Chapter Text
Merlin had long had a problem with letting his mouth speak before his brain could catch up, but until that day he’d never suffered anything that had quite the same consequences, long term, before. Years later, he’d point to that moment and say ‘that’s when everything changed’. Not that he’d ever admit it to anyone.
“We can take him in.”
There was a very sudden silence, and all three of the others – four, if you included the barely-conscious druid boy who refused to speak out loud – turned to stare at him. It took a moment for any of them to properly process what Merlin had suggested. That was good; it gave him time to process it too.
“We’ll do what?” Gaius asked. His left eyebrow, which was always raised, somehow climbed higher up his forehead.
“Take him in,” Merlin repeated, more confidently now that he’d had a few moments. “He can stay in my room. We can treat him there.”
“And how,” Gaius asked, in that tone that meant he thought Merlin was the biggest idiot he’d ever had the pleasure of knowing, “will you explain that to the guards? To Prince Arthur?” He hesitated, then added, “To the king?”
Merlin considered it a moment. “We could say he’s my…cousin.”
“Your cousin,” Gaius repeated, sceptical.
“On my mother’s side.”
For the first time, one of the others spoke; Gwen said, “They do have the same hair?” It sounded more like a question than anything else, but Merlin appreciated that she was trying.
“They have black hair,” Gaius said, “that doesn’t mean it’s the same. Besides, do you not think that perhaps the King will find it suspicious for your ‘cousin’, who exactly matches the description of the druid boy, to arrive just as they’re searching for him?”
“It’s, you know, that thing.” Merlin wracked his brain, trying to remember the phrase he’d read in one of Arthur’s strategy books.
“That thing.”
Gaius was the only person Merlin had ever met who had the art of the judgmental tone down to a science. Except perhaps his mother; she was very good at it too. Possibly genetic, but then why hadn't Merlin inherited it?
“You know, where you make people think that it couldn’t possibly be the thing that they’re looking for, because surely no one thinks they’re that stupid.” Merlin gestured in Morgana’s direction; the Lady looked faintly surprised. “Morgana did it, to trick Arthur into not looking in the one place where the druid boy actually was.”
There was silence for another moment, wherein Gwen and Morgana and Gaius all exchanged looks, and then Gwen said, “I could gather some supplies that he would have brought with him?”
“Perfect,” Merlin said, “I hadn’t even thought of that. What else would we need?”
“Hang on one moment,” Morgana said.
She glanced around, like she thought someone might overhear them in her room. Merlin supposed that they were talking treason, with the King’s ward no less, so she was probably right to be wary. At the very least.
“I know Arthur acts like a fool for the majority of his time, but even I don’t think he would be able to ignore such an obvious trick.”
Merlin raised an eyebrow in a poor imitation of Gaius. “But is it an obvious trick?”
“I think it is,” Gwen said, wincing. “Your very sick cousin turns up in your rooms at the exact same moment that Camelot is looking for a druid boy?”
“Arthur is that stupid, though,” Merlin insisted. “I had to help him put on his socks this morning. His socks. Do you know how stupid you have to be to not be able to put on your own socks?” When no one immediately answered, he did it himself: “Very stupid. Stupid enough to overlook your servant’s cousin visiting for a few weeks.”
“A few weeks?” Gaius said, even more incredulous that before. “You want the boy to stay with us for a few weeks?”
“Well, yes,” Merlin said, confused. Wasn’t he being obvious? “He stays with us for two or three weeks, gets better, makes friends with some people so they’d feel guilty about killing him, then we can take him back to the druids and no one’s any the wiser.”
Another pause. Then:
“I suppose that Arthur would be more reluctant to accuse the boy if he thought it would hurt Merlin,” Morgana offered. “Less likely to let him be thrown in the dungeons, knowing that Merlin would be upset.”
Merlin scrunched his face up. “Probably be more likely to, if it’s my cousin.”
