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24.09.2015

Extract from Merlin’s Magical Maladies Podcast - Episode 32, Ask Merlin Anything #16

...Here’s a great one from MaddieMerlinFan, that’s very flattering by the way, but I think I’ll just call you Maddie! ‘I’m trying a new spell to help my mum with her gardening potions, but I keep getting headaches. Mum does it all the time with no problems at all. Do I need to keep practicing or am I doing something wrong? Can a person react badly to a spell that they cast?’

Well Maddie, unfortunately I’m going to find it hard to give a clear answer, because the answer to all of your questions is - like with a lot of magecraft - yes and no. First, I’m going to answer the last question: can someone react badly to a spell they cast?

Absolutely they can, but it’s not typical. Generally speaking, people can react badly if they are trying bloodline speciality spells from a bloodline they are not closely related to, but even in those circumstances it’s possible to learn the spell safely. It’s about knowing your own limits and listening to your body. I think people get into their heads that they can only safely perform bloodline spells and that it’s dangerous to perform spells beyond their own bloodline, but if that were true then a lot of us would have very limited scopes to our magic! I don’t think I would be a very good doctor if all my magic required dragons. They’re a bit too big to fit on the ward!

Very, very, very rarely, you can have an immuno-type reaction to a spell, but if your mum has cast the spell around you without you experiencing an instantaneous reaction, then that’s probably not the cause of your problem.

As for the rest: think of learning a new spell like learning to do any physical skill. If you’re a gymnast trying to learn how to do the splits, you’re not going to complete the move without some pain or discomfort until your muscles are flexible enough to move the way you want them to, and if you force your body to do the splits prematurely you’ll tear a muscle.

Like with all good practice you can become stronger by going to the edge of your discomfort, but if you are experiencing real pain then it’s time to stop! Another thing to do is talk to your mum about it. You say that she’s never experienced pain with this spell, but she probably learned it before you were born, so maybe when she was your age it was a different story! It sounds like you and your mum work together so hopefully you can have an honest talk with her. You’d be surprised at the things that people forget to mention, and she might not even realise it’s having a negative effect on you.

Finally, should you keep practicing or are you doing something wrong? Well, again, that really depends on what your mum says. If she says she had headaches when learning the spell, then maybe take a very gentle approach to the practice until those symptoms go away, and perhaps limit your practice to keep yourself safe. If the pain is severe, or your mum said that those symptoms were not usual, then stop immediately! It’s better to be safe than sorry and as always, if you have concerns you should phone your local mageiaology department. Most hospitals in major cities have at least one consultant. Severe pain when doing spells is never normal and could be a sign of other underlying health problems!

Best of luck, Maddie! Let us know how you get on.

Alright, the final question of the show is one not even slightly related to magecraft, but I’ve had it a few times now and I want to address it; this comes from Elisha X, Dwayze, LittleLili and many more with the basic premise, “We love the podcast, what can we do to support it?” or “We don’t care if you take sponsorships, we just want you to keep making the show.”

These sentiments are very sweet, and they come from a really loving place. When my father was a young man fighting for mage rights back in the seventies and eighties, I don’t think he could have dreamed of a time where not only could I speak freely and openly about mage issues, but that people would want to pay me to do it!

That being said, as always, this is a one man show. I do the research, recording and editing all by myself. It doesn’t take up that much of my time, and I already have a good full-time job to support me. For now, as this is an advice podcast, I feel ethically bound to not take sponsorships unless I can be sure that they are completely in line with the message of the show, and I’ve not found one I’m comfortable with yet. I’m sure Squarespace is a wonderful service, but I don’t think it’s got much to do with what I talk about!

And finally, as for personal donations, if you have spare money and really want to make a donation, then I know that hospitals are always happy to have people give their money or their time to support them. May I recommend the mageiaology ward of the Great Ormond Street Hospital, one of the few specialist paediatric mageiaology departments in the country. Alternatively, support the academic scholarships of the UCC students who work at my own teaching hospital St. Cyprian’s. The NHS always needs good doctors; support the students and you support the future!

That’s all for today, I’ve been Dr Merlin Emrys and this has been Merlin’s Magical Maladies. If you’ve got a question you would like answered on the next AMA or a suggestion for a Big Topic, then you send it all to my e-mail: [email protected]. I hope your day leads with a kindly light, and until next time, Blessings!

~*~

Merlin gave himself some dead air space before turning off the recording with a sigh. There had been loads and loads of flubs during that one, as there often were when recording the Q&A sessions. He didn’t prepare as much in advance and he would often answer the questions in two or three different ways until he was certain of what advice was the best. The responsible choice yes, but it led to a lot of editing work.

He glanced up at the clock on the wall - a ridiculous diamante covered rooster - and groaned when he saw it was already eight o’clock. He hadn’t even started making dinner yet and he had another early shift the next day. Merlin loved that clock to death (it had been a present from his old university flatmate Gwaine; when Merlin finally came out to him one very drunken night, the next week he presented it to him with an enormous flourish, and a card that read “congratulations on your love of cock”) but even it’s bedazzled, double entendre glory couldn’t soften prospect of editing this beast of a podcast by tomorrow.

It was always a hard decision over which to prioritize. Did he eat first and risk that he’d be too tired to properly edit or edit whilst the show was still fresh in his mind and risk the migraine that might start when he went too long without eating? Or he could do what he was doing now, staring blankly at the clock and internally panicking that he had far too much to do, no time in which to do it, all whilst doing absolutely nothing productive at all.

“Merlin, please tell me you’re not doing what I think you’re doing.”

Merlin at least had the decency to look lightly chagrin as he turned to peek over his shoulder at his flatmate. Gwen had the perpetual air of maternal sorrow that made Merlin feel terribly guilty at all times. Her face somehow managed to portray in a single glance ‘No matter the stupid things you do, I still love you and I am very, very disappointed,’ and every variant thereof.

“That entirely depends on what you think it is that I might be doing.”

“You’ve just done a thirteen-hour shift, for nothing, and you’re now going to try and edit your podcast tonight?”

“It wasn’t for nothing; I get my unsocial hours pay for this morning.” Merlin deflected, quite beautifully he thought, but Gwen was a master of pulling out the details and was never, ever, deflected. Merlin always managed to forget this.

“Yes, for the one single hour you worked outside social hours this morning. That’s nothing when you’re on your feet all day. I’m not talking financial compensation here; I’m talking getting a full night’s sleep and three-square meals. No amount of extra money makes up for that. Can’t you do it in the morning? You’re not on the ward tomorrow until ten.”

Merlin flinched away from Gwen’s piercing gaze before he could even open his mouth to correct her.

“You’re not going in early again?” She sighed hard and placed her hand over her eyes, “What have I told you about this?”

“That I’m very noble and good at my job and the ward would fall apart without me?”

She slapped him upside the head, which really, he thought he should have seen coming, before reaching over and slamming the lid of his laptop closed with a little more force than was perhaps strictly necessary. “How are we short staffed again? I checked. The hours were perfect when we had the last review. Who are you covering for?”

Merlin reluctantly gave up the grip on his laptop, he knew that Gwen would have no compunction against rewiring his laptop to self-destruct whilst beeping an aria bemoaning Merlin’s lack of work-life balance if he didn’t let her take it. She had a tremendous knack for anything machinery based and computers especially so.

“Tristan,” he whispered, ever unable to lie to Gwen, but not wanting to get the other consultant in trouble.

“And why is he going around messing with the schedule?”

Merlin shrugged, “He said something about Isolde’s PD trip being shortened and her arriving last minute and… I don’t know I wasn’t really paying attention. He just asked if I could take the morning shift in exchange for one of my shifts later.”

“Which you will never take because you’re the great doctor Emrys and you would never trust another soul with any of your cases! Forget that the statistics say that you will be as useless as a Junior doctor by the end of the week. How many long shifts in a row have you done now?”

“Three” Merlin mumbled into his jumper,

“And tomorrow will take your consecutive long shifts up to?” Gwen sounded like a school master asking for repetition of times tables.

“Four,” he admitted a little quieter again.

“Thus, beginning your mandatory 48 hours rostered rest and by all that is blessed I will make sure you take that rest if I have to tie you to the bedposts.”

“Kinky,” he quipped with a wiggle of his eyebrows, a statement to which Gwen only deigned to give a withering glare.

“You were so sweet when we met. So nice, so polite, it used to be Dr Emrys have you finished with your case notes? And now it’s all locking Merlin in the stationary cupboard until he fills in your blasted forms. No love anymore. No care.” he mock whined, swooning dramatically with every sentence. Gwen for her part cracked half a smile at least, but he could see that she looked just as tired as he felt, and the guilt sank deeper in his chest.

“We’re going to split this; I’ll edit this, and you make dinner and hopefully we’ll both get a decent night's sleep.”

He wanted to protest, the podcast was his own personal project and he shouldn’t have needed anyone to help him with it, but he couldn’t deny that it was welcome.

“You should pay someone to edit for you.” He heard Gwen call from her place in the living room as he started to chop up onions.

“If I have money to pay another person, I would pay for a hospital porter.” He argued, “I don’t need to hire someone to do it for me. Besides, I don’t even know anyone who I would trust to do it.”

“Send it to Will.” she suggested, “Didn’t he do the Uni radio or something?”

“That’s...” that was actually a really good idea. Such a good idea that Merlin almost smacked himself for not thinking of it, but even if he had thought to ask Will, he wasn’t sure how he could do it. “I’ve not seen Will for like a year. I don’t really even speak to him much.”

“He was your best friend!” Gwen bemoaned, “You two are such grandpas about any social media. It’s like you forget that the internet is a thing. Just ask him, I’m sure he’d be happy to do it.”

Merlin just hummed, letting the room lapse into silence, putting a pot of water to boil on the hob and gently melting the butter in another pan. It would have been much quicker to heat the water with magic, but after a long day on call, he needed the simple mechanical process of making his own food, letting the sound of the kitchens, and the distant clicking of Gwen on his laptop take him away from weariness sinking into his bones.

~*~

A 5am alarm was a thing of evil if Merlin had ever known it. The diabolical shrill melody that blasted from his phone felt like the herald of the apocalypse. It was marginally better than yesterday’s shift, where the alarm had sounded a full hour earlier, but it was another blow to realise that 5am could, in any way shape or form, be considered any kind of lie in. It seemed like an affront to nature.

Groggily going through the routine of washing and dressing himself, he barely took a glance in the mirror and wondered if he could get away with not brushing his hair this morning, and thus spare the energy of raising his arms over his own head. He reluctantly agreed with Gwen, though he would probably spare himself ever mentioning it to her aloud, that the long shifts he had pulled all this week had exhausted him and that the break would probably be very welcome.

He couldn’t help the tug of guilt twisting in his stomach as he knew it would mean the shifts got pushed around again, but by tomorrow Tristan should have returned, and then it was the weekend, so all together not a massive change would have been made. He just wished there were more consultants he trusted working on the ward. Ever since Gaius retired Merlin had been stretching himself thin trying to take as many cases as he could whilst the junior doctors trained up, and double so now that the hospital had attached the new psychiatric clinic which now took most of Nimueh’s time.

He gently slapped his own face, hoping that it might have some sort of placebo-type impact on his own wakefulness, then realising that the best he could manage would be a decent coffee. Hesitated at the door for a few minutes, making sure his keys were still in his bag, eventually settling on clutching them tightly in his hand. After a few moments he dragged himself out the door glancing at his watch. He might just have enough time to swing past The Grind if he left now. On mornings like this, breakfast on the go was the only option.

~*~

“Dr Emrys,” Lance shouted down the hallway whilst Merlin tried to take a large bite of his danish, choking on the crumbs as he tried to chew without looking like a chipmunk.

“Sorry,” he said after swallowing the unintentionally large bite, coughing a little into the crook of his elbow. “Basic functions are a little slow to start this morning.”

“I was just going to see a new patient, thought your expertise might be needed, but you should probably get yourself finished up and cleaned up and then I’ll catch you up in a minute.”

“Will do, by the way, are you still okay to come on to the podcast? I wanted to do one on various careers in mageiaology, maybe get Gaius on if he’s free.”

Lance paused and looked at him in his quiet studying way, “I’m happy to, but are you sure you want to bring Gaius on though? He’s been.” he paused, considering his next words carefully, “controversial of late, the whole house of lords position and the census amendment thing and…”

“Oh, trust me I know,” Merlin scoffed his mutual annoyance, “and I’ve got a lot to say about it, but I want it to be a topic of its own for another podcast. Anyway, he’s got a lot of experience that would be great for my listeners, despite all that.”

He took a defiant bite of his danish, not caring this time about the crumbs, he would clean up in a minute later, “We can talk about it at a later date. Let’s look at what we have for today then.”

In a few short minutes Merlin was washed up and wearing his coat like a piece of armour, his bearing subtly straighter whenever he put it on and walked to the room with Lance explaining about the new case.

“Eight-year-old male patient named Edwin, came in during the night, and he’s… well you’ll see.” Lance opened the door ahead of him where Merlin could see a small child who was just a little bit on fire. Even in his sleep he was evidently distressed, but there didn’t seem to be in any physical damage on him.

“Some time last night he managed to start the flames and hasn’t been able to control them since. His parents took him to A&E and then triage immediately transferred him here about an hour ago” Lance consulted the notes, scribbling some things on it before handing it over to Merlin to read, “we weren’t able to take his vitals when he came in. He’s not been able to control the fire, so no one has really been able to assess him safely. The research department was able to supply some flame-resistant bedding to keep the rest of the room safe for now.”

“Why here, not GOSH?” Merlin inquired, briefly reading the sparse notes. As Lance had already pointed out no other vitals had been taken and the written observations seemed to boil down to: holy shit the kid is on fire.

“Here was closer, and they didn’t want to risk taking him too far in any petrol containing vehicle.”

Merlin nodded thoughtfully, “You said his parents were both there? Where are they now?

“When his mother tried to get him out of the house to prevent more fires forming, she got quite severe burns on her hands, so she’s still being treated over at St Hugh’s. The actual fire in the house was under control by the time the fire department actually showed up. Father, Mr Muirden was here a minute ago, I don’t know where he is now.”

Edwin, had been curled up in a little ball in the middle of the bed, feigning a restless sleep, but he now gave up the pretence, whispering from his position. “He went to get coffee. He thought I was asleep.”

“Hello Edwin.” Merlin said, handing the notes back over to Lance and sitting down on the bed next to the boy, who sat up slowly “I bet you’ve had a very tiring morning haven’t you? Have you had any sleep at all?”

He shook his head very minutely and curled his head into his knees. “Well we’ll see what we can do to help you with that. My name is Dr Emrys, and this is my very good friend Nurse Du Lac. We’re going to make sure you can get back home safe and sound okay?”

Merlin slowly reached out a hand to take the boy’s wrist, hoping to get some sense of his vitals, but at this movement the boy scrambled backwards and shrieked loudly enough to hurt Merlin’s eardrums. Lance covered his own ears, and Merlin quickly sent a shield to protect his friend. If it hadn’t been obvious before, it was overwhelmingly clear now that this was an uncontrolled magic flare.

“I hurt mummy,” he sobbed, “I didn’t want to, but I hurt her, and now she’s in hospital too and I’m going to hurt everyone.”

“Hey, hey, everything will be okay.” Merlin tried to calm him, withdrawing his hands until he could convince the boy that he would do no harm. He looked to Lance for any sense of guidance.

“No one even tried to take his vitals, we didn’t have any fire trained mages free until you came in.”

“Look,” Merlin called forth the flame into his hand, easy for him and something he had been able to do since he was Edwin’s age himself. “I can do it too, like a normal spell. If you can control it, then it won’t hurt you or anyone else.” He moved his hand out, inviting Lance to touch the flames.

Lance pressed his palm to Merlin’s own without so much as a flinch, and Merlin could see the hero worship growing almost instantly in Edwin’s eyes. “You’re so brave.” he whispered under his breath. Merlin’s smile slanted across his face at Edwin’s words.

“Nurse Du Lac’s full name is Lancelot.” Merlin said, Lance already rolling his eyes before the story could even begin. “Do you know why he’s called Lancelot?”

“No.” Edwin said, eyes alight with the question, and so taken with Lance that he barely noticed when Merlin took his wrist and started taking the boy’s pulse.

“It’s because he is the bravest nurse in the whole of Camelot. He is so strong and brave when it comes to scary magic, that even though he fought a griffon all by himself. With a lance.”

Edwin turned to look at him, mouth open wide in surprise, “A real lance? Like a knight?”

“A real lance,” Merlin confirmed, “so they said, well he must lance a lot to be so brave and so strong.” He took the opportunity of Edwin looking at him to place a hand to his forehead; it was hard to tell body temperature through a spell like this.

“You can touch me?” Edwin asked suddenly, finally noticing what Merlin was doing.

“Yup.” he popped the consonant, “I’ll help you turn this spell off and we can make sure you get home nice and safe.”

It was at this point that the boy’s father came back, a coffee cup in hand, a deep sigh loosed at the sight of Lance and Merlin, tension in his shoulders subtly shifting.

“Mr Muirden, I presume.” Merlin greeted, standing to shake his hand. “Do you mind if I ask you about your own magecraft. Do either you or your wife practice?”

“Both of us do a little, yes. Mostly simple stuff, basic housework and the like. We didn’t know what to do about this though.”

“And how about learning new spells, do you have any difficulty with them?” Lance was already scribbling notes into Edwin’s chart.

“I don’t do it often, but I’ve always been able to pick them up easily enough when I’ve needed to.”

“Excellent,” Merlin said, sitting back down at Edwin’s bedside and inviting his father to do the same, “Edwin’s just coming into his magic, it’s common at his age that fluctuations in magical level are hard for him to contain. His capacity for magic and his capacity to control that magic are a little out of balance right now. He’ll find it hard to shut off sometimes, but I can give you a guide to share with him on controlling his abilities, it’s most helpful if he can feel someone else doing the same, it’s easier to feel the shape of a spell than to read it from a book, especially for someone Edwin’s age.”

“What about right now?”

“Right now, I’ll help Edwin stop the spell, then I will leave you in the very capable hands of Nurse Du Lac.”

Merlin reached a hand back out, taking Edwin’s wrist, concentrating on the boy’s own power, slowly calming the flames until it seemed that the boy was as happy and healthy as any other.

His work done for now, and the rest of his rounds to complete, he left Lance behind to do a general check of Edwin’s wellbeing. He couldn’t help but smirk a little when he heard the hero-worshiping whisper as Edwin breathlessly informed his dad. “He’s a real knight. He fought a griffon, with a real lance and everything.”

~*~

Merlin felt the aura of anger emanating down the hall as he hung up his coat and slung his bag over his shoulder. He privately hoped that if he was quiet enough he might slip out unnoticed, but one of the porters had probably already pointed out that he had just gone to get changed and therefore there wasn’t much space left to hide.

He contemplated the options when it came to escape, and for a moment wondered how easily he could duck into the stationary cupboard without being noticed, but before he could even contemplate giving into his cowardice, he was greeted by the stomp of feet and a whack over the head with a clipboard.

“Okay that seemed a little excessive.” Merlin reached a hand to the back of his head.

“Where is your paperwork?” Gwen ground out with what Merlin felt was remarkable restraint considering she had just assaulted him with office equipment.

“I always get it done don’t I?” he reassured, “I just was just busy with patients all day, so no time to deal with my notes at the time, but you’ll get them all.”

“How many times do I have to tell you how important the paperwork is for my job and the running of this hospital! How many times do you put it off until I chase you on it! How many times have you tried to get Lance to do it instead when it’s not his job!” she raised her clipboard again, though managed to somehow claw her way back from actually hitting him with a few very deep and even breaths.

“Too many times, I know. But I was on a long shift again, and I didn’t have time to stop. I’m on enforced 48 hours rest right? I’ll do it then.”

“That too!” Gwen seemed now even more angered by the reminder, “My entire job is dealing with the statistics of the cases in the hospital. Which is why I know the likelihood of you screwing up when you, yet again, take on someone else’s workload! This is why I get hired, to hound idiots like you until you stop putting yourself in the way of malpractice suits! So stop making my life hard and stop...” she took another breath, lips pursing and eyes closing. “I know the paperwork is almost a joke between us at this point, but that doesn’t mean you can treat it like it doesn’t matter. Like what I do here doesn’t matter.” each word was measured and precise and Merlin felt like absolute hell.

“I’m sorry.” he said, apology the only decent course of action to take. “I’ll get it to you. I promise, I always get it to you because I know what you do is important.”

It was true, he supposed, that Merlin could rarely think of anything that was lower priority than paperwork on his day-to-day life, and maybe that meant he always handed case notes in last minute. Maybe he always told Gwen that he valued her, but actions always spoke louder than words. Both his and hers.

“You don’t normally resort to physical violence to make your point, but it is well made.”

Gwen let out a single breath of laughter, as Merlin checked that he had everything he needed before heading back home, compulsively checking for his house keys three or four times before giving up and just hooking them onto his middle finger so he could clutch them on the way home.

“You’d…” he looked at the keys and stopped, his tiredness was making it hard to find the words. “You’d tell me if something was going on?”

“Of course,” Gwen’s voice was light and airy; the same as it normally was, and shaky; as it never was.

Merlin dug his keys into the palm of his hand and tried not to mentally catalogue the signs of a lie.

~*~

Thursday nights always meant drinks with the St Caspian’s staff. The cast of attendees varied wildly depending on the Friday morning schedule and who was on call, but everyone knew that no matter what, if you’d had one of those weeks, you only had to head to The Rising Sun and there would be at least one other colleague to commiserate with. At one time or another there had been some semi-enforced rules about no shoptalk, but it was only enforced when the conversation and atmosphere was no longer deemed therapeutic.

“Merlin!” Gwaine called cheerily from the large table in the corner, Gwen was there already, but judging by the unbuttoning of her coat, she had only just arrived. Merlin lifted a lazy hand in greeting.

“No drinks yet Gwaine? I’m disappointed in you.” Merlin tutted, heavily taking the seat next to him.

“Our dearest Lance went to the bar while I held the table, and now I can say I’m glad for it as I was blessed with the company of our dearest Guinevere. The finest champagne couldn’t compare to your presence my dear lady.”

Gwen’s smile curled into one corner of her mouth, her gaze not quite meeting Gwaine’s until she had managed to roll her eyes at him.

“This isn’t working is it?” He said breezily. Merlin had to give it to Gwaine; at least he had some self-awareness

“Not at all,” she agreed with utter fondness, the controlled half-smile breaking sunnily across her face.

He shrugged, casting his eyes around the bar for his next target, “No harm in trying, hey?” he added with a wink.

“Hey Lancelot,” Merlin called as Lance sat down, placing a drink in front of Gwaine and Gwen in turn.

“With all due reverence and affection Merlin, you can fuck right off.” Lance’s voice was as smooth and calm as ever, Merlin had never seen Lance even close to actually angry at him, but resolved in his heart that he would do everything to ensure that Lance’s friendship and care was well deserved.

“Lancelot?” Gwen enquired, from under her lashes and Lance’s face started to flush red.

If Merlin were being generous, he would say that Lance was just embarrassed about the name, and Gwen was looking under her lashes because she was short, and Lance was too close to look directly in the eye. Merlin, however, had seen their adorable mating routine far too often to be fooled. The two of them were too cute for their own good, it made Merlin want to squish them like a bag of kittens.

“It’s an old nickname,” Lance muttered with a cough, sipping his drink with faked thoughtfulness. “I thought it had been forgotten, but apparently not.” he looked pointedly at Merlin, who simply grinned and shrugged in turn.

Gwen raised an eyebrow, turning to Merlin, “Care to explain?”

“Do you know when there was the griffon at the Camelot Central Zoo?” Lance’s flush spread delightfully to his ears as Gwen nodded, “Well, when we were but young and heady students we went to the Zoo when we were a little more drunk than perhaps was entirely recommended.”

“And you had been testing your potions on unsuspecting flatmates.”

“And a little high.” Merlin acquiesced, “anyway, we wanted to see the griffin that had been added to the exhibit, and there was this whole display of medieval costumes for kids and so on, explaining how there used to be wild griffins in England, but that they had been hunted to extinction in the wild, and that they were talks of a wildlife reintroduction programme. As we were standing there, Lance put on the costume helmet and picked up one of the toy lances, with the most serious face you had ever seen.”

“I don’t remember any of this.” Lance denied vehemently, or at least a vehemently as he could with his face buried into his pint.

“Well you were entirely fucked up darling. Anyway, the griffin had decided that Lance standing there looking dazed was the perfect prey and so took a leap directly into the glass behind him. Lance was so out of it that he barely flinched. He turned so slowly and looked at the griffin who was retreating and said, ‘I am his enemy’.  I was obviously like ‘what?’ and he repeated, ‘I am his enemy! I’m the knights who used to hunt him!’ He was like, full crying at this point. ‘I don’t want to be his enemy, but I don’t have a choice! I’m Lancelot. I Lance a lot! We’re enemies forever.’ then he sat down and cried repeating, ‘I’m Lancelot’ for at least five minutes. Dressed in this kid’s knight costume and looking mournfully into the cage.”

“So is your name actually Lancelot?” Gwen ventured, admirably Lance had clawed his way out of his embarrassment enough to shake his head, “I mean, it’s an old family name, but my mother decided that it was cruel to call a child Lancelot in this day and age. It’s always just been Lance.”

“Your birth certificate says otherwise!” Merlin teased.

“How have I never heard this story before?” Gwen inquired, “Did you know this?

Gwaine nodded, “It was a sort of universal agreement that once we left university that we stopped doing it, except for now apparently?”

“Wait, where’s my drink,” Merlin suddenly acknowledged, too caught up in his story to have noticed before “You got the round for everyone else.”

“Gwaine was here and I saw Gwen walk in, I didn’t see you until I’d already made my order. Now that you’ve proven that you’re not my friend I’m not sure you deserved a drink in the first place.”

“I see how it is. Maligned. reviled. If your name doesn’t start with a Gw- then poor peons such as myself are destined for destitution and woe.”

Lance hummed, unconvinced, as Merlin started rifling through his satchel trying to find his wallet.

“I’m happy to be a slice of Gw- in a Lance sandwich.”

“And that’s my cue to leave.” Merlin interjected, standing to wander over to the bar.

Merlin wasn’t exactly surprised that he had immediately caught the appreciative eye of another man who was standing at the bar - whilst it wasn’t The Rising Sun wasn’t officially a gay bar, the clientele definitely skewed towards queer, due to the nature of being both near the edge of Soho, and in the heart of the university districts. What did surprise him is how very, very quickly it had happened.

Merlin generally deferred to the awkwardly-catching eye-contact-from-a-distance-until-on-party-or-the-other-breaks-the-tension style of flirting (which more often than note led to Merlin tipping over his threshold of shame and going home alone and mortified). He wasn’t much of one for being outright when it came to the instantaneous declarations of intent towards attractive strangers. The phrase ‘yours is a face I would like to ride tonight’, might flit through his mind, but he would never voice it.

“What’re you drinking?” the man said as Merlin leaned over the bar and Merlin forced himself to actually assess the man so easily hitting on him. Young, probably younger than Merlin, and not unappealing, but even as he wanted to leap at the chance, he forced himself to reject it. He was coming off the back of several weeks of long shifts and hard cases, and with the best will in the world, he wouldn’t be the best company tonight.

“I’m good for tonight thanks,” Merlin answered, cutting to the heart of the real question before it was answered, “but, perhaps some other time.”

The guy looked disappointed but shrugged and turned back to the bar without any further comment. Merlin was almost disappointed by the lack of further response. He had found a guy who was happy to take no for an answer immediately, and Merlin was disappointed? God, he needed to get laid, it was making all his priorities screwy.

By the time Merlin returned to the table the group had expanded - more of the regular staff coming to let off some steam before a potentially gruelling Friday. He shuffled his way in to sit next to Gwen again, before almost choking on his first sip of his pint as Elyan placed a firm hand on his shoulder.

“Sorry Merlin,” he apologised, patting a firm hand on his back “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Ts’alright” Merlin croaked out, taking a generous swig of his drink to try and clear his throat.

“I’m disappointed, Merlin.” Gwaine laughed, “Thought you were better at swallowing than that.”

“Alright Kenneth Williams,” he observed, pointedly ignoring his gaudy wink - Merlin found it best not to encourage Gwaine too much by smiling openly.

“Of all the Carry On stars, he is not who I’d aim for. Far too repressed. He was completely celibate you know.” Gwaine gave a theatrical shudder. “Speaking of, I should probably make sure that the new receptionist has all the details she needs for the job, like my number.”

Elyan looked after him as he walked away, shaking his head with some confusion, “Does he ever turn it off?” he turned to Merlin as though actually expecting a response.

“In the entire time I’ve known him I can honestly say no. No, he doesn’t.”

Merlin could only sigh to himself and ignore that low burn of jealousy over how easy it was for Gwaine to brush off rejection and dive into opportunity. Merlin always felt like a ridiculous ball of anxiety in comparison. Thursdays may have been generally agreed to be ‘fuck-it’ days, but he only wished that he could learn how to say ‘fuck it’; for real.

~*~

08.10.2015

Extract from Merlin’s Magical Maladies Podcast - Episode 34, Ask Merlin Anything #17

...Here’s one that I thought was interesting, ‘Dear Merlin, after the recent death of my Grandmother, me and my sister came into possession of my Grandmother’s potion making notes. She was a very skilled practitioner and her notes are extensive, including some old family inventions. She looked after us when both our parents worked full time, we learned potion making at her elbow from the time we were very little. I remember she would let us make ‘potions’ with non-reactive reagents, and then switch them out for safe bubble making solutions and singing syrup.

Getting back on topic: my sister has never been interested in alchemical arts, and so allowed me to keep all my Grandmother’s work for my own study (I’m hoping to study apothecary once I go to university), but I’ve got one problem; my Grandmother's work is kind of old fashioned and uses a lot of products that I (as a vegan) feel ethically bound not to use, a lot of Toad Gall and the like.

