimueh had trained out 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 for her display of magic, but before Merlin could notice anything else, a piece of paper was thrust at him.

"Sorcerer?" he was asked, and nodded. "Last here, last to give a display." The bored squire told him, and he nodded with a bright smile.

"Thank you." That was just perfect.

With nothing else to do, he joined the crowd, and watched.

By the fifth display, Merlin was fighting boredom, but the rest of the court seemed engrossed. As one sorcerer clumsily conjured a very small dragon, Merlin grinned ruefully and turned away.

"Let me guess." A tall blond man said, appearing at his side. "Either you think you couldn't possibly do that well, or you're thinking how much better you could do."

Merlin looked up at him – for a moment, he thought that the thing he hated the most about this change was the height loss, and then he remembered that he had breasts – and shook his head. "Actually, I was just bored." he said, simply. "I was hoping the Prince would be around here somewhere, but with him up on his throne there, I might as well not have bothered coming."

"Not interested in anyone but the Prince?" The blond's smile was rather fixed.

Merlin leant forward - the best lie was always the truth. "I'm here to save him from a terrible plot by an evil sorceress." he said, seriously. "I was hoping to warn him."

For a moment, the blond paused - then he laughed. "I'll do my best to pass that message on." he said, equally seriously. "Any sorceress in particular?"

Merlin pointed at Nimueh, as if at random. "That one." he said, and the blond laughed again, holding out a hand.

"I'm Arthur." he said, in a friendly sort of way, and Merlin, forgetting he was a girl, took the hand and shook it firmly.

"Mer - my name's Lin." he said, and smiled, sweetly. "Er – short for Linella."

"How pretty." Arthur looked faintly disturbed.

"Most people call me Lin." he added, quickly. He didn't want Arthur to leave - not when it looked like he was going to spend the next three nights bored out of his mind, unable to warn the Prince and unable not to turn up in case Nimueh made her move.

"Lin, then." That, apparently, was better, and Arthur gave him a tentative smile. "Do you fancy a dance?"

Merlin floundered a little at that. "A-a dance?"

"Well, it is a ball." Arthur said, a little patronising. "Just because everyone's busy watching these - carnival tricks, doesn't mean there shouldn't be dancing."

"Well, yes." Merlin agreed, still floundering. "But... but, there's no music."

"And you said that you were a sorceress." He pointed out, still with that faintly haughty tone in his voice. "I'm sure you can manage to conjure something. One violin would do it."

The skill, Merlin thought wryly, would lie in not creating a forty piece orchestra. "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.

"Oh, thank you." Merlin was fairly certain he'd managed to keep most of his sarcasm out of his voice.

"Then, shall we?" Arthur offered him his arm.

Defiantly, Merlin took it, untrailing a string of magic behind him, to warn him of anything untoward happening in the ballroom. "Let's."

**

Arthur led him out onto the balcony, and waited, expectantly, while Merlin fought back enough of his magic that only a little came forward to create the music. A fiddle, a flute and a cello began playing themselves in the background, and the moment Merlin had been dreading arrived - when Arthur held out his hand for the beginning of the dance.

"Not bad." he complimented him, nodding towards the instruments, which were currently playing an old country air Merlin remembered vaguely from Ealdor. "A little old fashioned, though." Merlin could have kicked him. "So - do you find magic difficult, then?"

He nearly laughed. "No, not at all!"

"You don't have to lie to me." Arthur said, kindly. "I don't mind."

"I don't find it difficult!" Merlin snapped.

"OK then!" Arthur held his hands up, defensively.

They danced in silence for a moment. Merlin accidentally trod on Arthur's foot, and had to restrain his grin; dancing with Arthur was providing a convenient medium for subtle revenge. The magic, sensing a rise in his mood, changed the tune, and added a clarinet to the mix.

"Now you're just showing off." Arthur told him, as he shifted into a lively jig.

Merlin stepped back, breaking the dance; there was no way he could stumble his way through the steps and talk. "Look," he started, awkwardly, feeling some kind of explanation was in order; he didn't want to lose his first potential friend outside his sisters, even if that friend did think he was a girl with an improbable name. "I don't have difficulty doing magic. I have difficulty stopping doing magic. It wants to be doing something the whole time, it's like a little child."

Arthur smiled. "I've never heard magic described like that before."

"Well, now you have." Merlin said, a little defensively. Really, it was the best analogy he could come up with.

"Prove it." Arthur said, after another silence, while Merlin concentrated on making his feet do what he wanted them to.

"Prove what?"

"That you can do whatever you like with magic."

"You don't believe me? What kind of gentleman are you?"

"I never said I was a gentleman." Arthur pointed out.

"But you obviously are."

Arthur didn't respond to that. "What kind of lady are you, questioning a gentleman's honour?"

"I never said I was a lady."

"Well, aren't you?"

Merlin grinned. "I'm really, really not."

Arthur looked a little surprised. "What do you mean?"

Merlin restrained his smile, and recalled the little tendril of magic which had headed towards the gardens and was busy calling flowers to life where they had no business being alive. "Maybe you'll find out one day."

*

"You really can't dance, you know." Arthur said, eventually.

"No one ever taught me!" Merlin defended himself.

"Is that what you meant about really not being a lady?" Arthur asked, quickly; he had been jumping on little clues like that ever since Merlin first said it.

"Being a lady takes more than just being able to dance." Merlin said. "And no. I just never learnt." Nimueh had taught Morgana and Gwen the basics, but had been more interested in teaching them magic, and neither of them had ever known the men's side of the dance. Luckily, as it turned out. Arthur might have been a little suspicious if he'd kept trying to lead.

"Oh, right." Arthur stood back and Merlin frowned at him. "Right then. Your hand goes here..."

**

Merlin finally, regretfully, stepped back at five to midnight, and said, "I have to go."

Arthur frowned. "What? Why? It's not even twelve o'clock yet."

"My - mother," He set his teeth. "Will be expecting me back."

"Oh, of course." Arthur smiled a little. "You should come and meet my mother sometime. She'd be delighted to meet you."

"What's your mother's name?"

"I - Ilaine."

"Maybe we'll meet sometime." Privately, Merlin doubted it. Once all this was over, he had a feeling he was going to find moving around the kingdom surprisingly difficult.

"I hope so, I'd like that. She'd like that. You'd be the first - um - suitable person I've brought home." Merlin smiled, quizzically, and Arthur struggled on through an explanation. "I don't normally like," he flushed, sudden and hot. "I mean, you're not – really my type." He shrugged and smiled, rather wryly. "There's just something about you, Lin."

"Worst chat up line ever." Merlin told him, easily, startling a laugh out of the blond man. For a moment, they stared at each other, and Merlin fought back a joyful surge of magic, forcing it down and swallowing hard. "I – have to go." He murmured, and turned to leave.

Before he could go, Arthur caught his hand. "Will you be back tomorrow?"

"My demonstration is the last." Merlin told him, simply. He smiled, and added, "And, of course, how would I protect the prince if I wasn't here?"

Arthur laughed. "You weren't even in the room today, how can you protect the prince even when you're not near him?"

Merlin grinned. "I'm a little bit magic."

**
He watched Nimueh and his sisters across the dance-floor - currently overtaken by a wide green lawn, conjured by a nervous looking 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, Linella 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 Arthur, 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.

The fight left him drained and distracted, and Nimueh threw taunts at him for his poor attention.

"Don't you wish you could do things like that, Merlin?" she asked, acidly, as he gazed sightlessly at the demonstrations. "And to think you could have done, if only you'd asked to be forgiven. Stubbornness, you know, has led to worse things than murder."

"Yes." he said, absently, and missed her dark frown.

They stayed for another hour, before making a regal exit, Nimueh leading the way.

Merlin didn't get a chance to speak to his sisters until Nimueh had dissected the evening, talking over everything the other sorcerers had done and deciding what Morgana and Gwen would do for their demonstrations. Merlin stood in the corner, looking as unobtrusive as he knew how, watching as Nimueh spoke, looking more animated and excited than any of them had ever seen her.

She spoke for a long time, her eyes flashing, trails of light following her hands in the air as she moved them, magic sparking along the threads of her dress. When she started in on her grievances against Uther, Merlin knew they were going to be there for a while, and let himself blank it out. Unbidden, his thoughts moved to Arthur, magic helping the memories along.