Gwen and Morgana both gave him looks that were far too close to pitying for Merlin’s liking; Gaius just looked exasperated.
“Morgana’s right,” Gwen said, glancing at the boy again. “This is a plan that could work.”
“Emphasis on the ‘could’,” Gaius muttered. He opened his mouth, as if to say something more, then turned to look at the two women. “I need to have a quick talk with Merlin.”
“Oh, of course.” Gwen pushed to her feet, then held out a hand for Morgana to do the same; they moved across the room, to behind the screen.
Gaius immediately leaned in closer to Merlin, his voice turning low and worried. “Merlin, I’m wary of unnecessary scrutiny being placed on you, given—” he glanced in the direction of the others “—everything.”
“I’ll be fine,” Merlin reassured him, not bothering to match the quiet tone that Gaius had taken. “Arthur thinks I’m an idiot who couldn’t commit a crime if he wanted to. Remember when I tried to confess to sorcery to save Gwen?”
There was faint gasp that sounded a lot like Gwen, and then a murmured conversation broke out. Merlin ignored it.
“I do remember,” Gaius said, a little dryly. “If you’re sure about this…”
Seeing his chance, Merlin took it. “I am sure! One hundred percent. It’s far less suspicious than sneaking him out of the castle.”
“I suppose you might be right about that.”
Merlin gasped dramatically. “Did you just say I might be right? I want that on the record.”
Gaius chuckled, some worried line on his face fading. Merlin couldn’t help the relief that surged at Gaius’ agreement. “Don’t be ridiculous, Merlin. You must be hearing things.”
“Says the old man.”
“Says the physician.”
“Are you two done yet?” Merlin turned to see Gwen poking her head around the screen, an eyebrow raised.
Merlin grinned at her and nodded. “Yep. Gaius has agreed to our plan.”
“Your plan,” Gwen corrected teasingly.
“No,” Morgana said. The words were slow and drawn out. “I think…that if this is going to work, then we all need to be fully committed. For that reason, it must be our plan.”
Unable to hid his smile, Merlin nodded again. “Cool.”
“Gwen, you should acquire the supplies that Mordred would have travelled with,” Morgana said, dropping into action mode. “What is our exact story? Merlin, tell us some more about your family?”
“Well…I never knew my father,” Merlin said, “so we should probably stay away from his side. My mother is called Hunith, she raised me in a village in Cenred’s kingdom.”
“Do you have any grandparents? Aunts, or uncles?”
Merlin shook his head. “Nah, I never my grandparents. My mother only has one sibling, and we can't use him.”
“That changes right now,” Morgana told him very seriously. “Your mother had a sister who has a husband and they have a son.” She gestured to the druid boy. “This is him.”
“We could say that she moved away when I was conceived.” Merlin’s face lit up. “’Cause she didn’t want to be known for her bastard nephew. So she moved to another village, with her husband, before I was born.”
He didn’t notice the shock pass across Morgana’s face at his casual referral to himself as a bastard, or the way that Gaius grimaced.
Gwen, who was a little more used to that type of thing, just rolled with it. “Yes, that’s a good story. You never met your aunt or uncle, or their nephew when he was born, but then your uncle…your uncle…died.” Merlin straightened, surprised at the sudden turn. “In a freak accident. And your aunt…she’s struggling to get by, so she finally contacted her sister for the first time in years and now you’re meeting your cousin for the first time.”
“Very imaginative, Gwen,” Morgana praised, a slight smile curling her mouth.
“Thank you, my lady,” Gwen said, dipping her head.
“Bleak, too.”
“Backstory is all very well and good, but Arthur still has a description of the druid boy,” Gaius said. “One that exactly matches Merlin’s ‘cousin’.”
“I can give him some of my clothes,” Merlin suggested. “And maybe fake a letter from my mother? Like the one she wrote for you when I arrived.”
Gaius’ other eyebrow crept up his forehead. “That is…a surprisingly good idea, Merlin.”
