Chapter Text
Gwen was about to leave the kitchens when Merlin finally came stumbling in.
He seemed at least a bit apologetic. Good, considering this was the third time this week he had arrived late for their joint breakfast.
It proved to be challenging to hold onto her anger as she watched Merlin bump into at least three people whilst making his way over to her.
Mornings are always the busiest time in the kitchens. Most servants are used to maneuvering their way through the oiled dance of the chefs and other kitchen staff, but Merlin had yet to get a hang of the rhythm.
Not that it did anything to discourage him.
“My lady,” he said, grabbing the picnic basket Gwen was holding and heading off towards the dining tables.
Most servants didn’t live in the palace, so they always made a place available for anyone to settle down and eat throughout the day. Tucked into a corner so as not to disturb anyone, it was also a good way to eat together without being observed by any nobles.
The ‘not being observed by nobles’ had to be Gwen’s favourite thing about the set up.
“Not a lady,” she said, following Merlin’s lead and graciously gliding down into the seat next to him.
Merlin was already too distracted by Gwen’s breakfast to notice. The stash sat in between them, he took out a couple of grapes and started eating them.
Gwen grinned and nicked some from his hands..
“Hey! My food!" he pouted at her.
“That’s what you get for being late,” she grinned, popping a grape into her mouth, “besides, it was my food first.”
“I’m bringing tomorrow’s,” Merlin said stubbornly, mouth full.
Gwen gave him a playful hit with one of the breads as she pulled a disgusted face..
“Didn’t your mother teach you to chew before you talk?” she said disapprovingly.
To Gwen’s delight, Merlin swallowed before speaking up again.
“She decided to give up on me after the third time I almost choked.” He shrugged, grabbing the bread from Gwen’s hand and munching on it.
A startled laugh escaped Gwen. She’d known Merlin for about a week, and she’d come to the conclusion that Merlin wasn’t really predictable when it came to stuff like that.
It was one of his many charms, even if she was never sure if he was joking or not..
“Alright then, Choker,” she said, enjoying the new nickname already, “what’s today’s excuse?”
She took a sip from one of the kitchen cups, watching Merlin expectantly.
After the first day of Merlin arriving late, Merlin had asked her if she wanted the true reason, or the ‘good’ reason. She’d decided to humor him, and Merlin had jumped at the opportunity to tell some tall tale about lions in the town square (which wasn’t even on his route to the kitchen).
Since then, Gwen had decided to make him tell an excuse whenever he stood her up. If the story was good enough, she’d forgive him.
To her surprise, Merlin didn’t start spinning a story.
“Oh, right, speaking of that,” he said, turning to face her better, “Gaius kicked me out.”
Gwen did a spit take.
“He did what?” she asked, her concerned glance shifting between Merlin and her now stained dress.
Merlin’s eyes went wide, before spluttering out, “Wait, no, sorry,”
He grabbed a cloth from one of the passing servants and dabbed Gwen’s dress with it.
“I didn’t mean ‘kicked me out’ as in permanently, it was just-” He said, rapidly trying to explain as he cleaned her dress to the best of his capabilities (which wasn’t very great).
He leaned back, assessing the disaster before sighing.
“Okay, so, you know how Gaius is having me study to become an apprentice?” he asked.
Gwen nodded, still very confused.
“And you know how a physician is very busy and doesn’t always have time to teach people stuff?”
Gwen nodded again, slightly less confused now.
“And you know how I am not the best person at staying out of trouble?” Merlin spread his hands in a circling motion, prompting her to come to her own conclusion.
“You ruined something, didn’t you?” She asked, though it was more of a statement.
“I ruined a muscle cream intended for one of the senior knights.” Merlin said with a pained look.
“Merlin!” she tried to scold him. To no effect, considering she was smiling all the same.
He looked down at the table in horror, continuing, “And then I broke a pot.”
Gwen couldn’t help but laugh at his pitiful appearance
Merlin shot her a mournful look at the lack of sympathy, but Gwen didn’t pay him any mind.
“Before breakfast?” She asked between giggles, and a small smile grew on Merlin’s face
“Yep,” He said, finishing off his food and moving to stand, “So now I have been sent into the castle with a mission to make myself useful somewhere until Gaius can deal with me again.”
Gwen stood as he packed everything back into the basket. She reviewed her dress one last time, deciding the water would probably dry up in a matter of minutes. The weather was warm today.
“So, you’re looking for a job?” She asked, moving to Merlin’s side as he picked up the basket.
“More or less. Won’t be having time for a full time job, but I wouldn’t complain about helping out everywhere whenever I have free time.” He followed Gwen whilst she grabbed Morgana’s breakfast and headed for the door.