He wasn't quite sure what to think of Arthur. The other boy was the first person outside Morgana and Gwen that he'd really got to know, and that might explain the strange warmth that settled in his stomach whenever he thought of him, the way he kept thinking about him and that stupid smile of his. Maybe what Merlin was feeling was normal when you met someone knew and got on with them, it would be stupid to mistake it for something different.

No matter how special it had felt to him.

Nimueh finally stopped talking, and asked Gwen and Morgana for their opinions on the evening.

"Most of the spells were weak." Morgana said, carefully. "And didn't last. The boy who conjured the lawn could be impressive in time...?"

"But not yet." Gwen said quickly, in case Nimueh decided to eliminate even the slimmest chance of competition. Not that anyone was going to stand against Merlin, she knew.

"Of course not." Nimueh said, impressively. She smiled at them, as fond as she had been when they had been children. "We will do well." Her face hardened as she glanced at Merlin. "It's a shame we could not all share in this success." She added, meaningfully, before sweeping an arm out to open the door. "You'll need your sleep." She said, and smiled again, a different, colder smile. It was terrifying. "I will see you tomorrow."

Merlin went to follow them, but she called him back. "Merlin, I have several things I need you to do..."

**

It was several hours later when Merlin finally stumbled into Morgana's room, to find both his sisters still waiting for him, their eyes troubled.

"I hope your plan works." Gwen said, anxiously. "Why are all the other sorcerers so weak?"

"We're used to Nimueh and each other." Morgana pointed out. "And we're very strong. I'm sure all these sorcerers are much stronger than we think."

"But nowhere near strong enough." Gwen returned, biting her lip.

"But they'll do for the moment," Merlin croaked from the doorway, "They're buying us some time." and his sisters turned as one to look at him.

"You look terrible." Morgana told him, hiding worry under criticism as she often did. "What did she make you do?"

"My chores." Merlin said.

"But-"

"And watched while I did them."

"You had to do them by hand?" Morgana stared. "That's terrible."

Gwen hurried over to him, leading him to a chair by the fire, while Morgana dealt with the wards on the room. It would never do for Nimueh to find out what was going on in here, and Morgana was the one with an excellent excuse for warding her rooms against things, because her dreams had a tendency to draw unpleasant things to her.

After years of practice, her talents lay most strongly with illusion and wards, and she layered both around her room now, sending cursory illusions to Merlin and Gwen's room, so Nimueh wouldn't see anything untoward there. She would neither be able to listen in nor scry on any of them with one of Morgana's wards in place.

Once Merlin was ensconced in a chair by the fire, Morgana fixed him with a look. "Where were you? You didn't even turn up!"

"I did!" Merlin protested, but wasn't entirely sure how to go on. "But - um - you wouldn't have recognised me."

Morgana, always interested in new illusions, leant forwards. "What did you do?" she asked.

"I, er, turnedmyselfintoagirl." he said, very quickly.

Gwen's lips twitched. "Really?" she asked, evidently holding back a giggle.
He nodded, refusing to make eye contact.

"A girl?"

"Yes, alright, I turned myself into a girl!" he almost snapped.

Gwen controlled her expression. "Well - Nimueh would never expect that."

Morgana was less tactful, and was still giggling helplessly. "How?"

"I didn't mean to." He said, defensively. "I knew I had to be disguised, and magic did it for me."

Morgana stopped giggling, and looked interested again. "Without you asking?" Merlin nodded. "And it wasn't an illusion, it was real?"

He nodded emphatically. "Yes."

She stifled another wayward giggle. "That must have been - interesting."

"Oh, it was."

"So, did anything useful happen? Did you see any way of getting close to the Prince?"

Merlin flushed awkwardly. "Not until I give my demonstration." he frowned. "I mean, he's right up on the stupid throne and I can't get anywhere near him!"

"So did you just watch like we did?" Gwen pulled a face. "Wasn't it boring?"

"Um - no, I didn't." he flushed. "There was - um - this boy - man - um, Arthur..."

"Does Merlin have a crush?" Morgana teased, but Gwen was staring at him.

"What did he look like?" she asked, quietly.

Merlin shrugged. "I dunno... he was tall, blond, funny nose..."

"And his name was Arthur, you're sure?"

"Yes! Unless he was lying like I did."

"Merlin - the Prince's name is Arthur." She said, slowly.

"The Prince is up on the throne the whole time." Merlin pointed out. "Why would he be – pretending to be someone normal..."

The answer hit them all at the same time. "A decoy in case one of the sorcerers tries anything." Morgana said, slowly. "Well, thank God Uther decided to be a little sensible."

"And it gives me a chance to tell him for real what's going on." Merlin added.

"Even if he does think you're a girl." Morgana said, with a grin, and Gwen couldn't contain her giggles.

"I hate you both."

**

That night, Merlin created the golem at eight and left for the ball earlier, arriving before Nimueh and his sisters - if he was there earlier, Nimueh was less likely to suspect.

He ignored the evil part of his mind that pointed out it would also give him longer with Arthur.

Arthur appeared next to him after only a few minutes, and Merlin refused - despite much teasing - to admit that he'd been 'desperate' for him to turn up.

"You're the most interesting part of a boring evening." he said, with a smile. "But that doesn't mean you're really interesting." He wanted to ask about Arthur being the prince, but didn't dare do it in the middle of the ballroom. Not when the security in place was so useful. "If I'd met you somewhere else, I'd probably find you totally boring."

Arthur looked a little taken aback, but rallied. "Oh, I doubt it. I'm a joy to be around."

"Hmm. I suppose being criticised and insulted is normal people's form of fun."

"It's easy to love it when it's me doing it." he said, grinning.

"Oh, let's go outside." Merlin said, pretending to ignore that last comment. "It's so stuffy in here, and if I have to watch anyone conjure one more dragon, I think I'll scream." He shot Arthur a little sideways look. "And there might be more room for your ego outside."

Arthur spluttered a little, but controlled himself. "Your wish is my command." He said, sounding a little put out, and held out an arm, which Merlin took. They stood out on the balcony in silence for a moment; Merlin hadn't even bothered leaving his little trail of magic behind him this time. If Gwen was right, there was no point.

"I heard something interesting today." he said, conversationally. Arthur looked a little wary.

"Oh?"

"Someone said that you were the prince."

Arthur attempted a ghastly smile. "Why on earth would they-"

"Are you?" Merlin asked, outright.

A long pause, then Arthur nodded. "Yes. I am."

"Why didn't you tell me? I wasn't going to do anything!"

"I thought you'd know the minute I said my name. And then I assumed that you knew because you said you were here for the Prince. And by the time I realised you didn't know, I was enjoying you not knowing too much."

Merlin considered this. "I can understand that." he said, slowly. "But - I really am here to protect you. I wouldn't have gone all funny on you."

"Well, why don't you take your mask off?" Arthur challenged him. "All the other sorcerers have. I haven't even seen your face yet. And I bet 'Linella' isn't your real name. It doesn't suit you at all - too fussy. And girly." he added, under his breath, but Merlin was fairly sure he wasn't supposed to hear it, and obligingly ignored it.

"Arthur, they're sorcerers. If they're worth their salt, they could have masks on that you wouldn't even be able to see."

"Are you wearing an illusion?"

"Not an illusion as such." Merlin hedged. "But if you saw me properly, you wouldn't recognise me."

"A glamour is an illusion."

"I'm not wearing a glamour." he said, quietly. "But," he held up a hand when Arthur looked like he was going to protest. "I can't tell you anything more. It's not safe for either of us if you know who I am."

"Oh, don't be so melodramatic." Arthur scoffed.

"I'm not!" he protested. "I'm - there's a powerful sorceress out there," he waved back at the ballroom, "And she hates me almost as much as she hates your father. She's here to get revenge on you."

"And you can stop her?"

"I can stop most anything." Merlin said, simply.

"But you're - well." Merlin got the impression Arthur didn't quite dare say what he was thinking. "So skinny. Really, I could snap you in half."

"If I thought you were going to try, you wouldn't get anywhere near me."