I suppose my question is this; I really want to hold up the family legacy, but I don’t want to compromise my own morality. What do I do? Yours in confusion, Nisha.’

Okay Nisha: firstly, I’m terribly sorry for the loss of your grandmother. It seems like she was a wonderful woman and I hope being able to have a tangible connection to her legacy gives you some solace in this difficult time.

So, vegan substitutes for potion reagents. I’m sure you’ll actually learn all about this when you start your studies, but actually many potions these days are made with sustainably sourced substitutes. I won’t go into too much detail as that would be a good topic for another day, but there is a massive industry built all around finding synthetic substitutes for old potion reagents. There are lots of reasons for this, obviously you’ve got all your ethical reasons, but there are other reasons too, such as cost and ease of manufacture. Harvesting frogs for their bile is labour intensive! Why do it if you can manufacture a substitute in the lab? Anyway, it’s pretty easy these days to find appropriate substitutes.

Caveat to this: in the rare cases that a potion absolutely requires an animal product you’ll just need to ask yourself, is that spell really worth it? If it’s the choice between the spell or your personal ethics, which has to take precedent in that moment? But as I said, there are very few reagents in any alchemical arts that don’t have at least some reasonable substitute, some are more fugitive, or less powerful, but as long as you’re skilled in your craft, then it shouldn’t make too much of a difference. I’ll attach some links to some common animal free substitutions in the show notes.

The next question comes from Theo, ‘Dear Merlin; thank you for your podcast. I actually have no experience with magecraft, and your show has helped me greatly in my own understanding. My question is about my sister (mid-twenties) who is very close to me. I’ve never been told outright, and as far as I have been made aware it doesn’t run in the family, but I suspect my sister may be unintentionally casting spells.

‘She has always had an uncanny ability to know or suspect what may happen in any given circumstance, but I had always believed that it was simply a matter of keen observation skills a tendency towards Déjà vu. However, of late she has been able to point out specific details that have come to her ‘in dreams’ and there have also been incidences of spontaneous fires and slamming windows that are increasingly difficult to ignore. Our family doctor has recently resorted to giving her sleeping draughts for her ‘nightmares’ but I don’t believe they are nightmares anymore. I want to help her, but I really don’t understand what is happening? Do you have any advice? Yours faithfully, Theo’

Well, Theo, firstly thank you for your incredibly kind words. Secondly, this is rare for someone of her age, but it sounds like she may be having suppression issues. Normally, those who develop as mages either have the skills from birth, like myself, or they develop it during childhood and puberty. During these times it’s not uncommon for magical spells or charms to be released entirely unintentionally on the part of the caster. This is not entirely dangerous in and of itself, however, in circumstances such as your sister’s, where fire or other dangerous elements are invoked, then she needs to get help sooner rather than later.

I won’t be able to give too much more advice without knowing more circumstances, but my guess is that her magic has always been channelled through these prophetic dreams, the sleeping draught blocks these and so without another outlet her magic has found other ways to manifest. My recommendation is that she sees a consultant sooner rather than later, and to ask your family doctor for alternative sleeping medication that doesn’t stop the dreams as long as they don’t cause her great distress?  In the end though, it’s her who needs to have control over her own medical treatment, so just talk to her, and let me know how you get on. Best of luck.

Here’s one from Micha that’s not related to any magical maladies, but I thought too interesting to ignore ‘You spoke last time about money and sponsorships, what does you think of Uther’s recent parliamentary speech with regards to potential budgetary changes?’

Ha! Well, I won’t get too political, but I think there’s a lot of lip service whenever he speaks. Obviously, I’m aware he makes none of the actual decisions, but the taxes that go towards King Uther could pay for, what, two hundred consultants, six hundred nurses? I don’t really know what the annual stipend is for being King but it’s a lot. That being said, I actually quite like the history of the monarchy, think back to all the fascinating moments in time that we as a nation are able to trace back with the help of the royal archives, even magical lore is preserved in those texts. There’s a history there, and if there’s something I appreciate, it’s history.

Alright, our next question comes from David S. he writes…

~*~

Merlin stared at the screen and the clock, feeling an irrepressible spike of anxiety (and since his listener had mentioned it, Deja Vu). He had, at least, given himself more time for editing this week, but he had to admit that he was already burning out. He could see the bags under Gwen’s eyes as well, the thought of asking her to complete work for what was essentially his own hobby was out of the question.

But he remembered what she had suggested the last time he had left a show this close to the deadline. Picking up his phone he scrolled through until he found that familiar contact and frowned when he realised that the last time he dialled it was truly over a year ago, when it was Will’s 30th birthday. He had come down for Merlin’s own big mourning-his-twenties bash on New Year’s, but they had barely spoken since then. He stared at the number and tried to tell himself that Will would be happy if he called, and not hate him for only calling him once he needed help.

There was far too much guilt there sitting deep in his stomach, but he had to set that back away from himself. He pressed his finger over the ring button before he could talk himself out of it and then almost gasped when the phone was actually picked up.

“Merlin?” Will’s voice was concerned and questioning, “Is everything okay?”

“Hey,” Merlin had thought that he would start with a casual conversation, but Will's concern had taken him aback, “I’m pretty good, but I… you know I’ve been doing this podcast?”

He could practically hear Will nodding, before he heard the affirmative hum, “Yeah, the first couple at least.”

“Right,” Merlin hated asking people for help like this, when he thought he should be able to take it on himself, but he forced himself to put that aside, “Well I’ve been doing all the editing and recording myself, but I’m obviously full time at the ward and I tend to put in extra hours as a consultant, so adding the editing on top of everything else is starting to eat into too much of my resting time, then I remembered how you used to do editing for the university radio.”

“You want me to edit a couple of episodes for you?” Will cut in.

“I was actually wondering if I could take you on as the editor for the show full stop. I’ll pay you obviously.” Merlin hastened to add.

“I don’t need to be paid to help a friend, Merlin.” Will sounded hurt by the suggestion. He had always been sensitive about money - they came from the same down and out village - but Will had had a difficult relationship with accepting help from anyone. Same as Merlin, he supposed, maybe it was the message they had absorbed as children to survive in the playground.

“If it was one or two episodes that would be fine, but I’m talking about a long-term arrangement. I’d pay for a random person to edit if I knew that I could trust them, but I know I can trust you.”

“You can’t pay me a full editing salary for editing one podcast a week.” Will continued to complain, for the first conversation they had had in a year, Merlin had hoped it might be easier than this.

“Then invoice me for the hours. What’s a normal hourly rate for an editor, thirty, forty pounds?” Merlin pretended like he threw the number out, but had done plenty enough research to know that it was an accurate range.

The sigh was deep and resigned, but Merlin knew the quality of Will’s sighs and was certain that he had won.

“Send me the files,” he eventually accepted, “and I’ll see what I can do.”

~*~

Merlin was nervous about talking to Nimueh at the best of times. He could never quite shake the feeling of her judgement as his old professor and, even though they were technically on equal footing, her title as a High Priestess of the Old Religion would be forever intimidating.

“Merlin,” she greeted coolly, “I wish to talk to you about a case you’ve been seeing to,”

“Sure,” Merlin acquiesced, as he fussed with the coffee machine, never quite able to keep his composure if he had to look into her piercingly beautiful eyes, ever since the first time he met her. “Which one,”

“Edwin Muirden,” she said, reading off her notes, “the young boy who came in with uncontrolled fire. You’re scheduled to have regular check-ups with him.”

“Yes, I promised I would be there to help him. The damage he inflicted has caused some nasty traumatic associations, he needs some psychological support.”

“Exactly what I want to talk to you about, as you already know the research department has been hoping to open an official psychiatric ward at St Caspian’s, rather than the ad hoc work we’ve been doing so far. He would also be useful for our genealogy department, his own powers in comparison to that of his parents is quite fascinating.”

Merlin wanted to say no, to say that he had a duty of care to Edwin that needed to be respected. He ached to claim that there was some doctor patient confidentiality that couldn’t be broken in order to pass on the case to another doctor, but he hadn’t actually had any further sessions with Edwin yet. There was no reason he couldn’t let Nimueh have the case, she was an excellent doctor and, despite her cool demeanour, a highly successful therapist. It was his own need for control that whispered in the back of his mind, underneath it all, wanting to tell him that Merlin was the only person who could look after any of the recurring cases that came through the ward.

“Okay,” he agreed, “we can organise details later.”

Her silence in response, was usual, but discomforting. He sighed and sat in the chair, forcing himself to take an actual break rather than heading back to his office and drinking the coffee there. This was his small concession to Gwen and Lance’s twin concern that he had been pushing himself too far in his work of late. He tried not to flinch as Nimueh took the seat next to him. The ABC news channel broke the silence and he couldn’t help but be drawn into the story on the screen.

“…Facing backlash about the demonstration, leader of the Albion United Alliance Party Agravaine De Bois made this brief statement to the press.

‘We at AUAP are always regretful when there is fighting on either side of any important political stance. It is the understanding of the organisers of the demonstration that a few individuals on both sides of the demonstration acted with violence towards one another and are neither representative of, nor condoned by the AUAP. We can only…”

Merlin’s attention was ripped from the TV by the angry exclamations of Nimueh next to him. “Whose imbecilic decision was it to give that treacherous scum-caked snake any airtime? Who in their right mind would even give credence to the merest thought that Agravaine and his hate campaign of lies and prejudice has any legitimacy at all? And how dare he say that his precious ‘Camulod First’ thugs attacking innocent mages and bystanders is even on the same level as defending yourself from violent assault? Those demonstrators weren’t fighting, they were protecting everyone else. What I wouldn’t give to…”

“Not sure I would finish that sentence if I were you, dear.” Dr Mary Collins interjected, walking in and changing the channel with a wave of her hand. “It doesn’t do to raise your blood pressure.”

Channel 4 this time, and unfortunately still the news, despite his father’s own extensive work as an activist, and Merlin’s total belief in the good of those involved with Balinor’s group, to see the demonstrations on the telly, to see how they reduced to violence made him sick to his stomach. Morgause was on the screen now, giving her own, far more pointed, statement about the violence shown at the demonstration,

“Our work is vital to the fair treatment and respect of those citizens of Albion that have magic. What was meant to be a peaceful demonstration of pride and solidarity turned into a mere snapshot of the violence and disrespect that our people are treated with on a daily basis. These cruel actions are the ones that receive recognition, but this is the daily struggle for far too many innocent citizens in our country. For those of you who are listening, no matter who you are, know this: we refuse to be intimidated into silence. For every attempt we will raise our voice louder and stronger. We have proof today, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that our work is far from done and for all…”

“Now, there is a woman with her head on straight.” Nimueh gave quiet applause as Morgause’s statement came to a close. “Wasn’t your father supposed to be there?”

Merlin nodded, tight lipped, but didn’t feel it necessary to expand any further. The coffee that had been a slightly lukewarm beverage, now had the feel of warmed saliva in his mouth, the idea of drinking a single drop more, entirely unbearable. He stood to throw it in the sink and hope that he could get some good coffee later. For now, he had to work. There would always be work to do and it was vital that he do it.

He could have wept with gratitude when the call came in for him to assemble at the emergency admissions. He rushed over as Gwaine, the paramedic on the scene, explained the injuries and the treatments that had been completed on the ambulance ride over.

“Major bleeding, even though the wounds are minor, and not showing any sign of healing or clotting. On site we thought it might be a haemophilia case, but there is no documentation of it on him and the clotting agent administered did absolutely nothing.”

“Any idea of what happened?” Merlin was trying to react quickly, trying to feel for threads of magic that could be holding open the gashes and assess them.

“Suspected curse, maybe a hex gone bad?” Gwaine, guessed, pulling back from the side of the to let some of the nurses take over,

The Jacket was removed, and shirt cut off to allow for access to the wounds that had been bleeding through. Merlin forced himself to ignore what he thought was a flash of a CF badge, it was just his paranoia from hearing the news report, and it made absolutely no difference to the treatment he administered to his patient.

“We’re going to need a transfusion in here, get me an antigen test whilst I try and put him in stasis.” his hands trembled, as he hurriedly put on gloves and a mask, and started to deal with the wounds. He couldn’t help but see distrust on the face of his comatose patient, and then berate himself for even imagining it.

He would not let himself be distracted; he had a job to do.

~*~

15.10.15

Extract from Merlin’s Magical Maladies Podcast - Episode 35, Big Topic #18: Mage Heritage Pride.

…Today’s topic is about being proud of your magical heritage. There are many mages from all walks of life, and each have their own unique history and practices. It’s been an interesting change, even in my lifetime, to see the changes in mage pride. The fact that there is even such a thing as mage pride is wonderful.

I talk too much about him I’m sure, but my father was a huge activist for the fair treatment of mages. Obviously, he still is, but in a different capacity to back in the day. There were many, too many, areas of abuse and discrimination against any and all with mage heritage back in the recent past. I’m not going to pretend it’s perfect now; obviously, it’s not, but I think this is part of why I’m such a fan of pride in your heritage. We have a voice whose protection is now inscribed in law and we have a duty to utilise that. The world is better when we are free to stand up and say that magic is something that defines a part of us!

Over the next hour we’re going to talk about the history of mage pride, the activism of the seventies and eighties, and the various communities of mages that worked together to ensure no voice went unheard. We’ll talk about the modern-day ways people demonstrate their own pride in their heritage, and what to do if you feel that your magecraft is being discriminated against in your community. We’ll touch upon practical ways to protect yourself if discussing your own magecraft might be unsafe for you at this moment. Finally, we’ll hear from the community of listeners who want to share what pride means to them!

But first, I think talking happily and openly about our heritages is a big part of embracing pride in our mage craft and our heritage, so I want to start this show with a little of my own heritage and what it means to me. I asked on twitter if anyone had any questions for me about my personal magical experiences, or experiences of being Dragonborne, and here are a few of those questions, just to start out the show.

First question comes from Red: do you speak Drakonloshn? Sort of. Brentevovlya to anyone out there who does! I wish I spoke it more, and I have been trying to learn, as it’s so closely tied with my heritage, but unfortunately like with many Dragonborne of his age, my grandfather chose not to speak it in order to integrate into Albion society and so my father never learned to speak it and so on.

As a matter of pride, my father taught himself to be conversant when he was an adult, but it was never a natural language for him. Aside from the obvious spellcraft stuff, I know a few phrases and let’s be honest with ourselves, swears, from when my grandfather was alive, but no, I’m not fluent. Hey, if anyone does speak Drakonloshn and wants to give me lessons, then I’d be super grateful. It’s really sad how language can be lost in a single generation. Even though it doesn’t change my heritage, and I know my sense of belonging in the Dragonborne community is valid, it sometimes feels like a part of myself is missing not to know it. Yeah… complicated feelings.

Here from kittyforpresident: have you ever been to a dragon naming ceremony, have you named a dragon yourself? I have been to a few ceremonies over the years, once I had my own Fah Eyefe I was invited to some of the naming ceremonies that my father performed. They are spectacular when done right. I inherited my grandfather’s robe, which means a lot to me. Many of the very old heirlooms were unfortunately lost during the war, but his means as much to me as any ancient robe could. And have I named a dragon? Whilst I probably could conduct my own naming ceremony with my current skill level, my father is still the Dragon Lord and traditionally that responsibility will remain with him until his death. So no, no running naming ceremonies for me, and I hope not for quite some time yet. My job takes up most of my time anyway.

Last of these introductory questions short and sweet from respect_VFX: do you practice the Old Religion?

Okay, so here’s a fantastic way of introducing some of the differences between different mage backgrounds. Dragonborne is… it’s actually hard to explain, an offshoot of the Old Religion. Many Dragonborne that I know will say that they are members of the Old Religion, and that they would happily join in any Old Religion practice freely. Others feel like that the unique practices of our lineage are a reflection of personal heritage and that it would be rude to join in, for example, a Druid-specific ceremony without invitation, or say that you’re a caretaker of the Old Religion when you haven’t actually grown up understanding its meaning.

For me, I think I follow many of the same tenants as the Old Religion, and there is an overlap of many of the same rituals and festivals. However, my own heritage has some of its own eccentricities and practices that have a lot of meaning to me. Those ceremonies might not mean anything to a High Priestess, even if she respected it. I think I would call myself Dragonborne before I call myself part of the Old Religion, but I wouldn’t say I’m not part of the Old Religion either. The one thing I will not do is allow myself to think my own heritage is either less or more than anyone else’s. I think we can fall into the trap of feeling like we make our own heritage valid by disregarding or dismissing others, but wherever we come from and whatever our history, what we have in common is magecraft and we should treat it as a celebration.

So, our heritage, lineage, Old Religion. What does it all mean? How do we express pride for our heritage without disrespecting other mages? Why is it important to show pride in our heritage? And how do we openly engage with this heritage within our own communities without fear or risk?

When thinking of heritage our history lesson today starts in 1947 with the introduction, yes you heard that right introduction of the Mage Bar. It was ostensibly put in place to protect the jobs of the workers who were coming back from war and finding that their jobs had been filled in their absence by refugees fleeing war-torn areas. Those returning soldiers didn’t have means of supporting their families and the logic of the time went that those who reached a certain skill in magecraft didn’t need a job in order to survive or support their families. Whilst this line of reasoning was obviously flawed, the bill was passed and quickly the application of the Bar expressed itself, not as simply a means of employing returning soldiers, but as a tool to systematically abuse and discriminate against and all magecraft.

In 1953…

~*~

“This one is pretty long.” Will noted over the phone, making quick notes on the key points Merlin wanted to get across, “It might be close to ninety minutes, even after just a quick listen through. I don’t know how to cut it down.”

“Should I make it two part?” Merlin asked, too tired that day to even pretend that he knew what he should do with his own face, let alone pretend to understand technical specifications of a podcast.

“No need,” Will consoled, “there are plenty of podcasts that run that long if not longer, especially for a special like this, don’t worry about it. I think you’ll probably need to focus on a follow up show; it was a massive topic to cover. Any particular reason for that one today?”

Merlin chewed on his lip considering how to explain it. Will was a good friend and had been for a long time, but he was one of the few friends he had that wasn’t involved in magecraft, even people like Gwen were heavily invested because they cared about the hospital. Will had the luxury of only being on the periphery of the movement and not understanding the subtle everyday aggressions and discriminations that some of his patients and colleagues had to deal with.

“It felt like a good time,” Merlin started, “There have been murmurings through the media that the AUAP is being taken seriously in some catchments, so countering that with positivity felt like an important message.”

“Do you want to talk about the AUAP directly? You don’t mention it at all here.”

Merlin sighed, it wasn’t as if he hadn’t contemplated it himself, “We all know that AUAP is a barely legal front for the Camaloud First movement. I don’t think Agravaine and his mob should have any air of legitimacy given to them, and I thought that if discussed him, then I’m acting as if he’s worth my thoughts or worth discussion. Then that might make it seem like there’s value or weight in what he says, or that his stance is just a matter to be debated, rather than objectively wrong. I already can’t believe he’s been taken so seriously. Doesn’t help that he is best friends with the King. And I don’t know, it’s putting people on edge. My podcast is about helping people, and adding to their anxiety by discussing him doesn’t achieve that.”

He contemplated whether it was worth saying the other reason, the one that was eating at him. Those were deep seated thoughts that had been stealing his sleep and wracking his conscience.

“I… I think I saved one of them this week. I think. And a horrible part of me kept whispering; wouldn’t the world be a better place if he didn’t survive this. I hate myself for it. I loathe myself with everything I have right now, because I have to be better than that. Anyone with magecraft has to rise above that or they risk an even harder fall. My every action is no longer the actions of an individual flawed human being, but a representation of all mages, because these people are looking to prove that mages are intrinsically lesser or worse or something. I don’t even know anymore.”

Will was still on the other end of the phone, the vague sound of crackling static the only thing that broke the silence. He needed to respond. Merlin didn’t want him to respond. Merlin just wanted Will to understand. Oh, of course Will would be angry, or upset or frustrated when he heard tales of discrimination, but it was an amorphous thing to him. Merlin found it hard to articulate exactly what it was that he risked every day for simply trying to find the courage to exist. Will would never truly live that.

“I’ll make it perfect.” Will said finally, “It’ll be perfect. I promise.”

Merlin didn’t realise he was crying until he had to clear his throat, “Thanks, don’t forget to invoice me, yeah?”

“Sure.”

And they left it at that.

~*~

Gwen had already gone by the time Merlin woke up that morning and the ball of anxiety that had been sitting under his chest was starting to expand uncontrollably. He pushed the feeling down before it could overwhelm him. He couldn’t dwell on it.  He had a lot of work to do and none of it involved giving in to the nebulous sense of unease that was plaguing him.

He had been spending time doing top up in a few courses that would allow him to support the psychiatric wards in the hospital (as well as improve the advice he gave in his podcast) but whilst he knew that leaning into the feelings, trying to identify their source and moving through them was far healthier than trying to push them down, where they might them fester and develop into a much deeper seated issue, the time to sit and contemplate the anxiety felt like a luxury that he couldn’t afford.

Everything came down to time, a sense of losing it, a sense that he was falling apart under the hands of it, the feeling that he was wasting it or squandering it. Even the most basic sense of self-care could be waved away under the guise of ‘not having time’. It was one of the main reasons he still had a flatmate. As much as he complained about the hospital not having funding, his salary was enough to cover a flat in Camelot, maybe even a house if he was willing to budget better, but living on his own had been a slippery slope into work-addicted oblivion.

He needed someone who had more of a rational sense of work-life balance. There was a very real aspect of the friendship between Gwen and himself where they both looked after other people far better than they looked after themselves. By ensuring that they mutually looked after each other, it almost became a stand in for rational approaches to self-care. It wasn’t quite the same, but it was enough... most of the time.

So when Gwen’s shoes were absent from the front door, his heart flooded with guilt, guilt that perhaps he should have woken up when she did so he could ensure she had breakfast (just as she would ensure he ate properly as well) and so that he could keep an eye on the ridiculous numbers of hours that she was undoubtedly working. (This was where she had a sneaky advantage over him, as her job involved access to things like the time sheets. If Merlin ever saw Gwen’s own log of work hours it would be a beautifully immaculate - and entirely false - account of how she only worked the hours assigned to her and did all her work perfectly efficiently within that time. The hours she spent pouring over files outside office hours were never quite accounted for.)

There was some truth, at least, to the notion that doctors made the worst patients; he supposed the same had to be said of governance officers auditing their own hours. Perhaps. It was a thought that got him through the rest of his routine and pushed him out the door into the Camelot grey. If Gwen was out in all of this already, then she probably wasn't looking after herself all that well, and if she wasn’t looking after herself, then Merlin supposed that he would just have to do it for her.

He fingered the keys to his front door, zipping them into the pocket of his bag, before taking a stilling breath and closing the door behind him. The itching urge to open the zip and just check again, feeling like a stranglehold in his chest. He glanced at the lock screen on his phone, not really needing to see those questions to know them by heart. What was he scared would happen? How likely was this event to happen? What was the most likely event to happen? If his fear came true how much would it matter in a day, a week, a year?

Merlin could recognise that going through those questions was in its own way a transference of the obsessive swirling thoughts, but it was far healthier, and far more practical, to zip his keys in his bag and spend the rest of his commute constructing perfect answers to those easy-complicated questions. Maybe one day his brain might do it automatically, maybe one day he could spend his commute to work reading a book or listening to a new show, but today was not that day. And that was alright. The same truth he told his patients had to be the same truth he applied to himself; so, what if it wasn’t perfect? It was alright and that was enough for now.

By the time he had made it into work, coffee in one hand and obligatory ‘I forgot to take care of my basic needs this morning’ pastry in the other, he had settled some of the thoughts in his mind and the tasks of the day were laid out ahead of him instead. He wanted to find Gwen, to ask her why she was heading to work so early these days, to check that she was alright, but he had duties to cover, and that subtle change had already washed over him by the time he had found his way through the doors. He didn’t have time to find her before Audrey on reception informed him that Freya was Acting Charge Nurse today, and that she had wanted to talk to Merlin when he arrived, in case there was any high priority case that he needed more assistance with.

“Dr Tir-Mor is the junior on ward today?” Freya nodded in answer to Merlin’s question, and he winced internally, Sophia always made him uncomfortable. She glowed with the air of dishonesty. There was a secret there that Merlin wasn’t willing to dig into, and it made gentle casual conversations with her on the ward almost impossible, anything that came even close to hinting at her personal life was One Hundred Percent out of bounds. Whilst technically he was ‘in charge’ of Sophia as a direct supervisor, but there was a touch of something so old in her eyes that it felt improper somehow.

“But she’s assisting Nimueh at the moment,” Freya added, Merlin gave her a grateful smile, by the look on her face, he knew he must have been showing his feelings on his. He needed to learn to control that better. He might be able to put on a good show when there were patients he had to reassure, but those micro expressions that bled through were easy to read for the people who knew him.

“I’ll start on rounds now then,” Merlin decided, thinking back to his resolution to make Gwen’s life easier “If there aren’t too many new cases, then we can make sure all the current charts are up to date and take them over to governance.”

Gwen had been right Merlin supposed, at least in the sense that he did tend to put the paperwork of the hospital at a second priority; whilst it wasn’t a part of his job that he liked it was still a part of his job and he needed to take it as seriously as the other parts. Mostly because Gwen would murder him otherwise – a skill he wouldn’t put it past her – her murderous tendencies were well hidden under her sunny sweet demeanour, but he didn’t doubt for one second that she could end him if she saw fit. Merlin would probably let her.

So once he had as hastily filled out the paperwork as he could (without being inaccurate, because that would occur even more wrath than if he had just not turned it in in the first place) he hurried over to Gwen’s office. Normally he was running in the opposite direction to the remotest suggestion of paperwork, but there was something about the way Gwen had spoken to him the other day which meant he didn’t want to possibly incur her wrath again, or more seriously than that, make her feel as though he didn’t care about her.

Merlin knew himself well enough; he would forget his paperwork again incredibly quickly, it just wasn’t what he was trained in, nor (if he was honest with himself) what he cared about, but he could acknowledge the importance of it without wanting to spend his time on it voluntarily. He could have the decency to support Gwen in her work, as she supported him in his.

But when he arrived at the door, it was already partially open, and he was halted by the sight of two awkwardly silent, bashful darlings. He had somehow walked right up to (but fortunately did not walk in the middle of) that terrible, beautiful silence that occurred when two people had finished talking but didn’t quite want to leave each other’s presence. He knew it all too well and was not even the slightest bit surprised by their antics. Watching Gwen interact with Lance without the buffer of their friendship group was like watching two unfairly beautiful birds perform the most beautiful and innocent mating ritual the world had ever seen.

Merlin’s guilt, which seemed to be making a perpetual home underneath his breastbone these days, was browbeaten back by his own insatiable curiosity. He wondered how long it would be possible to hide in the open doorway of her office before he was noticed, but their world had shrunk to a six-foot radius of GwenandLance around them. Unless merlin made his presence known he had a feeling that the two of them would stand there all adorable and enamoured until they both starved to death. Something akin to benign envy fluttered in him as he took the two of them in. He didn’t think he was built for the kind of innocent legendary love that the two of them seemed to have, but he was still of the opinion that he might deserve something like that one day. If he could ever learn how to take a break from his job.

He coughed gently and then again before he was able to break the bubble that had formed around them.

“Oh,” Gwen said, almost breathlessly as though she had been caught in flagrante delicto, rather than simply standing innocently next to her remarkably attractive co-worker “Merlin, I didn’t see you there.”

“Really,” he joked, “I never would have guessed. Nurse Du Lac,” Merlin addressed, with faux seriousness, “don’t you have some where to be? Surely with your immaculate attention to paperwork, our own dear Guinevere has no reason at all to check your notes with you?”

“Merlin, and yet again I say this with great affection, piss off.”

“From the mouth of my own dear son!” Merlin clutched his chest, “Gwen certainly has been rubbing off on you, hasn’t she?” He couldn’t help but laugh at the delightful flush that spread over his friend’s face.

“Tuesday then?” Lance said, completely ignoring Merlin to address his question to Gwen

“Tuesday.” She agreed, sending him off with a little wave, before turning to Merlin. Her attempts at looking thunderous were somewhat hampered by her inability to take the grin from her face.

“Anything important that you’d like to tell me?” Merlin teased,

“Not really. Any particular reason that you’re in my office?”

Merlin held up his paperwork, “I have perfectly legitimate and reasonable reasons to be here and interact with you, unlike Lance, who I happen to know for a fact should have been out on the ward.”

“He did actually have paperwork for me,” she deflected, taking the paperwork from Merlin’s hands and flicking through them as though she was actually reading them, though Merlin could see that her eyes weren’t even moving.

“I’m sure he had a lot of other things for you as well.” Merlin smirked, “So, Tuesday?”

“Are you going to leave me alone about this?” She said, placing the folders on her desk and staring at Merlin waiting for a response,

“Hmm… probably not.”

“We’re just going for dinner on Tuesday, maybe see a film. He’s on shift this weekend, so it had to be then.” Gwen said with a put-upon sigh.

“Fucking finally,” Merlin exclaimed, “I was starting to make plans. I had purchased handcuffs, I had synced watches and found the closest cupboards on your daily rounds.”

Gwen was resolutely not looking him in the eye, “You never said a word about it, you liar.”

“That’s because I’m a good friend and believe in autonomy. That being said, If I see you anywhere near our flat on Wednesday morning, I will be greatly disappointed in you, young lady.”

“Merlin…” Gwen admonished without having to say another word, but her hidden smile said more than words ever could. Maybe Merlin was teasing a little bit, but he had watched this dance for long enough to truly understand the inevitability of this moment, and he thought perhaps that he was entitled to a little teasing.

“I’ll say no more,” he said, holding up his hands in placation, “I’m just here to be a good, responsible, paperwork-completing consultant and no more.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Gwen scoffed,

“Be safe, make good choices!” he advised, before ducking back out and behind the door before he could get a beautifully decorated desk ornament thrown at his head. Not that his dear Gwen would ever resort to violence (again), but he knew the look of a person with an effective right hook when he saw it.