“Ohh, do we have a jack of all trades here?” she joked teasingly, exiting the kitchen as Merlin held the door for her.
Merlin followed behind her, so she didn’t see if the following silence came with an eyeroll, or a nod of agreement.
“Of sorts. Either way, my first months of apprenticeship will consist of mostly reading, studying and watching, so I’ll have a bunch of free time outside of that. Gaius wants me to know what I am doing before I start dealing with actual physician tasks.”
“And you’ll have to earn back his trust if you want to come anywhere near his potions in the future.”
Merlin grimaced as he moved to walk beside her, “that too.”
They walked in silent contemplation for a few moments, keeping on route.
“You could talk to Arrey?” she suddenly suggested.
Merlin tilted his head in consideration.
“Who’s that?" he asked, jumping into a stairway to the side of the hall, pulling Gwen up with him.
They made their way up the stairway, into the bustling halls of the palace.
“Steward,” Gwen said, making sure neither of them ran into anyone, “he’s in charge of events, like the feast last week.”
Merlin winced at the memory and Gwen couldn’t help but agree.
“you’ll understand that he’s quite set on making everything perfect after that disaster. He’d take any help he can get. The ranks for event planning have always been quite understaffed, especially after..”
She trailed off, remembering the recent visit of the witch finder.
She didn’t really like talking about the executions, even if they happened at least once a year. Most people in Camelot were desensitized towards them.
No one liked them, per say, but they were normal. She’d been seeing them since she was a child.
Still, she couldn’t help the guilt that clawed at her, watching people she was familiar with die at the stakes.
Nor could she help the fear that it would one day be her on that pyre.
She knew she didn’t practice magic, and wouldn’t be punished for no reason, but…
All the others had seemed innocent too. Gwen knew sorcerers were deceptive, but who’s to say some of them weren’t actually pretending?
She sternly reminded herself not to doubt the judgement of the king. Magic was evil, that’s what she’d always been taught.
The executions were just something that happened in Camelot. That was just the way it had to be.
Merlin cleared his throat, startling out of her thoughts.
“Arrey, you said?” He asked, nudging her out of the way of a servant carrying four laundry baskets at the same time. His eyes followed them for a moment, amazed. Gwen gave a small snort. Merlin really wasn't used to servant life, was he?
“Yes, I don’t know where to find him, but Geoffrey will know. He’s always in the library, keeps registration there. He’ll point you in the right direction.” She said, looking both ways before crossing another hallway, entering the final stairway towards her destination.
The walk had been feeling a lot shorter in the past week. Not entirely unrelated to the servant boy who walked with her each day
“Besides,” she added, skipping up the final steps, “if you manage to make yourself a registered servant, you might even get some gold out of this. You know, to buy your own food.”
She looked at Merlin pointedly, who had one hand still digging into her breakfast basket.
He shrugged sheepishly, muttering something about shared assets. Whatever that might mean.
They arrived at Morgana’s door, turning to face each other one last time.
Merlin bowed dramatically,
“I’ll have to take my leave here, my lady,” he said, his voice taking on a dire tone, “Off on my dangerous quest to return your basket, and find Arrey the Great.”
She smiled at his shenanigans, “See you tomorrow, then?” she asked.
“I wouldn’t dare to leave a lady starving,” he grinned back, turning around before throwing one last comment over his shoulder.
“Oh, and Gwen-”
“Yes, yes, I’ll make sure to tell Morgana you said hi,” she rolled her eyes, and Merlin’s grin grew wider.
“You’re the best,” he said cheerfully, before darting off in the direction they had come from.
Her eyes followed him as he left, waiting a short amount of time before knocking on the door.
“Come in,” Morgana’s sleepy voice could be heard from the other side. She hadn’t left her bed yet, then.
Gwen smiled fondly as she entered the room, ignoring Morgana’s curious glances as she wandered over to the nightstand, setting down the breakfast.
“And?” her mistress asked, lazily turning on her side and looking up at Gwen with amused eyes.
Gwen huffs, knowing exactly what her lady is expecting.
“Merlin says hi.”
The delighted smile that spreads across Morgana’s face makes the whole messenger bird shenanigans worth it.
Morgana had been delighted at the idea of a servant picking a fight with Arthur, and had asked Gwen to go find some information on him.
It was one of the main reasons she had shown up when Merlin stood in the stocks, next to her own curiosity of course.
Merlin had quickly managed to catch on to that little detail, and started pestering Gwen with little messages to pass on to Morgana.