Arthur digested that in silence for a few moments. "OK then." he said, carefully, after a minute's silence, and held out his hand. "Another dancing lesson? You may be the most powerful sorcerer in the world ever, but you can't dance worth a-"

"Yes, thank you!"

**

Gwen's demonstration was the last of the evening before dinner, and Merlin insisted that Arthur took him back in to the ballroom for it. "This girl's really good." he said, quietly. "And she's my - sister."

"You don't look much alike." Arthur said, critically.

"Just because it's not a blood relationship," Merlin said, rather stiffly, "Doesn't mean it's not real."

Arthur held up his hands defensively. "Whatever my lady says!"

Merlin softened. "Sorry." He was about to say more, but Gwen caught his eye pleadingly – his sisters had insisted on seeing 'Linella' last night, "so we know who to look out for," Morgana had claimed, through poorly stifled giggles – and he momentarily had to concentrate as she reached for magic that was no longer there. Nimueh had decided what Gwen and Morgana would do long ago, and the three siblings had decided among themselves that, just as they had done years before, Merlin would provide the magic while Gwen shaped the spell. The roses she formed from fire and presented to the 'prince' were impressive - far more impressive than anything that had come yet, and Arthur gave Gwen a considering look.

"The problem with this whole thing - the reason I was so unwilling to hold it," he said, quietly, "Is that someone who can do pretty tricks and create entertaining images isn't necessarily someone who can defend Camelot when she needs it. And you can't ask a whole load of people to perform battle manoeuvres in the middle of a castle."

Merlin's lips twitched at that. "Of course not. You need someone powerful, who'll do what's necessary - and probably, you being royalty, you don't want someone who can think for themselves."

"Rubbish!" Arthur said, firmly. "The court sorcerer is the king's closest advisor - which is why we're looking now, so that the person who takes over when I become king will have practice and experience. They have to be able to think for themselves."

Merlin nodded, silently. It sounded interesting - but he didn't want to be court sorcerer. He hadn't come here to make himself court sorcerer. Just to save the prince, who turned out to be Arthur. Who - damn him - turned out to be nice. With a wrench, Merlin realised that being court sorcerer would mean being able to stay near Arthur forever.

But it also meant having to watch while Arthur fell in love and married some stupid girl - probably at one of these stupid balls - and had stupid children who would inherit the stupid throne.

He'd only known him for a few hours. After tomorrow night, when Nimueh was safely dealt with, he could disappear - go back to Ealdor, maybe - and forget all about Arthur. It wasn't like Arthur was going to waste any time forgetting him.

"Penny for them." Arthur said, breaking him from his rather dreary thoughts.

"What?" Merlin looked startled. "Penny for what?"

"For your thoughts." Arthur gave him an odd look. "Penny for your thoughts."

"Why on earth would I want you to give me a penny in exchange for my thoughts?"

"It's just an expression. Haven't you ever heard before?" Arthur asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I've lived in a castle in the middle of a forest in the mountains for eleven years." Merlin pointed out, raising an eyebrow right back at him. "When, exactly, do you think I heard anyone using popular phrases?"

"Oh. OK. Well, what are you thinking?"

He offered him a wide, deceptive smile. "Nothing important."

**

By the time he turned up for the last ball, he was ready to drop; he was fairly certain that it was only his magic keeping him upright. His mask - and a little judicious magic - hid the shadows under his eyes from lack of sleep, and he was, incredibly, feeling a slight drain on his magic from the golem. He thought, resentfully, of Nimueh, who had kept him working all day, threatening not to bring him to the last ball, even as a page.

Arthur found him within moments, and frowned down at him; Merlin had never regretted the height-loss this stupid change brought more than he had at this moment. He hated feeling at a disadvantage. "You look terrible."

"Charming as always." he said, a little hoarsely.

Arthur put a hand on his elbow. "Come and sit down before you fall over."

"I can't, Nimueh's about to do her demonstration, it's not safe-"

"What?" Arthur's frown blackened. "Nimueh, did you say?"

"Yes, wh-?"

"Come with me."

"No!" he squawked, but Arthur was inexorable, leading him out of the ballroom, and into a small antechamber.

"Delay the demonstrations; call Galahad back here." he ordered a guard. "And tell my parents that I want to see them."

"Yes, your Highness."

Intrigued despite himself, Merlin looked questioningly at Arthur. "Galahad?"

"The knight acting as my decoy." he said, simply. "Now, when my father arrives-"

"The king?!" Merlin said, horrified, "King Uther!?"

"That's who my father is, yes." Arthur looked unforgivably amused, and when this was all over, Merlin was going to kill him himself. "He and my mother are going to be here any minute-"

"Queen Ilaine?"

Arthur looked a little embarrassed. "Actually, it's Igraine." he said, and hurried on. "Anyway, when they arrive, they may need to hear from you about Nimueh."

"Why?" Merlin frowned. Surely it couldn't be this simple. "Nimueh's the most powerful sorceress in the country, what could you possibly do?"

"You'd be surprised." Arthur looked rather grim. "Will you do that for me?"

"Of course, but-"

"Good."

*

Uther was, shockingly, far less frightening than Merlin had expected. His expression was stern, but there were lines around his mouth from smiling, and his eyes were fond when they looked at Arthur. His wife, Igraine, was very warm, smiling widely at Merlin and asking Arthur increasingly embarrassing questions about "this nice girl", before Uther gently drew the conversation back to the point in hand.

Once he'd heard all the facts, he turned to the elderly man in the corner, and raised an eyebrow. "Gaius? What's your opinion?"

"Our current sorcerer," Arthur whispered to Merlin.

"Nimueh has always been powerful," Gaius said, "And she has definite reason to feel you've wronged her."

"Will she ever forgive that?" Uther sighed.

"It is not the sort of thing that is easy to forgive, sire," Gaius said, carefully.

"If she had told me of the rules-"

"Camelot needed an heir, sire." Gaius said, quietly. "You could not have done anything different. Nobody – not even Nimueh herself – expected events to fall the way they did." He turned back to Merlin. "Now, young lady - I'm afraid I didn't catch your name, my dear."

"Merlin." he said, without thinking, and they all stared at him. Igraine actually looked faintly disappointed.

"But - that's a boy's name." Arthur objected.

Merlin gave him an apologetic look. "Yes. I'm sorry."

"You're - a boy?!"

"Well, man." Merlin said, feeling he was being hard-done by.

"But you look so - well, so - like a girl!"

"I, um - well, I am one at the moment."

"But how!?"

"Magic."

Gaius fixed him with a look. "There's no spell that will change something like that – you must be using an illusion of some kind."

"My magic doesn't know that there's no spell to do it." Merlin told him.

"How did you do it?" Gaius demanded.

"I asked nicely." he said, simply.

Gaius looked unamused, then paused. "Merlin. Merlin." Another long pause. "Was your mother's name Hunith?"

Merlin swallowed. Even after all this time, hearing his mother's name hurt. Everything he - they - had gone through with Nimueh just made his longing for her stronger. "Yes." he said, huskily. "It was."

Gaius opened his mouth to say something, the thought better of it. "We don't have much time, sire. all I can think of to do is to forbid Nimueh to take part, and we mustn't set a precedent like that."

"No. And should she decide to cause mischief-"

"Which she will." Merlin put in.

"Quite. We need to be able to stop her."
A long pause before Merlin dared to speak up again. "I can." he said, quietly. "That's why I came at all, in this stupid disguise."

"Oh, I don't know." Arthur murmured beside him. "It's one of the best disguises I've ever seen."

"My dear boy," Gaius said, slowly. "Just because your magic is - ignorant - and responds well to politeness, doesn't mean you have the strength or the skill to defeat a sorceress of Nimueh's calibre."

Merlin nearly laughed. "I've been living with her since I was seven," he pointed out. "And learning magic since then. I'm not ignorant, and I know I can deal with her."

"What kind of kingdom would we be," Uther interrupted. "If we let children fight our battles for us?"

"A sensible one, if the 'child' is best suited to the job!" Merlin said, heatedly. "I can do this."

"I will do it." Gaius said, firmly.

Merlin threw his hands up in the air. "Mad." he said, firmly. "You're mad."