~*~

‘Dear Merlin,’ the e-mail ran. Merlin had considered ignoring his e-mails whilst on his break, but there was an anticipation and excitement that he got from seeing the questions that people asked. A little shot of adrenaline that he couldn’t deny.

‘I’m not sure if you’ll remember my first e-mail. You answered my question about my sister in your first response and I wanted to follow up. I understand that you are probably busy with many other messages at this moment in time, and so I shall not expect a reply, however, if you do have a moment, I would appreciate your advice. Your advice was exceptionally good, however my situation, and hers, is a little delicate. I’m not entirely certain that she would appreciate being questioned on this matter as our own family is not entirely accepting of magecraft. I had been led to believe that magical abilities only ran in bloodlines and that it was a choice that those particular families and practitioners made to participate in. I can see now that this was a false premise and I desperately want to support her through this, but I’m afraid that if I ask her about this, or encourage her to speak to our physician, that she would violently reject the idea in order to conform to our family’s sense of ‘normal’, either that or retreat into denial and fear in order to protect herself.

‘I listened to your podcast on being proud of your heritage and accepting yourself and your family history. I fear, for my sister, that accepting her own potential magic and also accepting our family’s interaction with magic are in antithetical to one another. Our father, in particular, has been not so secret about his support of the movement to register anyone with any magic in a practice which I am certain from my recent research would be detrimental to people like my sister. To be frank, I am frustrated and scared and uncertain. My whole life I have been expected to follow my father’s footsteps blindly, but I cannot abandon my sister, nor do I know how I can help her.

‘My apologies, I’m sure this is out of your purview, but there’s no-one else to whom I can turn.’

Merlin’s knuckles had started to turn white with how tightly his fists were clenched. His fingers were shaking as he tried to compose an e-mail without letting his own feelings spill over onto ‘Theo’.

‘Dear Theo,

‘Of course, I remember your e-mail, it was a unique circumstance. I had suspected that there was something that was difficult about your problem when you mentioned how old your sister was, not that there is any right or wrong time for any of these things, there isn’t.

‘There’s not much that I can do to fix your family, although I desperately wish there was. My greatest advice for you is to know this: there is nothing wrong with your sister. If what you suspect is true, if she is a repressed mage and stopping these prophetic dreams has directed her powers in other ways, then that’s fine. I think, hope, that you know this, that you’re willing to move through being force-fed years of intolerance in order to keep your family safe, but I wanted to make sure that you know it, objectively.

‘Without knowing the details, I don’t know how much I can change my advice. Except, perhaps talk to your physician first. There is such a thing as a confidentiality agreement, and he might not be willing to talk about your sister’s case to you, but equally you should be able to bring your concerns to them in confidence. I still think bringing up the issue of this possible repression of the prophetic dreams is vitally important. It’s a matter of safety as a first priority.

‘If your family is as unsupportive as you fear, then I would also suggest that you only share your fears with them if and only if you feel that it would be safe to do so. I can say how important it is for people to be proud of themselves and their heritage, but if it’s not safe to do so, then I would hate for you to be hurt.

‘Please, please, please, keep in touch. I want to help however I can, even if that’s not all that much. I feel deeply for your struggle; intolerance and fear are the things I hate most in this world, and if you are a link that breaks that chain then know how utterly I am proud of you, and how much your strength to say ‘no more’ is vital. Please keep fighting, keep supporting your sister and let me know how I can help.

‘I will keep responding. I promise.

‘Merlin’

~*~

22.10.2015

Extract from Merlin’s Magical Maladies Podcast - Episode 36, Ask Merlin Anything #18.

…this one was awfully close to my heart because I’ve heard this many times and I think it’s something worth pointing out, because I think people feel a little alone in this. ‘Dear Merlin, I currently live with my great aunt for reasons that I’m not going to go into, but she is a very powerful sorceress and I was always really happy to be with her even as a small child because she could teach me so much so easily. However, there’s always been one point of contention between us; she thinks that homosexuality has no place amongst mages. She thinks that for bloodlines like ours that are rarer and more unique, to be gay is a selfish ‘hedonistic choice’ because you’re killing precious magic in the world by not having children. It always hit me wrong, but as I’ve gotten older, I think it might be because I’m gay. I think. Maybe.

‘I’ve tried to explain to her how many of the old religions are open and embrace all kind of love as a natural part of life to be celebrated in all forms, but then she said things about Druids that make me kind of hate her. I won’t go into detail, but the basic gist is that there are enough of them that reducing their population is no great burden. It makes me kind of sick to my stomach because I don’t really have anywhere else to go at the moment. I don’t want to lie to everyone, or to myself and if I fall in love, I don’t want to let that go in order to conform to some amorphous ‘duty’. I don’t know what to do. Sincerely, ‘Confused and Queer’’

Well ‘Confused and Queer’, that’s a wonderful name by the way, I think it encapsulates my entire existence pretty effectively. All that to say that; yes, I’m a mage, and Dragonborne and gay. Lots of things to be really, really proud of. I don’t mean that flippantly or sarcastically. I’m being completely genuine here. I am proud of all of those things about myself. Is it always easy? Of course not. But I am proud.

As for your Great-Aunt, it’s a sad truth that the people we love aren’t always good people. Sometimes we can be disappointed by the things they say and the lies they try to feed to us. Sometimes the beliefs that they hold are so long ingrained that trying to undo them is near impossible. In those situations, you just need to know yourself and your own truth. You can’t always change people, but you can make sure you don’t change yourself for another person if it would be detrimental for you.

I’m sure you know this already, but for anyone else who may be listening out there as well: her premise is entirely false. I wish I could say that she is unique in her opinions, but there are plenty of bloodlines that are protective over their magic, and so there’s been a history of expectation that people will conform to a very heteronormative lifestyle. However, in this day and age it is, as I said, a complete false premise. A) If you were to have a relationship with a person of the opposite sex, that is not a guarantee that you would want, or could have children. B) it’s 2015, it’s perfectly easy for same-sex couples to have their own biological children if they did wish to continue their bloodline. I would suggest that you could inform your Great-Aunt of these facts, however I’m not entirely certain that it would help matters.

Instead I would say this; stay safe, if there really is no other option than for you to live with your aunt, then you don’t have to tell anyone, not whilst you’re working things out for yourself at least. Protecting yourself in a dangerous situation is not the same as trying to be something you’re not. You should work on finding those safe spaces for yourself first and foremost. There are places you can safely be yourself. That is a good life, and it’ll wait for you to be ready. You are brave and you are powerful and strong and you can make it through this.

I’m lucky, although there are people in my life who didn’t accept me being gay for that exact same reason - that our bloodline had already been devastated and now our line would end with me because I had ‘chosen’ to be gay - the people who believed that being gay was wrong or a choice don’t matter to me. The people who are in my life are the ones who accept me for who I am and I’m lucky that they are the people I love anyway. I know for some people, that they have to choose to let go of those they really love in order to be happy with themselves and free. You may be in that situation, but just know that there will be people who love you and accept you. There will be a family that can teach you and support you, it might just be the case that that it is a family of your own making. I can attest that those families are wonderful.

A quick synopsis because I was rambling. Honesty is the best policy if it is safe to do so, but if it becomes unsafe to be honest, then search out alternative safe-zones and support systems. This goes for anyone mage or not.

Okay next question, this is a little out of my depth, but it was a brave thing to submit such a question, so here it goes “Hi Merlin,” Hello, “Some context; I’m a teenager living at home and my family are connected to Druids (somehow.. I don’t really know) although we’re not practicing. I don’t want to talk to my parents about this because it’s embarrassing, but I need to ask someone. I’ve been getting this problem lately where whenever I… relieve myself… I get these random bursts of uncontrolled magic. It’s normally not anything big, but last time I shattered the lightbulb in my room and I didn’t even know how to explain to my mum what happened. I’m getting scared that I’ll do something really dangerous by accident. I’m starting to go spare. HELP!!!!!!” no name on that one.

I would like to emphasise for the listeners that last ‘help’ was in caps with a total of six exclamation points. As someone who was once a teenage boy myself, I can totally relate my young friend. Quick story time…

~*~

“Dear Merlin.

I heard your podcast again today, I’m not in the exact situation as your listener ‘confused and queer’ but I think I also fall into that category. The expectation upon me to have a family and continue on the family line is similar to the one your young listener was in. As I’m sure can gather from my previous e-mails, I’m a little old to be in the exact same boat, nor do I feel that I could even entertain such a conversation with the Pater without some dire consequences, but I suppose the idea of the family of one’s own making was very significant to me. I have been given some leniency in recent years to pursue my own interests (on a strictly temporary basis you understand) and the people I have met there make me feel… different. As though I was allowed to let go of a breath I didn’t realise I had been holding my whole life.

This family I have made has a strict deadline attached, and I think, or perhaps I simply fear, that if I were to risk being honest with them and they accepted me for who I was, that I could never go back to filling the mould that has been set for me since birth. I don’t know how I could go back to living in that skin if I were to shed it. It would be like wearing someone else’s shoes for the remainder of my years. I would be able to do it, but the pain would be constant and nagging.

This is well beyond your remit as it is neither a medical issue nor a magical one. I apologise for the impertinence. Once again, I have not e-mailed in expectation of a response from you, but more with the sense that I needed to put the words down somewhere and know of no other place to share them.

Yours faithfully,

Theo.

~*~

Merlin woke with a start from his vague dreams, they were already starting to dissolve into nothing even as he tried to grasp at them. They had been warm and pleasant, filling him with something akin to purpose and light. Even though he couldn’t recall exactly what happened, he knew at least that they were good. They had felt almost like omens of positivity, perhaps not of ease, but of a rightness that was hard to shake.

There weren’t images that stuck in his mind precisely, more fleeting glimpses caught out of the corner of his eye, as though, perhaps there was a chance that this shape was a person, a hint of blond, or perhaps just a reflection of light. Maybe this sound was the sure fall of a footstep, or perhaps it was just the movement of the wind in the grass, the slight whisper of a voice, or was it the buzz of a nearby hive? Merlin couldn’t hold on to any of it, but what he did know, is that it felt good, it felt right.

Even though those feelings were fleeting and formless, they had given him a strange sense of energy that morning. Waking up naturally like this was a rarity for him, and whereas he normally warred with himself before he was able to get out of bed, this morning filled Merlin with a desire to do something. Complete some amorphous list of tasks or plan a series of activities and jobs he could do that day, even perhaps doing the washing up, though Gwen might faint dead away from shock.

In the end he set about actually cooking himself breakfast for once. Even though the poor little breakfast pastry that he normally grabbed in the mornings was probably sullen and despondent from having been abandoned, Merlin happily stood, tunelessly whistling as he cooked, and pausing to feel the sun on his skin as it streamed through the window, closing his eyes and just enjoying the sensation for a moment.

He took his breakfast to curl up on the sofa before opening his e-mails, which were mostly just spam from various online shops he had purchased through once or twice and another from the a ridiculous obstacle marathon event that he delusionally thought he would get in shape for and then never committed to. He deleted those all with a practiced annoyance, before switching over to read his MMM e-mails in between bites.

It was another message from Theo. Naturally, there were a lot of messages from a lot of other people as well, but he saw the one from Theo as though it had called to him. He tended to tag e-mails as important if he was considering answering them during the podcast, and then moved them out of the inbox to ensure that he didn’t repeat the same question twice, but he had never removed Theo’s e-mail. He had tagged it as important and then it was never… not important.

He read the whole thing carefully twice, before closing his laptop for a minute. He thought that he needed to say something, wanted to reply, wanted to give this man the comfort he clearly so desperately needed, and Merlin could hardly fathom how anything he could say could ever be enough to help Theo. That feeling of invincibility he had been buoyed by that morning now felt like the dream that had caused it; too abstract to hang any words on. He didn’t know how to build sentences from an ephemeral feeling and he doubly didn’t know how to make those words pass the feeling on to another person.

But if there was one thing his medical training had taught him; it was that there were no guarantees and that you just had to do everything in your power to reach the best outcome. So instead he opened his laptop back up and hoped that he could transmit even a tiny fraction of that feeling as he typed the words

~*~

Dear Theo, I suppose yours if the sort of problem that is beyond the scope of the show, I agree, but it’s not a problem that you face alone. As you can see, I was happy to talk about it, because it means a lot to me. I hope it’s not too impertinent of me…

~*~

Merlin paused in his writing, Theo’s formality must have been rubbing off on him,

~*~

…but I kind of completely hate your family at this moment, perhaps your sister excepted. Unless, of course, you feel as though she would reject you, in which case I might have to reconsider. I know it doesn’t mean much from a person who is in essence a stranger, but I am sorry. I’m sorry you’re having to go through this. You say that you’re too old to be in the position that my other listener was, but there is no time in life where realising that your family’s love might be condition wouldn’t hurt.

Our families are often our first and strongest support systems, to know that you might have to find that support in another place can be unmooring. As to your found family, those friends you’ve made; I’m not going to go into detail about how you are entitled to do whatever you want with your life as an extension of being allowed to live your truth, because I’m sure there are a lot of details missing that mean that I can’t tell you what you shouldn’t and shouldn’t actually do. I suppose that my advice is this (if you actually want my advice rather than just wanting someone to rant to): Tell your friends, because we live in an age of mass communication.

It’s highly unlikely that the you will completely lose touch with the people who you meet there and if it can’t be someone you regularly see in person, just having someone who knows you, who you can talk to when things become difficult, might make all the difference. It sounds to me - and I so badly wish I could do more to help - but it sounds as though you already are finding it difficult to fit into your family’s mould. The only difference that I can see between telling your friends and not, is that if you tell your friends the truth of who you really are, you might be able to build up another support system for yourself.

That support system could be the thing that gives you strength, be that the strength to break free, the strength to forge your own path, or the strength to simply survive. The strength to do whatever it is that you need to do. Maybe you’ll be in a better position to help your sister that way? I hope I don’t sound too pushy, I suppose the truth is that I know what it is I want you to do, even if that doesn’t line up with what is best for you. If all else fails, I will be here to be a sympathetic ear. Let me know how it goes, I’m hoping that it goes well, whatever it is that you decide to do.

Merlin

~*~

Merlin did the minimum of checks to the e-mail, making sure that everything made at least some modicum of sense and didn’t have some ridiculously offensive career ruining typo in it, before he hit send as fast as he could, not allowing himself to overthink it. Although he felt disappointed by his inability to really convey all he was thinking in the e-mail, he hoped that it was enough to get the point across and, if nothing else, Theo would know that there was someone he could talk to.

Merlin wasn’t really sure what to think about Theo anymore; a small and angry part of him had been annoyed by this man, mid-twenties at least, who should have had enough experience of the world to sympathise with mage causes without needing to have a direct family member at risk. It’s an extreme privilege that allows a person to have such prejudice to be rendered completely invisible for so long. But it was clear, and even clearer now, that Theo was utterly trapped in his family unit, and if he had never been exposed to dissenting voices, then how could he have ever experienced something different? Any life was simply a product of the experiences lived and the lessons taught. Merlin couldn’t hate him, couldn’t even be annoyed when he had no way of knowing better.

Even in their brief interactions it was clear that Theo, with only a little stimulus, was thinking for himself, and had come to the conclusion that he was unhappy with the status quo. Underneath whatever he had been force-fed throughout his life was a person who wanted to do better, be better, despite it all. Who could judge what he might have made of himself if the circumstances had been different? But they were here, and Merlin was desperate to help. There was definitely a chance that this was mere projection. After all, without tone and body language and facial expression, Merlin was particularly bad at reading intent through words on a screen, particularly when Theo’s words were wrapped in a brittle formality.

Theo’s latest message though, held in it a raw desperation that Merlin was utterly unable to ignore. Not that he had been able to ignore Theo from the beginning. There was something so profoundly vulnerable hidden in those words, that Merlin was filled with an overwhelming protectiveness that he couldn’t explain, couldn’t even fully reconcile in his own mind, it was something that he was utterly unable to ignore.

The e-mail from Theo was not the first message that he had a quick follow up with, but his previous responses had been brief and closed and deliberately so. He didn’t wish to open himself up to too many ongoing conversations with his listeners, not because he didn’t care, but because of the precisely opposite problem. He was likely to rip himself to shreds trying to make sure everyone was supported, but in doing so he would burn out. His practice would suffer and his own health would suffer and then the support would run dry either way. This boundary was a promise he had made to himself from the show’s very inception. He had kept it through all these months, and yet a few lines of text in his inbox from a complete stranger had formed into an inexplicable exception. It was as though Merlin could feel it in his bones that he alone was the thing that stood between this stranger and a life that would be otherwise forfeit.

It was irrational, he was certain, and of his many gifts prophecy was definitely not one of them, and yet, he thought that ignoring this feeling, this gut instinct, would be a foolish thing to do.

He spent a little while scanning through the other new e-mails he had received, and tagging ones that he thought showed promise or might be important as an example in his upcoming AMAs or discussions, but the thought of Theo kept nagging at the back of his mind. He had turned off notifications on this account, the regular and random influx of e-mails throughout the day was too distracting for his work and only got worse as the show became more popular, but he was sorely tempted to turn them back on again, just for the day, just in case Theo was there, just in case he needed support or advice, or even a brick wall to hurl words at. Merlin wanted to be that person for him.

He covered his eyes and flopped back on the sofa with a groan; he was being irrational about this, he knew, he had shared a minute amount of time interacting with this person, this complete and total stranger; it was insane that he felt so strongly. What he was feeling was another question entirely, and in that moment the predominant feeling was anxiety, but the feelings were pressed right up against his ribcage, leaving him feeling faintly ridiculous, at least, until Theo replied.

~*~

Dear Merlin,

I’m a little at a loss for words. I had anticipated that I would not receive a response from you, there are many podcasts that deal with matters as trifling as sexuality to which I could have turned, but so few that offer dedicated support to your kind and I’m sure you have people with far greater need than I, to whom you could offer your time and I feel both honoured, and deeply ashamed that you have decided to spend that precious time on the inane ramblings of a grown man. The fact that you have gifted me some of your time is deeply moving.

To assuage some of my guilt I suppose I should inform you of the goings on of my sister. I have been watching her progress carefully, and I am growing more and more certain that the things that are happening with her are indeed displays of some magical ability or magecraft (I feel rather remiss, I’m not entirely certain whether those words are used interchangeably). Whether her dreams were truly prophetic, I am yet to ascertain, however when I did try to voice my concerns to the physician, who is also a close family friend, and I believe, at heart, to be a good man, he seemed to dismiss these notions that her nightmares could be anything other than the normal activities of an unconscious mind, and that her fear of sleep was a far greater risk to her health than anything else.

Being such a close family friend, and someone (I have been informed) who was previously quite well acquainted with magic, I worry that he is trying to protect my sister from the scrutiny of dear old Pater, but if what you suggest is true, then I fear his interference may be causing more harm than good. As a medical man yourself, I wondered if you could give me more medical specifics about such cases of suppression and… what would you call it, transference? I wish to speak with him on a more even footing, allow him to consider the possibility rather than dismiss the concerns out of hand.

I am used, in some capacity or other, to act mostly on the advice of people who are more experienced than myself, and directly contradicting my elders, particularly one I hold in high regard, is far beyond my normal wheelhouse. I fear the consequences of both speaking out against him and holding my tongue in this matter. I cannot even begin to imagine the struggles that my own sister must be enduring in the face of this; she is either being made unaware of what is happening to her, in which case she is experiencing seemingly random terrifying events at regular intervals, or alternatively she is fully cognisant of her own magic, in which circumstance, she may well be hiding and bearing the weight of such knowledge for fear of the rejection of everyone she holds dear, or worse.

When I consider all paths forward, they seem fraught with peril, for her or for myself. In the shoes of any other person, I would be forthright and honest, but my circumstance is not one I can so easily walk away from.

My apologies, I meant to thank you for your kindness, yet instead I seem to have spent more time burdening you with my troubles. I cannot bring myself to delete the words, however. I suppose having them out in the world somewhere is preferable to the silence.

Ever faithfully,

Theo

~*~

Merlin

P.S. I re-read my e-mail once it was sent, as is my habit, and I realise that I said that sexuality was a trifling matter. I wish to clarify that I do not feel that matters of sexuality and the social awareness and responsibility thereof are trifling, far from it, such issues are and will continue to be vital in the progress towards a fair and just world, rather I wish to clarify that as a person who comes from a position of particular wealth and privilege (as you may have gathered from my previous e-mails.) that my own sexuality is an inconsequential problem in the grand scheme of things.

Faithfully,

Theo

~*~

Theo

Every time I receive an e-mail from you, I am so glad and proud, but also so upset for you. I keep thinking how I could help, what advice I could give that would be meaningful, but I keep coming up blank. I’m glad you tried to speak to your doctor, I’m sorry that he didn’t take your concerns seriously, or perhaps he didn’t understand the depth of your concerns, but I hope your words make him keep his eyes open. From what you’ve described I agree with you; there’s a chance that he already knows what’s going on but doesn’t want to risk getting your sister in trouble.

It’s a hard position to be put in, particularly when you straddle the line between a personal relationship and a professional distance. I’ve never had to deal with something like that in my own career, but I imagine that he’s too invested in your sister’s case to see the consequences so clearly. I really wish I could give you a blow by blow list of causes and effects when it comes to magical suppression, but it’s a delicate and complicated matter that changes from individual to individual. I’m also legally limited in the amount of advice I can really give as she isn’t actually my patient. I’ll link you to resources from the NHS that might help clear up some matters.

If you think that she might be aware of her own powers, then is there a safe and non-threatening way that you could slip that into conversation? It would hurt more than hinder if you were to approach her incorrectly and then she shut down. You know her better than I ever could, but if she saw your interest in magic as a threat, it might prevent her from opening up to you, particularly if the environment you both find yourselves in is a threatening one.

You mentioned that you were away from the family unit for a short while, and that it gave you some freedom? How long is that for? Do you think you could invite your sister to come and visit you, start the conversation on a safer, and more neutral space? I won’t pretend to know exactly what might work, but if you tell me more about your sister’s circumstances and your own, I could work through from a more… general advice point of view. Specific medical answers to specific medical questions I can probably do as well. I’m sorry that I’m being a little strict on this, it’s not that I don’t trust you not to sue me or something, it’s just complicated from a professional viewpoint, particularly as one of the listeners to the podcast.

Lastly, I knew what you meant, about your sexuality, don’t worry. I mean, I still think you’re wrong; your struggles with sexuality are not at all inconsequential, but now I just think you’re the kind of ass who likes to use subtle methods to point out how rich and powerful they are. ‘I mean, like, your podcast is cool and all, but can I just mention low-key how rich and powerful I am, like, low-key I could pay your entire wage from the change stuck in the AC of my very expensive custom built Koenigsegg. Low-key though.

Merlin

~*~

Theo

Oh fuck, please understand that that last bit was a joke. Sorry, it’s my day off, my professional filter turns off on my day off.

Merlin

~*~

Dear Merlin,

I am a little worried about what you must think of me, if you believe I didn’t understand your attempts at humour. I took absolutely no offense to your statements, especially as they are not entirely unfounded; I was rather emphasising the strange nature of my family and that does, for better or worse, come with the trappings of wealth and power. There is a certain strangeness that comes with being born into a family like mine. I was ignorant of how unusual my circumstances were before I met, for want of a better word, normal people this year.

Although I care deeply for my sister, we have not always communicated with the level of respect and openness befitting a typical sibling relationship. Between the expectations of our family and the rough circumstances of our relationship as siblings, namely that we were not made aware of our close familial relationship until later in our childhoods, we were raised, rather, as close family friends and erstwhile playmates. Then later, through circumstances that are rather too complicated to explain, we were informed that my father had been her biological father this entire time.

Immediately she was accepted into the fold and given all the benefits, of course, but she was also granted all the terrible drawbacks of this life. I think perhaps a part of me knew, even then, that there was something fundamentally flawed in our life, and I wanted to protect her. I think perhaps that it was not always a healthy desire, I suppose. This is where speaking to a professional about such matters would be beneficial if I had the freedom to do such a thing. We are close, in a way. A closeness that only develops from shared experience, but there is a mutual silence too, one that is harder to overcome.

Even now I’m not entirely sure that anyone knows that we are siblings beside our immediate family and a few intimates. I had thought, following your advice, that it would be sensible for the two of us to share our fears and concerns, to offer my protection and understanding, even if my usefulness is limited. Unfortunately, it is not always easy or safe for the two us to meet publicly, let alone speak of such secrets and liabilities aloud but, somewhere there must also neutral ground where we could be candid, if only I could find it.

Ever faithfully,

Theo

~*~

Dear Merlin,

My sincerest apologies, I keep burdening you with these problems. I wish I were free to speak of them more openly, but the fact that I am unable should not be your problem.

Regretfully,

Theo

~*~

Theo,

As you say that you are able to understand my humour, I’m not going to hold back on it. You saying ‘regretfully, Theo’ in your last message made me laugh loud enough to disturb my neighbour’s dog. My neighbour’s dog is normally a very good boy and I feel bad that he’s probably now in trouble. Anyway, the idea of you writing ‘regretfully Theo’ just makes me think that you regret being Theo; Like you wake up each morning, look in the mirror and think, ‘Oh fuck, not this guy again,’ but not in a tragic self-depreciating and genuine way, I want to clarify, more in a ‘damn, I forgot to take off my glasses last night and now I’ve bent the frames,’ sort of way.

That doesn’t really make sense, but as previously mentioned; it’s my day off, I save all my intellectual energy for when I’m actually at work.

Only semi-serious question: are you in the mafia or something? I mean, I’m not judging; everyone needs a hobby, but the more you describe your family the more I think that something illicit is definitely going on. I’m thinking of pulling my curtains closed so that a sniper can’t take the shot if they think I’m getting too close to the truth.

Okay, now that my mild ribbing is out of the way, I will revert back to my normal functional professional self: You keep saying that you need to be the one to do things for your sister, that you need to protect her from your family dynamics, that you need to be the one to prevent her random outbursts of uncontrolled magic, that you need to find a space where the two of you will be safe to talk freely, that you need to be the one to make the physician understand how your sister’s treatment might be damaging. In everything you’ve said, the responsibility is yours and yours alone.

But like all family dynamics, that is a role you fulfil, not a fundamental truth. Who knows how you came across that role of protector, maybe it was forced upon you unconsciously, maybe she put herself in the role of protectee, maybe it was one that you developed because you wished for someone to do the same for you, maybe even (and this is wild speculation, based on the brief comments about your families rather conservative views), but maybe even it was based on gendered expectations, the elder boy must always protect the younger female because that is his position in the world, etc.

However, you came across that role, you’ve got to consider two things: One; is it still serving your sister’s best interests to take her out of these decisions in her own life? Two; are you able to survive in the protector role or does trying to be that person take up too much of yourself? It’s rare that these facets of ourselves occur in a vacuum, and look; I’m not a fully licenced therapist, so take whatever I say with a grain of salt, but it feels to me like the need to be a protector and the unwillingness to let anyone else be a conduit for your own vulnerabilities are two parts of the same puzzle. Perhaps there’s room to let your sister in on these decisions; maybe explaining that you want to speak to her openly, and then maybe she can suggest a safe space to talk. Something like that.

Look, I wouldn’t normally do this, but I really want to help you with your sister and maybe, if you want, with your own personal stuff too, and I don’t check my e-mail often enough to be helpful on a day to day basis. It’s alright on my day off like this, but normally my MMM e-mail is closed on my computer and I’ve not set my phone up to send me notifications from that account.

Do you have WhatsApp? Are you allowed to have mass communication devices in the mafia? Do your e-mails get sent through a terrified yet inexplicably handsome underling who would do anything for you and ultimately dies trying to protect your freedom, eventually admitting his unending love for you in a tragic yet heartfelt moment before he thanks you and dies in your arms?

My apologies for my overactive imagination, my roommate has a penchant for overly dramatic Japanese crime dramas.

Not regretfully,

Merlin

~*~

Theo

Would help me communicate through WhatsApp if I gave you my actual number…

As I said: no intellectual energy on my days off:

+51 77 2784 8772

More regret this time,

Merlin

~*~

Dear Merlin,

I am not entirely sure what Japanese crime dramas look like, and I am not entirely sure I want to know either. I generally prefer an existence where my potential love interests are not regularly murdered, not that I would take an ‘underling’ as a romantic interest, I feel there must be something intrinsically immoral about abusing such a power imbalance.

I can assure you that I’m not in the actual mafia, mostly.

As for your other comments; I had not given it much thought, nor had I cause to think about such things really, but I need to, I think. I have not typically been allowed to be introspective, I have been taught from a young age to be decisive and to make difficult decisions look easy. To act with… grace I think is the only word that feels entirely appropriate, although I’m not sure that it covers the full scope of the feeling.

I’ll send you a test message, hopefully that gets through. I must admit that I am not normally allowed too much freedom with things such as social media, however I was able to purchase a phone through some discreet sources.

Kind regards,

Theo

~*~

T: Good afternoon, this is a test message for Merlin.

T: In the interests of clarity this is Theo.

M: in the interests of clarity I’ll confirm that this is Merlin.

T: I get the feeling, Merlin, that you may be mocking me.

M: Me? Never.

M: Well maybe a little bit. I can’t help it; you just bring out the best in me.

M: I’ve just read your e-mail. Saying that you’re mostly not in the mafia, and then talking about having to buy a phone through discreet sources is not exactly reassuring.

T: To clarify my previous statements, I am definitely not in the mafia. If that was unclear.

M: That’s what someone who was trying to hide the fact that he is in the mafia would say.

M: Am I on a list now? Am I going to be sleeping with the fishes? Can your hitmen wait until I’ve transferred my cases to another consultant?

T: How you managed to convince the world that you are a rational human being is rather beyond my ken.

M: Hired a good editor.

~*~

Somewhere between the third and fourth coffee where Merlin barely tasted it for staring at his phone, he realised that he might have a problem. A part of his mind, a really fucking stupid part of his mind, had assumed that he would be able to treat Theo as he treated any of his other clients or listeners, but he had already lost at the first hurdle when he had given his number over to the stranger. They barely felt like strangers now, which was objectively ridiculous as it was beyond clear that, in reality, he had no idea who Theo actually was beyond a few bare minimum tid-bits of information.