It had become this small game they’d play between the three of them, and Morgana seemed to be quite enjoying the senseless thing Merlin thought so important of telling her.
Last night he’d hunted Gwen down across the palace so she could let Morgana know he’d seen a pretty bird in the southern gardens. Morgana had spent the next hour looking out the window, trying to spot the bird.
It was nice, considering Morgana didn’t get to talk to a lot of people.
Besides, with the messaging system, no one could fault either of them for breaking the social status quo.
She found it quite sad that there was a very small chance they’d actually meet in person, let alone become friends.
______________
Merlin was having the time of his life, waving like a madman on the sidelines of the training fields.
Technically he was supposed to wait until it was over to reach the knight- Sir Leon, if he remembered correctly- who he was supposed to take his orders from. However, he’d thought it was way funnier to just yell the name and have Arthur send him bewildered glances as Leon excused himself from their conversation.
With any luck, Arthur would think Merlin had managed to secretly befriend one of his knights, and he’d have fun gaslighting him about it later.
In truth, he’d met the knight only once before, when Arthur had accosted him in the hallway. The prince had paused his conversation with the previously mentioned knight to go bother Merlin instead, and Leon had followed curiously.
Needless to say, the look on Arthur’s face when Merlin started up a perfectly respectful conversation with Leon was priceless. Even better when Leon had felt the need to genuinely thank Merlin for saving Arthur’s life from that one bandit.
Apparently Merlin’s reputation had been making his way throughout the city of Camelot, and he had yet to decide how to feel about it.
Either way, the conversation had ended when Arthur had gruffly said something about training and stormed off.
Leon’s dry enthusiasm had been amazing, and Merlin couldn’t help but take a liking to the man.
“Merlin,” Leon nodded, throwing a hesitant look over his shoulder to make sure training was indeed rounding up, and he had not just ditched out.
He understood Leon’s confusion, as Merlin had basically appeared out of nowhere.
“Told you we’d meet again, Sir.” Merlin bowed, with actual respect this time, before meeting Leon’s eyes once more.
“Not that I don’t enjoy you dropping by,” Leon said, eyeing Merlin warily, “but is there a reason for this sudden visit?”
Merlin perked up at the reminder, reaching into his pocket to grab the note Arrey had handed him.
He handed the letter over to Leon.
“Aide for the tournament,” he said matter of factly.
The knight opened the note, reading it before folding it back up into his pocket.
“Ah, yes, the tournament. The aide for the tournament. The tournament which I am partially in charge of,” Leon said to no one in particular, before clearing his throat nervously.
He awaited orders, and prompted when none came, “What would you have me do, sir?”
Leon looked at Merlin, before letting his eyes skitter off to their surroundings.
“...Sir?” Merlin tried again, and Leon opened his mouth to respond.
No sound came out.
Merlin tilted his head, eyeing Leon with suspicion. Was the knight alright?
Why wasn’t he handing out orders? Arrey said he’d needed help, so why..?
A smirk slipped onto Merlin’s face as he realized what was happening.
“Sir Leon,” he began, tilting his head, “you do know how to organize a tournament do you?”
The sheer panic in Leon’s eyes caused Merlin to almost burst out laughing. Remembering Gaius’ scolding about proper manners, he restrained himself
Leon looked a tiny bit manic as he shook his head slowly.
“I have no fucking clue,” he said, voice just above a whisper.
Oh, ohhh, fuck propriety and it’s insistence on not letting Merlin annoy people.
Merlin held his hands in front of his mouth in a pray-like gesture, a poor attempt to hide his smile.
“Sir Leon, with all due respect,” he said, pausing when the laughter threatened to escape, “I was told you volunteered for this role.”
Leon waved his arms in exasperation.
"Well, how was I supposed to know they were actually going to take me up on the offer!” He said, before remembering they were in public and quickly glancing around for any eavesdroppers.
Luckily for him, all the knights were slowly trickling off the field into the dressing rooms on the other side of the field. The only person even remotely paying attention to them was Arthur, and he was too far away to hear anything.
“Look,” Leon sighed anxiously, dragging a hand down his face, “I offered because Arrey seemed stressed, and I thought that the honourable thing to do was help him out.”
He plopped himself down on one of the fences surrounding the field, burying his face in his hands.
“What I didn’t realize, is that he was under the assumption that every knight knows exactly how to plan a tournament,” he said, groaning as he continued, “he put me in charge of the lay-out and sign-ups. What even is lay-out? And sign-ups?!? I didn’t even know people put thought into that kind of stuff.”
Leon looked up at Merlin, clearly searching for understanding.
Merlin took a deep breath, and then burst out laughing.