But no one except Arthur was listening, too engrossed in formulating a plan. "Let's go back out." he whispered in Merlin's ear. "They'll decide things soon enough amongst themselves."

"I can do it." Merlin told him, firmly.

"I know." Arthur's expression was very sincere. They walked down the corridors in silence for a moment. "I wish I'd seen you as - well - you."

"Is it going to make a difference?" Merlin asked, rather dully.

"Well, no." Arthur said, thoughtfully. "But I think I would have preferred it."

"Oh. OK." But his mind was still back in that room with them, arguing his point. He should have made them listen. Nimueh had had years to think up her plan and practice, and she was still young. She was going to wipe the floor with the elderly, unprepared Gaius.

"It will be alright, you know." Arthur said, gently. "Gaius is very powerful and very skilled."

"Nimueh is better."

"And you're better than both of them?" Arthur sounded doubtful.

Merlin didn't exactly know how to answer that, so he simply shrugged. "Stronger, maybe." He said, slowly. "I don't know about better."

"Well, don't do anything foolish." Arthur's voice was probably unintentionally harsh, but Merlin stiffened at it anyway. "No need to be wasteful."

"Oh, don't be too nice," Merlin's own tone was rather acid. "You might strain something."

"I'm not trying to be rude, Lin- Merlin-"

"And yet you're doing such a good job of it anyway!"

"I just don't want you to get hurt!"
Merlin flung his hands up. "I won't be!"

"You're obviously tired and run down, and you're not thinking straight-"

"I'm thinking just fine, thank you, I can manage this!"

"Who knows what kind of strain you've put yourself under with this stupid disguise, you could be burnt out before Nimueh even gets started!"

"I. Won't be." Merlin gritted out. "And I think I'd know better than you."

"If you want to be difficult, fine." Arthur said, sharply, turning away. "Fine! It's not like I care."

"Fine, I will." Merlin snapped, and marched back towards the ballroom. His exit was ruined a little by the way he tripped on the ridiculous dress his magic had conjured up for him – and really, who wore puffy white satin outside of weddings, anyway? – and he was so angry, he hardly even noticed his mask falling off as he tripped. By the time he'd realised it, he was too upset to risk losing face by turning back for the silly thing. He'd never liked this disguise anyway, he though, viciously, upset and trying to pretend that he wasn't. Defiantly, he got rid of 'Linella', and entered the ballroom again as himself.

Behind him on the floor lay the mask, unnoticed. Merlin never noticed it, and Arthur turned on his heel without looking back.

**

Nimueh was waiting her turn, a hard set to her mouth, eyes glittering fiercely. "What, exactly, is the reason for this delay?" she asked a guard, voice cold and clear.

"The Prince is a trifle indisposed, my lady," he said, stolidly. "And will be out in a moment."

"We must all wait upon the whims of the royal family." She said, her voice so sweet that Merlin winced.

"Indeed, my lady." The guard agreed, imperturbable.

A little disgruntled, she rejoined Morgana and Gwen.

The crowd of on-lookers and sorcerers was just starting to get really restless, muttering and mumbling amongst themselves, when the great doors at the end of the hall by the dais swung open, and a guard cried out,

"Their Majesties, King Uther and Queen Igraine, and his royal highness, Prince Arthur!"

To Merlin's – rather reluctant – relief, the 'Arthur' who followed Igraine and Uther was in fact Galahad, Arthur slipping in silently behind them amongst the rest of their retinue – one of whom was Gaius. Nimueh's sharp eyes didn't fail to notice the old man acting as court sorcerer, and glittered even more coldly when she saw him.

"The Lady Nimueh, for her demonstration, my lords." The herald said, and moved away to the side as Nimueh stepped forwards.

"Before I begin, my lords and ladies," she said, voice carrying effortlessly, and causing a minor stir – the previous sorcerers had said next to nothing before they conjured. "I have a question. The most important aspect of this test is surely strength, is it not? And yet no one has been testing the strength of our casting. Why is this?" A few people stirred uncomfortably, and a flurry of whispers rippled across the ballroom. "And, my fellow sorcerers, there has been much talk of testing us – and yet we have not seen what it is we should be matching – or even bettering. Gaius," she turned away from the monarchs, towards the old man. "Won't you give us a little demonstration of your skill?"

Gaius looked old and weary as he walked forwards, his face lined and tired. "Nimueh, we-"

"A demonstration of skill is all I – we – want, Gaius." She said, managing to make an angry remark sound strangely like flirtation. "Not a sermon."

He bowed a little. "As my lady wishes."

"Think of all the heartache you could have saved yourself if you'd believed that fifteen years ago." She said, softly, and waved him forwards. "Do go on."

The storm Gaius conjured up was fierce and impressive, but when it ended, no one's clothes were wet, and there was no trace of rain or water anywhere in the room. Despite himself, Merlin was impressed – that level of control took years of work. There wasn't, though, much power in the casting, he was forced to add.

"Impressive." Nimueh said, silkily. "But I was thinking something more like this." The storm she pulled up smelt of forests and mountain air, and raged unchecked through the enormous room. The water touched no one, but the lightning scorched a great hole in the floor. Magic crackled round her hands, jumping between her fingers. "You should have made me your sorcerer years ago, Uther Pendragon!" she cried, enhancing her voice to carry over the storm. "Who stood by you throughout those long campaigns? Who sacrificed her lover to get you your son!?"

"That loss sent you mad!" Uther roared back over the noise of the storm, "We offered you a home here, a life here, but then you tried to kill my wife!" But Nimueh never heard him.

"You know the old laws," She was screaming, though she didn't need to, her spell carrying her voice over the storm and the sound of other people's screams, "Just as well as I do. A life for a life! I had nothing left, and with her gone, I could have had him back." She laughed, suddenly, high and mad. "See how you enjoy loss! And this time, I choose-" She pointed a finger at Galahad, "Not you." Swinging round she turned to the real Arthur. "You."

"No." Merlin barely knew he'd spoken, but the storm stopped as quickly as though it had never been, leaving puddles on the floor, and cracks in the great marble tiles. "Stop."

"Who are you, you magickless brat, to stop me?" She sneered, her hand still outstretched towards Arthur, eyes barely flickering to Merlin.

He reached out a tendril of magic, wrapping it gently around her wrist, enough that he could pull her away from Arthur if necessary. Slowly, it tightened around her arm until she couldn't fail to notice it.

Her eyes widened. "Which hedgewitch did you buy that charm from?" she sneered, but her voice shook a little.

"No hedgewitch." Merlin said, simply. Nimueh scoffed.

"I haven't taught you anything for years. You can no more do magic than I can - fly."

He frowned, momentarily distracted. "Can't you fly?" he asked, curiously. Gaius cleared this throat, and Nimueh gave Merlin a vicious glare.

"Be quiet." She snapped at him. "This has nothing to do with you."

He stared back at her, incredulous. "Nothing to do with me?! Of course it does! You made it to do with us," He waved his hand to include Gwen and Morgana, "When you made us pawns in this silly game of yours!"

"Silly game?!" She shrieked. "The love of my life died to give them a son!" She pointed at Igraine, white-faced on her throne. "And you – you! - call it a silly game!?"

Merlin bit his lip. "I'm sorry." he said, softly. "But killing Arthur won't bring him back."

"'Arthur', is it?" She asked, nastily. Merlin shrugged, awkwardly, but Nimueh had turned away from him and back to Arthur, and he had to stall her.

"Anyway," he said, in his stupidest voice. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Arthur giving him a warning look, and Merlin ignored it with aplomb. "You aren't capable of love. You've never shown it to any of us."

An erratic spark of magic flickered along the necklace she wore as her mouth tightened. "Maybe you weren't worth it."

"Rubbish!" Gwen said, her voice quiet but firm, causing a minor stir in their impromptu, fear-frozen audience. "We were children."

"I think," Morgana's cool, calm voice said, softly, "What she's doing is called 'projecting'." Her brother and sister favoured her with confused glances, while the rest of the hall stood in indecisive silence. "Feeling unworthy of love herself, she's telling herself that we aren't worth it." She explained, sounding so impassive that both Merlin and Gwen knew a great deal was going on under the surface.