The desire to keep the interactions strictly professional had been thrown out the window nearly at the beginning. Maybe it was that - between Theo and his sister - Merlin saw so many of the problems that he had tried to fight in this world. Maybe it was a strange sense of loneliness that he had sitting on his shoulders when he realised that he barely socialised these days. Maybe it was the startling realisation that he had been so close to letting his friendship with Will, one of his oldest friends, deteriorate because he ‘didn’t have time’ to reach out. Deep down he thought it was all of these things and none of these things. He just needed to keep communicating, keep sharing, keep being a part of something beyond himself.

It didn’t help that Theo was matching him beat for beat, and although he had opened communication with Merlin on a professional basis, he didn’t seem to mind going to this new place with him. Turning this professional detachment into a friendly correspondence was the exact thing that Merlin had been guarding himself against throughout the entire time he had been running the podcast, but at the drop of a hat he had made the decision to abandon that? He looked back over the messages - that numbered up in the dozens by this point - and wondering whether he had actually helped Theo at all, as he had intended, rather than just chatting and teasing. He enjoyed it, it was how he spoke to most of his friends and definitely how he distinguished his work persona from his personal life, but this, Merlin had to remind himself, was not what Theo had signed up for.

If Theo was as isolated and detached from others as he had made it seem in his original e-mails, then it would be natural for him to crave a more casual interaction with another human being, but Merlin was ignoring the problems that brought Theo there in the first place, the very important problems that urgently required real solutions.

~*~

M: have you thought on how you’re going to approach your sister then? This situation is going to be hard for both of you, but you’re not going to be able to protect her from this forever, one way or another.

T: I don’t know who I am if I’m not protecting other people; it’s the only part of my existence that I feel some sense of pride in. There’s not a lot else that I can be proud of.

M: I get the feeling that you’re not talking about just your sister anymore.

T: I suppose not.

M: I want to be clear, taking a step back to protect yourself, or to allow other people to have agency is not the same as abandoning being a protector. Maybe being a protector is part of who you genuinely are as a person, and that’s not a bad thing, it’s only a bad thing when it’s too much. Either for you, or the people under your ‘care’. I wouldn’t expect you to suddenly be the kind of person who kicks abandoned puppies, but just that maybe if you already own ten puppies, that it might be better for you to take it to a shelter, rather than adopt it. For yourself, and for the puppy too.

T: Are puppies your usual go to analogies?

M: [gif of a tiny puppy giving a high five]

T: A fair point, excellently made.

T: Thank you.

~*~

By the time Sunday rolled around, Merlin was looking at his to-do list for the following week with a sense of dread and guilt. Neither of the emotions were particularly productive, but when it came to his to-do list, they were his default setting. If he didn’t properly organise his time, then he had a habit of saying yes to everything requested of him and being able to complete none of those tasks to any competent level. He dealt with his overwhelming complexes by assigning times to his to-do list, and if the amount of time for his combined tasks vs his reasonable number of hours in the day didn’t add up, then he had to prioritise, and turn things down.

More importantly, he kept Sundays free. A chance to charge his batteries before the work week ahead, and he tried his best to avoid any kind of work on that one day per week. He had taken weekend shifts before, but then he would turn another day into his mental ‘Sunday’, but yesterday had been, from start to finish, a day where Merlin worried in fits and starts about getting through his to-do list but ended up doing none of it because he was too busy messaging back and forth with Theo literally all day. He had abandoned his rest-day because he didn’t realise that was what he was taking, so instead he had just had an unproductive day, which was potentially more mentally taxing than a day where he just got on with stuff.

Merlin stared out the window trying to shut out the little voice in his head that panicked and berated him whenever he didn’t maximise the use of his time, there was that little part of him that whispered that life was short and he was wasting his. Taking time to reframe his interactions with Theo the previous day, turning them over in his mind and trying to crystalise them into something like a productive process was his only saving grace. He definitely had things to do that day, ones that didn’t include somehow turning a genuine request for help into a burgeoning friendship through possibly entirely selfish means.

Five minutes at the beginning of each hour. That’s how much time he would allow himself to talk to Theo, and he would try to actually help him with his problems in that time, rather than forcing Theo to indulge Merlin’s own eccentricities.

~*~

T: I believe you meant, ‘they’re’ in this instance, and wished to clarify.

M: I’m offended that you think that I don’t understand the difference between their, there and they’re, rather than assuming that I made a typo.

T: My apologies if my correction seemed unwarranted. I was taught from a very young age that ambiguity was to be avoided, as ambiguity leads to misinterpretation, which can lead to devastation. Whilst I am not so precise in my spoken language, I prefer to ensure my written language is exact in its meaning.

M: :o *shrug* *monkey covering eyes*

T: Oh lord help us all; you’re one of those people who use emojis to convey emotion through text aren’t you?

M: if glyphs were good enough for the Sumerians, then they’re good enough for me.

T: Hundreds of generations of humans did not slave away in the creation of written language in order for you to defile their memory by reverting to vaguely culturally insensitive meaningless images.

M: :p

T: You’re a medical professional; a highly educated man, how on earth can you think that a yellow blob with a tongue sticking out is a valid and unambiguous form of communication?

M: He used a contraction! The world must surely be on the verge of destruction!!!

M: !

T: I’ll contract you in a minute.

M: Sorry, don’t work for private practice. You’ll just have to go to the good old public clinic like the rest of us peons.

T: This is one of those rare moments Merlin, where I will admit my words perhaps were ambiguous, even if they were superior to your poor attempts at making ancient civilisations weep at the death of language.

T: I feel sorry for the poor charges under your care.

M: :O

M: (by the way, on a genuine note, your concern over the use of the ‘see no evil’ monkey as potential cultural appropriation was actually genuinely touching. I’m not entirely sure your energies are well directed in this case, but I’m sure that’s exactly the kind of opinion that your family wouldn’t permit you to have, let alone share publicly.)

M: I’m probably reading too much into things. I won’t be offended if you tell me to shut up.

M: In this specific case anyway.

~*~

Merlin tried to be more surreptitious after the fourth time he caught Gwen side-eyeing his phone. He couldn’t exactly help it that speaking with Theo was, perhaps sometimes unintentionally, hilarious. It was his break time and he wasn’t going to feel guilty, even if he could feel her judgment washing over him in waves. Her default setting was ‘concerned’ at the moment, potentially with a side of ‘suspicious’.

He’d tried to keep to his own boundaries regarding Theo, to protect his own space and his own rules, but he found himself excitedly reaching for his phone at the slightest buzz, and more embarrassingly reaching for the phone with an imagined buzz before realising that there was no message at all. More often than not Theo’s messages made him laugh, and even though Merlin had tried to keep the two of them on track, that track being serious advice for Theo’s sister and serious advice about his sexuality, they devolved into a kind of easy banter that made Merlin grin like an idiot.

He had turned his phone onto absolute silent and turned off vibrate whilst he was on his rounds for the sole purpose of being able to focus on his job. He was naturally adept at remaining sober and professional when the time called for it, but his hummingbird pulse at any of Theo’s messages over the past few days had been concerning to say the least. The fact that he had been utterly unable to hide his strange change in attitude from his friends was an even bigger problem, not that he had ever been particularly good at hiding his feelings from anybody, but a few (hundred) messages over the course of a couple of days shouldn’t have changed his behaviour enough to make note of.

When Merlin was walking around Camelot on a day to day basis, he tended to put his phone deep into his bag or zipped in some inside coat pocket not in easy reach. He liked to look out at the city and notice the streets, it kept him sane, mentally clocking things that were around especially if they were new or interesting. There was a need to be grounded in the moment, as so much of his job was planning ahead for preventative care or looking back on treatments in order to ensure he was certain of the best practice. He had taken to finding moments to stay in the present when this constant weight of past and future took over his brain and it helped his eyes when they were tired after a long day too.

In recent days had been tempted though, to bring out his phone and put it in a more easy to reach location, just on the off chance that he needed to respond to a message, but he had to remind himself that there was no need to answer anything, that he had none of those expectations upon himself and he would be just fine without looking at his phone. However, it was more of an effort to keep himself in the here and now than it had been for some time. He had to let Gwen know about it, get her advice and see what an outside perspective thought.

Switching his mind over to the mode of ‘on rounds’ was fortunately a skill he had so completely honed that it was the one area of his life where he would never worry about being invaded by his intrusive thoughts, even if those intrusive thoughts were the ones about charming, funny, repressed, text-based friends.

“Good morning Mrs Watkins, and what seems to be the matter this morning? It says here you were admitted last night with complaints of dizziness after some magecraft, after which you passed out, and that the ER ruled out a typical concussion or stroke am I correct?”

“Yes, just needed some moonlight for the last stages, and then as soon as I stepped out I came over all peely-wally and woke up on the floor, my grandson took me in.” the elderly woman replied, although her response was slow and slurred, maybe it wasn’t a stroke, but the symptoms were similar. He trusted that, whatever had happened, her current condition was stable; someone would have called him otherwise, but he wasn’t entirely happy about her responses.

“I’m just going to check a few vitals, could you tell me what kind of magic you were doing and what the aim of the spell was?” he waved a torch to test the pupil response - not ideal, but she was clearly conscious, whatever had happened might have lingered in its effects. Her complete silence while he did this didn’t register until he started taking her pulse,

“Mrs Watkins?” Merlin ventured, “If you could tell me what kind of spell?”

It was only then that she actually looked at him, as though she hadn’t heard the question before, even so, her only response was to violently shake her head, prompting yet more concerns.

“You must tell me, Mrs Watkins, or I won’t be able to help you effectively.” Her response was to open and close her mouth a few times before shaking her head. Her eyes dulled even with this small response.

“Okay here’s a different question; are you keeping this a secret?” There was silence yet again, “Are you physically capable of telling me what happened?” she seemed to actually think for a moment, to process the question, before shaking her head again.

“Okay, you said your Grandson brought you in. What’s the name of your grandson?”

Her response seemed even more catatonic than before, and that was where he knew to back off from the question. He had seen similar symptoms before, but without her being able to tell him exactly what happened, he would have his work cut out. He had a sinking feeling that she would be on the ward for a while. Some kind of confidentiality agreement bound in magic, that forbade her from talking about… something. And that something most probably being her grandson. Whatever it was, she had forgotten it, and until they could untangle that secret from her day to day life, she would risk being stuck in this state for the foreseeable future.

The buzzing of the emergency alarm pulled him out of his contemplation, the silence had started to return the lady to her normal state. “You rest up now,” he said, “I’ll be back later to try a few things that might help you out.”

He stepped out into the hall and walked towards the emergency entrance, but the sight of Gwaine stopped him in his tracks. “What the ever-loving fuck happened to you?”

“It’s alright, Tristan and Isolde have the patient,” Gwaine reassured as Merlin slowed to a halt. “You can go back to your rounds.”

“That doesn’t explain your face. You’re covered in blood!”

“Don’t you think it makes me look all rugged and manly?” Gwaine tried to give a roguish grin, but the effect was rather spoiled by the wince. “Just brough a girl in; pretty certain she was spiked by some kind of potion, intentionally or unintentionally. She wasn’t really sure where she was and started getting a bit violent. Scratching and punching, it was hard to restrain her without causing her more harm, and I didn’t want to sedate her without knowing what she’d taken. Think she had some kind of ring on her.”

“Fair enough, let’s give it a second and then I’ll patch you up.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Gwaine insisted, “I’ll just head to the walk-in clinic. You need the space here.”

“Gwaine, I am not letting you wait for hours to get sorted when I can fix this in a few minutes. I’ve not got any cases that can’t wait ten minutes. Come on.” Merlin started walking away to get quickly scrubbed up. Gwaine looked hesitant to follow for a while, but then he sighed and followed along.

Merlin, as a medical professional, should have understood just how much head wounds bled, but it always gave him at least some pause. Carefully cleaning off Gwaine’s face to assess the damage, he was pleased to see that it wasn’t as bad as it had first appeared, not all that pleasant, but nothing too serious, “You’re going to have some vicious bruises for a couple of days, but your eye seems fine. The gash will cause less scarring and heal better if I stitch it up. I could just tape it, but that’s up to you.”

“Hmm,” Gwaine pretended to contemplate, before Merlin sterilised the area, perhaps with slightly more viciousness than entirely required if he was treating a typical patient, “Yeah, stitch it, I can’t risk my beautiful, good looks. Or do you think a bad bitch face scar will attract more attention? There’s a lot of pressure here, I’ve got a few moments to make a decision that may have a lasting impact on my ability to get laid.”

“Gwaine - and I mean this with love - of the many, many things that will stop you getting laid, facial scars are so utterly low on the list that I could give you a Glasgow smile and no-one would notice.”

“I don’t know, that might make for an interesting story. A disturbing number of people wanted Heath Ledger in all his unwashed, scarred up glory after that film. You know. Aside from the dead thing.”

“Classy as always, love. Alright, I’ll stitch this up I think. Give me a minute.”

“I’m always down to have an interesting story. It can be hard to slip casually into conversation how I’m a life-saving paramedic just looking for a short-term meaningful connection. Now that Lance and Gwen are both permanently off the table, I’m becoming even more painfully aware of how many beautiful people I’m losing chances with.”

“They haven’t even gone on one date yet.” Merlin laughed, “Don’t plan their wedding speech too soon.”

“Oh, you know I’ll be best man, only because Gwen will insist on you being maid of honour. The speeches will be fabulous. There will be confetti. We might as well start writing them now, everyone is fully aware of how disgustingly monogamous Lance is. There is really only one outcome here. And here I am, in the middle of a dry spell. Le sigh.”

“You are legally forbidden from calling whatever handful of days you’ve not gotten laid a dry spell. I have absolutely no compunction about immediately handing you over to the authorities where your incarceration will be nothing but a fair and just retribution in the face of your utterly lascivious behaviour.

“You know an awful lot of words don’t you Merlin.” Gwaine laughed, slapping him on the shoulder.

“Just some of the many that I have at my disposal; lecherous for example, brazen, debauched, salacious, dissolute, libertine…”

“Not quite the same meaning on those last couple,”

“I know, once I started listing your characteristics it was hard to stop.”

Gwaine laughed heartily, before wiggling his eyebrows “You know, we could put an offer on the table if we some mutual relief from dry spells.”

“We’ve established this Gwaine, we’re both reasonably attractive people, who just happen to not be attracted to one another, and the last time we tried, we both ended up giggling too much to maintain an erection.”

“It’s been about ten years since then, surely it’s about time that we give it another shot, it’s that annoyingly unpunched slot on my university bingo card.” Gwaine laughed before shaking his head, a hitching hiss as Merlin washed the cut out with a numbing agent before trying the stiches.

He relaxed his face and stayed very still as Merlin did his job, lapsing into silence before eventually speaking, now soft and sincere “You know, I’m joking right? The sex? I like to joke about it, but I realise that I was starting to sound creepy. Like, I want to be serious for a second and just acknowledge that you have never done it for me sexually, and I wouldn’t change that about us for the world. I’m in pain and I deflect by joking.”

“If I thought you were serious, I wouldn’t have numbed the wound,” Merlin, patted the uninjured side of his face with a fond hand, “And even though that feels like a really backhanded compliment, I will take it at absolute face value. Honestly, the only thing that bothered me was the acknowledgement that it’s been ten years since undergrad. We’re all dying. Now stay still for a second while I finish this.”

Gwaine smiled, quickly before letting Merlin finish his job properly. “You’ll do. You don’t feel dizzy or sick at all? She didn’t hit you to hard?”

“No, all good. Fairly sure I’m concussion free. I’m more worried about her to be honest, glad we found her when we did, anything could have happened.”

“Well nothing did happen, you’re a regular knight in shining armour.”

“Not sure how happy I am to be called a thuggish puppet of a parasitic institution, but I’ll take it.”

“Love you, you know that?” Merlin said earnestly, taking Gwaine’s hand.

“You too,” Gwaine replied giving a reassuring squeeze to Merlin’s hand. “You’re like my platonic soul-mate.” He lent over, giving him a kiss on the forehead that made him feel small, and cared for. “Alright, now you’ve been slacking off for too long. Go and do your job magic man.”

“Only if you promise to actually take the afternoon off. I don’t want to hear about you fainting on the job.”

“Agreed,” Gwaine stood, casually slinging his arm over Merlin’s shoulder, walking him out the door.

~*~

The sound of broken sobbing was the first thing that Merlin heard when he walked through the door of his flat on the Tuesday afternoon. All other thoughts were driven from his mind as he rushed to locate the sound. Gwen was standing in front of the bathroom mirror, leaning over the sink and sobbing her eyes out.

“What happened?” Merlin asked with not a little trepidation, “Are you alright?”

“I was just trying to brush my hair and the fucking handle snapped! Lance is supposed to be picking me up in half an hour and I can’t even get the stupid thing out of my hair. It’s too far back and it keeps pulling, I’m going to rip a chunk of my scalp out.” She dissolved into tears again, “For once I just need something to go smoothly. I can’t deal with another minute of this.”

That hollow burn of worry started to build up again. Merlin had been letting it go, as worrisome as he had found it, because he was sure that Gwen would talk to him if something was wrong, but she should have been nothing more than mildly annoyed by something like a broken brush, yet she was in freefall.

“Okay, give me two seconds and I’ll sort this, just give me a second.” He went and grabbed another brush from his bedside table and got her to sit down on the edge of the bathtub. He worked gentle fingers through her hair undoing the larger knots and then proceeded to brush out the matted curls from where she had been tugging at them. Once he started, brushing it, it made sense just to keep going. Nice to feel needed and nice to do something comforting for someone.

“There’s nothing wrong right?” Merlin enquired, “You’re happy about this date and everything? I know I’ve teased you about Lance before, but you don’t need to feel obligated.”

Gwen hiccoughed a laugh and wiped at the tears that were more silently rolling down her cheeks now, “It’s nothing, I’m just being hormonal. It’s about the only thing I have been looking forward to recently.”

Merlin hummed his disbelief, “I’ve lived with you for long enough to know that that is a complete lie. I’ll let it slide for now because you’ve got to get all beautiful for our dear Lance, but I’m keeping my eye on you.”

“I’m going to ignore that because I need to take a shower. That is your cue to leave.”

Merlin hesitated for a moment, before picking up the broken parts of the hairbrush on his way out. The apparent situation was resolved, but Merlin was sure that whatever was causing her stress would come back to the front of her mind if she saw the broken pieces.

He sat down heavily on the sofa, finally taking the weight off his feet after a long day. He mentally catalogued the successes of the day, the things that went well and that he could be proud of. From the moment he had sat down and his inner monologue had free reign, his thoughts had been drifting into unhelpful territory. He let the soft sounds of the hot water in the pipes and the muffled noise of the street ground him, because what he wanted to do was fix the problems he was unable to control, starting with working out whatever was happening with Gwen.

T: I sat down with one of my friends at my work, and the conversation turned to same-sex marriage. Whilst I did not receive full confirmation of his opinion on homosexuality and the political issues thereof, it had given me pause. There is still a lot of contemplation to be done, but it makes me think that being honest with them is not completely off the table.

And second to that, naturally, was what on earth he was doing with Theo; that was a mess of an entirely different kind. Not one that he was entirely sure he hated being in, but one that was taking up more of his mental energies than it really warranted.

Gwen stepped out of her bedroom, her dress a beautiful signature yellow and a suspiciously large handbag over her shoulder. Merlin smirked a little when he saw it but said nothing.

The doorbell rang at six on the dot, the absolute punctuality of it made Merlin certain that Lance had been standing outside the door for at least five minutes, waiting so as to not seem too obsessively eager. It was utterly adorable. He had no proof of this of course.

“I’ll see you at work tomorrow.” Merlin called as Gwen closed the door quickly, their adorable penguin mating rituals hidden from view.

He sighed as he heard the footsteps retreat, his intention had been to ask for an outside perspective on the whole Theo situation when he arrived home, but naturally that hadn’t happened. The thoughts that were whirling in his head had no outlet, and he considered whether it was even reasonable to be this worked up over what essentially amounted to nothing of importance. His fingers itched to just message Gwen and have her reassure him that he wasn’t completely insane, but he thought to how miserable Gwen had seemed earlier, and how utterly everything in her countenance had changed when she opened the door to Lance, and Merlin couldn’t bring himself to disturb them.

He just didn’t have many friends as close to him as Gwen. Gwaine would always be there to pick up the phone, but didn’t always possess the emotional nuance to give advice on these kinds of matters, Lance was a much better choice, but was the exact person who he was avoiding interrupting on said date with Gwen.

He wasn’t upset that his pool of friends was so small - the reason he didn’t need that many friends was because the ones he did have, he loved so utterly fiercely that it could be almost overwhelming - but when it came to situations like this, he was often left out on a limb.

So, he did what he often did when he couldn’t deal with his own problems; help other people.

M: I’m thinking of recording tonight, just fyi. I’ll send you the files when I’m done, but you don’t need to get them sorted any earlier or anything.

W: Cheers, I’ll do whatever you need, worry not.

Merlin stared at the phone with a strange mix of disbelief and flutterings of shame.

M: Thanks, that means a lot.

M: And you know. You too.

M: If you need anything.

~*~

29.10.2015

Extract from Merlin’s Magical Maladies Podcast - Episode 37, Big Topic #19 Non-denominational Magecraft and Pride.

…When it comes to spontaneous generation, there is always going to be a fear there. People may not even realise why they’re scared. There may be a disbelief that something is happening, or the individual might not even realise what is happening. In a lot of cases, people think that their own acts of magic are mere coincidences.

Spontaneous generation can happen at any age, but realistically it’s going to happen during childhood to teenage years. This is when your body is going to through the most changes, and you have less control over your abilities and therefore they’re prone to surface.

So, what next? There are so many people who find out that they are mages and, all of a sudden, their entire understanding of themselves is turned upside down. They might not have been brought up in the most accepting household and are forced to reconcile with something they can’t change about themselves. Maybe they’ve had open and accepting families in theory but when a mage is a member of the family, the situation becomes strained. Maybe they have a completely happy and accepting family.

In any of these situations, the individual is going to go through a really tough time, there are things to learn, things that you need to do to ensure your own physical and mental wellbeing, and that can be a long road when your closest relatives don’t share your experience. You haven’t been taught how to use your own magic safely and comfortably, so what do you do?

First suggestion: therapy, and lots of it.

I know, therapy is my suggestion for everything, but that’s for a reason. There are people out there who have dedicated their lives to helping you understand yourself and learn how to live with the person you are in a healthy and productive way. No matter your circumstances, being able to accept your new status as a mage is going to be the first thing you need to do. It’s a major shift in your self-perception and it’s okay, not just okay but necessary to have someone you can be candid with.

Second suggestion: go to your closest mageiaological consultant.

Most doctors will have a good grounding in these cases and will be able to give you a lot of advice about how to control your abilities as well as some practical advice about day to day living.

Between those two suggestions, you’ve actually covered most of your bases. The third step is to build a support network, to have people around you who will love you for who you are. That may be simply reaching out to your friends and family, that may be building a whole new network from the ground up, but you will find a way to do it.

Some people find solace in participating in some of the more traditional mage experiences, to find other people who are experiencing magecraft as a celebration, but I wanted to say - because I’ve known plenty of patients who struggle with this - that engaging in mage traditions not necessary if you don’t want it. If it makes you feel like you’re conforming to someone else’s ideals, or if it doesn’t align with your own thoughts and beliefs, then there is absolutely no need for you to turn into someone you’re not. You are allowed to be unique and separate and secular if that is something that is more meaningful to you. People tie their magic closely to their heritage sometimes, but at the risk of excluding others. The same is true in reverse, if you wish to explore becoming part of a mage tradition, then respectfully explore it. You are not an imposter to ask questions to find something that fits you.

You are valid no matter where you go or what you chose. You are part of this community, which is so much larger than any one perspective. You are part of something that is a fundamental truth the world over, and you do not have to explain yourself to anyone…

~*~

Merlin avoided meetings if he could manage it. He was fairly certain that it had not gone unnoticed that he regularly would ‘selflessly’ go and take on the shifts during any important meeting. Generally, meetings were about things that he had no control over, and if there was something important that needed his input, then he would be sent the minutes, there was usually no reason for him to be there. There were some though, like this that just ended up being scheduled in such a way that he couldn’t get out of them. He wasn’t exactly sure who wanted to send him into purgatory, but they wouldn’t be getting breakfast coffee from him any time soon.

In fairness, the topic of the meeting was important, it was about all their CPD hours and recent courses that were available in the coming months. He could understand the vital importance of CPD, had even run a few courses himself in conjunction with the university, but if the hospital administration thought he wasn’t obsessively keeping a track of his own hours then they were sorely mistaken.

Naturally, the meeting really wasn’t directed at him, it was something that everyone needed to do no matter where they were in the hospital, but that didn’t stop him from resenting having to be there. He could have better spent the time being lectured about the importance of CPD actually looking up some local courses.

“Any other business?” the speaker said finally, and Merlin was just about ready to push his chair out and run back to his office, when another person consulted their notes and spoke quickly.

“Just briefly. This won’t affect most of you, but the decision has been made not to replace the clinical governance band 5 position, and instead the department will be slightly restructured to allow for efficiency.”

Gwen’s head snapped up, then she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Merlin could see the way her eyelids twitched. She was going to cry, whatever had happened to her team was bad and she was not coping well with it. Merlin didn’t know what to do, it was clear that she was trying to hide her feelings in front of everyone and she was only luck that not enough people paid attention to the clinical governance department for them to really recognise her or notice what was happening. Merlin noticed though, as she let out a shaky exhale. Before even confirming that the meeting was completely over, she stood and walked out, everyone else following her example, but not seeing that she had essentially stormed out of the meeting.

“Gwen, wait!” Merlin called as he hurried to catch up with her, fortunately she hadn’t gone too far before she had ducked into an alcove to cry. “Shit, Gwen are you okay?” Merlin knew it was a ridiculous question as soon as he had asked it, if there was anyone who was blatantly less okay, he didn’t know it.

“I’ve got contingencies in place for this sort of thing, Merlin.” Gwen said, strangely rote and callous all things considered, “There’s a plan.”

“Can they do that?” Merlin demanded, “Just not hire someone? You can’t take on the work of a whole extra person.”

“Merlin, please.” Gwen whispered, her attempt at being held together quickly dropped, “Just don’t.”

“Did you know this already? Is this why you’ve been so stressed?” He lowered his voice, trying to understand, trying to help and to empathise, but Merlin didn’t know how to help, didn’t know where to throw his weight around to get someone to listen.

“I was prepared for it, yes. I had a hunch about it when they were dragging their feet on sending out the ad. Everything is fine, Merlin.” She said everything was fine, but the silent tears still clinging to her eyelashes told an entirely different story.

“What aren’t you telling me? Please Gwen, tell me how I can help.”

“It’s nothing.” She insisted, with a forced cheerfulness he could read straight through, “Just make sure your paperwork is done on time, I won’t be able to chase you for it until I get this sorted. Now go, you’ve got patients to see.”

“Gwen…”

“Please go.”

Merlin, feeling helpless and wrongfooted, went.

~*~

It was a few days where Merlin had not spoken to Theo, before the other man reached out. Merlin had reached out to Will about the whole situation, and his advice amounted to ‘do whatever works for you’. It was important advice, the sort of advice that he would give to other people in a heartbeat, but it was the kind of advice that required knowing what would work for him, knowing what would be a good idea and knowing when to pull away. Also, Will’s suggestion was to stop stressing out and enjoy it, at least a little bit, and that seemed harder than the first suggestion. It was perhaps the exact same advice as Merlin would have got from Gwaine, but at least it was a second opinion.

He still needed to talk to Gwen about it, the only one who understood Merlin’s multiplicity of issues surrounding the separation of work and home, and the only one who might be able to actually accurately judge whether he was going to ruin that line for himself forever.

~*~

T: I listened to your latest episode.

T: The last Big Topic episode.

T: Thank you.

T: I listened to this week’s AMA of course, but I hadn’t the time available to listen last week.

T: I’m sure it wasn’t for me, there are many individuals who may be questioning their place in the wider community, but it was still important to me. It helped me prepare for some of the hardships that my sister may face.

T: I suppose in some small way, it made it easier to consider my own circumstances.

M: It was for you.

~*~

Merlin’s heart was beating in his throat by the time he managed to send out those four words. He didn’t want Theo to get to wrong idea, or maybe it was exactly the right idea, just one he wasn’t willing to admit to. He was someone who needed Merlin’s help, but there was a large part of himself that needed Theo too. He was only just now, a month into their correspondence, starting to put a name to the feelings he was experiencing.

The three dots on the bottom of the conversation kept flickering on and off, words typed and deleted and typed again for solid minutes at a time, a pattern that Merlin himself understood all too well. He was internally begging Theo to just say what he wanted to say, there were too many thoughts in Merlin’s head, and he couldn’t latch on to any of them with any strength.

T: Can I phone you?

The urge to throw the phone at the wall and retreat into an age when mass communication didn’t exist rocketed through him. He managed to restrain himself long enough to confirm that the message was real and there he was stuck. Theo didn’t even have the benefit of watching the dots, as Merlin was simply frozen staring, until the screen switched itself off and he had to unlock it to stare at the message again.

M: Yeah

Typing out those four letters had been a shaky mess, thank fuck that autocorrect seemed to be able to translate from shaky disaster gay to something resembling an actual human language.

When the phone actually rang, he almost rejected Theo’s call on the assumption that, no, there had to be a mistake. Surely, he hadn’t actually intended to press the button that phoned Merlin. Surely people didn’t actually do things like phone other people, it was only the worse fear of rejecting Theo when he was in his time of need that brought him back to reality.

“Hello?”  Merlin answered timidly

“Hello.” Theo’s voice replied, one single word, but Merlin felt the enormity of it. The warm timbre wrapped in those two syllables, the slight rumble underneath it. Not incredibly deep, but clear and precise.