“What else can we do?”
All four of them turned to survey the druid boy, who was still barely conscious.
“I could cut his hair,” Gwen said. “Dye it blond?”
Merlin couldn't his gag; Morgana was able to hide her laugh, with a hand over her mouth.
“It would make him look different,” Gwen protested, her cheeks flushing. “Cutting it is definitely needed. And you’re right about the clothes. While I like the cloak, it needs to go.”
“Alright,” Morgana said. “Is everyone aware of their roles?”
Gaius shook his head. “What am I to do?”
“You’re to heal the boy.”
“And your role?” Merlin asked.
Morgana straightened, her back like a board as her face smoothed over. Merlin wasn’t entirely sure if it was a conscious move on her part, or an instinctive reaction to her response: “I will distract Uther and Arthur while you move the boy.”
“We can’t do that now, the whole castle’s crawling with guards and all of them are looking for him.” Gwen pointed to the young druid, her brow creasing with concern.
“There’s a small feast being held tonight,” Morgana said. “You know the one.” Gwen and Gaius both nodded. “The castle guards will be focused on the entertainment, and the rest have already assumed the boy to have escaped the castle; they search mainly in the town.”
“This is our best chance,” Gaius agreed. “Tonight.” He turned to Merlin and Gwen. “Use the servants’ passageways; everyone will be busy serving at the feast or helping in the kitchens.”
“Okay,” Merlin said, letting a smile spread across his face. He looked to the druid boy again, and there was something confused on the boy’s face, so he grinned at him too.
“I thought he would be heavier,” Merlin muttered, mostly to himself.
Gwen, who was holding Mordred’s legs, gave him an irritated look. “We need to keep moving.”
“I know, I know.”
“I’m not sure you do,” she said. The words weren’t malicious, per se, but there was a quiet sadness to them. “The King isn’t…he isn’t fond of sorcerers.”
I know that better than most, Merlin thought. I’ve already seen my people killed by his hand; already helped him do it.
“I may not have grown up here,” he said instead, “but the first thing I saw when I got to the castle was an execution. I’m not…Don’t think I’m taking this lightly, Gwen.”
Gwen looked at him for a moment, and Merlin had the terrifying feeling that she was seeing something in him that he’d promised his mother he would keep hidden, and then she inclined her head. “I remember that one. The son whose mother tried to murder Arthur?”
“Yeah,” Merlin snorted. “Got me my job. I might remember her, just a little bit.”
Gwen huffed a dry laugh, a joyless smile curling at her lips as they continued onwards. No good person liked an execution, and Merlin knew that Gwen was a good person; the fact that she wasn't turning them in for Mordred proved that.
Only a few minutes from Gaius’ rooms, and their relative safety.
“I forgot about that.”
“I haven’t.”
“You wouldn’t have,” Gwen said. “The King himself made you Prince Arthur’s manservant. Not exactly a day you’d forget.”
Merlin chuckled, and the sound was less bitter than he would have liked it to be. Too…warm. Like he was fond of Arthur. He wasn’t. “Not really, no.”
Gwen stopped very suddenly, making Merlin stop too, and he turned around, fearing guards or worse, only to see that they’d reached Gaius’ room.
“We’ve made it,” Gwen said. Something like relief crossed her face, her shoulders relaxing.
“Just need to get him inside now.”
The druid boy let out a faint moan when they shifted him so Merlin could take his full weight, and Merlin winced. The boy had clearly been in pain when he was lifted, and Merlin had never been a fan of hurting other people.
Though he supposed he’d given that philosophy up when he killed someone for the first time.
Not right now, he scolded himself mentally.
“Merlin?”
Blinking back to reality, Merlin saw that Gwen was holding the door open expectantly, and his cheeks heated as he stumbled into the physician’s chambers. Gaius wasn’t there, because Uther expected him to be at the feast, but he’d left out the potion and paste for them to give the druid boy once they got him settled.