Nimueh shrieked with fury. "How dare you!?" She screamed, an unintentional bolt of magic scorching another mark onto the floor, hair whipping round her face. "After all I did for you!?"

"All you did for us!?" Morgana actually spat the words. "You took us away from the people we knew and loved and made us into weapons! I - Gwen and I, we could have been part of that." Her voice nearly cracked as she waved a hand at Uther and Igraine - no one but Gwen or Merlin would have noticed. The King's hand was holding his wife's tightly, reassuring her, and the Queen was straight-backed and strong, eyes warm with compassion.

"I would have been near my mother." Merlin said, very softly. "And all the people who remembered her."

Gaius, behind Nimueh, made an abortive movement towards Merlin, and Nimueh wheeled round, eyes blazing. "Don't. Move." She hissed.

"This ends now." Morgana announced, firmly, taking Gwen's arm and moving towards the royals on the dais. "I'll have no further part in it."

"Nor I." Gwen agreed, softly.

"Nor I." Merlin agreed, but made no move towards anyone. Stood where he was, he was between Nimueh and Arthur, and that was the best for all involved.

Nimueh's anger took on a tinge of madness, and the other sorcerers took an instinctive step back. "Fine, then!" A vicious twist of her wrist called a gust of wind to her, which she caught in one hand. "As if I ever needed the help of children!"

She twisted the wind, swirling a finger through it till it spun faster and faster, picking up dust from the floor and twisting in front of Nimueh, who stood with a grim set to her mouth and madness in her eyes. Momentarily she looked up at Merlin, and smiled horribly. "Don't you wish you'd learnt this?"

She was pouring magic, forcing it to grow and grow, by the time Merlin shut it down, with a thought, sending a wave of magic to untangle the currents, dispersing it into nothing more than a strong draft.

"I didn't need to." He said, quietly.

She stared for a moment, before flicking her fingers through a figure spell, calling up a chimaera; but it was nothing more than a pattern made out of magic, and was no threat to him - a minute gesture unravelled it. Growing desperate, she threw a fireball at him, but it didn't even get near enough to singe him; magic, excited to be let loose this way and bored of the little tasks he was asking of it, was lighting the air around him faintly gold, and the fireball that hit this glow was simply absorbed.

With a shriek of frustration, Nimueh threw herself properly into the fight, calling on numerous resources to better her opponent. Merlin hardly had to think to deal with everything she tried; it wasn't difficult to wear an opponent down when it took less than a thought to untangle their enchantments.

Despite her current fury and recurrent grief, Nimueh had trained for years and fought far more duels than Merlin probably ever would, and it didn't take long for her to realise that the best way to win the fight she had found herself in was not to aim for Merlin at all; he'd already shown a fondness for Arthur, and that was a weakness Nimueh knew she could exploit. Cunning wasn't something Merlin's magic would guard against. It wasn't something that could be unravelled or undone, or out-done. With gleeful deliberation, she threw another fireball, as if towards Merlin, which swerved after a flick of her fingers, slipping under the magic Merlin sent to counteract it.

And it headed straight for Arthur.

"No!" Merlin shouted, panicked, and it winked out of existence - but the moment of distraction had given Nimueh the upper hand, and she threw ball after ball of magic at the prince, keeping Merlin off-balance. He got rid of them more often than not, and when he missed them they were generally too off-target to worry about. Arthur, realising her tactic, didn't make it easy for her, dodging away - careful to keep the other side of Merlin - in the space left by the scattered members of the royal household, and the other invited sorcerers.

It took ten minutes for her to see her opening. She was tiring, where Merlin evidently was not, but he was frightened for his prince where Nimueh emphatically was not, and his fear kept him off-balance. It was only inevitable that he let his guard down.

The ball of magic was a sickly green colour, and flew straight at the prince; and though Merlin reached out for it, his hand glowing brightly gold, it was too late.

"No!" Merlin cried again, light flaring in his eyes, and both Nimueh and Arthur were enveloped in gold; but where Arthur was protected by his sudden aura, Nimueh's burnt. For a moment, she shrieked again, a horrible sound tinged with pain - Merlin, horrified, couldn't even gather himself enough to stop it - then, she went up in a huge flare of magic. Briefly, it burnt without substance; then flickered out on itself.

For a long, long minute, the entire hall was silent - then Merlin turned to Arthur, his eyes still golden, and shook his head.

"I'm sorry." he said, very quietly, and disappeared.

Somewhere in the castle, a clock struck midnight.

**

For a minute after Merlin had disappeared, it was as if the entire room was holding it's breath, before Arthur turned to Morgana and Gwen, his eyes a little wild.

"Where will he have gone?" he asked, fiercely. "Where is he?"

Gwen looked uncertainly at Morgana. "He might have gone back to the castle?"

"But we don't know where that is." She said. "We never knew the location. He'd be able to get back, but - we can't direct you there."

Arthur frowned. "He-"

"Is not currently among the greatest of our worries." Uther said, kind but firm.

"I will have no other sorcerer." Arthur said, equally firm, and was surprised when a mutter ran round the room. He had almost forgotten the other hopefuls in the room, so quiet - useless, his mind supplied - had they been all day. "He's obviously the best choice."

"We will discuss this later." Uther told him, keeping his voice low. He made short work of dismissing the other sorcerers, though Gwen and Mo stayed behind, then turned to Arthur, glancing around the room as he did so. "We'll have this discussion somewhere else, I think."

Gwen slipped her hand into Morgana's, a habit she had broken when they had been small. "I can't believe Nimueh's dead." she whispered to her, as they followed the royals out of the room.

"I can't believe Merlin killed her." She whispered back.

"He didn't mean to." Gwen excused their brother, and Morgana shook her head.

"I don't care whether he meant to or not, I'm just glad she's gone. But Merlin's going to be devastated about it."

"And alone." Gwen shivered.

"We'll find him." Morgana promised. "Arthur will help."

**

Merlin appeared in the Great Hall of the old castle with a crash, and fell to his knees, retching. Nimueh's shriek was echoing in his ears, and he lost control of his magic as he attempted to throw up. The change fell away and the castle shook as magic poured out of him, while tears of shock and relief poured down his cheeks. Curling up, strangely like the little boy he had been years ago, he shuddered through a storm of fear and relief and remorse - and even a little unexpected grief, for the children he and his sisters could have been. He never even noticed the mirror storm raging outside.

By the time he uncurled himself, his bones protesting at the move, it was nearly dawn, and the castle - always dark and forbidding - was cloaked in eerie silence. His breath hitched, imagining what it would have been like had he not killed Nimueh, if his sisters had been here... and his heart twinged with longing for Morgana and Gwen, and ached when he thought of Arthur, his eyes wide and wary as he stared back at Merlin. He didn't want to feel this lonely.

But how could he possibly go back? He'd killed someone in front of the king, and he was obviously dangerous. Only look what he'd done to Nimueh.

How could he dare inflict himself on anyone?

**

As they headed out of the ballroom, back to the ante chamber Arthur had first taken Merlin to, Arthur stopped with a cry, pouncing on something lying by the wall. "His mask!"

Uther looked back with a tiny frown. "What is it?"

"Merlin was wearing this." he said, holding up the small white mask Merlin had worn to the balls.

Uther's frown deepened in confusion. "What use will it be?" he asked carefully.

"I - don't know." he admitted, letting the hand holding the little mask fall to his side.

Uther sighed. "Well then, if I may suggest, we can continue this conversation far more comfortably in here...?"

He ushered the small party into the antechamber, and frowned at his son until he showed Morgana and a rather uncomfortable Gwen to chairs.

"What more is there to discuss?" Arthur asked, shifting impatiently. "We are going to find Merlin, and he will be my sorcerer."

"And what of these young ladies?" Uther asked, pointedly. He turned to Morgana. "My dear - I remember your father so well."

"He was a dear, dear friend." Igraine added, smiling kindly at her. "I'm only sorry we weren't given the chance to know you better as you grew up." She glanced at her son, with what would have passed as a grin in a less august person. "Arthur would have benefitted from a sister, I think."

Sat down and therefore unable to curtsey, Morgana inclined her head. "Thank you." She said, quietly. "I don't know what Gwen and I are going to do now..."