“Hello,” he said again, before realising it, then worried at his lip. Theo’s bark of laughter caused his cheeks to flush, then he mentally chided himself. He was a thirty-year-old grown man, he should have been able to handle basic forms of spoken communication.

“Tempting as it is, I shan’t say hello again, for fear we’ll end up permanently trapped in a polite loop.”

“You’re as posh when you speak as when you type, I hope you realise.” Merlin commented the first thing that came to mind. It was undeniably true and slid neatly into his mental image of Theo. He couldn’t help but think back through Theo’s messages, those rah vowels blended perfectly into each written word.

“I deny it entirely, I am merely a product of my upbringing.” He laughed, Merlin could learn to love that sound “Unfortunately without seeing your face, I can’t confirm whether you speak in emoji.”

“Oh entirely. I have a collection of props here for every occasion. My interpretative dance skills are second to none.” Merlin collected himself, it was just a conversation with a friend, proceeding the way that any normal conversation should go. “So why did you want to call me? I don’t mind, it’s just that you’ve never really wanted to before.”

“I…” Theo paused, and Merlin let him find the right words, “Listening to your podcast is a comfort to me. It’s akin to having a very reassuring one-sided conversation. I was starting to message you about my sister’s problems, but it was such a long message and I was continuously re-writing and it occurred to me that this didn’t need to be one-sided. I have the opportunity to simply speak to you.”

“You can always talk to me,” Merlin reassured, the warmth of Theo’s voice comforting to him too, “I’m here whenever you need help. What was your question?”

“I imagine it’s forbidden in terms of your insurance and licence, but I wanted to talk more about my sister’s case. I really can’t let a single soul know I’m talking to you about her, and I want more than anything for her to speak to you in person, but even in the best of circumstances she, almost certainly, would never come and see you. I’ve not tried to talk to the family physician since the last time either. I want to ask someone to speak to her about the possibility of spontaneous generation and the like, but he’s not quite like you or her, whilst he trained in magecraft, he’s technically retired from practice, and I don’t know if he would have ever specialised in something like this. I didn’t even know that not every mage was trained until Mor.. my sister’s experiences and I started listening to your podcast. Look, I know it would probably invalidate your medical licence to keep asking you for help like this without paying you. Do you do long distance consultation?” Theo spoke in one unending breath, a sense of fear and trepidation soaking into his words as he continued.

“It’s possible for her to be a patient at the clinic and anonymity is preserved in medical records as always, but long-distance consultation isn’t really done in my department. We’re too specialist and NHS direct is more for small emergencies. Your sister needs a lot more support than that from the sound of it.” Merlin apologised, “I don’t even really do at-home visits.”

Theo was quiet again, sad or frustrated or maybe just thinking, but Merlin couldn’t stand it. He scrambled to find something to say that would cut through the silence, but his brain wasn’t working at full capacity.

“For… security reasons, it wouldn’t be advisable. Whilst I can trust you, if anyone were to see her entering a clinic which was widely known for helping mages, it would be the end for her. I really shouldn’t even tell you more about her, not in a personal background sort of way at least. I could tell you the events as they happened, as those would be private, but I’ve been speaking to you all this time, and I don’t think I’ve ever actually done anything to help her. I’ve still not even approached her personally. I feel like a coward every, every time.”

“Maybe get her to listen to the podcast?” he suggested gently, “Maybe one of the less threatening episodes? It would let her know that you’re supportive, plant the idea in her head. I’m putting the new topic up tomorrow about careers, that’s casual.”

“It’s unlikely, even if she is aware she has magic, that she would open up to me about it. I’m of the opinion that she would even deny such a thing to herself. The idea that I could possibly know this secret would be even worse.” Theo’s breath was uneven and Merlin worried that he might be having an anxiety attack, “If I even suggest it to her she would just deny it as though it were an accusation and then never talk to me about it again. Possibly even never talk to me again at all.” Merlin wanted to reassure him, to tell him that he couldn’t possibly lose his sister over something like this, but he had absolutely no way of actually knowing. “Look, I understand it’s not the wisest idea, and I hope I’m not too forward saying that I feel as though we’ve formed a sort of friendship.” Theo continued.

Merlin felt giddy at the thought of it, friends he could definitely agree to. He had been feeling it from the first moment that he spoke to Theo if he actually admitted it to himself. Even if he continued with his own internal lies that pretended he had been entirely professional in the beginning, he would admit that they had developed beyond the scope of a typical professional relationship some time ago.

“Definitely,” Merlin tried not to sound as breathless as he felt.

“I only hope you continue to see me as such,” Theo replied, smaller somehow, “I know that it may be rather unorthodox, but for the sake of my sister, and to help explain the strangeness of my position, could we possibly meet in person?”

“I’ll wear a red scarf,” Merlin suggested, without any hesitation, the idea of meeting with Theo wasn’t even in question. Stranger danger, and all that, told him to be more careful, but it was such a fleeting thought in his mind.

“You have no idea how utterly appropriate that is. I’ll wear a red shirt; it will be very cinematic.” Theo’s chuckles died, lapsing once again into silence. “Merlin?”

“Yes?”

“Please don’t leave when you see me.” He said with utmost sincerity, “You’ll probably want to, but at least hear me out.”

“What?” Merlin asked, somewhat shocked, “I don’t…”

But Theo had already hung up.

~*~

12.11.2015

Extract from Merlin’s Magical Maladies Podcast - Episode 39, Big Topic #20 Mageiaological studies and careers.

…Well, Ladies and gentlepersons, we’re discussing today careers in magecraft, with a specific focus on medical practice. Joining me today to discuss their experiences are my close friend and colleague Nurse Lance, and my old lecturer and mentor, Professor Gaius. Welcome!

[Gaius] Happy to be here,

[Lance] Likewise,

[Merlin] So I will definitely be talking about my own experiences, but why don’t you introduce yourselves and tell us all a little about how you got into careers in medicine, and what it was that made you chose to specialise in magic.

[G] Greetings, my name is Gaius, and I was been a specialist in mageiaology, medicine and related studies for close to forty years before my retirement. I was interested in the field from a mostly theoretical standpoint at first. There have been many doctors in my family and it was expected from a young age that I would follow the same path, and I didn’t consider anything else, but then when I started to see this relatively new field of specialism developing, I was excited to be on the cutting edge of medical research.

Naturally, medical issues arising from magical incidents had been around for a long time, but only really in the sixties were people seeing that they were best addressed by someone with magical expertise. In previous years, someone suffering from, for example a reaction to a potion, would have been sent to some kind of immunologist, but these days we recognise that such reactions are rarely to do with the actual ingredients themselves, but rather their alchemical interactions with the human body. It was these sorts of puzzles that fascinated me and drove me to pursue a mageiaological specialism.

[M] And we’ll definitely dive into how the discipline has changed over time, however, let’s introduce our next guest first.

[L] Hello, I’m Lance. I decided to be a nurse because it’s the sort of job that really helps people every single day, you get down to the nitty-gritty and actually understand how to care for the patients. You get to see that the patients are real people and that you are helping real lives. People sometimes ask why I wasn’t interested in studying for a doctorate when I went into nursing, but I don’t think my answer has changed: I wasn’t made to be above others, to dictate people’s lives from on high. I was made to be in the mix.

I didn’t decide on my specialism until I met Merlin really,

[M] Don’t, you’ll make me cry.

[L] Well it’s true, I saw you really involved in the equality movements, and the political discussions and the pain you felt when mages were treated as anything less than human and I saw the numbers of nursing students who actually specialised in mageiaological studies and I thought, this is something that matters so much. This is where I need to be.

[M] Shut up and let me hug you…

~*~

“You sounded so surly Lance, that’s really not like you.” Merlin laughed as he sat next to him, listening to the uncut recording of the episode for any notes he wanted to make before he sent it to Will.

“I respect Gaius as a medical professional and when he worked at the hospital, he was an excellent asset to the field, but I can’t separate his current political actions from his legacy. Even his past actions were suspect, I believe that he had his patient’s best interests at heart, but he wasn’t like you. He was always like he lived outside it, like he could separate the actions of his old-boys-network friends from his practice. I know it’s possible to separate work and personal life, but there’s only so much that can be blamed on cognitive dissonance.”

Merlin considered. He knew that Lance’d not kept in contact with Gaius once he had retired in the same way that Merlin had, but he attributed that mostly to the fact that Merlin had seen his professor as somewhat of a grandfatherly figure during his years as a junior doctor, where Lance had no reason to. To Merlin’s face he had been incredibly supportive of the issues surrounding mage rights, and he’d seen Gaius’s reluctance to get too involved as a product of his age and his desire to finish his career peacefully, but Merlin had always thought underneath it all, that Gaius would be on his side of these issues when push came to shove.

But Lance was right, Gaius hadn’t countered the registration proposal at the house of lords, hadn’t fought the battles that he had the ability to fight. Merlin had cut down on communication with the older man because of it. The bitter disappointment he felt was more at his own naivety than particularly directed outwards. He had instead directed his feelings towards his own work, his own campaigns. He had channelled the feeling into the podcast, and political action and his work, but maybe he had let Gaius off lightly.

It was better to have someone of influence supporting you in your corner, but there was a terrible chance that it would seem as though he was supporting Gaius in his. He would talk politics soon; he would make sure everyone knew where he stood and let the battle lines be drawn.

~*~

Merlin hadn’t thought it possible to be so nervous about how to tie a scarf. This way looked too chunky, this way made his face look uneven, this way made it seem like he was having a midlife crisis. Normally he just threw a scarf on, he didn’t particularly see it as something requiring consideration, but there was a silly jittery part of himself that knew that Theo would look at it, that he would be looking out for it. That it would be the way he knew it was Merlin.

He checked the pin that Theo had sent him once again for the sake of his own sanity, it was actually remarkably close to his home, a twenty minute walking distance if that, even less if he was feeling lazy and took the bus. The nervousness he had felt about meeting with Theo had morphed over the past week from something almost like a giddy thrill. If he was going to let himself feel this way, then he was going to enjoy it the best he could.

Of course, there were professional boundaries that he would have to keep, after all this was really about Theo’s sister and her medical needs, but he couldn’t pretend that he wasn’t greatly interested in the chance to meet Theo as well.

The dreary mid-November day was cold in that sort of relentless way that stuck to him. The mild drizzle was omni-directional and made any attempt to use an umbrella completely pointless. His hair, jacket and face were collecting a light coat of rain that was slowly dripping into his scarf which made any earlier attempts to style it equally pointless. A small part of him had contemplated heading back and spending some time searching for a real rain jacket, but he was almost half way there, at which point it was just as easy to keep going as to head back, and the mild inconvenience of it seemed like the kind of thing he would be able to laugh with Theo about when he arrived.

The café was really well hidden, tucked into a little side street along with a lot of other trendy shops, the kind of place where they preferred to get customers through word of mouth because advertising was too mainstream. He hadn’t clocked Theo as the kind of person who was particularly trendy or fashionable in anything, but he supposed that he didn’t know much about him at all. He only hoped that he would get the chance to learn.

I should have recognised his voice a part of his brain berated him, the only shocked response to seeing the solitary customer wearing even a trace of red.

He barely knew what Arthur Pendragon’s voice sounded like, he supposed; The Prince hadn’t given many interviews when he was younger, protected as he was from the attention of the press, and as he got older, any passing news items of him were the kind of short silent B-roll clips that some disinterested news reader made a few sparce comments over. He heard Theo’s voice in his head, and it disintegrated. No longer was it a charming, overeducated lilt, now it had turned into a cloying drawl. Everything about his family and circumstances making so much sense, and yet Merlin’s sympathy was quickly disappearing.

He walked towards Arthur, in halting slow steps. He wasn’t sure what he was going to say, but his feelings must have been plain on his face. Arthur, in his terrible awful red shirt, (pendragon red he thought), hurriedly pushed his chair out and stood to... to what? To greet him? His hand moved as though he might have expected to shake Merlin’s, but surely he knew that Merlin would rather stick his hand in a blender.

“Theo, I presume?” he spat, the betrayal he felt burning so hard that he could barely restrain it. Didn’t understand how he hadn’t turned around and slammed the door already.

“Please, Merlin,” Arthur said softly, sad and quiet, and Merlin hated himself for still hearing Theo in that single word, “You promised to listen.”

“Your uncle would throw me in gaol, or worse if he had the chance. He would drag people like me into the street and set us on fire.”

“I know.” Whispered not Theo.

“Your father was quoted as saying that anyone with magic should be forbidden from marrying ‘normal people’ so that they didn’t infect the population.”

He nodded this time wordless, and Merlin felt that rage swell, and then burst quietly into mere misery.

“And that wasn’t a misquote?” Merlin had to ask, “Not some salacious gossip made up to sell newspapers?”

Arthur seemed surprised that he was actually expected to respond, “Those specific words, I couldn’t say, but it would not be out of keeping with his normal tirades.”

“Well you’re not wrong.” Merlin covered his face with his hands, aware that Arthur intently watching him. He had promised, Theo… Arthur wasn’t wrong about that either. He considered for a moment before speaking again, “You’re sure your sister has some magic though?”

“Yes.” Arthur answered, sounding determined this time, “Well as certain as I can be, maybe you can understand why it’s so important now.”

Don’t presume to know what I think he wanted to snap, but he held his tongue whilst he thought about it, then his brain caught upon that thought. It was well known and widely lamented that Arthur was an only child.

“Wait, sister?” Theo had mentioned the strangeness of his sibling relationship, how it was a sort of open secret, “This isn’t some kind of… trap to try and hurt me or damage my reputation.”

“You could do far more damage to me from the few things I’ve told you than I could ever do to you, even if I wished it, which I sincerely do not. My sister is of great importance to me, and I wouldn’t wish to put her in harm’s way. I do not, for a moment, believe that you are such a person.”

“You don’t know me, or what I’m capable of.”

Theo would have laughed, that thought caught in Merlin’s brain. Arthur did not laugh nor respond.

“So, when you speak of your family physician, you mean Gaius?” Arthur nodded to Merlin’s question, “I don’t know what you know of his practice, but he is more than qualified to deal with your sister’s problems.”

“But he won’t,” Arthur’s voice cracked, “Despite their differences he value’s my father’s opinion too highly, even when they differ. He wouldn’t wish to upset him, he would prefer to pretend that nothing is happening, to suppress the issue. He’s a good man, but…”

Merlin hummed, to hear something like this about Gaius again left a bitter taste in his mouth. “Sit down.” Merlin commanded eventually, and Arthur complied without hesitation. Merlin pulled out a chair opposite Arthur, pushing it as far away as he could without taking up an antisocial amount of space.

“If we are to have any discussion at all right now, it is under the assumption that you’re really here to support your sister, not to try… I don’t know, take her to one of those weird conversion places in America or…”

“I truly understand how that might be a legitimate concern, but I am not my family. I know you have no reason to trust me but…” Arthur stopped talking, as if he hoped his vague reassurances might be enough, “I can understand her circumstances, the pressure to hide herself that she might be under and the physical damage it’s causing her. I can barely stand having to do it myself, but letting her suffer through it as well is antithetical to everything I thought I knew about myself.”

“So, you still haven’t spoken to her about it?” Merlin questioned, “Just in the interests of clarity, who is she? As far as I was aware you were the tragic only child of the Pendragon line.”

Arthur looked around him furtively before speaking, “Erm, do you know of the Lady Morgana?”

“Fuck.” Merlin let out in a breath and Arthur winced, “Okay, so you need some way of getting help for her which involves; one, her recognising, accepting and controlling her magic, two, protecting her from the genuine danger of King Uther and three, keeping her relationship to you a secret? Anything else I’m missing?”

“I think that about sums it up, unfortunately.” Arthur made a sound that could have been mistaken for a laugh, but then cut off into chastised silence.

“All of this is well outside my comfort zone.”

“It’s all equally beyond mine, and a significant part of me didn’t want to come today, but Percy and Leon,” he paused and then clarified, “some of the lads from the Search & Rescue rugby team, the friends I spoke to you about, encouraged me to meet with you. I didn’t fully explain to them the reasons, but they knew enough.”

Merlin was taken aback at the reminder that Theo and Arthur were, indeed, one and the same. The idea that he knew things about this stranger in front of him was disconcerting.

“And you told them that you’re…” Merlin cut himself off glancing around him, the bored looking barista was not paying any attention to the literal royalty in the middle of the café.

“Not quite,” Arthur admitted, “But it was heavily implied, by the end.”

“Look, I’m not going to walk out of here and pretend that I’m not incredibly angry and upset, because I am, and I think I have a right to be,” Merlin could see Arthur start to visibly shrink in on himself  “But it hasn’t changed the fact that I want to help. You’re going to have to give me time to process this, but I think we can at least be professional.”

“That’s all I can ask for.” Arthur agreed easily, and Merlin left him there to his coffee, back into the rain that clung to him from all directions.

~*~

It was later than he expected by the time he returned back to the flat. Though his meeting with ‘Theo’ had run much shorter than he had anticipated, the idea of coming home and sitting with his thoughts was near torturous. The watery winter sun  eventually cut through the drizzle-like fog and so he kept walking as long as it took for his clothes to begin to dry off, just putting one foot in front of the other, not really keeping a track of where he was going until he realised that he knew absolutely none of the orienting landmarks in the area and he was potentially truly lost. He had been tempted to keep walking until he un-lost himself, but Camelot was a big city, and all too easy to get swallowed up by. He dug into his bag to get his phone, and noticed he had messages from Gwen and Will. And Theo.

Would he change the contact in his phone now that he knew the truth? Should he just delete it all together? These were the stupid questions without good answers that had kept him wandering aimlessly around the city. He didn’t even want to open the notifications because he might be able to read the full message that Theo had written and then what? He couldn’t reply, not now. Not yet.

The maps app informed him that he wasn’t actually too far from home still, he had just managed to tangle himself in the middle of a more residential district, and from there he was able to work his way back home. He had assumed, or at least hoped, that he would be able to spend some time considering his options when he got back to his flat. He didn’t feel like he had complete perspective yet, but the emotions weren’t quite as raw as they had been when he first stepped through the doors of the café. He had needed to let that moment pass, and he was happy to do so.

“Where have you been,” Gwen called from somewhere near the back of the flat, he hurried over to find her sitting with bits of paper and charts, as well as two computers and her phone. Her voice was sharp and demanding, “I’ve been looking all over for the notes of… of…”  her breaths were catching and he immediately he could see that she was trying to stop herself from sobbing, just as she had done a in the weeks before when he found her after the general meeting.

“You can’t keep doing this Gwen.” Merlin said, “You’re going to crash if you keep trying to do someone else’s work on top of your own. Surely the rest of your team can do some of this work?”

“It’s too important for them to take on, there can’t be a single mistake in any of this and some of them just don’t have enough experience.” Gwen started rifling through papers again, refusing to meet Merlin’s eye, “So, where were you? I tried to message about the notes, and you didn’t respond.”

Merlin hesitated, unsure about what to say or how to even begin to explain it. “I don’t think I can tell you.”

“Can’t tell me?” Gwen looked up from the papers with concern evident in every feature, “What could you possibly be doing that you couldn’t tell me? You’re never secretive about anything, but you’ve been acting so strangely these past few weeks. What have I done that makes you think you can’t talk to me? I thought I was your best friend…” her words trailed off and the tears she had been fighting started to fall.

“Tit for tat, Gwen.” Merlin said sitting close to her and taking her hand in his. “You need to tell me what’s happening, because you’re hurting yourself right now and I can’t stand it. So, you tell me what’s really happening, and I’ll try and explain what’s happening with me.”

Gwen’s reluctance was palpable, but she could see that it was the final straw that she was hitting up against. “You first,” she insisted, “I need a minute to calm down.”

“Alright,” Merlin agreed, “But as strange as this sounds, promise me you won’t tell Lance, or anyone else. I really seriously could get in trouble if anyone hears this.”

Gwen nodded her agreement instantly, not even needing to consider it, although she looked even more confused than before.

“I’d been talking to someone,” the change read itself on Gwen’s face immediately at those words, but he had to hold her back from jumping to conclusions, “Not in that way, not at first at least. He had been asking for help about his sister. We’d been talking through the podcast, but then we just started chatting. He wanted to meet up today for the first time.”

“That’s good isn’t it?” Gwen questioned, a little more confused now. “I can see why you’d be taking it slowly, but you don’t seem happy about it. What happened? Is he really a parrot or something?”

“I’m going to tell you who it is, because you’re sworn to absolute secrecy…” He breathed deeply, still hardly believing it himself, before he just had to spit it out, “It was Arthur Pendragon.”

He could see that rage build up again behind her eyes, “Don’t make fun of me!”

“I swear on my life Gwen, I’m really not.” He insisted, “I really wish I was, but I wasn’t.”

Gwen considered for a moment, now wide eyed, though the tension wss releasing from her shoulders, “No wonder you were upset.”

Merlin shrugged,

“You said his sister?” she questioned.

“The Lady Morgana, apparently.” Merlin confirmed, “She’s been doing magic spontaneously for a while and he’s worried about her.”

“Fuck.”

“Fuck.” Merlin agreed. “Okay, so now that that’s all clear, what is it that’s actually happening with you? This is more than just being overworked.”

“They’re threatening to close the hospital.” Gwen stated simply and quietly. “Or they haven’t actually done anything yet, but that’s what it boils down to. I was given some pre-warning by Gaius and...” the little control that she had clawed back whilst talking to Merlin was crumbling again, “The NHS is doing a big review of all Camelot’s hospitals and they’re threatening to consolidate. It’s not been said openly, but they… There was a massive budget cut after the recession and they’re now starting to feel with it and I’ve got to put together the case that we are one of the ones that deserve to say open and retain our full staff.”

“Why did you tell me?”

“I had been hoping it wouldn’t come to that,” Gwen admitted, “I had thought that if I could get ahead of this, if I could get the proof together then we wouldn’t even be up for consideration, but part of me is thinking that we are being targeted with this. It’s not a secret that some people think that departments like ours aren’t necessary or they’re too exclusive or… I don’t even know anymore. It was bad enough when I could compile the report in my downtime at work but now, I don’t even have down time and I…”

The sobs were back again, and Merlin had no way to console her, or himself, except to bundle her up in his arms and hope that he could provide some small comfort. He rubbed gentle circles on her back to sooth the hiccoughing sobs and rested his head atop her dark curls, trying not to let his own anger build up.

He wanted to rant and rail and fight, he wanted to share his frustration and anguish and he wanted consolidation. What he really wanted was to talk to Theo.

But Theo didn’t exist, Merlin had lost Theo forever, and he would have to fight this on his own terms.

~*~

It was a few days before Merlin could find the mental wherewithal to call Arthur. The contact in his phone still said Theo and that stung a little, but he could ignore his personal prejudices in favour of helping on a professional level. It still took him several minutes before he was able to actually press the button, but the response was almost immediate before he could talk himself out of it.

“Hello?” that familiar/unfamiliar voice came through the speaker.

“I’m willing to meet to help your sister, but only to help her.

“I completely understand.” Arthur replied instantly, “Anything you need, I just want to help.”

“Are you free on the 27^th? The same café?”

There were a few moments of silence on the other end of the line before there was a barking laugh from the other end of the phone, “I was nodding like an absolute buffoon, but obviously you can’t see that. Yes, any time, whatever you need.”

Merlin couldn’t help the twitch that tugged at the corner of his mouth, “Bring whatever notes you have on her case, and the sooner you can speak to her candidly about your concerns the better.”

“I can do that,”

“See you then,”

“Indeed,” Merlin was ready to hang up, before Arthur spoke once again, “And Merlin, thank you for this. It means more to me that you could ever know.”

When the line went dead, he was still staring at the phone screen, the one that recorded that he had spoken to Theo and thought that perhaps he understood just how much it meant after all.

~*~

By the time the 27^th rolled around it had been the kind of late Autumn that made him hate living in Camelot, where the silent foggy mornings and endlessly grey skies did nothing but wash the buildings into a horrendous monotone that sucked any warmth out of the city. The cold wasn’t exactly biting yet, but the trees that lined the roads dulled to a muddy brown before dumping their leaves on the floor in a mushy sludge. Autumn could be a riot of beautiful red-orange-golden glow, but not in the city.

A part of himself had to admit that it was more than just the city that had put him in this mood. The fog seemed to settle into his brain as well, and the dullness was making every moment not focused on work, turn into a miasmic haze.

Seeing the Little Avalon coffee shop again made Merlin flinch as he walked up to it. He had been so excited the last time and now he only felt a certain level of trepidation.

He wasn’t wearing anything red when he walked in this time, something in him defied the idea that he would be associated with the Pendragons in any way, even though it was definitely cold enough that he should be wearing a scarf, but he would find another one, something bright neon green or robin’s egg blue, just to make a statement about how much he didn’t want to associate with the other colour.

“Any coffee recommendations?” Merlin commented, feigning nonchalance as he set his bag down on the chair, Arthur looked torn between standing up to greet Merlin, or staying seated and remaining more casual.

“I don’t really know; their coffee seems to be acceptable.” Arthur offered,

“That’s surprising, this place was your suggestion, I just assumed that you knew it.”

“Oh, well I just searched for secluded cafes that might be relatively near to your work as I thought it would be more convenient. I’m not generally permitted to be in public without supervision for safety, amongst other considerations. I typically don’t give my custom at an establishment more than once in the event that word gets out and the owners can find themselves overrun.”

What Merlin wanted to tell Arthur, was that his situation was bad, and that he was sorry for him. He wanted to let Arthur know that he would be happy to support him and protect him from the life he had been born into.

“Pretty big-headed of you to assume that anyone would be interested in seeing your ugly mug.” Was what he found himself saying instead.

“I’ll have you know that this ugly mug was voted as the best looking royal.” He said imperiously, but he couldn’t hide that crooked smile. The one that Merlin had seen before in print and on the TV. Sure, he had known that Arthur Pendragon was handsome in that generic sort of way, but it was hidden behind all those layers of media coverage and imperfect 2d renderings.

Seeing Arthur’s smile in person was a completely different experience. There was no other way to describe it; it was utterly charming. He could understand the desire people had to drop to their knees and declare fealty to their King. Uther might have inspired in Merlin nothing but vitriol, but Merlin was starting to see the shape of where Arthur would become his own man.

“It’s not exactly a hard category to get into, all that inbreeding.” Merlin quipped, “Once you’ve removed all the entrants with both eyes on one side of their nose then you’ve got a highly limited field.”

“Merlin,”

“Yes, sire?” he drawled, with a mocking bow,

“Shut up and get your coffee.”

Flicking two fingers up at Arthur as he approached the barista, he couldn’t help but feel as though he should be angrier than this, that he should have held onto his resentment more tightly for fear of letting himself get hurt, but it was too easy to blend the edges of Arthur and Theo together until he saw something beautiful and new. His next best option was to replace all emotions with caffeine.

The small separation from Arthur whilst he waited for his coffee was forcing him to reflect on the situation. On the one hand Merlin had genuinely wanted to help Theo, had been desperate to do whatever he could to help and whilst Arthur had hidden his true identity it was understandable given the circumstances. On the other hand, despite all that Merlin now knew about him, he was still a Pendragon. Everyone who Arthur was closest to was the exact kind of person Merlin had spent his entire adult life railing against.

But Arthur wanted to help.

Part of him thought that it was unfair that this was so easy, that speaking to someone who represented everything he detested was made all the more deplorable by the fact it was not bothering him very much. The thing that was bothering him was his own sense of what this experience should have been like, and the knowledge that he was living an experience, a world of his own, that didn’t fit with those expectations.

He would allow Arthur this much. He would allow Arthur to prove that this was genuine, and that his quest for help was coming from a place of honest compassion and love. He would allow Arthur the space to prove he could be a good person, a better person than his predecessors, and allow him to prove that Merlin’s utter irrational trust of him might be justified.

“Do you have information about your sister?”

“I think in the interests of security it would be more discreet to just use her name in public. If someone hears mention of her name, then it is well known that we are close family friends and that she may naturally be a topic of conversation. However, if I publicly acknowledge that I have a sibling, when my status as an only child is so much of the… lore surrounding me, then that might raise more questions I would be forbidden from answering. Naturally, the ideal is that our conversations remain utterly private, but one must make contingencies.”

“I can make that not a problem.” Merlin stumbled over his words at this reminder of the strangeness of the position he had found himself in, “I mean, it wouldn’t take a lot of effort to stop people from overhearing us.”

“I would have thought two people at a silent table clearly having a spoken conversation would be more conspicuous.”

“Not like that, more subtle, just that our conversation will seem like it’s not worth listening to, no one would hold onto the information because it didn’t matter. If someone was paying attention then they would know it was you, but they wouldn’t think twice of it.”

“Yes then… that would be a… good thing… if you did that. If it’s not too much trouble.”

Arthur’s inability to form sentences gave Merlin a little solace; at least he wasn’t the only one whose thoughts were jumbled. Merlin gave a quick glance around the café, watching his back when performing acts of magic was antithetical to his philosophy of being out and proud, but he could see how - for Arthur - being protected from too much scrutiny would be utterly vital to his continued survival. Merlin abhorred it on so many levels, but there was a level of attention that he was not willing to bring onto himself and therefore on the hospital, if for nothing more than protecting his patients.

Once certain that no-one was paying attention, he allowed himself to focus on making Arthur inconsequential, even though some internal part of him was laughing at the idea of Arthur being anything but a beacon of attention. That was where all his attention was focused after all, it was hard to look away from Arthur, inner anger and disbelief notwithstanding.

It was this close focus on Arthur that allowed him to see that fight or flight response come over him. Merlin didn’t see himself doing magic very often, but he was told that his eyes glowed a particularly bright gold whenever he did, and such an overt symbol of the ‘unnatural’ magic that Merlin could do, led to Arthur’s uncontrollable physical response. He could hear the intake of breath, see how his muscles bunched up in his shoulders and hands, the darkness as Arthur’s pupils dilated threatened to swallow Merlin whole.