“It’s not that funny,” Leon said, crossing his arms as his shoulders sagged.
Merlin took a moment to calm his laughter, before smiling happily, “I think it is quite that funny.”
“Well, do you know how to organise a tournament then?” Leon said defensively, letting his arms drop and getting back on his feet.
Merlin raised a smug eyebrow.
“No, I do not, but if we’re comparing knowledge between the farmboy from Essetir and the knight of Camelot….”
Leon sighed in defeat, “I should let Arrey know I won’t be of any use,”
Merlin looked at the downtrodden knight, and deciding to take pity on him.
He gave the knight a small push, before taking off towards the castle.
“I didn’t say we should just give up,” he called back, already making headway towards the gates.
“We?” Leon asked, before realizing Merlin was walking away and quickly moving to catch up.
“Arrey told me I was supposed to help you with whatever you need. If you need help with everything…” He shrugged, smiling at Leon as he fell into pace next to him, “I guess that makes this an ‘us’ problem now.”
Leon gave him a hopeful smile, and it reminded Merlin of a lost puppy looking for guidance.
It was a bit weird, considering Leon was a couple years older than him. It had probably something to do with his recent knighting, though.
He’d heard Leon had only been knighted a couple months ago, which was three years later than the norm. That meant he’d been a squire for far longer than most, and had garnered quite the reputation for that.
Merlin had his suspicion the late knighting hadn’t been entirely Leon’s fault.
Gwen, ever so knowledgable, had explained to him that the current Knights of Camelot were a bunch of noble arses.
Instead of encouraging newer generations, they would constantly put down the younger trainees and seek fault in everything they did. The trainees would then take their frustrations out on others, and with that rise in the ranks of knighthood.
Leon didn’t seem like the type to take advantage of that system, and Merlin felt the need to help Leon prove himself worthy.
Even if that was only in the eyes of the steward.
“Where are we going?” Leon asked, and Merlin remembered he hadn’t explained anything to Leon yet.
Right, you’re supposed to talk to people.
“The archives,” he said, before adding on at the knight’s confusion, “they keep records of just about everything that goes on in the castle. There’s bound to be some of the previous tournaments and their preparations.”
Leon looked like he just got punched in the face, probably stumped at having forgotten that detail.
“That.. makes sense,” he said with increasing certainty. It seemed like they were on the right track.
Merlin grinned, grabbing Leon’s hand before dragging him along through the crowds of Camelot.
“Alright, let’s go, pretty boy,” Merlin said, ignoring Leon’s protests at the nickname, “We got a tournament to plan for.”
Maybe getting kicked out of Gaius’ chambers wasn’t the worst thing yet.
____
Arthur didn’t bother to knock as he barged into Morgana’s room unannounced, dramatically draping himself into one of her chairs as he loudly announced himself.
“Can you believe this?” he waved angrily into the air as his not-quite-sister rolled her eyes and reluctantly closed her book.
“Whatever it is you're about to tell me, I probably can,” she deadpanned.
Despite her words, she still hopped onto the bed to face Arthur, grabbing a pillow to hug as she made herself comfortable.
Arthur belatedly realized her maid- Gwendolynn?- wasn’t present, which was odd, but quite fortunate for the prince.
He’d kinda forgotten she was normally here, and he didn’t want her to start gossiping about his dramatics to the other servants. It might even get back to that Merlin boy somehow. The horror.
He took a deep breath as he decided to start his tale of woe.
“As you know, I signed up for the tournament today,” pause for dramatic effect.
“...Yes? Your point?” Morgana poked him, incredibly disrespectful to the dramatic effect as always.
Arthur huffed in annoyance, swatting her hand away.
“But do you know who was taking sign-ups? Huh? It was that wretched physician boy!” He waved his arms around to accentuate his point.
Morgana suddenly seemed a lot more interested. “Merlin?” She asked, leaning forward slightly.
He frowned trying to remember if he'd mentioned him before, “Yeah, him, you know him?”
“I have… heard of him,” she said, evading eye contact, before quickly adding on, “Word travels fast in the castle.”
He eyed her with suspicion, before remembering he had some complaining to do.
“Anyway, so I show up there, and the boy doesn’t even see me walking up. I have to clear my throat three times- three!- before he finally puts down his book to look at me.”
Morgana gasped in faux-shock, encouraging Arthur to keep going.
“And then, when the lazy bum finally picks up his quill to add me to the list, he asks for my name.”
Morgana raised an eyebrow.
“Which, yes, I know, isn’t a weird thing to ask,” he corrects himself quickly, “but when I tell him he already knows who I am- because, you know, he saved my life?- he just goes ‘I’ve never met you before in my life’.”