"Well, of course you will live here." Uther said, but the order sounded more hopeful than commanding.

Igraine smiled at Gwen. "Of course, you don't know us, my dear," She said, in a friendly way, "But I will never forget your bravery tonight, and the more sensible people who surround a future king, the better."

Arthur shifted, uncomfortably. "Mother." He hissed, under his breath.

Igraine gave him an innocent look. "Arthur, you know as well as I do that it's true!"

"Stop. Match-making." He said, firmly, and Gwen flushed scarlet.

"I shan't stay if that's why you want me!" she said, quickly, the flushed even harder. "Not that I'm not grateful! I just - I don't want to marry Arthur. Not that he's not very nice! But, I-"

Morgana's hand on her arm stopped her talking, and she shot her a brief, mortified look before dropping her eyes down to look at her lap.

Igraine bit her lip. "I'm so sorry...?"

"Guinevere." She whispered.

"I'm so sorry, Guinevere. I never meant to make you uncomfortable. You were so brave in front of Nimueh, it never occurred to me that I might be making you uncomfortable. Please, we'd be delighted if you would stay; it would pay back a little of the debt we owe."

"And I," Gaius said, speaking up for the first time, "Would be delighted to gain two students, should you wish to learn more. I assure you, very few apprenticeships are like the one you served under Nimueh."

Morgana spoke for both of them. "A break might be preferable." She said. "After everything that has happened..."

"The offer remains." he said, and said nothing more.

"What are we going to do about Merlin?" Arthur asked, in the brief silence which followed. "How are we going to find him?"

"He's probably gone back to the castle we lived in with Nimueh." Morgana said, quietly. "It was never home, but we've lived there so long, it will have been instinct, I think."

"Can you take us there?" Arthur asked, eagerly, but Igraine frowned.

"Arthur, Morgana and Guinevere will need to rest." She said, reprovingly. "It's been a long night, for all of us."

He gave both of them a cursory little bow. "I apologise." He said, tersely. "I - am concerned for him."

Gwen touched his arm gently. "He's our brother." She said, kindly. "We're worried as well."

"And we will find him." Morgana agreed, a ring of promise in her words.

**

Arthur barely slept that night, and chafed through the delays Uther imposed on them the next morning; breakfast, a conversation with Gaius about how best to reach the castle Morgana and Gwen talked of...too many delays and worried before he could get back to Merlin.

Something about the other boy just – enthralled him, and he couldn't have said what it was. As Linella, Arthur had been fascinated by him, the first girl he'd ever felt any real attraction to; and then he'd been so interesting and funny, and they'd fitted together so well... and then Merlin had proved to be just as beautiful as a boy as when he was a girl. And no one had ever dared talk to Arthur the way Merlin had; he was unique.

Arthur was possibly a little bit enthralled, and a little bit in love, as much as he could be in love after three nights spent together.

But really, it was no wonder that Merlin's face appeared in his dreams whenever he tried to sleep.

It seemed to take forever the next morning – Gaius insisted on baths and breakfast and wearing proper clothes, and preparing properly for all eventualities – but finally, Gaius consented to let them 'hop' the way Morgana described; Arthur, eager to be off, to be able to apologise to the other boy, hadn't thought of the method, but for the few brief seconds it lasted, he found it horribly uncomfortable - like needles being dragged across his skin. The castle they appeared outside did nothing to make him feel better; enormous and forbidding, it was made out of a stone so dark it seemed almost black. Evidently, it had not been built for beauty; Arthur, thinking like a soldier, assessed the blocky, practical lines and judged that it would be easy to defend and difficult to live in.

He thought of Merlin, off-balance and upset, having nowhere better to flee to than this - mausoleum - and of all three sorcerers, forced to grow up in this place.

Things had to be set right.

"You grew up here?" He asked Gwen, quietly, and she nodded, shivering. Awkwardly, he patted her shoulder. "I'm sorry." he said, and she offered him a weak smile.

"I hope we find Merlin too." she said, answering the thought and not the words.

He managed a weak smile of his own. "I hope so too."

The great entrance hall was empty, as were all the rooms they came across on the ground floor. Arthur asked some questions about the equipment they found in the kitchen - brushes and mops and pans, all normal things to find in an ordinary house, even a castle, but not in the home of several powerful sorcerers - and Morgana's eyes darkened.

"When we were younger," She said, slowly, "Merlin and Nimueh had - a falling out. As punishment, he was excluded from her lessons, and made to do our chores."

"That's what she meant about not having taught him for years?"

Morgana nodded, then shook herself, as if shaking off the memories, her voice echoing eerily in the stone room. "It's not a story to tell here." She said, simply, and Arthur caught the glance she gave Gwen.

Finally, it was determined that the castle was very much empty, though both Morgana and Gwen insisted that Merlin had been there very recently. Arthur almost crumpled with disappointment. His attraction to the other boy – initially girl – had been instantaneous, and the thought of not finding him worried him more than he would ever have admitted.

He was jerked out of his thoughts by Gaius' voice. "Since Merlin is not here," he said, quietly, "I suggest we leave. I can't imagine any of us have much desire to stay here." He turned to the girls. "Can you think of anywhere else he might have gone?"

"His village was called-"

"Ealdor." Gaius finished for them, and they both stared. His lips twitched, wryly. "Another story not to be told here. Very well," he decided, finally. "We will go there. If, however," he gave Arthur a hard glance, "He is not there, we will return to the palace, and gain a clearer idea of how we are going to find him."

**

Merlin had woken early the next morning, unable to sleep without seeing Nimueh's face, and wandered aimlessly through the castle, trying to think about what he could do next. He dismissed his first instinct - to finally return to Ealdor after so long - because he didn't want to endanger the people he had known as a child. Really, the safest thing he could do, he thought, rather numbly, was disappear somewhere wild and remote where he couldn't hurt anyone, but with loneliness already a near-permanent ache in the pit of his stomach, he couldn't quite bear the idea of isolating himself completely.

The safest idea, then, was to find some tiny, remote little village, and make a living for himself there. Every village needed a doctor, after all, and he could insinuate himself like that. He could keep his magic under control, he was sure.

Unable to stay in the silent castle any longer, he pictured the sort of place he wanted to be in his mind's eye, and let magic fill the picture. He disappeared from the gallery just as Arthur, Gaius, Morgana and Gwen appeared outside.

*

No one in Ealdor had seen or heard from Merlin since he was taken away by Nimueh, aged seven, and it was a rather dispirited group who returned to Camelot, at about midday. Uther was unavailable, but Igraine was waiting for them when they arrived. One look at the group, and she swept them up to her private sitting room, asking a servant to bring tea as quickly as possible. Until it arrived, she talked lightly of other things, but when the servant had left, and she could busy herself with preparing the tea, she turned to the subject in hand.

"I take it, Merlin wasn't there?" she said, delicately, pouring a cup and handing it to Gwen. "Help yourself to milk and sugar, dear."

"No. And he wasn't in the village where he was born." Gaius said, heavily.

"How do you know so much about him?" Arthur asked, curiously.

Gaius frowned. "I know very little about him." he said, repressively.

"More than you should." Morgana pointed out.

He sighed. "His mother - Hunith - was my sister. When Nimueh's partner died, Hunith left Camelot, and refused to return, no matter what I said. Of course, had I known about Merlin... I would never have let her be so stubborn. Evidently, Hunith had recently suffered a similar loss, and found the reminder - unbearable."

"You didn't know?" Gwen asked, quietly, her gentle voice unknowingly disapproving. Morgana was frowning as well. The idea of any of them not knowing that their brother or sister had lost a loved one was evidently anathema to them.

Gaius flushed and looked away. "I had been so distracted." He said, heavily. "Nimueh and I were the highest ranking sorcerers in the land and I had so much to do... I knew Hunith was distracted, but..." He broke himself off. "What's done is done." He started again, finally. "When she left, Hunith didn't stay in contact. I wasn't even aware that she had died until a few years ago. The villagers told me about her son, but by then it was far too late." His face twisted momentarily. "It was probably the sort of thing Nimueh would have found hugely amusing. She may even have known."

"We will find him." Gwen said, firmly. "And you'll be able to tell him all about it."