“Don’t worry, it won’t hurt you.” Merlin reassured, as he let the spell settle in.

“I wasn’t worried” Arthur tried to protest, but Merlin cut him off quickly,

“No offense, but you’re a terrible liar.” He gathered himself. Professional. He could be professional. Being professional was his profession. “Now that we’re free to talk candidly, give me some sense of what’s been happening. You’ve mentioned things here and there, but I think having a more detailed picture will help.”

Arthur flushed easily but didn’t protest further as he rummaged at his side. The bag strap which he had over his shoulder attached to a small satchel that he was clearly reluctant to let go of. Part of Merlin suspected that bag cost more than his rent, but he wasn’t going to make more judgements than necessary in that moment, he had enough to worry about without considering Arthur’s probably vast personal wealth. Considering what must have been inside it, Arthur was definitely worried about things other than personal monetary gains and losses.

“There are notes in here, some I believe are medical records, although I wouldn’t know what an official medical record was if I saw it, and I was not in a position to obtain clarification. There are other notes in here, a log of various incidents that I believe require more explanation than mere coincidence. After our initial conversations I also started considering any times in the past which I now suspect fall under that same category.”

Merlin took the proffered notes and started to carefully leaf through. There was the sudden shock of recognition seeing Gaius’s handwriting amongst the papers. The notes were highly euphemistic, but he had known the doctor long enough to understand what he meant by it. He had objectively known that Gaius had a long history with the King but having physical evidence in his hands was throwing him in a way he hadn’t anticipated.

In addition to those notes, he could see the far more polished writing of another; Arthur’s. He could tell instantly it must be his, those perfect neat loops connected in the precise way that spoke of a rigorous training. It was a form of writing designed to embellish court documents. It was designed to create the ongoing historical record of a country and its monarchy, but there was something in it, something slow and stilted and unnatural. It was form of writing that Arthur did not find easy to learn, even as he was forced into it. In his mind’s eye Merlin could see stuttering letters and wayward loops, splatters of inks and scratchy errors. A crack of a ruler across the back of hesitant knuckles. How is the boy to rule a country if he is incapable of even learning to write appropriately? A harsh voice, callus and condescending. A young blond boy so desperate to live up to a role so overwhelmingly momentous that it threatened to swallow him whole.

Or maybe that was all Merlin’s overactive imagination. Princes probably weren’t allowed to be physically beaten when they made a mistake were they? No wooden spoon to the back of the knees when caught sneaking around the kitchen. As though Arthur would be allowed to go near anything resembling a kitchen.

Merlin shook his head and refocused. Arthur was watching him expectantly looking for guidance and support, and Merlin had yet to even absorb a single word. He turned back to the files that Gaius had completed. There wasn’t much there to give an indicator of Morgana’s symptoms or experiences, but it was clear from the prescription details - always carefully recorded to prevent accidental toxic interactions - that Gaius was not as ignorant of his charge’s nature as Merlin had naively hoped.

He wished that he had seen these before he had interviewed his old mentor, it would have been the perfect opportunity to question him, and now he was unlikely to see him for a long time. Too long to actually be much help to Arthur or his sister. If he phoned Gaius now there was always too much of a risk that someone could hear him in the first instance, and in the second instance there was too much chance that Merlin would get angry and the older man would entirely cut Merlin off to prevent himself from revealing too much about what he knew.

He read the prescribed remedies twice more for good measure. It still wasn’t a hundred percent certainty that Gaius had surpressed Morgana’s magical tendencies, but it seemed, on the balance of probability, more likely than not.

Merlin sighed deeply, not even having looked at what Arthur had written yet, knowing that it would only add more circumstantial evidence. Nothing here was conclusive, definitive, but with so much circumstantial evidence of such a strong quality, it was hard for him to draw any other conclusion.

“Are you sure you want to know what I think here?” Merlin said, “I know you say you want to help, but there can be a difference between having a suspicion and having that suspicion confirmed.”

“I am more than ready to assist in whatever way I must to ensure that Morgana remains safe and protected. I very much understand that the reputation of my family precedes me but know that I would do anything within my power to help any of my people, and those I care for a hundred times more.”

There was that same flash of feeling Merlin had before when glimpsing Arthur’s writing. Of course a pen felt clumsy in that hand. Arthur did not possess a soul that could sit idle behind a desk lending legitimacy or ceremony to the decisions of others. He was a person who needed to be on the ground, with real human people who needed real solutions to real problems. Arthur didn’t seem built to be a prince, not like this anyway.

“See this here,” Merlin said, pointing down the list of draughts given to Morgana over the past few weeks and months, “This potion is listed as a sleeping aid, but it’s really ineffective. This combination would produce a soporific effect, but it’s generally seen as a side effect, not the main action. It would be hard to tell without seeing the manufacturing process, but this particular draught is useful in supressing magical outbursts. Usually only used under careful prescription, there are some autoimmune diseases and stressors that can cause uncontrollable magic expression.”

Arthur might not have understood all that Merlin was saying, but it was clear from the thunderous look on his face that he understood enough. Whatever it was that Morgana was being given, the fact that they had been peddled as nothing more than something to help her sleep was not to be taken lightly.

“So, when I expressed my concerns to him, he lied to me.” Arthur said, “He wasn’t ignorant of the facts, he simply lied.”

“I can’t guarantee either way,” Merlin tried to console him, “I can’t pretend that I understand Gaius’s inner mind, but you said yourself; she could be in serious trouble if the wrong people found out.”

“It’s immaterial at the moment, I suppose. What’s done is done. What I want to ensure is that it does not keep happening.” Arthur stared at the piece of paper in his hand, as if it might hold the key, as if he would understand everything if he could just stare at it long enough. “Could you put it in writing? A third-party perspective may allow me to broach the subject with her in a way I would normally be prevented from doing. If she knew that her prescription was typically used to supress magic then perhaps…” he trailed off, lapsing into contemplative silence once again.

“Are you sure that’s safe?” Merlin queried after a few moments, “Does she have anyone to support her if this was found out I mean? The more information formally written down the more likely it is that the information could be leaked and if it leaked all hell could break loose.”

“Part of me thinks a public leak would be best, force my father’s hand. I’m not one to encourage a media backlash, but when so much of one’s life is lived by unspoken rules and deciphering double meaning, then one could stand for some brutal honesty.” Arthur shook his head, and Merlin got the feeling he wasn’t talking about Morgana anymore, and his heart broke just that little bit. “Anyway, not my secret to tell, but I think it’s the most transparent evidence to link together Morgana’s symptoms that I’ve seen. If she is self-aware then it will pull back the curtain and if she is repressing her own suspicions then this may bring them to light. I’ve thought of a plethora of ways to broach the subject and all have been left wanting. This is the first instance where something has been felt concrete.”

“Is there anyone else she trusts? Anyone else who you could bring into this conversation that might have her best interests at heart. I know you’ve said family is out, but what about friends, partners, colleagues?” Merlin delicately pushed.

“Leon might know, I suppose.” Arthur contemplated after a moment, swirling his cooling coffee in the base of his cup and staring at the patterns formed by the dregs. “He’s an old friend from Eton, used to play rugby together and joined up with S’n’R when I did so I’d have a friendly face around. His family is a little traditional in the way that most of the Eton lot are, but I never got the impression that he harboured any terrible biases. Whilst there has been no official statement as such, they’ve never even mentioned the subject aloud, but I got the impression that he and she were sort of courting.”

“Courting,” Merlin choked on air, “Are you serious?

“Yes,” Arthur seemed offended, “It’s the 21^st century, Morgana has the right to choose whatever suitor she wants for herself.”

“Suitor!” Merlin couldn’t help but burst into an open cackle, “If that’s what you think is in the 21^st century, you need your watch re-setting.”

“Look, I understand that it may seem very strange to you that our romantic entanglements are so heavily scrutinised, but this is the way of things. We are not placed in positions where ‘dating’ can occur in any casual capacity. So, there may be a limited pool of suitable people available, but she is free to choose – or indeed to not choose – as best meets her own standards.

“Arthur,” Merlin softened, “I wasn’t laughing about being able to choose who to go out with. Having some sense of romantic autonomy is the very last thing I would ever laugh at. It was just your use of language. It put me in mind of a badly written romance novel, that’s all. I swear that’s all it was.”

Arthur let out a quick unconvincing laugh, as though he was now in on the joke and found it funny. Part of Merlin suspected that he just didn’t understand which words were the ones Merlin found humorous and the other part suspected that Arthur’s utter lack of choice in comparison to even Morgana’s limited pool of candidates must have grated on him. Arthur took a sharp inhale of breath, as though to move the conversation along, but then let it go slowly as he closed in on himself.

“You can message me, you know?” Merlin ventured, when Arthur’s silence had stretched on for several minutes.

“Pardon?” Whatever Arthur had expected, this was clearly not it.

“If you need anything,” Merlin clarified, “You haven’t said anything about your own problems since we last met, and I imagine that was for my benefit, so thank you, but I still mean what I said. I want to help, so if you still need help then I’m still here.”

“I…” Arthur took a sip from what must have been his already empty coffee, “Thank you. For everything you’ve done for me. There’s something about you Merlin, I can’t quite put my finger on, but you are truly unlike anyone else I’ve known.”

Merlin found that he himself was also the kind of person who hid his emotions behind the rim of an empty coffee cup. He might have decided against his scarf that day, but it turned out he was sporting enough Pendragon red on his face for the both of them.

He didn’t know the rules of the game he was playing, but he had a terrible feeling that he had already lost.

~*~

Mrs Watkins was becoming more and more of a concern the more days she stayed on the ward. Merlin had been trying to work out what exactly it was that was taken from her that left her mind so susceptible to shutting from even the lightest knock, but the process had been slow. The specific details were evading Merlin and all he could think of was if only one person could give him a starting point, then he would be able to help her that much more quickly, but giving him a starting point did not seem, ultimately, like it was going to go in his favour. That was, of course, until the day that Ms Watkins finally walked through the door.

He hadn’t seen anyone on the visitor’s list, as that fact that he had been utterly unable to find out what happened to his patient clarified, but when the strange woman appeared with a face blank with numbness, but who took defiant steps forward, fiercely brushing away the stares of Merlin to head straight for the elder woman.

“It looks like you have a visitor Mrs Watkins,” Merlin said with a cheerfulness until he saw the state that Mrs Watkins was in, not just catatonic, but starting to seize. Merlin rushed to lay the bed flat and start treating as best he could.

“I need IV Diazepam!” He shouted, hoping that someone was close enough to hear him, though he reached for the nurse call button too, he couldn’t wait on the off chance that someone was nearby, but as he reached for it he found his hand stopped by an invisible barrier. One that was easy enough to push through, which he did, but it brought his attention back to the visitor.

“No-one can see me here.” She said frantically, lowering her hand when she realised how useless her action had been, “Please.”

“Then get then get out or hide behind a curtain, I don’t fucking care.” A nurse jogged in as the unknown girl walked out, halting steps at first, but then all but running away. Though he could hear the distinct sound of her shoes clicking back and forth along the hallway. After that he couldn’t spare her a thought, it was a rush of treatment which felt like hours, though in reality it couldn’t have been more than a minute. Then as the seizure stopped, he, with the help of the nurses, dealt with ensuring she was stable.

“Can you finish up here on your own for a few minutes?” Merlin suddenly got a jittery feeling in his stomach, as though if he didn’t speak to the strange visitor now, then she might leave before Merlin got his answers. “I shouldn’t be more than that.”

The girl was still in the hall, but her pacing was growing more and more hesitant as though she was only a few steps away from following her feet all the way out of the door, never to return.

“I assume that you were there to see Mrs Watkins.” Merlin said, hoping to cut straight to the point and not give her encouragement to make a run for it.

The girl didn’t speak, but she nodded and eventually came to a standstill.

“I also assume that, as you didn’t want to be seen by a nurse in the same room as her, that you would prefer to have this conversation somewhere private?”

She nodded again and followed silently, bar that same clicking of her heels that Merlin heard earlier. It wasn’t until the door of Merlin’s office closed behind them that she spoke again, “I only just found out that she was in the hospital. That happened because of me didn’t it?”

“Almost certainly as a response to your presence,” Merlin agreed, “but that’s not the same as it being your fault. She has strong reactions to anything that makes her think of her ‘grandson’ almost as if there’s a detail she’s been missing. The family resemblance is uncanny, by the way.”

“Thanks, I look like my Nana, that’s definitely what I was going for.”

“Yes, naturally that was exactly what I meant.” Merlin deadpanned, “I also take it that this – the knowledge of who you are vs who you were pretending to be – was the thing that she was made to forget.”

“I didn’t make her forget.” She protested, “She’s my Nana, I didn’t want her to forget me, but she thought it was for the best. She thought it was safer this way. Then my parents… My parents aren’t good people, let’s just leave it at that.”

“So, she forgets who you are but doesn’t forget your existence, the spell doesn’t know how to shut out one without shutting out the other and instead responds by shutting down entirely. Is it likely that your parents will come looking for you? If they come over asking about you what does the hospital need to do to ensure your protection? Is there anything else that might be pertinent?”

“I am never going back to them. I’d rather die. I also don’t want to give you my deadname, if that’s what you’re asking. Mostly because what’s the point of doing all this if my parents can find out what happened from some random Doctor I don’t even know.” He could see her spine straighten and her shoulders pull back defiantly, “and also because I hate it, so fuck you.”

“Does your Grandmother call you by your deadname?”

“Never.” She responded with certainty, “Even when I was really, really young and I asked my Nana to call me by my real name. She did it without question.”

Merlin sighed, that was good and bad in equal parts. “That helps explain our problems here. If your grandmother never thought of you as your assigned identity. Whatever you did in order to remove your real identity from her mind whilst not raising the suspicions of anyone who knew she had a grandchild could only work if she had memories of you where she didn’t think of you as… well. You.”

“Oh,” she replied, a little smaller now and Merlin hated himself for it, this girl deserved to be the opposite of subdued and quiet. “I didn’t know that.”

“Do you know the specific spell that was done? I can protect her thoughts from prying eyes without her having to lose them entirely. Would you be okay with that, or do you want her to forget as well?”

“You can do that?” The girl’s incredulity was tinged by a bubbling of hope, “Because we looked into shielding ourselves, but my family… they’re good at what they do. It’s awful.”

“Well, I’m a doctor, I’m very, very good at what I do.”

“You mean it?” She was beaming then, even as her eyes were still a touch puffy, pride and hope and happiness breaking forth from every corner.

“I’ll need a day.” Merlin said, “Give me the details of the spell, I can undo it all and then rebuild some defences, but I think by the end of the week. You can have your Nana back.”

“Doesn’t sound like something a doctor should do.”

Merlin smiled at that, best not to admit anything aloud even confidentially, it was much better to feign ignorance that way. He thought of it as his job to do what was best for the people who needed his help, he could set his definitions of what that meant.

~*~

The third time that Merlin met with Arthur he wished to discuss the draught that Morgana had been taking and whether it would cause her any long term damage, as well as the risks of coming off the potion after such a prolonged period of usage. The reassurances lasted for all of about ten minutes as he quickly explained that the potion itself was not known to cause significant side effects, even if long term use was not recommended, and that Gaius was, despite it all, a world-renown physician who surely would not allow Morgana to come to harm.

The excuses for meeting with Arthur had already been growing thin by the fourth or fifth time that they met. The meeting was ostensibly to hand back files on Morgana, then inevitably devolved into discussions on pastimes, and the role of sports in society (Merlin approved from a public health perspective, Arthur worshiped at the altar of Rugby) political allegiances, (Merlin a Lib. Dem. in principal, and disillusioned in practice, and Arthur technically not allowed to have an opinion, but didn’t like those currently in power.) and whether the band The Backbeat deserved their rock legend status (Merlin thought they did. Arthur thought wrong.).

Then Arthur gave up the pretence of questions entirely. The standard question of ‘Café tomorrow, I need to [fill in the blank]’ was given up for the far more open ‘Café tomorrow?’

And Merlin had no reason, no excuse. He could not pretend that if he met up with Arthur that he was helping a patient or following his profession or even serving his community at large. He was motivated purely by selfish direction. He was reminded of the terror he had felt in Arthur’s first messages, or the humour that had shone through as they had opened their correspondence, the anger and helplessness that he had felt when he had found out the true identity of ‘Theo’.

Arthur just wanted to meet up because. There was no other answer there. He wanted to meet up. And Merlin was both terrified and elated in a way that wasn’t befitting. He was thirty. An adult for realsies. A professional grown up whose vocation relied on him seeming professional and grown up. All these random uncontrolled displays of emotions and giddy nervousness were not particularly professional, and left him, if anything, feeling like a teenager.

The café was empty as per usual when Merlin had dashed through the door, feeling as though the fog was clinging to his skin. Part of Merlin wondered how Little Avalon possibly managed to stay open with no customers, or if it did a roaring trade with hungover students waiting for morning lectures. A different part of his brain wondered if Arthur somehow left such an enormous tip after each coffee that he could keep this café in business as practically his own private barista. This last thought was perhaps less rational than he was trying to hold himself as, but he was failing miserably.

“You have more callouses on your hands than I expected.” Great. That was a completely rational and adult thing to say to some in greeting.

“Rugby,” Arthur said with a dismissive shrug, although Merlin could see a grin bring gently bitten down, “With the S&R, I mentioned them before?”

“In passing,” Merlin agreed, “They’re the ones you mentioned before right, the friends you’ve made this year whilst doing your service and Leon?” The ones you could trust, he refrained from adding.

Arthur nodded; his easy sprawl made it easier to envision him as some kind of lord of the coffee shop and it took Merlin aback for a second. Of course, in a sense Arthur was lord of the coffee shop. He was, or would be, lord of everything in Albion,

“Your hands aren’t very calloused at all.” Arthur commented in response, his tongue in cheek tone not lost of Merlin,

“I moisturise.” And Arthur’s quick full bellied laugh, head thrown back made Merlin flush to his toes. All this magic through him and he couldn’t control his stupid blush response.

“Have you told them about you yet?” Merlin enquired as he unwound his scarf, a tasteful navy today, and settled into the chair, “About… you know… everything.”

“My… you know... everything?” Arthur repeated,

“You know, most people grow out of copying other people’s sentences by first form normally.”

“Ah, but you forget, I went to an all-boys public school. Where actively trying to tick someone off is practically the language of love.”

“In which case mark me as very flattered.” Merlin tried to tease back, to cover the fact that his pulse was starting to race. “But don’t think I didn’t notice you trying to deflect the question.”

“Not yet,” Arthur admitted, “Not fully anyway, but I am going to do it. Soon. And I sort of mentioned it to Leon again. I was discussing Morgana, just trying to get a feel for how much he suspected and then he said, ‘you can tell me anything, about whatever is going on with you.’ I told him that I knew I could tell him anything, and that I would. He didn’t say anything else, but I’m almost certain that he’s now just waiting for confirmation. I know it’s not much. Nowhere near as brave as saying the words or acting on them, but I...”

“No, it’s good,” Merlin praised, cutting Arthur off from his self-depreciation “That’s not a small thing to do. Now you can be prepared.”

Arthur smiled again at that, a little less openly this time, and more reserved, but still genuine.

“So, go on then,” Merlin encouraged, “Who else from S&R are you thinking of telling? I want a good visual so I can picture who you’re talking about next time you message me about them.”

Arthur took Merlin’s request with far more dedication than perhaps the task deserved, which made Merlin tease him about the appreciation of the male form, which then devolved into long stories of rugby exploits and Merlin’s own awkward sexual awakening and before he knew it, it had been one hour and Merlin had barely touched his coffee. Downing the unpleasantly cold drink before quickly ordering another.

One hour turned into two, turned into three, turned into some not so subtle coughing from the cashier who said that she really needed to lock up in five minutes so if they could finish their drinks and depart the premises it would be greatly appreciated.

“Same time next week?” Arthur ventured as he held the door open for Merlin to pass through, and it gave Merlin pause, he had rushed to get there after work, but really it was the only evening he had open time like this to chat with someone.

“I’ll see you then.”

And so, he saw him the next week.

And the week after that.

And the week after that.

He was so monumentally fucked.

~*~

07.01.2016

Extract from Merlin’s Magical Maladies Podcast - Episode 46, Ask Merlin Anything #23

…Thank you all for your well wishes over this winter and thank you especially for how politely everyone responded to the week’s break I took to spend time with friends and family. Some of you lovely listeners suggested that I should feel free to take breaks more often and not worry about it. Whilst that’s a lovely sentiment that I very much appreciate, I promise that I am in no way struggling to make this podcast.

All you wonderful people with your wonderful thoughtful e-mails make me so happy that I started this podcast, and more than that, the continued conversations I’ve been able to have with people about how they have connected through this show mean so, so much to me. It shows that we are really never alone in our problems, and that you never know who else you might be helping by sharing your questions. Especially when those questions come from such wonderful and thoughtful people such as ‘Jarofspiders’.

“…How do you thank someone who gave you a really, really lovely gift at twelfth night, but who may or may not have some elvish heritage and so is super wary about receiving gifts?”

See, that’s such a lovely thought and such a lovely question. It’s important for all of us, no matter who we are, to openly and clearly respect and appreciate the differences in culture where we see them. It makes for a much richer world and experience for all! Whilst for actual fae folk the act of giving and receiving gifts is a matter of very intricate and powerful magic that becomes invoked, for most people who have a mostly human heritage, the magic is not actually binding, and the rules around gifts are more of a tradition than a requirement. In the same way that, for most fae, lying is impossible, but those of partial fae descent if there is a reaction at all, it’ll be mild and ignorable.

All that being said, you’re completely correct to avoid just assuming that giving a gift to your friend would be well received. It would be better, for example to ‘return the favour’ by doing something for your friend, this idea of ‘clearing the obligation’ is for some fae, an especially important and long held tradition. Speak to your friend and ask what kind of assistance would repay the gift. It may sound blunt to you, or perhaps even tactless, but for someone who is fae, they are far more likely to appreciate the openness of the exchange. Communication is key! Good luck, let us know how it goes.

‘Sadstateofaffairs’ writes, ‘I have a horrible boil that’s been draining for over a week after a reaction to a potion. I’ve been treating it at home as suggested by people on the internet, but I’m starting to get a little concerned. Should I go to the doctor?

Yes. Yes, you should. That’s the simple answer, it can be embarrassing to go to the doctor with little things like this, you can feel like it’s not worth the doctor’s time, but particularly when it’s a reaction to a potion the best course of action is to get professional treatment. Some potions have active ingredients which will inhibit the body’s healing process until properly counteracted. The internet is a wonderful source of information, but unfortunately does not beat seeking advice from an actual medical professional…

~*~

#SaveOurNHS was on every single post on Merlin’s Facebook feed. Maybe it was a sign that he needed to make friends outside his profession, or maybe it was just as bad as he had feared. Either way every few minutes he was compulsively opening his Facebook feed. He barely noticed how he opened a new tab having already typed ‘fac’ before he caught himself and exited out. Then a few moments later he found himself doing it again. His thoughts were coming too fast to catch and analyse. They were tumbling one over the other over the other.

He should have known, Gaius had inside knowledge, and Gwen had already said that she had been preparing all the documents at the hospital to justify their value to the trust. He had locked his phone in his draw in order to stop the compulsive checking of think pieces and media feeds. None of them were giving any value to the conversation, nor did they come up with any concrete information than additional speculation as to how many nurses or doctors would need to have their hours reduced, or be let go entirely, by the new cuts announced.

All of the rhetoric was speculation, including horrible suggestions that the prime minister was just trying to sell off hospitals to private practices to line the pockets of his old-boys network. There was no way to know whether there was any truth to it, and the very thought was making him sick to his stomach. He had been floating around the ward in a daze the entire morning, his mind constantly returning to the problem, whilst simultaneously pushing it to the side. His brain was already putting up fences of no-mans-land around the issue. He wanted to do something. He wanted to do absolutely nothing. He didn’t want to contribute to the noise and let the signal get lost.

There were, surprisingly, only three messages when he finally got back to his office. Most people turning to sharing their thoughts with the entire world to make sure that the issue wasn’t swept to the side.

Will: fuck this noise man. If you want to make an emergency episode to get angry, I will give you a turnaround so quick that the fucking Chancellor’s head will spin.

Theo: I saw the news. If you would like the company of someone who is not directly involved, then I can make myself available post-haste.

Theo: I am probably unable to offer much consolation, but I would like to extend my support.

He replied to Will first, the quick thanks but no thanks feeling so dismissive, but this was something so beyond his world that had been suddenly brought to his front door.

He wouldn’t have even known that there was a budget announcement had the anger of so many people been brought to his attention through Gwen’s strangely resigned anger and Lance’s glum silence.

Arthur, he thought about a little more carefully before replying to, even talking to Arthur about it would still be talking about it, but would that be better anyway? Merlin was still unsure.

M: Actually, can we do something where I don’t have to think at all, or maybe a completely different type of thinking.

Merlin stared at the dots at the bottom of the screen for several minutes before he had to go back onto the ward. Arthur either had a lot to say, or he wasn’t sure how to say it. Either way, Merlin’s mind was conjuring up all sorts of worst-case scenarios that were counterproductive to keeping his mind off the budget cuts, but the quiet ping before he left his office had him turning around to read the message.

T: Maybe, if it’s not too much, you could meet with my sister? Entirely your choice, but maybe a good time?

~*~

After it all, he meets Morgana. It was such a ridiculous thing for her to be the thing that brought Arthur’s status in the world back into sharp relief when a large part of the communication between Merlin and Arthur revolved around his lack of freedom to be himself due to his station in life. The reason Merlin opened up lines of communication with him in the first place was because his struggles with repression and family pressure, but seeing her sitting there held so precisely in her chair, years of royal protocol and etiquette training so ingrained that even the way she stirred a truly obscene amount of sugar into her coffee seemed refined, practiced.

“You must be Merlin,” she said, rising from her chair as though concepts such as straining against the pull of gravity were for mere mortals.

“I am,” he said, taking her proffered hand, being pleasantly surprised by the force of her handshake. The kind that said, ‘Yes, my casual shoes are one-of-a-kind stilettos that cost more than your salary, and I do indeed know fourteen distinct ways to kill you with them’.

“I say that as if it was ever in question. Arthur would hate for me to tell you this, but your photograph is currently the background of his phone. An entirely risky move on his part, but certainly an instructive one.”

“Oh,” Merlin said dumbly, “I didn’t know that.”

“I rather gather that that was the point.” Morgana pointed out, considering the context of their meeting she seemed far too chipper about the whole matter, but he supposed that they were all masters at deflecting where necessary. She was deflecting away from his inevitable questions about her magecraft and he was deflecting from her all too cutting insights on Merlin’s feelings.

“So, magic.” He blurted out, if only to stop her looking at him like that, too callous by half.

Perhaps predictably, there was a tightness forming around Morgana’s lips at the word. She hummed tightly before clearing her throat and then going silent again. Merlin felt the worst kind of awful for it.

“Sorry,” he offered before trying again, “I’m led to believe that you, in some capacity, are a mage. Quite possibly a seer? Did you know yourself, or were you not aware until approached on the subject?”

She seemed to grow imperceptibly angrier at this, “Of course I was aware. Aware enough that something was going on anyway, but there wasn’t much I could do about it. It wasn’t as though I could tell anyone. I would have been quietly disinherited, or worse. I guess I didn’t… I didn’t… I couldn’t acknowledge it full in my own mind, but a part of me always knew what was going on. I think. But it was too much of a risk. Still is too much of a risk to say that I have…” she twisted her fingers in a dark curl, “I still can’t say it.”

“Are you certain now though?” Merlin ventured gently, “Now that you have had some external confirmation do you think that you are a mage?”

Morgana paused; eyes darted across the room before settling back on Merlin. The cup that had been sitting neatly in front of her slowly pushed its way to the centre of the table. There was no mistaking that golden glow in her eyes. Merlin beamed but restrained himself when he saw how much paler Morgana had become.

“When Arthur told me about what the sleeping draught really contained, I stopped taking it. I keep pretending of course, lying to Gaius that I’ve been having dreamless sleep. I pour it down the sink when I get the chance. The dreams are back, and they’re bad. Really bad, as though there is some amorphous horror on the horizon, but it meant I’ve been able to do things like this.” She gestured one perfectly manicured hand at the cup, “As you might imagine I’ve not had much space or time to practice, and whenever I try, I feel such a rush of… horror? I’m not certain that’s the correct word. Either way, I’ve not had much chance to try.”

“I know some people, some very, very good people who would be able to help you through this,” Merlin reassured, handing over a file to Morgana, “both with the practical aspects, and the emotional barriers.”

“You won’t be helping me?” Morgana asked bemusedly as she picked up the file in front of her.

“In good conscience, I can’t take you on as a therapist,” he reached over to flip through the file, “I’d recommend Nimueh for CBT. I will admit there’s no love lost between her and the Pendragons, but she would love nothing more than fucking Uther over and would therefore be the best therapist ever for your case.”

She laughed bitterly at that, “I suppose there’s not much love lost between Pater and anyone in the magic community. I suspect you’re not much of a Pendragon fan either?”

“And I’ll put my best clinical governance officer onto her.” Merlin continued, pretending he hadn’t heard her pointed remark, “No secondary motives when it comes to your care.”

“But why… after all this time why can’t you take it? Arthur told me about how long you’ve been talking to each other.” She hadn’t looked at the page Merlin turned to, nor seemed to register the name Nimueh, he supposed she might not have reason to know who she was.

“Because I’m… or at least there’s a chance that I would become too personally involved. Nimueh works for the university and so she is freer with her cases, despite her potentially less than detached motivations. I’m full NHS and I can’t risk my licence or insurance on your case. I am sorry for it though.”

“Why are you too close. You don’t know me that well. We’ve only just met, and I’m sure we’re perfectly capable of maintaining professional detachment.”

“It’s not you it’s…” Merlin stopped, but he might as well have put everything he was thinking into skywriting.

Morgana on her part looked gleeful, gone was the unsure mage, and back again was the certain and frankly slightly terrifying woman who Merlin saw on his arrival.