“Where’s he going to stay?” Gwen asked, glancing around the tidy room.
Jerking his chin, Merlin tripped across to the staircase and then up into his bedroom. “It’s the only spare bed.”
“Well, that’s going to have to change,” Gwen said as she followed him up the stairs. “If the boy’s going to be staying for three weeks, then he’s got to have somewhere to sleep.”
Merlin half-dropped, half-carefully placed, the boy down on the bed; he let out a pained groan, and Merlin grimaced. “Sorry,” he muttered.
“Here’s Gaius’ medicine.” Gwen held out the two bottles she’d picked up from the table. “Do you know how to apply it?”
“Probably,” Merlin replied, a little absently. He thumbed the cork off one, and sniffed it. “God, that smells awful.” And it did: like rotten eggs wrapped up in mouldy bacon. He looked down at the druid boy. “If I had to drink this, I’d just let the infection take me.”
“Probably?”
“Definitely,” Merlin amended. “Never done this before, hope I never have to again, but I can definitely do it now.”
Using the dropper, he took a small amount from the bottle of bright blue liquid and held it out to the boy’s lips, then squeezed it out. The druid boy’s tongue flickered out, lapping it up, and then he made a face.
His nose scrunched and his forehead creased up; exactly like he’d just tasted rotten eggs wrapped up in mouldy bacon.
“See?” Merlin murmured. “I was right.”
The tiniest hint of laughter flickered in the boy’s eyes, his expression clearing for just a moment, and Merlin saw that as a win.
When he turned back to Gwen, to retrieve the bottle of paste, her expression said she disagreed. A moment later, her words did too.
“Are you sure we shouldn’t wait for Gaius? He said that this part is trickier.”
Merlin glanced through the open door, and to the larger room outside. “I don’t want him to have an infection for any longer than he needs to. For the obvious reasons, obviously, but also because it’s more suspicious.”
Gwen’s eyebrows creased again, her hands moving to clutch together as she bit her lip, but she nodded anyway. “Do it, then.”
“Okay.” Merlin glanced at the boy, just to check that he was fine with it, before rolling up his sleeve.
Once the bandage was off, Merlin could see that the wound looked a lot healthier than it had when he was attempting healing – but that was to be expected now that Gaius was on the job. He opened up the large bottle of grey-green paste, then picked up the brush to liberally smear it across the injury. Better safe than sorry.
Replacing the bandage once he was finished only took a few seconds – that part, at least, he’d grown used to in his five months with Gaius – and then Merlin rolled the sleeve back down and gave a smile to the boy.
“There. All done for now.”
Behind him, Gwen let out a sigh of relief that Merlin felt was too deep to be deserved. “Phew.”
“Stage two, complete.” Merlin pushed to his feet. “What was stage three again?”
“Change his clothes,” Gwen answered. She crossed Merlin’s room in three steps, then reached into his chest of clothes to pull out one of his shirts and a pair of trousers. “I’ll sort this out, you write that letter from your mother.”
Merlin inclined his head before hurrying down the steps to find a clean piece of parchment.
Faking his mother’s handwriting didn’t take much effort, and Merlin managed to a write a letter that was pretty similar to the one his mother had given Gaius, but also included references to the fake aunt and fake dead uncle and fake family controversy.
“What’s that language?”
Gwen startled Merlin, and he almost jumped off the chair; instead of doing that, though, he took a deep breath in before turning to smile at the other servant. “It’s, uh. The language of Essetir.”
“The language of Essetir?” Gwen repeated. She gestured vaguely to the page, a question, and Merlin waved his hand in agreement. Picking the letter up with careful fingers, Gwen’s eyes scanned the page. “I didn’t know you were from Cenred’s kingdom.”
“Yeah.” Merlin tried for a smile; from Gwen’s raised eyebrow, it had come out pretty strangled. “I…am.”
There was silence for a moment, and then Merlin realised that Gwen was waiting for him to say more.