"How, though?" Arthur asked, frustrated. "Where could he possibly be? Why would he disappear like this at all?"

"None of us have ever used our magic for anything but hypothetical situations. Killing someone like that isn't something Merlin will be comfortable with." Morgana said, speaking confidently. No one knew Merlin better than Gwen and herself.

"Do you still have that mask?" Gwen asked Arthur, very softly.

He frowned, more in confusion than anything else. "Yes?"

"Why not use that?" She asked. "We can all go round the villages, trying to find Merlin - he'll be somewhere isolated, I'm sure. Morgana and I will recognise him – his magic, if not his face, because he might be disguised – but if you have that mask, you'll be able to tell if it's him. Advertise that you're looking for a sorcerer and make sure everyone tries it on."

"Guinevere, it was made for a girl." he said, impatiently. "It's not going to fit him."

"And the boy who knows that..."

"Anyone could see that it's a girl's size." Arthur pointed out, more than a little frustrated. "It's so small and delicate."

"A simple illusion will deal with that." Gaius said, looking keenly at Gwen. "And it's a good idea. With the three of you searching the countryside - two with the aid of magic - you have a far better chance than not of finding Merlin."

Arthur frowned. "It seems - unlikely." he said, carefully.

"Do you have any better ideas?" Morgana asked, sharply.

"Well... no. But it seems - unlikely." he said. "Do I say we know his name? Or pretend we don't? Do I say why we're looking for him? Do-"
"Don't say his name." Gwen said. "Say - you're looking for a sorcerer who left the court before the prince's decision could be made, and you want him to try on this mask. Morgana and I will do the same, but we'll say we have some - magic test we can do."

"Can't you - you know - reach out and find him?" Arthur asked. "I mean, you knew that he'd been at that castle recently - why can't you tell where he is now?"

"We never needed to." Gwen explained. "We'd recognise his signature anywhere, but not over a distance. The furthest away we've ever been to each other was the other side of the castle."

Arthur slumped in his chair, and Igraine gave him a sympathetic look. "When are you planning to start?" She asked, gently.

"As soon as possible." Arthur said, immediately.

"Tomorrow at the earliest." Gaius said, with a quelling glance. "Both girls must be tired from all this - 'popping' they've been doing..."

"We call it 'evaporating'." Morgana said, a smile lurking at the corners of her mouth, a faint twinkle of mischief in her eyes when she glanced at Gwen, who smiled back, but turned to Gaius with earnest eyes.

"And we're not even the smallest bit tired." She assured him. "We'd like to start as soon as possible."

"My dear..."

"He's our brother. Didn't you search for his mother when she went missing?" Wordlessly, Gaius nodded. "Well, then - you know how we feel."

He was silent for a long moment, then nodded again. "A break, though, I think." He said, finally. "Nothing will help Merlin less than you getting exhaustion."

Morgana started to protest, then thought better of it. "An hour." She said. "Will that do?"

Gaius nodded. "An hour's rest, then we will set out."

"'We', Gaius?" Igraine said, raising an eyebrow.

"Uther knows he can always contact me." Gaius told her. "And I - must help. I imagine if you had lost Arthur, you would feel much the same."

**

The tiny village of Noirmont was high up in the mountains above Camelot herself; on a clear day, Merlin was told, you could see the windows of the castle shining. Although the sight of this was legendary, the people of Noirmont were the kind who didn't hold with these new-fangled glass windows - what was wrong with a good fresh breeze, anyway? Nothing like it for clearing out the cobwebs.

In short, it was perfect for Merlin. Very few people ever came here, and those who did either had a definite purpose - such as the shearers who came every year to help with the sheep, or the pedlars who appeared every now and then - or were regarded as dangerous interlopers until such time as they were able to prove they had skills useful to the village.

For the last week or so, Merlin had been wandering aimlessly through the mountains - the first village he had arrived in had run him out for his unusual method of travel. Since he'd materialised in their main square, he could hardly blame them for that.

The next little village, and the next village after that, and all the ones he had been to since, had sorcerers of their own to guard against thatch-fires and to stop food going bad, and to perform all the little every day charms people used and needed. But in Noirmont, he arrived just in time to stop half the flock of the village's prized mountain sheep being crushed in a rock fall; the villagers couldn't do enough for him.

Their sorcerer, handily, was an old man, who bore no grudge against a younger man - a much younger man - appearing to usurp his place. In fact, he seemed rather grateful that they would be looked after.

"Good, simple people." He said, smiling, pale blue eyes fixed sightlessly somewhere over Merlin's shoulder. "And they deserve the protection we can give them. Not like some places."

Merlin shadowed him for a few days, getting used to the every-day duties of the standard sorcerer, and soon found that the problem came - as before - not from performing the necessary spells, but from keeping their strength to an absolute minimum. A spell to prevent thatch-fire had stopped any fires being lit in the house at all, and a charm to keep children obedient in moments of danger left the children unable to question any direct order at all, until Merlin lifted the charm and reworked it.

It took a couple of weeks, but he did eventually settle into a kind of rhythm. He lived with the old sorcerer, and found that the steady rhythm of looking after someone was far more soothing than he could ever have imagined - doing chores for Nimueh was not something anyone would ever have described as 'soothing' – and if he sometimes dreamt of his sisters, or of Arthur, reliving the argument they'd had or embarrassing dreams of moments that had never, ever happened... well, they were only dreams.

He distracted himself with his chores; doing them by hand was relaxing; doing them by magic helped with his control. The old sorcerer guided him gently through each day, and it was a real relief to be able to give up the lead for a while and take a very definite backseat.

Occasionally, he did have to go further up into the mountains for a couple of days, and let off steam - conjuring dragons and storms and fires that burnt without burning - to stop bored, mischievous magic from paving the streets of Noirmont with gold or turning the village well into wine. But either no one noticed, or no one minded. Their new sorcerer was accepted, with all his quirks.

All the excitement of his arrival had died down by the time the blond prince arrived in the village.

**

Arthur had been travelling for nearly a month now, heading further and further up into the mountains in search of Merlin. Sometimes, he was certain he could almost feel the other boy, but the feeling always slipped away before he could be sure, and after three weeks, he was starting to lose confidence, if not hope.

Even the other three sorcerers hadn't found Merlin.

"Excuse me, sir," he said, politely to the first person he saw, "But what is this village?"

"It's called Noirmont, sir." The man told him, politely. "Can I help your lordship?"

He swung himself down off his horse. "I'm looking for a sorcerer." he said, equally polite.

"We've two here in Noirmont, sir." The man said, evidently proud of what he saw as his village's accomplishment. "Old and young."

"Did either of them attend the ball?" Arthur pressed. "To find a new court sorcerer?"

The man frowned, and shook his head. "We didn't hear of any ball." he paused. "Young 'un may have done." He added with a shrug. "Only arrived here coupla weeks ago."

Hope surged, and Arthur carefully forced it down. "Might I see him?" He asked.

"I can ask for you." The man told him, giving him a quick, appraising glance. "This way, sir."

The little house he led him to was, unusually, made out of stone, and kept extremely clean. It was also extremely empty, and Arthur's guide turned to him with a shrug. "Probably out on their rounds, sir. Can you wait?"

"Do you know where they'll be now?" Arthur asked, hopefully, but the man shook his head.

"Could be anywhere. Best to wait here for them."

It felt like he was so close, and it was difficult to wait for the two sorcerers to come home; but after so long a wait, and so many disappointments, it was ridiculous to get his hopes up. And, Arthur thought, deprecatingly, it was ridiculous to be so antsy in what might - and only might - be the last hour or so of waiting. Almost as ridiculous as being so desperate to find someone whose real face he'd never even seen.

It took a great deal of effort to sit quietly outside the sorcerers' house, holding the reins of his poor, tired horse and keep all hope and excitement inside, but it was even harder to stay still when two men came into sight along the little road leading to the house. One was an old man, bent and white haired, leaning on a tall, skinny young man, dark-haired just as Linella had been. From this distance, it was impossible to see anything of the young man's features, except a pair of ridiculous ears, which seemed, frankly, far too large for his head.

When they got a little nearer, Arthur stood and walked towards them, then bowed a couple of feet from him.