“It’s Arthur isn’t it? Oh, to see the look on Pater’s face when he finds that out. Is it official or is it? Not yet?” She guessed, adjusting her assessment in mere milliseconds of Merlin’s stunned silence.

Merlin felt at least he had the good grace to blush. “I hope it will be soon. Perhaps. I take it he’s told you about... his secrets then?”

“No need, just as he could tell my secrets, I could just as easily see his. When we only had each other for company, secrets, real secrets, became a near impossibility. I understood him well enough then, I understand him now.”

“Goodo.” Merlin said, and then felt as though he had an utter lack of anything else to say. He was here to lay out Morgana’s secrets and issues and found himself utterly on the other side of the microscope on the turn of a well fitted heel.

“Do you trust her?” Morgana asked eventually looking at the file on Nimueh, Merlin could see her almost unnatural beauty in that photograph even from across the table.

“I do.”

“You trusted Gaius though,”

Merlin had to nod, “My trust in Gaius is different though, and whilst there is still a lot I would trust him with, I’ve been reserved with my trust over the past few years. Nimueh on the other hand is practically the anti-Gaius in all ways. Good and bad.”

When Arthur walked through the door, Morgana noticed instantly, and Merlin had to wonder whether she knew in the same way that he did: the feeling of having some kind of internal Arthur-radar. Either way, she rose with the same grace and delicacy as she had done earlier, snapping the folder closed and somehow managing it stash it Mary Poppin’s style in her stylish purse.

“Thank you, Merlin.” She said, giving him a parting kiss on the cheek. “I truly wouldn’t be here and ready to do this without your help.”

“Look after him,” she directed now to Arthur in a stage whisper, greeting him similarly, before taking her leave.

“Any idea what that was all about?” Arthur inquired, looking at his sister’s retreating form. Merlin wanted to feign ignorance, to pretend that he didn’t understand her unusual statement, but Merlin felt like perhaps he understood what was happening and perhaps this was the perfect time to take a chance.

He was Arthur’s phone background. Merlin was a master at self-deception and self-depreciation in equal measure, but surely, surely it had to mean something.

“Oh, I was just wondering what was the protocol for starting a courtship with the crown prince of Albion?” Merlin ventured. Hiding his growing grin behind his hand and feeling so certain and uncertain at the same time that his head was spinning.

“Oh, you utter bastard.” Arthur shot out immediately, “I had a speech ready, I had a full list of the pros and cons. I had full P.E.E. paragraphs justifying why this perhaps wasn’t as terrible an idea as I knew it to be, and you ruin that all and get in a cheap shot at my expense. The utter nerve of a mere subject to…”

“Would you feel better about it if you kissed me?”

Arthur gave his best goldfish impression for a good few seconds before he countered with the far-too-late-to-be-smooth response, “Perhaps I could be persuaded.”

In that little dip of Arthur’s lips Merlin put forth his most persuasive arguments, again and again and again. They tasted like coffee and sugar and a little bit like hope.

~*~

Merlin had to switch off the TV. The election hadn’t changed much in terms of which party had ultimate power, but the AUAP getting two full seats in parliament was making his fingers itch to scroll through his phone and find out what that actually meant. It was barely a few weeks since the last budget proposal, and he wondered if this hasty election was in response to the backlash from that. Merlin had only just stopped checking his phone every few minutes trying to judge whether the budget would mean his patients would be in the line of fire, had only just learned to let it go a little bit and rationally sort what was in his control and what was beyond his control, and then all of a sudden here he was all over again feeling as though he were spiralling.

How could anyone in good consciousness voted for them?

But people had, and it didn’t matter what Merlin’s personal morals were, that wouldn’t change the facts. Agravaine and another one of his morally bankrupt lackeys now had an official voice in parliament. Their vitriol and spite could be voiced in a real platform where people would be forced to listen, and those same people would be making decisions that would change the rest of society.

One single second of Agravaine’s smug greasy face beaming over the television talking about how this was a great day for Albion, and how it had shown that there were those willing to keep their country safe for the people made Merlin hurl the remote at the TV. The media seemed to be more interested in the couple of pathetic seats for fascists than the ultimate victors of the election in the first place. Fucking…

His mind was racing with itself, broken thought tumbling after broken thought. His life might not change, the lives of most people would not be affected by this, but he couldn’t help but feel that this was the death of something in Albion. There was some fundamental sickness that had risen to the surface when people like Agravaine could be given even the thinnest veneer of legitimacy. There was nothing he could do, neither member was from his constituency, he could only hope that they would be revealed for the underhanded villains that they were, and that they wouldn’t hold onto those seats for long.

Gwen wasn’t even around for Merlin to complain with, she had been one of the first to signup down at the polling station to be a counter (a job she did for petty cash at university, and then did on and off when she felt that she had something to contribute) and hadn’t yet got back from the long night shift. He saw the deep red marks on the back of his hands before he even realised that he was scratching them. In the same way he barely registered that he had dialled Arthur’s number before he was listening to the strange skeuomorphic sound of the ring tone.

“Hello,” Arthur’s voice was warm and husky, right this minute his father was probably putting together a speech recognising the prime minister and his government as his representatives or whatever the formal language was. Merlin didn’t care that person, the son of a man who still had the divine right to deny the existence of parliament, was not the same as his Arthur.

“Arthur,” Was all he managed to get out before his voice cracked. He wasn’t crying yet, his thoughts still too swirling, his heart a little numb.

“I’ll be there in half an hour.”

“No,” Merlin began to protest, he didn’t know exactly what it was that the Royal family was expected to do on days like parliamentary elections, but he was sure it would be scrutinised, or at least noticed if Arthur wasn’t there. “You should…”

“Just let me do this, Merlin.” He asked, so softly and calmly that it felt like a balm, “I’ll be there really soon.”

He shouldn’t have let Arthur hang up, he shouldn’t have let Arthur come over, there were all sorts of reasons that would rationalise why Arthur had better places to be than with Merlin, but underneath them was the real reason; he felt stupid. He felt like he was overreacting, as though he was wasting Arthur’s time with his trivial nonsense, when these kinds of events were more than just distant political disappointments, and instead became intensely personal and unavoidable duties to attend to. It came down to this; he was not worth Arthur’s time.

Which was in itself stupid. Merlin was a damn good doctor and when he reflected on the work he did he knew that he was contributing a net positive to society in a way that Gwaine or Gwen would say was not matched by the aristocracy, but he had come to see Arthur as far more than that. Arthur was a search and rescue pilot who spent his weekends volunteering coaching rugby at local schools. He was a man who approached Merlin for help, knowing full well that Merlin would, should hate him, but put the needs of his sister before his pride. He was a person who had made Merlin fall utterly in love with him within a few simple exchanges. Arthur was far more than a prince; Arthur was Arthur.

The door rang far earlier than should have been possible if Arthur had followed responsible speed limits, and definitely far sooner than Merlin had been prepared for.

“Sit.” Arthur said, without any greeting, bustling Merlin into the kitchen and turning to his cupboards, pulling things out seemingly at random, but he never opened a cupboard that he didn’t get something from. Arthur knew where all of Merlin’s things were kept, and that shocked him more than anything. Arthur freely admitted that he had never really experienced a normal home kitchen until his stint with S&R, but somehow this now felt like a world that he had always inhabited. Like he was a born resident in Merlin’s life.

Merlin sat, as instructed, and counted out his breaths to keep them slow and even. He was not entirely sure what Arthur was doing, but the gentle clatter and noise was a welcome distraction from the thoughts in his own head. The sounds of someone being alive near him, with him, a deep and sustaining comfort.

“Are you making hot chocolate?” Merlin said after a moment, the smell finally permeating the room.

“Percy showed me,” Arthur brushed off, “he explained that it was the quintessential comfort during winter months, but I confessed to him that I had never made any for myself.”

“I didn’t even know I had cocoa powder.” Merlin questioned, trying to remember any time where he might have impulse bought such a thing. Gwen was more likely to have done, but she was frugal and would have used it regularly over the past few months so as not to waste it.

“When there is distress to be countered, then one must always be prepared with cocoa powder.”

Merlin gaped, and didn’t know what to say that wouldn’t make him sound snivelling in his gratefulness, it was a perfectly rational thing to be grateful, but with Arthur it felt like too much, everything always felt too much with Arthur.

He moved Merlin over to the sofa and covered the two of them with a blanket carefully tucking it around them to make a little cocoon, a little bubble of safety against the world.

“So, now that that’s all settled,” Arthur concluded, his warmth a reassuring presence at Merlin’s side, “what’s gone and made you so upset? Even a few seconds of talking to you made that utterly clear.”

“You didn’t follow the election at all?” Merlin was shocked, he had thought Arthur at least in contact with national politics, but the idea that he hadn’t the faintest idea of what might have upset Merlin was deeply surprising.

Arthur’s discomfort was immediately obvious, squirming nervously in his seat and tapping his fingernails against the handle of the mug.

“I don’t really…” He took a deep gulp of the hot chocolate, perhaps to imbue himself with it’s supposing calm properties, and then spoke again. “There’s no written rule or law that say’s I’m forbidden from having a political allegiance, but it is understood that in my position, I am not allowed to use my power to influence the tide of national politics. That extends to not being able to vote. Technically, legally, I can. I am a citizen of Albion after all, but if I did it would probably end up being a constitutional nightmare. I used to watch politics when I was younger, but I found that my lack of power rendered me miserable. I wait until I am informed through an official palace statement so that the situation has already been mediated for me. A coward’s approach, I’m aware.”

There were a million things that Merlin should have said, the more pastoral approach of assuring Arthur that he was in a difficult situation and protecting his emotional resources was a vital task. He could have taken a political stance and demanded that Arthur is one of the few people in the country who should be barred from being politically illiterate. He could have gotten angry, or sad or bitter.

“Well that’s bollocks.” Merlin eventually settled on.

“Pretty bollocks, yes.”

“The AUAP got two seats.”

“Ah.” Was Arthur’s less than articulate comment.

“I’m surprised your Uncle didn’t crow over his grand victory to you.” Merlin tried to sound casual, but it was hard to keep his feelings light when he truly felt anything but, it wasn’t his fault, Merlin knew that fundamentally, but he felt like there must be someone to blame, and there was no-one else he knew with such a degree of closeness.

“The mere act of being ‘family’ does not exactly mean myself and Agravaine are on speaking terms,” Arthur own reply was far more calm that Merlin’s had been, but even in his state he could see that Arthur had been hurt by the remark.

“Sorry,” Merlin said, leaning more heavily into Arthur’s side, feeling those tense muscles relax “I know. I do know, I promise.”

“I hate it, if that’s any consolation.” Arthur replied, “I hate it all to hell.”

“Surprisingly, it is.”

A kiss brushed against his temple and Merlin could finally give himself space to breathe.

~*~

Thursday night socials at the Rising Sun had been something that Merlin hadn’t exactly been avoiding but he had so few evenings available with Arthur that he hadn’t wanted to waste any time. He was prepared for that knife to fall soon and cut those threads that were holding him up, not because he believed in any way that Arthur might become disinterested, but The Crown Prince, might have other ideas.

Then Arthur would look at him like that, give him that secret smile, and Merlin would be flabbergasted at how Merlin could have ever doubted him. In the same way that he could feel the urgency to help ‘Theo’ when they first spoke, Merlin knew that there was something more linking them. He tried not to put too much weight on those feelings, even the best seers only saw the echoes of possibility, but whenever he felt those pangs of uncertainty, he lent into that feeling.

When Arthur turned up at his door on a Thursday evening, ready to go to their standing date, he anticipated, as per usual, that Arthur would be ready to leave post-haste so as not to attract the attention of any waiting media persons by hanging around the door for too long. Nor had Merlin wanted Arthur to come too much under the scrutiny of Gwen, who, having never met him, was worried about Merlin’s safety in his presence.

She had long since softened on her stance that Arthur himself was something of a danger, and instead was more worried about everything else surrounding him. Whilst for a normal person the worry would not have been unfounded, Merlin knew he was more than capable of looking after himself, and Gwen’s looks of disappointed concern only served to make him feel guilty that he hadn’t allowed her to get to know Arthur for herself.

“Has Gwen already gone?” Arthur asked, shutting the door behind him before leaning in with a soft kiss of greeting.

“She went straight down the pub after work. All the reporting she’s having to do has already been stressing her out, but the new election didn’t bring any of the rollbacks she was hoping for and she’s just as swamped as she was before. I hate that I can’t do anything more about it.”

“Did she tell you all this?” Arthur asked, toeing off his shoes by the door to follow Merlin in, even though he was going to put them straight back on in a matter of minutes.

“Bit’s and pieces,” Merlin replied, “we’ve been trying to be more honest about what we’re feeling, but we haven’t managed to spend much time together recently. She’s spending a lot of her nights with Lance, and I’ve…” he trailed off,

“You’ve been with me.” Arthur finished for him,

“That’s not a bad thing,” Merlin tried to comfort, “I still see them all the time at work, it’s just that everyone has their own thing at the moment, and so we’re not socialising as much as we used to.”

“Such as the Thursday nights.” Arthur inferred, quite correctly, although Merlin desperately hoped that he didn’t take it on too deeply, “Could I…”

“Could you?” Merlin prompted when Arthur in turn went silent

“I don’t want to be an imposition, and I know that much of your isolation has been for my benefit and to protect me, but would you mind awfully if I met your friends? I understand we’ve not been romantically entangled all that long, but I hate to feel like I’m breaking your life into two immiscible halves.”

“Would that be safe?” Merlin had to ask, not just for Arthur, but for his colleagues as well.

“Perhaps not,” Arthur’s shoulders dropped, his gaze averted to the floor.

Merlin definitely couldn’t have that. He lifted Arthur’s chin in his hand, giving him a secure kiss. “I’ve got an idea.”

~*~

Merlin felt himself holding his breath as he walked over the threshold of the Rising Sun, one that he let go as soon as he saw that Nimueh was absent. It wasn’t that he thought she’d say anything, not with so many strangers present, but he would have had the terrible burden of her knowing. There wasn’t a glamour that Merlin tried that she hadn’t been able to see through the cracks of.

Without her there to scrutinise, Merlin felt reasonably confident of what he had managed to achieve in the creation of ‘Theo’. Plenty of people had heard him talk about Theo back before Merlin had known who Arthur truly was, so only Gwen herself would know who was really hidden behind the layers of magic. The glamour was a delicate one, designed to be reasonably undetectable. They might see Arthur, but he would look like someone else, the features wouldn’t stick, nor would they seem surprising. Even Merlin found his gaze start to slide off his boyfriend from time to time.

Theo was a bit of a mystery. He didn’t know exactly what he looked like because underneath it all he knew that Theo was really Arthur, he didn’t really know what other people would see, but he hoped that they didn’t ask him too closely just in case. It seemed as though he was a typical average person, perhaps a little taller than Merlin, perhaps a little shorter (a not entirely inaccurate description), his hair was middling brown to fair, but definitely not blond, and catching his eye was a bit of a difficult task, but they were maybe blue, maybe hazel.

He didn’t want to introduce him to everyone with a big announcement, it brought too much scrutiny and would make people question why they couldn’t look at him directly, better to let other people notice him and introduce Arthur to them slowly. That way no-one else in the pub – whose scruples Merlin knew absolutely zero of – would find themselves paying attention to the fact that they weren’t paying attention.

Lance had an arm slung protectively across the back of Gwen’s seat, her delight and surprise at seeing him emitted through a reasonably high-pitched squeak that was quickly subdued. “You’ve not been out in ages,” she said in greeting, “I was starting to think you’d fallen off the edge of the world.”

“You literally brought me coffee not five hours ago.” Merlin pointed out,

“Doesn’t count. Work Merlin and social Merlin feel like separate people most of the time. Just reassure me that Work Merlin hasn’t taken over completely.”

“No…” if there was a better opening, Merlin didn’t know it, “actually, speaking of. Erm.” He gestured to Arthur at his side, “This is Theo, you know we met through the show.”

“Oh,” she said, looking at him without really looking, the spell was working well enough then, before he saw the recognition in her eyes and she said again, “Oh!”

“We thought it might be good for our social circles to mix a bit,” Theo-Arthur said, and even Arthur’s perfectly plummy tones had dulled a bit.

“A bit of a trial run,” Merlin confirmed.

“Well, Merlin has told me plenty about you, although still not enough for my liking.” She chastised, “I know we’ve met in passing, but it’s different actually getting a chance to sit and talk.”

“I didn’t know you were seeing anyone,” Lance said suddenly, not-angry-just-disappointed face turning Merlin into a guilt-ridden mush.

“It’s new,” Both Merlin and Gwen said at the same time, “I probably should have told you anyway though.” Merlin said by way of an apology.

Lance, beautiful dependable Lance, didn’t make any more comment than that, didn’t chastise Merlin for his silence, even though Merlin felt suitably chastised. “So how did you and Merlin meet?”

The truth was a hard one to explain, so a brief explanation of the barest facts – Theo had been a listener of Merlin’s show and they started communicating – seemed enough to satisfy Lance for now, but he could already see that he wasn’t quite buying what Merlin was selling.

Gwaine barrelling into the conversation was not unexpected, nor entirely unwelcome, his bright boisterous nature was such a great attracter of attention that it meant that people would pay less attention to Theo-Arthur, and therefore less people would see straight through the glamour, as he was certain Gwen probably had by now.

Merlin felt, rather than really saw, the gentle pressure on his knee, a light brushing of fingers that eventually morphed into the still and steady weight of Arthur’s hand in the middle of his thigh, the casual intimacy that Merlin knew he must have been denied his entire life, and Merlin couldn’t help but turn and give Arthur a small intimate kiss. Because no one could tell them not to. Because no-one even cared. Because they were free to do whatever they wanted and love who they wanted.

“So that’s how it is, is it?” Gwaine pined dramatically, “My one true love snatched away from me so coldly, so cruelly, by a handsome stranger?”

“If you don’t want the barman to clear away your drinks you just need to ask.” Arthur-Theo quipped, and whilst Merlin was certain that it brought him Gwaine’s approval, it also definitely brought him far more scrutiny. And after only a few moments of a more considered gaze, his demeanour changed entirely.

It was fine though; more than anything Merlin had been worried that the incident would have caused Arthur to retreat into silence and reservation, but he didn’t move his hand, didn’t back down, and the little circular movements of his thumb were riling Merlin up in a way he had never let himself be in Arthur’s presence before.

It was after a long evening, Gwen informing him that she would spend the night with Lance, that eventually Merlin and Arthur headed back out into the dark.

“Be safe,” Gwaine said with a sly wink as Arthur and Merlin opened the door to slowly wend their way back home, and Merlin ignored the small part of his brain that was certain Gwaine had just referred to Theo as ‘Your Highness’.

~*~

Even though Merlin knew that Theo had been Arthur the whole time at the pub, he still couldn’t help the shot of lust that coursed through him as the guise washed away and left in the wake was a dishevelled and flushed version of his boyfriend. A dishevelled and flushed Arthur who was crowding into Merlin’s personal space, pushing him back against the wall. Teeth and lips traced down the pane of his neck.

A strong hand was finding its way down the flank of Merlin’s thigh and he was trembling with the need for something to happen. Arthur’s strong hand applied pressure under his knee, encouraging to hitch his leg up over his hip.

“What do you want to do?” Merlin whispered into Arthur’s ear.

The weeks leading up to this moment had been chaste, all consuming and romantic, but sexuality was an area that Merlin hadn’t yet been brave enough to broach. Merlin, after all, was coming from a place of sexual expertise. Leaning on his own knowledge and understanding that Arthur’s own might experience be lacking in comparison, made him take his cues from Arthur.

They had talked about it of course, they were adults who knew that sexual intimacy was on the cards, but the consensus had been ‘soon’, and the rest to be determined later.

‘Soon’ was looking more and more like ‘now’.

“I want to make you feel good.”

For Merlin, he could not think of a single thought in his life which he had ever so thoroughly reciprocated as this one.

There was the slamming of the door, and the slamming of the bed, and then nothing but beautiful oblivion.

~*~

08.03.2016

Extract from Merlin’s Magical Maladies Podcast - Episode 55, Big Topic #28: Sexual Health Through Magecraft

…particularly for young mages, we can feel invulnerable to the typical issues that affect others without magic, but no spell can make you invincible. Spells are only effective when properly learned and properly applied. Whilst it can be effective, for example, to apply a spell as a contraceptive, until you are certain of your sexual health status, a contraceptive spell is no substitute for traditional barrier protection.

It might be embarrassing to ask people about it, there’s this assumption that once you reach a certain age you should just somehow have obtained an good working knowledge of all the spells needed for sexual health, and that it’s no longer acceptable to ask. Perhaps in the past people would have had to find out by approaching a friend or a parent, and that’s a good idea, normalising sex and sexuality is a beneficial thing in society, but there are now so many resources out there, good effective resources, that will help you understand the nuances of a spell and how to effectively apply them to yourself and others.

My honest recommendation is practice, practice, practice. Don’t be embarrassed to try the spells on yourself in the comfortably privacy of your own home, and just try it out. Check that it works, because there’s nothing worse than finally deciding that you want to be intimate with someone, and then finding that neither of you know the spells well enough to trust them. 2am walks in the snow to the pharmacy to buy condoms are far more embarrassing than taking the time to understand your body and your magic a little better…

~*~

“Listened to your podcast this week,” Gwaine said, so gleeful that Merlin could almost predict what was going to be said.

Merlin couldn’t help it; it had been written on his face all week just how happy he was with the recent turn of events and Gwaine was the worst kind of perceptive when he wanted to be.

“Very interesting topic,” he said, “very useful indeed. Any particularly reason why you chose that one?” the accompanying wiggle of eyebrows was almost comical in its cartoonish nature, and whilst Merlin was aware he was being ribbed, he was still too… endorphin-y to be upset about it.

“I don’t know I was just inspired.” Merlin said, matching Gwaine’s tone.

“Yes, I suspect it’s quite breath-taking once you’ve climbed Mt. Theo.”

“Definitely a 10/10 Tripstar rating.” He had a lifetime of playing Gwaine’s game, “except it seems to be closed to tourists at the moment.”

“I’ll have to put a pin in it.” Gwaine laughed in return, “So how is the view from the top of the royal cock?”

Merlin couldn’t have supressed his blush, if his life was on the line. “How do you... What are you talking about?” he eventually tried.

“Well, if I wasn’t sure then I’m sure now.”

Merlin couldn’t form words or sentences to even attempt to confirm or deny Gwaine’s suspicions.

“On that note, duty calls.” He gave a quick salute, walking towards the A&E, “Don’t worry, your secret is entirely safe with me.”

Gwaine had already taken several strides before Merlin’s own feet had caught up with him, grabbing him by the hand before finally being able to speak, “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” Gwaine said, squeezing his hand tightly before letting go, “Just let Theo know that he’s welcome back at any time. We like him, don’t worry.”

~*~

“But if he could change the law to name his successor then why bother forging adoption documents?”

“Arthur,”

“And for that matter why not change the law to allow a female to inherit the throne? There’s always been a history of female monarchs. What impression is that sending to the youth of today?”

“Arthur,”

“And for that matter why is the entire plot revolving around preventing his cousin from securing the throne? His cousin seems like a much more suitable candidate, far more politically and socially minded. Their royal family has so much power that they need someone with financial training at the helm. And a coronation at Christmas would be a nightmare to organise.”

“Arthur, you’re missing a fundamental point here.”

“I can hardly believe that I’m missing something in this vapid nonsense.”

“What you’re missing is that no one gives a flying fuck about your opinion on hallmark trash. If you want an accurate documentary on modern royalty, then go wank off in the mirror. Now shut up and cuddle me. It’s going to get too warm to do this soon.”

Arthur pouted, but obliged in wrapping his arms around Merlin and letting the next in the series of strange royal romance films play.

“You know if you’re into voyeurism I wouldn’t object.”

“Hmm. How long did it take you to remember that word?” Merlin teased, “we’ve already gotten through the entire title sequence.”

“I never forget any words of importance; I was merely building a strategy. Any sexual exploration requires careful consideration don’t you think?”

Arthur’s fingers were rubbing under the hem of his shirt, clean blunt nails were skimming his skin teasingly, and the answer to the question ‘don’t you think?’ rapidly became, ‘not at all’.

~*~

“How did you end up invited to this?” Merlin asked Gwaine as he strode alongside Merlin, “I distinctly remember this being about me meeting Arthur’s friends.”

“If Arthur didn’t want us coming along to his rugby match, then he shouldn’t have mentioned it in front of us. That’s just basic etiquette. You would have thought all that royal training and inbreeding would have been for something at least.”

“Please don’t call my boyfriend inbred in front of his only true friends. I will end up kicked off the pitch and then I’ll die alone.”

“The fact that you’ve made this request should be extremely telling, but I will resist telling the truth for now.”

Gwen, linking arms with Merlin on his other side, “They’re definitely not very inbred, not in comparison to other historical lines anyway, and his mother was definitely newly titled.”

“Still more than the average population though, I mean have you seen his teeth.” Gwaine countered.

“Can we stop discussing how inbred my boyfriend may or may not be, particularly leaving his facial features out of it.”

“Don’t worry, his teeth are adorable,” Merlin pulled Gwen along with him a little faster ignoring Gwaine’s comments, whilst secretly agreeing, at least a little. He had always found those miniscule flaws in Arthur’s façade both reassuring and endearing.

“Merlin!” Arthur said loudly, discretion apparently not being an issue with the Search and Rescue team. He wasn’t sure if they knew what Merlin was to him, but they definitely knew that he was gay. As far as any report from Arthur had said, it had been a great success.

Arthur’s already weathered rugby shirt, and the shorts which seemed just on the edge of indecently short, had immediately sucked in all of Merlin’s limited attention. “Merlin this is everyone, everyone this is Merlin.”

Merlin gave an awkward wave, as Arthur went down the line, “This is Leon, Owain, Percy, Ewin and Pellinor.”

“And you’re all on the Search and Rescue team,” the round of nods and affirmations couldn’t make his eyes stray away from Arthur.

“I’ve definitely heard of some of you before,” Gwen took over as gracious guest, serenity and civility washing off her in waves. “Arthur speaks of you very fondly.”

“You must be Gwen,” one of them said, reaching a hand out to shake hers, Owain, Merlin vaguely thought, but was still distracted by Arthur stretching his quads, the thick hard muscles stretching under the skin and making Merlin want to bite his inner thighs until they were red.

“We should warm up,” Arthur said, placing a hand on Merlin’s shoulder, and letting it brush down his arm before walking away. Too out in the open here to risk a kiss, not that Merlin needed it; he was perfectly content with looking.

“Wait,” Gwaine said suddenly, “Percy; Percival, right?”

“Yes, that’s my name, although no-one calls me that really.”

“I thought I remembered you; I’m a paramedic, I was there to pick up a patient who came through Turnham Green a few months ago.”

“I remember,” he said with a sudden spark of recognition in his eyes, “Maybe we can catch up afterwards.”

“Definitely can do.” Merlin was close to impressed that Gwaine managed to wait until the team were out of earshot before announcing, “I want to climb that like a tree.”

Looking out across the pitch, watching the flex of Arthur’s arse as he moved in deep lunges, hands on his hips, Merlin had to agree.

~*~

Gwaine: I think I left my wallet at yours. Free for me to pick it up?

Merlin was wrangling the coffee machine into submission by the time he saw Gwaine’s message. It didn’t really matter what he replied, Gwaine would already be on his way and by the time the smell of coffee had lured Arthur out of bed, the doorbell had sounded.

“You look smug.” Merlin said as he opened the door,

“Let’s just say that all parts of Percy are in excellent proportion.” He preened, “Do you have my wallet?”

“It’s around here somewhere. I was pretty sure I saw it yesterday, but I didn’t even think about it.”

Gwaine hadn’t even acknowledged Arthur’s presence, keeping him silent as he held his coffee in front of him immobile. He had clearly watched the exchange, but nothing betrayed what he was thinking on his face. It was that stillness that made Merlin concerned.

“Do you want coffee?” Merlin ventured, “It’s freshly made.”

“No, don’t worry about it. I’ve got things to be getting on with, so I’ll just see myself out.”

“Okay, see you tomorrow.”

Merlin waved briefly at the closing door, before sitting down with Arthur, letting him make the first move.

“What do you think Gwaine’s intentions are towards Percy?” Arthur said with his concern barely hidden, eyes still fixed on the recently closed door.

“Gwaine is very upfront about his expectations,” Merlin reassured, “He’s not looking for romance, kind of never looking for romance.”

“Upfront about being a… player? Or having commitment issues?” Arthur tested out the word with a wrinkle of his nose.

“No, neither, definitely not. It’s more complicated like… he’s aromantic, but not asexual. He was really concerned about it at university, he thought it must mean that he was fundamentally broken, or a sociopath or something. It took a lot of therapy to work out that was just how he runs. He enjoys sex as a platonic activity but is highly committed to his friends in a completely separate way, and so tends to not want to have sex with them. Even if he teases about it.” Merlin shook his head, “I’m not making it very clear. He’d be able to explain it a lot better than I can. Either way. I can reassure you that whatever he and Percy got up to, Gwaine is heavy on clear and coercion-free consent, and he won’t lie about his long-term intentions. They will have had a positive experience and will probably be great friends afterwards.”

“It won’t ruin the chances of our friends liking each other?”

“Highly unlikely.”

“I just want this to go well.” Arthur admitted, “You and me and all the little details that need to slot into place. I’m always scared about the things that are against us.”

“Our friends will love each other. I swear. You don’t need to worry about anything.”

~*~

Walking through the door and seeing that Gwen’s coat was gone was not an unusual experience these days, her time spent with Lance was starting to grow to the point where he expected her to announce she was moving out any day now. Some part of him was a little saddened by it; he had been so used to having her around that he was at something of a loss without her there, but some small stupid part of him kept thinking about Arthur taking over that space. There was room there in his now empty bed for another person. There was space in his life for an additional set of friends and a new world of possibilities.