“A little village called Ealdor. There’s about…twenty-five of us there. Them there, I mean.” Merlin winced as he stumbled over the wording; even though he missed very little about village life – just his mother, and Will – it had still been difficult to get used to not living there.
“It sounds lovely,” Gwen told him, her voice soft and smooth and very convincing.
Merlin raised an eyebrow in an imitation of her earlier gesture. “I haven’t told you anything about it.”
Her cheeks flushing slightly, Gwen hurried to say, “They raised you. And you’re…” She cleared her throat, looked down at her feet, “I mean, you’re a good person, Merlin.”
Merlin huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “I try.”
“You’re doing this.” Gwen pointed up the stairs, to the young boy lying on Merlin’s bed. “This is…a massive risk, to you more than any of us, but you’re doing this because you think it’s safest for the boy. That makes you a good person.”
“I wouldn’t say it’s more of a risk to me,” Merlin said, frowning. “We’re in Gaius’ chambers, I’m honestly more worried about him, and both you and Morgana are doing a lot.”
Gwen shook her head. “If we’re caught, Uther won’t have evidence against me, and he won’t lay a finger on Morgana. Gaius has lived here a long time, and a lot of people are fond of him. You would be a perfect scapegoat.”
“Well, that’s fun,” Merlin muttered under his breath.
“I’m sorry, I thought you knew the risk you were taking,” Gwen said, twisting her hands in her skirt.
Merlin waved her concern away. “Don’t worry, it’s not like he can kill me twice. I already knew what the consequences will be if I get caught.”
“If you’re sure…” Gwen glanced down at the letter, before carefully setting it back down in front of Merlin. “It’s a pretty language,” she offered.
Merlin smiled down at the table. “It’s not.”
“Oh.”
“But it’s my own,” Merlin continued. “Most people in my village can speak both common and this one, but…they’re all fierce in defending their right to speak this one.”
Gwen smiled too, laughter tugging at the corners of her mouth. “They sound like lovely people.”
“They aren’t,” Merlin said fondly. “Even though it’s dying out, and everyone speaks common, we call this one ours.”
“I’d love to go there sometime,” Gwen said.
Merlin didn’t say anything more, just staring down at the familiarly-shaped letters. He’d had no reason to write in this language, because his mother knew both, but…he’d chosen this one. Maybe he was feeling home sick.
“We should move on to stage five,” Gwen said.
“Oh?” Merlin craned his neck to get a proper look at the boy. “You finished stage three?” Sure enough, he could make out the red of one of his shirts around the boy’s neck.
“Yep, and you’ve done stage four, so now we need to cut his hair. Where do you keep your scissors?”
Getting to his feet, Merlin moved to the cabinet of tools and crouched down to peer inside. It was getting dark. They’d probably need to light some candles soon. “Right…here!” Triumphant, he pulled out the rust-speckled scissors that Gaius had used to cut Merlin’s own hair a few weeks before.
“Those?” Gwen was giving the scissors a wary look.
“Yeah, is there something wrong?” Merlin asked, passing them to her as he leapt up the stairs to his room.
“No, no,” Gwen quickly said, but when Merlin glanced back, she was still staring down at the scissors. “Just…don’t you have any other pairs?”
Merlin shook his head. “Not for hair-cutting.”
“Oh,” Gwen said, “okay.” She slowly entered the room, going step-by-step, and Merlin couldn’t help but think she looked a little regal. “Well, I’ll use what you’ve got.”
The druid boy, now dressed in an oversized shirt of Merlin’s, eyed the scissors in Gwen’s hands a little warily.
“We were planning to cut your hair,” Merlin told him, softening his voice. “Is that okay?”
The boy’s gaze flickered to Merlin, and their eyes met for just a second, and then a voice sounded in his head.
‘Yes.’
Merlin grinned at him. “Great! We just need to turn you around, and then Gwen can cut your hair.”