"Who's there?" The old man said, his voice warm but weak.

The younger man - Merlin? - was staring at him with wide eyes, and Arthur was fairly certain he had his answer before he'd asked the question.

"I am Prince Arthur." he said, clearly. "I'm looking for a sorcerer."

"Then you'll do twice as well here as anywhere else." The old man chuckled. "I am Anhora, and this is my assistant, Emrys."

Arthur raised an eyebrow at the other boy. "Emrys?" He asked, quietly, but the dark boy just shrugged, and Anhora never even heard him say it.

"What did you want with a sorcerer?" Anhora asked gesturing for Arthur to fall in step with him. Turning, Arthur allowed the old man to lay a hand on his arm for support, and launched into his story, keeping one eye on Merlin at Anhora's side.

"I'm actually looking for one specific sorcerer." He said, carefully. "One who came to the balls to find the new court sorcerer." He had to make sure to sell this well; who knew what Merlin could be thinking and feeling at the moment, and the last thing Arthur wanted to do was scare the other boy off. "He saved my life, and I can't think of anyone else I would want to be my court sorcerer."

Emrys, the other side of Anhora, gave him a wary look. "What did he save your life from?"

The feeling of being near Merlin was strong and steady, but Arthur bit back on the retort he wanted to give to that. "An evil sorceress." He said, quietly. "She wanted revenge."

"Are you sure she was evil?" Emrys' voice sounded calm, but there was a wealth of meaning in the words, and Anhora's hand tightened momentarily on his assistant's arm.

"She had good reason to want revenge." Arthur admitted, keeping his voice even. "But the things she had done made it impossible to feel pity for her."

"Such as what?"

"She kidnapped three children," Arthur said, quietly, "And would have ruined their lives. And she performed dark rites to increase her power..."

From the quick glance Emrys shot him, he hadn't known that, but he simply nodded. "I'm glad her death was justified in your eyes." He said, quietly.

"I never said she died, Merlin." Arthur said, softly.

For one long moment, Merlin froze, then sighed. "I'm happy here." He said, rather plaintively, but Anhora was already speaking.

"Emrys, you're wasted here." he said, warmly. "Protecting Noirmont when you could be protecting our whole country... a cruel waste."

"But when you- die..."
"Noirmont will send for another sorcerer. Keeping you to ourselves..." He smiled, rheumily. "Would be like having a warhorse pull a plough. Neither is suited to the other, and the job is done badly." He detached his other arm from Arthur's to pat Merlin's hand. "I hope you've found a little rest and comfort here." He said, kindly. "But it's time to go home."

"I don't have a home." Merlin protested, weakly.

"We'd like to give you one." Arthur said. "At Camelot."

At long last, they reached the house, having been hindered by Anhora's slow steps, and Arthur rummaged for a moment in his saddle-bags, finally pulling out the now-grubby little mask.

"This will fit only Merlin." He said, repeating the lie he'd told so many times now, holding it out to Merlin, who took it gingerly, pulling a face.

"Rubbish." He said, frowning. "We both know it won't."

"It would never fit you?" Arthur pressed.

"Well." He shrugged. "It might if I was a girl."

Without quite meaning to, Arthur pulled him into a hug. "Guinevere and Morgana will be glad to see you." he said, pulling back almost immediately and straightening his tunic, movements stiff with awkwardness.

"I'm happy they're safe." Merlin agreed, equally awkward. "I've missed them."

Neither of them dared ask what they were thinking. How ridiculous would it sound to start talking about love to a complete stranger?

"Well - I suppose you'll want to say goodbye and so on to everyone here." Arthur said, still uncomfortable. "But do try to be quick. Even without stopping at every village, it's still a week's journey back to Ca."

Merlin cracked a smile at that. "Nonsense." he said. "We can be there in a matter of seconds."

Arthur pulled a face. "Oh, yes. Your apparating trick, or whatever you call it."

"Evaporating." Merlin corrected.

"Whatever you like." Arthur agreed. "Now, your goodbyes?"

**

Arthur hung back a little as Merlin greeted his sisters again, watching as Merlin accepted all the hugs and scolds and tears bestowed upon him with equanimity – even with a few tears of his own – and while Uther and Igraine thanked him, and made much of him, and while Gaius introduced himself properly. The induction ceremony – it had taken the combined efforts of all the people involved to convince Merlin to take the position of court sorcerer, but he did eventually – went off perfectly, but Prince Arthur's distance from the new sorcerer he had insisted on was noted by many. The only thing that caught the attention of the gossips more was that the new sorcerer seemed desperate for his prince to take notice of him.

In fact, though, Arthur hung back from Merlin for the next few weeks, taking the opportunity to distance himself while Merlin was busy finding his feet in the palace, and coming to terms with his new duties as his, Arthur's, sorcerer, and starting lessons with Gaius and his sisters. Arthur didn't want to push himself forward and make things awkward for Merlin; what if Merlin worked out how he was feeling? This stupid, ridiculous bubble of happiness and pain when he was around Merlin never seemed to fade, and he couldn't bear to have it broken.

The weeks passed achingly slowly, for both of them, neither able to exchange a word without pain, wondering whether or not the other felt the same way, and not daring to ask in case the answer was not what they wanted to hear.

Finally, though, Merlin sought Arthur out, eventually cornering him on the same balcony on which Arthur had started teaching 'Linella' to dance. "You've been avoiding me." He said, very simply. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No, of course not." Arthur said, rather sharply.

"Oh, good," Merlin said, with a tiny smile. "I'd hate to think I'd offended you."

Arthur couldn't think of a response to that, and simply shrugged, looking out over the gardens. The cracked, ruined marble from the ballroom was being used to make a path through the lawns to the lake, and the ballroom itself was being refloored. If Arthur kept his mind on facts like that, he could maybe forget that Merlin was at his side, staring at him with wide blue eyes.

"I never apologised to you, did I?" Arthur said, abruptly, and Merlin jumped a little.

"What for?" he said, eventually, frowning.

"The argument we had. That night. I was – very unfair." He said, stiffly.

Merlin considered it for a long moment. "I wasn't very fair either." He said, fairly, then shrugged. "I'm sorry for whatever I've done."

"You haven't done anything!" Arthur snapped. "I just-"

"What?" Merlin said, softly, when Arthur didn't go on. "You just what?"

"Nothing." Arthur said, tiredly. "I've forgotten what I was going to say."

"You searched for me." Merlin said, so softly that Arthur had to crane to hear the words and wasn't sure he should, and whether he wanted to hear them. "And I wandered for the longest time why you bothered. And then..." he paused for the barest moment. "I have something to tell you, Arthur." He said, formally, and Arthur didn't bother telling him to use his title. Something told him Merlin would never remember it anyway.

An irrational fear tugged at him that Merlin was going to ask to be allowed to leave Camelot again; however much having him near like this hurt, it was better than not having him here at all. "What is it?" he asked, licking his lips, and looking back out over the gardens.

"I know I haven't been here long," Merlin began, and Arthur's heart clenched, "And I hardly know you," it relaxed a little, and Arthur began to really listen, curious now. "But – I... it's very silly."

"What is?" Arthur whispered.

"Ever since I met you – well, not ever since, but when I really got to know you..." Merlin rambled, nervously. "I've felt – and I don't know whether it's just because I'm not, you know, used to normal relationships, but I've felt..."

"Merlin, for the love of God, what have you felt?" Arthur demanded, urgently.

"I've felt like I might love you." He said, quiet and firm, meeting Arthur's eyes levelly.

"Oh." A smile tugged the corners of his mouth up; the bubble he'd been so afraid would shatter inside him seemed to have risen to his chest, lodging in his throat, and making it difficult to say much. "Oh, good." He managed. He knew he was smiling like an idiot, but he couldn't help it. "I – good." He repeated. "Because, you know... I think I might love you too."

For a moment, they stood on the balcony, grinning like idiots, until their hands smacked together as each reached for the other. Their first, wonderful kiss was messy and clumsy, and utterly perfect. Roses bloomed in the gardens, and a new fountain suddenly appeared for good down by the lake, but neither of them knew any of this.

All they knew was that this, whatever it was, however suddenly it had happened, felt a lot like happily ever after.