He had hardly been sleeping beside Arthur every night, but he had to admit that when he had to go to sleep alone, even in the few months they had been together, Merlin felt as though he was fundamentally missing something when he wasn’t there.

Arthur’s Search and Rescue hoodie, well-worn and cosy was by the bed where he must have left it in the morning. It still smelled of him, the clean scent of his soap lingered, and the temptation to wear it was overwhelming, instead he lay it on the bed next to him, letting the imagining of Arthur filling that space instead lull him to sleep.

~*~

Merlin didn’t even register picking up the phone, hadn’t noted the time except that it was still terribly dark.

“We need all hands on as soon as we can. How soon can you get here?”

~*~

The ward was chaos, that was all there was to it. It was overwhelmed with people in a way that it never had been before. He didn’t even know where to start, the whole of the corridor was filled with paramedics and nurses and doctors pushing patients in to wherever they could find space. He could see Nimueh trying to control someone’s flaring magic, whilst another was stemming the bleeding.

That was everywhere - the bleeding - the smell of blood was permeating every single corner.

He threw his bag in the nearest office space, got scrubbed up as fast as he could and dealt with the nearest trolly he could get to. It was almost impossible to tell what was happening, all he knew was the task at hand. He didn’t even have time to think the questions, let alone ask them.

Assessing injuries was easy here, they were a terrible mix of all the same thing; the tiny thoughtless chunks of metal that ripped through yielding flesh. All he needed was to see how bad it was, what injuries would need more urgent care and what injuries required his quick and careful attentions. There was no way to get patients into operation rooms, they were full. Patients in various states of critical care were being rushed through the doors both in and out.

Triaging here as best as possible, just the closest hospital, the most convenient, but they couldn’t deal with it on their own. They needed more help, more rooms, more doctors and nurses.

He could only deal with what was in front of him. He was dealing with injury after injury. Saving people upon people. Patching up where he could and trying not to feel it too desperately when he couldn’t.

“Dr Emrys,” A young nurse rushed over to get him, “We need your help urgently, ever since he woke up the boy won’t let us near his parents, we can’t assess their injuries and at least one of them is seriously hurt.”

The boy, dark hair and strikingly blue eyes, was indeed hiding his parents, even as Merlin approached, he could see the problem. The boy was silent, but any time anyone tried to get closer, they clutched their heads in pain before backing away.

“I’m Doctor Emrys,” Merlin said, trying to get the attention of the boy from a safe distance before even attempting to get close, ‘Emrys’ he heard it in his mind, hardly the first time he had encountered such abilities, but he was too stressed, too frightened to control it; his voice was like a scream, the sudden knowledge of who the boy was pressed bluntly into his mind and leaving an ache.

“Mordred,” Merlin tried to get through to him, “Mordred we need to help, please we’ve got to help.”

A paramedic collapsed to the floor, and a nurse aid rushed to pull them out of Mordred’s radius, “Dr Emrys,” another nurse, another emergency, another problem that could be solved by him and only him, but he hadn’t even solved this one. His head was starting to swim.

“Go and assist the young lady, my boy.” Merlin could barely believe his ears as he whipped around, “I can deal with young Master Mordred over here, and you can continue with your other patients.”

He hadn’t seen Gaius in his scrubs in such a long time, even before his retirement he had moved away from on ward work, but when it came down to it they were doctors and they had a job to do. When they were needed, they would come running,

And Merlin had a job to do.

~*~

“At least twenty confirmed dead and dozens more critically injured as currently unknown gunmen opened fire at a Beltane festival last night near Camelot. The gathering was mostly pagan in nature and the majority of victims were well known members of the Druid community.…”

Confirmed attack on the Druids, the attackers still out there and the number of injured not even able to be accurately confirmed. He didn’t even have a handle on how much time had passed since he arrived at the hospital, or how many injuries and traumas he had seen to in that time. Merlin was on the brink of collapse; the small and not highly padded armchairs of the staffroom would have to do. His magic had started acting unpredictably from the exhaustion, and if he couldn’t control his magic, then he was of no use to anyone. He had messaged Arthur just to tell him where he was, but couldn’t afford the distraction of seeing if he had replied, especially when there was a good chance that he was and busy as Merlin himself.

He had at least enough presence of mind to text Will and ask him to hold the latest episode of the podcast. His mind was swirling with what he wanted to say and needed to say, but he forced himself into an uneasy sleep.

~*~

03.05.2016

Transcription of from Merlin’s Magical Maladies – The Beltane Attacks

“I had actually had a podcast already recorded for this week’s episode, it was tempting for me to simply be here with my feelings and post the pre-recorded show on the 6^th and make some comment on it for next week, but I know that to some I am a spokesperson for a lot of mage rights, and I would be just as cowardly as any attacker if I didn't use my voice to speak now.

I’ve talked about the multiple heritages of magic that people have, the different religions, the different bloodlines, the different approaches to magecraft, but my message has always been this; that no matter our personal heritage, we are united in magic.

I am not a druid, I do not have any druidic heritage, and I know that my feelings are going to be one tenth of the intensity that some of you might be feeling right now. If you are druidic, you’re probably feeling scared and angry and a million other emotions that you had never needed a name for before… You don’t need me to validate your feelings, but if you are worried about your feelings, then know that you are allowed to feel them. You are not giving into these insane people if you are scared or upset, it makes you human and we as a community will get through this together. You are not weak for feeling this way, I think today we all feel this way.

We hear today that 37 druids lost their lives during the attack. The names and faces of the attackers are on the TV and in the newspapers. I do not wish to look at their faces or remember their names. I do not want the number 37 to be all I remember of the druids who were peacefully worshiping that day. I want to hear the stories that make these people real. The truth behind the numbers. The people who loved them and remember them and who they were in our lives and our communities. If I may, I wish to tell a story...

I have mentioned before that I am of a Dragonborne line, it’s a well-known fact that my father is the Dragon Lord for my family and that his parents came over to Albion during the persecution of the Dragonborne in Europe during World War 2. We hear the vast numbers of Dragonborne who were labelled as Goeteia, lesser mages, unworthy for communing with ‘animals’, baser, or lesser and eventually as vermin. We know these numbers and we become numb to them. We hear that almost an entire generation of the strongest Dragon Lords in Europe disappeared. But that means nothing. Even to say disappeared makes it seem as though it was just a thing that happened, rather than something that was done.

My grandfather told me stories when I was young to remind me that this was not something that happened. That this was something that was done by people to people. He told about arriving as a teenager on the boats, with a single suitcase of personal effects, and a single copy of The Kybha under his arm. His mother had gifted him The Book, which he was supposed to receive when he turned 16, with the fear that they wouldn’t be together when he was supposed to receive his Fah Eyefe, a coming of age ceremony, for those who do not know.

My grandfather was welcome in Camelot at the time. The registration of mages here was not and identification of individuals or their powers or their bloodline, but just a general census. He had started to feel safe, and he had started to feel like he could build a home here and bring his mother and father over to safety.

He had these ideas in his mind, these hopes, and he was living a normal life. He was incredibly young, but he was able to look after himself, he had been given a ration book on arrival and was careful with it. He planned every single meal to make sure he didn’t go hungry. He didn’t waste anything if he could manage it. He had nothing but thrown away pots and containers to grow food in, but he managed to not just provide enough for himself, but pickled and preserved and planned, because he was sure that his family was going to arrive.

The eggs were always his weakness, he had had chickens as a very young boy, and a boiled egg at breakfast was a daily occurrence. When the war came for them, he had no eggs. Even in the freedom and safety that Albion provided, eggs were a scarcity, rationed to one per week, he saved them for binding when cooking, he couldn’t justify wasting his one egg on a single small breakfast. But it was his birthday. He was going to eat it as a nice boiled egg whilst it was still fresh. He held it carefully in his hand all the way home because he didn’t want to risk it smashing in the bag, it was small and fragile, but he was so excited.

My father told me a little of what it feels like to become the Dragon Lord. The rush of power that fills every part of your body, the sudden knowledge of spells and magic and instinct that takes over. The bitter certainty that your predecessor is no longer with you. When my father became Dragon Lord, it was by the side of my grandfather’s bed, holding his hand, waiting for peace to come after a long life well lived.

My grandfather became the Dragon Lord whilst he was walking home on his birthday. The space he had carved out for his family would forever remain empty. The egg that was in his hand dropped to the floor and smashed at his feet. He was stuck there standing frozen, staring at his egg and sobbing. The thing about the Homefront of the war, was that whilst people were fighting tooth and nail to survive, getting what they could where they could, there were still remarkable acts of kindness to be found.

A neighbour lady saw him drop his egg, and his uncontrollable tears. Maybe it was because she didn’t expect boys to cry, it was heavily discouraged at the time, or maybe it was because she could see that his sadness was nothing to do with eggs, but she had a chicken, a reliable layer that gave her one egg a day. So, she never needed to use her egg ration. Looking around to make sure that no-one noticed her generosity and demand their own share, she gave him two eggs in a box that he carried home.

He boiled them and ate them and threw up from sobbing so hard.

Until the day he died, my grandfather hated boiled eggs.

I know one day I will inherit the title of Dragon Lord. I hope that that day isn’t for many years to come, and when it does, I hope I will be prepared and ready. I can’t imagine being a young boy, not even of age, stranded and alone in a country that is not your own and suddenly knowing, for certain, that the last of your family is gone. That you are truly alone in the world.

It’s sometimes the real human stories that make these big events true and real. Numbers mean nothing, 37 means nothing. What means something is the truth. A smashed egg on a pavement. A lifetime of not being able to face boiled eggs.

For some people Beltane will never be the same. It was supposed to be precious and perfect and sacred, and someone decided to take that away.

We need to give that back. We tell our stories and we remember real people not numbers.

I would like to give everyone here a moment of silence to remember...

So, if you would give me some time, I would like to read the names of each and every one of these people. These human beings with real lives who made a real difference in the real world. I hope that you join me in remembering these people

[A pause and a sob can be heard]

In the spirit of this, of recognising that these are not numbers but people, I will speak now. I will not speak the names of the attackers. They are insignificant. They are pathetic. They must be forgotten as they deserve to be forgotten.

We remember those who must never be forgotten.

Amergin Bathal, age 46 – A musician and performer who had led his communities’ spiritual worship for the past thirty years

Colptha Bathal, age 42 – The younger brother or Amergin, he had been gifted with the sight at a young age and used it to save the lives of many during the 1997 forest fire at Dean.

Cerdan Breton, age 38 – A father figure to many in the community, he was a highly skilled mage who followed his vocation of teaching, he trained 113 druids in magecraft during his life, and kept alive a generation of traditions.

Malkin Cthalan, age 13…

~*~

Sitting in a pub on Thursday made Merlin feel sick to his stomach. Like there was some unspoken rule he was breaking, some impossibly tremendous disrespect he was causing, by sitting with his slowly warming beer taking sips only for something to occupy his mouth with when the words would inevitably not come. There were others there too, of course, perhaps more than there had been for quite some time. Perhaps they all felt that need for unity and support - that was the reason that St Caspian's had started up with the Thursday pub nights anyway. Perhaps, like Merlin, they had arrived as an act of defiance. The most colossal of fuck yous to the vermin who thought they could infect the daily life of the magic community. Maybe everyone was just following routine.

It didn't make the beer taste any better, it was reduced to base flavours in his mouth. The bitter and the sour. It just felt like an unenjoyable mess.

The TV, normally on silent in favour of quiet background music, was switched to the 24-hour news channel. Whether out of respect or morbid curiosity, Merlin would never know, but he couldn't take his eyes off it. He wanted to be back in the hospital, dealing with the in-patients. He knew he couldn't, he needed to recharge, and he would be more of a danger to his patients than a help at this stage.

"And now for a special broadcast from the palace."

He sat up irrationally expecting to hear something about Arthur, but as the image of the Pendragon flag waving over the palace changed to Uther's face, that expectation turned to hate. He still was now hugely pulled into the image on screen, couldn't turn away, and he knew that the silence falling over the bar wasn't imagined.

Uther looked like a Dorian portrait of Arthur, the age and cruelness had twisted what must have once been a handsome face. It was still a handsome face if Merlin was honest, but there was no way to hide the hard glint in the eyes. He didn't smile, but nor did any recognisable emotion flash across his face beyond what Merlin could only process as contempt. 

"It is with solemnness that I look at the sad events of this past week. We condemn the violence and asking everyone to work together for a united Albion…"

Merlin was going to throw up. Merlin could feel the bubbling churning his stomach. A barely formed statement into Uther’s speech and he was close to undone.

"Uther is a hypocrite" Nimueh's voice cut through his inner shut down like a knife. "All of the Pendragons and his ilk would have been down there joining in if they'd had the chance."

No, not all of them. Just Uther. Not Morgana. Not Arthur, never Arthur.

M: Are you safe? Please tell me you're still safe.

T: I'm still safe. I'm back on duty in about an hour. The helicopters are being sent out with more frequency to get the infrared scans, check for anyone still on the ground who might need assistance. The ground search has been nearly impossible.

M: I'll let you get ready, sorry.

T: No, I need to talk about someone not talking flight paths.

M: Give me a conversation and I would be happy to talk about absolutely anything else.

T: I love you. I just needed to say.

M: I love you so much. 

~*~

Arthur's chest was pressed against Merlin’s spine, they were both exhausted, but he was so much more content in Arthur arms than he had felt in the last fortnight. He turned over to wrap his arms tight around Arthur, curling his hands over those shifting shoulder blades. He could be small and safe within Arthur's arms. He wasn't fully rested, he couldn't be after so long on his feet, but he felt so much better than he had the nights preceding. Just being close to Arthur was restorative.

It took several more dazed moments before Merlin realised what had woken him. The persistent buzz of the phone next to the bed. Gwen had promised that he wouldn't be brought back in unless there was a real emergency.  

His eyes blurry from sleep, not wanting to wake Arthur he answered the phone without even looking. His heart leapt in his chest as he relived that night. He couldn’t do it again, not so soon.

"Dr Emrys?" Merlin pulled the phone away from his face seeing the unknown number.

"Speaking, who is this?"

"I know your father, my name is Morgause, perhaps you know of me."

"Yes, yes. Hold on." He extracted himself from Arthur's hold, now suddenly fully awake "Hi, yes I know who you are. How can I help?"

“I want to organise a peaceful demonstration and memorial regarding the Beltane Attacks. People, politicians, are already ignoring the fact that this was magically motivated. The community can't let the media wash over this, or we risk those opposing forces seeing the event as a victory for ensuring mage suppression and silence. I'm looking for people who have been directly involved in the aftermath of the attacks. Both with your family ties, your work at the front line of saving lives that night, and your very public platform condemning the attackers, you would be a perfect voice. Would you be interested?”

“Can I think about it?” Merlin found himself answering, “I mean yes, yes I absolutely want to be there and offer my support, but my colleagues and I have been working pretty much non-stop and I can’t leave them understaffed.”

“I understand, but we cannot let this lose momentum. This is the exact sort of event that history has us forget, and when that happens, it gives others permission to repeat those same mistakes.”

“I agree, I’ll be there. Just give me details so I can plan what I’m going to say.”

“As soon as I have confirmation, I’ll send you through a plan.”

~*~

Merlin stared at his laptop in the wake of the phone call, not wanting to go back to bed – he was now too wired for that – but unsure of what to say and exactly how to say it. This would  be vital for others to hear, bit he wasn’t sure what voice he could add that would be any different from any of the other voices that were going to speak, there were already people whose entire lives were built around their voices being heard what was Merlin’s whisper in contrast with that yell?

“Who was on the phone?” A sleep ruffled Arthur walked through the door of the kitchen, normally a sight that Merlin welcomed openly, but he couldn’t even think.

“Morgause,” Merlin said, unsure if that name would even mean anything to Arthur.

“The politician?” Arthur guessed, with some vague recognition.

“She’s more of an activist, the politics are just a platform for the activism, but yeah.”

“Is it normal for her to be phoning you this early in the morning?”

“I’ve never spoken to the woman, but she’s making a memorial demonstration type thing.” Merlin stuttered over the explanation, “I’m honestly not entirely sure of the details yet, but it’s mostly a memorial, to remember those killed at Beltane, and support those who are suffering. She wants me to speak.”

“That’s a wonderful idea,” Arthur agreed, settling in next to Merlin, and once again Merlin was struck with how much he belonged there, belonged as part of Merlin’s life.

“Would you,” Merlin hesitated, but pressed on, it was right for him to ask, “Would you come as well?”

“To Morgause’s memorial?” Arthur’s voice showed his surprise

“Not to give a speech of course, just to be there.”

“I’m really not sure he’ll be allowed to come; I’ve said before that, as a royal, I can’t be shown to have a particular political affiliation. I suspect that father would probably forbid me.”

“Political affiliation?” Merlin baulked at Arthur’s response, “What political affiliation?”

“Well Morgause…” but Arthur trailed off timidly, even the insinuation was making Merlin’s blood boil.

“This isn’t politics! When did human lives become politics! You didn’t stop flying people out of the scene because of politics.”

“That’s not what I meant. You know that’s not what I meant. I merely mean that I can do jobs to help people, but I can’t be seen to support or contradict those in a political stance.

“What about Agravaine?” Merlin spat out,

“What about him?” Arthur was on the defensive now, muscles bunched like a spring.

“You can have Sunday lunches with good old Uncle Fascist, but anything approaching actually condemning attacks on the people of Camelot and whoops that’s suddenly too much?”

“He’s nothing to do with this.” Arthur said, voiced raised, “being related to someone isn’t a political act. Waving a flag at Morgause’s rally is.”

“How can you say that?” Merlin was shouting now too, “The fact that you can even sit there and call it a rally. People fucking died Arthur and you’re too much of a coward to even say that murder is a bad thing? Get out! Just get the fuck out and don’t think about coming back.”

Arthur, struck dumb for a few seconds, stormed out of the kitchen. There was the sound of him walking around the flat, throwing things together, and Merlin couldn’t move. How could Arthur possibly dissociate Agravaine from this? Perhaps Agravainw outwardly denied any responsibility for the attack, but that in itself was telling. Innocent politicians don’t go out of their way to deny their involvement when no-one actually asked them. It is clear that he was the face of it and Arthur wanted to act for even a second that his uncle was possibly a completely separate entity from this entire thing?

The slam of the front door made Merlin flinch. He didn’t try and stop him leaving, just as Arthur didn’t try to persuade Merlin to let him stay. This was how it felt apart, as easy as that.

He fumbled for his phone, dialling Gwen’s number without a second thought. Sick to his stomach he noticed that she wasn’t his most phoned contact anymore.

“Gwen,” Merlin was sobbing already, exhausted, drained and working on too little sleep for too many hours, “I think I just broke up with Arthur.”

~*~

Between Arthur walking out the door and the day of the memorial, Merlin had been walking around in a cloud of anger and confusion and utter misery. He had seen a sock that he didn’t recognise under his bed when finding clothes to put into the wash, and on realising it must have been Arthur’s proceeded to curl into the foetal position and sob for close to twenty full minutes.

He had been thinking of reaching out, of bridging that gap and apologising, after all, though Arthur was older than him by a couple of years, in essence his relationship with Merlin was the first one that Arthur had actually had, perhaps he didn’t know that he could try and fix a relationship that had fallen apart at the seams.

The other part of Merlin refused to think of any such action, Arthur had been clearly in the wrong and the issue was far greater than someone leaving the fridge door open. What had happened was a fundamental clashing of two ideals that were so diametrically opposed that he couldn’t find a way to fix them back together. Arthur’s indifference vs Merlin’s rage, that was far more soul-destroying to Merlin than any vitriol that could have been sent his way.

Still, he had found himself hovering over the call button just as often as the delete contact option.

It made writing his speech, something he agreed to do fully and without reservation mostly out of spite, almost impossible. He was used to talking, he was used to saying important things to people, but this was different. Staring out at a sea of faces was another world in comparison to speaking to a single microphone.

He clutched his speech in one hand and in the other his house key. ‘It’s there in your hand,’ Merlin berated himself eyes refusing to stop darting between the lock and the key. The overwhelming urge to test the key in the lock even though that was stupid, because of course it was the right key, what other key had that chain in it? He stood frozen by the door until Gwen pushed him gently out of the way and shut it for him. He stood there for minutes more. Of course it fit. Of course. Of course. Of course.

So why couldn’t he move?

~*~

“I spent the last two weeks,” Merlin began, “dealing with injuries that were far beyond my specialisation.”

He looked out at the crowd of people, enraptured by whoever was at the front with a microphone. If he told them to jump, or dance, or riot, he knew that they would. He had to get them to do something, use this time well.

“Ours was not a hospital for gunshot wounds. As a hospital our expertise is in helping mages. When there’s been a spell gone wrong, a potion not brewed quite right, the consequences can be dire, but we expect that, we are emotionally and physically prepared to deal with those problems.

“After years of consulting at the hospital, I was not prepared for what I saw coming through those doors in the early hours of the morning. There was so much happening, too much blood, too many people. We didn’t have enough kits to keep stitching up everyone’s wounds with sterile equipment, so we had to prioritise. The screaming child vs the dying adult.

"We didn’t have enough nurses to treat the patients that were bleeding, but where else they could go? The ambulances were back and forth a mess of sirens.

"I have never in my career seen such grace in the face of horror. We look to remember those lost, but also those who were saved, the volunteers and those working unpaid overtime and never stopping, because our people, our community is too important. It is at times like this that we see the priorities of our country. We have hospitals understaffed, underfunded and underappreciated, but here we see those who, despite it all, value the lives of others beyond everything. I was and am so, so proud to see how the community came together. The NHS has always been a point of pride for this country, and now more than ever my colleagues and friends proved themselves.

"In the wake of devastation, let us not forget, when governments casually announce that we can survive on less funding, work more hours for less pay, that we are not a luxury.  Saving lives is not a luxury.  The government has a chance to show that our pride, our faith in our systems, is not misplaced.

"We remember those who died, but do not forget those who will have to live with the trauma, the injuries for their entire lives. We came together in a time of crisis, but the crisis will continue beyond Beltane. It is a slow crisis, which requires sustained support and funding for decades to come. Please observe a moment of silence, for those who were lost, and for those who saved the lives of those left behind."

The silence was thunderous, Merlin closed his eyes to feel it. Let himself just be in that moment, the presence of so many people United for something greater than the sum of their parts. United for Albion.

When he opened his eyes his heart broke whilst it was also elated. He saw, front and centre, the all too recognisable eyes of Morgana. Her open and proud support of her own people, a victory sweet as any Merlin had known, but her presence turned Arthur's words to ash. If Morgana granted do it, then surely Arthur wasn't that much of an exception. He could have been there. He could have let his voice be heard. He had done just as much work behind the scenes as Merlin, why was admitting it such a terrible crime?

Nimueh needed the microphone now. As Merlin had done before, she spoke of the efforts of the hospital, though only briefly as she led the crowd in a meditation where she spoke the names of each soul lost and let them find peace in this earth. 

Merlin was scratching his nail down the crease of the paper on which his speech had been written. All that time worrying about it and it was over already. The repetitive motion was soothing, stopping him from wondering if there was something else that he should have said with his allotted time, something simple and small that he could have overlooked, when the voice changed. A voice he swore he was…

“Thank you so much for allowing me to speak here today.” The crowd was silent, before confused murmuring started, “I am here today, to respect the Search and Rescue teams that flew to help move the victims of this bigotry to the hospitals to get receive the treatments that saved their lives. I…”

Arthur put his notes down, Merlin knew that look, scared and determined all rolled up into one. “I have lived a life where fear of persecution has tainted my expression of myself. I lied to myself and others, constantly due to something I am unable to change about myself. I could not pretend that I would have been as brave as all of the people I see before me if I had been in their shoes. You, the people here, faced the worst of humanity trying to take your voice from you, and you spoke louder, you made every single word heard. You shouted them from every single corner of Albion. I have never felt worthy to stand in front of you, hiding myself as I was when you were so proud, but in the face of your strength, I can only hope to one day be worthy of standing in your presence. To work my entire life in order to be the kind of person you make me want to be.

“I have been granted, through nothing more than an accident of birth, a large position of privilege. It would be the ultimate disrespect for the lives lived and lost if I did not use that position to help others in every way possible. This is why to acknowledge the lives lost, and the care that the victims will need for the coming months and years, I am forming the Beltane trust to support the work in the mageiaological department at St Caspian’s. The trust will turn the money generated from The Prince Estates to support the work done here. To support the magic community, to support our medical departments, to support the pride that is our NHS.

“The work that they have done at the most difficult time of the lives of this community will forever be remembered. Please join me in applauding those who worked tirelessly that day and every day to save the lives of everyone who pass through their doors.”

The applause was as loud as the rumbling crash of an avalanche, but it didn’t hold a candle to the roar of his own heart.

There wasn’t enough space around the demonstration to find a quiet place to call, no one where someone wouldn’t notice Arthur picking up the phone. ‘Theo’s’ contact was still there unchanged, and thankfully undeleted. He was elbowing people, trying to get something akin to privacy and frankly a little air.

Merlin was in tears before the phone was even picked up. He couldn’t get the words out when Arthur finally picked up. The sound was just the sound of the crowd, he had to still be there, Merlin stood on tiptoes as if he might possibly be able to see him across the crowd.

“Did you see it then?” He heard eventually,

“Arthur, you absolute bastard.” Merlin was caught between laughing and sobbing.

“Can you meet at our usual?” Arthur asked, “I suspect that the press might follow me, but at this point my announcement will probably put you in the public spotlight as it is.”

Merlin didn’t even give Arthur an answer before he was running down, it was too loud to hear any response that he might give. “Yes.” He yelled, hoping that he might be heard, ‘Yes I’ll be there, I’ll always be there’ he wanted to say, but all his breath was used to power his legs forward, to run as hard as he was able all the way to Avalon.

~*~

“I suddenly don’t have an unlimited coffee budget anymore,” Arthur said, he was beaming, as teary as Merlin had been, had it really been so short a time since Merlin had last seen him? But he was uncertain, as distant as they had been when they first met when Arthur believed Merlin hated him. Could he possibly believe Merlin still hated him now? “Perhaps we can take turns. Like a normal couple. That is… if … maybe you still wanted to. I know we didn’t leave our last conversation on a good note.”

“What was all this talk of trusts and… was that spur of the moment or?”

“I’ve been thinking about doing something more useful with my stipend than just let it sit gathering dust and making me sick to my stomach.” Arthur pulled out a chair and sat down, and Merlin took the one adjacent, not wanting to keep any more distance between the two of them than necessary.

“Look, I’m well aware that compared to a budget of a large ward like yours, my stipend doesn’t actually make a dent in the costs, but it sets a precedent.” Arthur explained in a rush of words, almost as though he couldn’t control them, “It tells Camelot that this ward needs to stay open. It tells the government that Mageiaological departments have at least some kind of official backing. That you can’t be shut you down. And perhaps… I’m not sure; fill that position that Gwen’s department has been missing. Hire a new nurse so the rota isn’t forcing Lance to take extra hours. Train a junior doctor. Whatever can be covered. Anything I can give you. Anything at all. It’s for you, but it’s not just for you. It’s bigger than any one person.”

“You stupid, beautiful man.”

Merlin had fallen utterly into Arthur’s life, or perhaps Arthur had fallen utterly into his. He had felt, even if for a short time, the utter devastation of Arthur falling out of his life, and he never wanted it to happen ever again. Fingers entwined with his, who had reached out first didn’t matter, but they had healed the cracks that had been showing, and the rest they would put together piece by piece, because now they were creating a brand new story of their own making.

~*~

Extract from Merlin’s Magical Maladies Podcast - Episode 200, Ask Merlin Anything #100 – No really, ask me anything.

…This is from MattSings, ‘since the opening of the new training wing of St Caspian’s, how many new doctors do you have? Does it help you?’ Well Matt, the numbers change depending on time of year and a few other factors, but at the moment we have four junior doctors. I’m always happy to train new professionals, but I’ve been especially excited for the people who are starting to specialise in Mageiaology recently.

There’s been a great push from current graduates who want to explore this field which has been expanding so rapidly. When finding a junior doctor position for our ward, there was a time when there would be almost no primary applicants for these positions, and now we have a massive stack of them!

No name on this one, ‘How did you go about getting a letter of recommendation for medical school?’

Asking for a personal recommendation can be nerve wracking, especially when it can be so hard to find someone to give you a reference that makes you stand out beyond your academic capacities. The best way is to spend time actually helping in a hospital or related environment. Not only does it look great on your C.V., but it helps you find a relevant referee who can vouch for your dedication. Quick example; a young man who has been coming to the ward for quite some time, Mordred, and he has just applied for Medicine and through his work, one of his referees is actually a lecturer at the university.

NewAmericanah writes, ‘Are you going to have Arthur as a guest again? He was funny last time.’ [distant laughter can be heard] Arthur should never be complimented for fear that his head will be come too big for his neck to carry. [Laughter is more distinct] I jest, obviously, Arthur is not really ever a guest on the show, per say, but he is around a lot when I’m recording. Case in point, he is currently waiting for Elyan to pick him up and take him to rugby. I am an utter rugby widow.

[Arthur] Hello all.

There’s your daily dose of Arthur, the next question: ‘As a full-time consultant, how many hours do you find yourself actually working, I find in most jobs that the paid working hours don’t quite match up to the work you end up putting in.’ Unfortunately, not untrue…

[Arthur] You know, we might have some problems with your position as a Doctor. You see, there is no precedent for a royal consort undertaking a full-time job. There must be allowances and regulations put into place to ensure that such duties usually performed are reassigned to appropriate volunteers. Perhaps my sister Morgana could help.

Wait what? Do not say what I think you’re saying...

[Arthur] That entirely depends on what it is you think I could possibly be saying.

No, you don’t get to do this first, I utterly forbid it. You already got a chance to do your dramatic romantic gesture.

[Arthur] a race to see who can propose first is a little unorthodox.

[The microphone has been abandoned, Merlin has already left the room, he will return with a ring. Arthur’s joyous laughter can be heard as clear as a bell.].