Biting his lip, the boy glanced back to Gwen, before very, very slowly shifting forward until there was enough space for her to comfortably settle in behind him.
“Thank you,” Gwen said quietly as she took a seat and then got to work.
Silence reigned for a while, only broken by the squeaking of Gaius’ old scissors, as Gwen got to work.
“That’s great,” Merlin told her once the boy’s hair was cropped short, barely longer than half an inch.
Gwen shook her head, dissatisfied. “It’s uneven.”
“It doesn’t need to be perfect.”
Wearing an annoyed look, Gwen told Merlin, “No mother would let her son roam around Camelot with a messy haircut.”
Merlin pulled a face that said he very much doubted that. “Wouldn’t they?”
“No.” Gwen rolled her eyes. “They wouldn’t.”
“Then I don’t think Gilfred’s mother got the message.”
Gwen snorted before she could help herself, pressing her lips together to try and suppress her giggles as she reached over to gently whack Merlin’s arm. “Merlin!”
“What?” Merlin asked, laughing. “Don’t tell me you haven’t seen what he did to himself.”
Her shoulders shaking with barely restrained laughter, Gwen managed to get out, “Don’t be mean.”
“He shouldn’t be allowed near a blade,” Merlin continued.
“It would be difficult to defend his king without his sword.”
“Eh,” Merlin shrugged. “The kingdom’s eyes are at stake, I’m sure they can manage.”
“You,” Gwen told him, her eyes dancing with laughter and her hands struggling to stay still, “are a terrible, terrible person.”
She grinned at him; Merlin grinned back, before glancing down at the druid he had promised to look after.
There was an ever so slight smile gracing his mouth, something relaxing around his eyes.
‘Emrys,’ a voice murmured in his mind, and Merlin’s smile fell away.
“Yes? What’s wrong?” he immediately asked. Across from him, unable to see the boy’s face, Gwen stiffened, her own laughter fading too.
‘Who’s Gilfred?’ The boy’s expression was innocent, and his eyes were wide, and Merlin couldn’t help but feel bad that they hadn’t explained the joke.
“Gilfred’s one of the Knights,” he said gently. “He’s not the nicest man, and he recently gave himself the worst haircut in the whole of Camelot.”
‘Oh,’ the boy murmured, before a smile flickered across his face. It only lasted a moment, and it was tired and worn, but pride flooded through Merlin regardless.
The next morning, Merlin was woken from his place on the floor by a knocking on his door. He scrambled to his feet, noticing the way the druid bolted upright in his bed, and hurried over to the door.
It was Morgana, Gwen a few paces behind her, with an incredibly relieved expression on her face.
“Gwen told me you had managed it, but I wasn’t entirely sure if I could believe her until now.” Morgana gave Merlin a smile, patting his shoulder, before she brushed past him to check on the druid boy.
He looked even healthier than before. The bags were mostly gone from under his eyes, and sweat was no longer covering his forehead, and his skin was more peach than yellow.
“How are you feeling?” Morgana asked the boy, quietly, as though she expected an answer.
Merlin had to wince when she didn’t get one.
“Did he sleep last night?” Gwen murmured, stopping next to Merlin in the doorway.
“I think he actually did,” Merlin said. Gwen’s eyebrows flicked up.
Gaius had instructed Merlin to check on the boy every three hours, and make sure he hadn’t bled through the bandage, and, for at least two of those times, he’d actually been sleeping.
“That’s new,” Gwen said. “Is he doing better, then?”
Merlin nodded, just in time for Gaius to shout, “Merlin!”
“Yes?” Merlin called back, twisting to poke his head through the doorway.
“Don’t you have work to do?”
“Shit,” Merlin swore, hurrying down the steps to grab a bread roll from the table. “Arthur can’t come here, not yet.”
“Remember to mention your cousin’s arrival,” Gaius told him. “Bring it up naturally.”
“I know,” Merlin said. He jammed the roll in his mouth before racing out of the room.