“The audacity,” Morgana’s monotone interruption was heard.
“That’s what I am saying! Then when I tell him I am the godsforsaken prince and I need no introduction, he goes all serious and starts calmly explaining to me that impersonating royalty is a serious offense.”
“He has a point,” she remarks. Arthur glared at her, but didn’t pause his story.
“So then I tell him that I am not impersonating royalty, I am royalty, and then he starts going on about papers and proof of identity.”
He shakes his head solemnly.
“And at this point, he’s acting so well that I am genuinely questioning if I am the prince or not,” cue female laughter, “so I just decide to go along with it and reach for my sigil-”
“-But you left your sigil in your room?-”
“-I left my sigil in my room. I tell him to wait a moment and calmly go off to grab it-”
“Because you calmly walking off is why half of the palace saw you running through the halls like a maniac,” Morgana added, and Arthur wondered why he had chosen her of all people to talk to.
“Like I was saying: calmly,” he went on, because he remembered she was the only person in this palace to talk to, “Then I get down, prove my identity, and get this fake little apology that grates my nerves. You’d think it’d be over then, right?”
Morgana perked up once again. “There’s more?”
“Oh, there’s more,” Arthur said, exasperated, “he finally gets his quill on paper, but before he starts writing, the smallest of grins flashes across his face, and I just know he’s had another terrible idea. So then he looks at me, big, innocent eyes, and you know what he asked?”
“What?” Morgana gasped, hugging her pillow and leaning forward on the bed.
Arthur takes a deep breath, putting on a high pitched voice as to imitate Merlin, “‘And how do I spell that, sire?’”
Morgana’s following cackling is infectious, and he unwillingly lets out a few huffs of laughter.
“He had you spell out your name in front of the entire square?” She asked, eyes crinkled with mirth.
“Well, no, at that point my dignity took over and I just grabbed the quill to write my name down myself. His face was priceless.” Arthur said, finishing up his story on a high note.
It hadn’t been all that bad in the end, Merlin had rolled his eyes and waved him off, and something about all of it made Arthur feel less inclined to throw him the stocks. However odd that may have been.
Morgana seemed captivated by her own thoughts as well, staring off into the distance with a small smile on her face.
Also a bit odd.
“You said Merlin was in charge of sign-ups?” She asked, voice a bit distant.
“Uh.. yeah,” he frowned, “why do you ask?”
“No reason,” she smiled back innocently, and Arthur knew the question had been anything but innocent.
“You’re not going to make him one of your pet servants, are you?” He asked, and Morgana choked on air.
“I have no such thing as pet servants,” she said, punctuating each word with a hit of her pillow.
He laughed as he tried to duck away from the feathery weapon, which was quite hard being constrained by a chair and all.
“Good, then you won’t make Merlin one,” he said cheekily, “It’s already bad enough I have to listen to Leon talk about him, we don’t need more Merlin fans in Camelot.”
Morgana blinked at him curiously.
“Leon?” she asked, knowing the knight a bit from Arthur’s previous stories.
“Yeah,” he sighed, “apparently Merlin has somehow weasled his way into becoming his right hand man when it comes to the tournament preparations. They’ve been spending almost every evening together in the past two weeks, discussing layouts for the camping grounds, verifying identities and deciding on matches for the tournament.”
He smiles conspiratorially, adding, “If you ask me, it sounds an awful lot like spending the evenings as gossiping ladies,”
Morgana gave him a look he couldn’t quite decipher.
“What?” he asked, responding to her silence.
“You seem to know an awful lot about Merlin’s activities,” she smiled mockingly, and Arthur felt his face heat for some weird reason.
“What is that supposed to mean?” He sat up straight, tensing as he tried to figure out whatever implication she’d just thrown his way.
Morgana rolled her eyes.
“I’m just saying, Arthur,” she said knowingly, “You could’ve just sent a servant to put your name on the list without going through the booth, as you have done previous years,”
She laid down on her bed, hugging the pillow once more.
“Makes one wonder if it has something to do with a certain someone.”
Arthur decided to ignore the remark. His decision for the sign-ups was completely unrelated to anything.
Just a change of pace.
_________
Arthur didn’t really know what to think when he walked into his tent just to find Merlin waiting there.
What he did know was that he was taking very much offense to the fact he had to clear his throat to announce his presence once again.
Could this man pay attention for once?
“Ah, Arthur,” Merlin greeted, apparently having decided to give up on titles. Arthur couldn’t help but agree.
“This is your tent?” the servant asked, looking between him and some spot on the tent cloth to the side of both of them.
“As a matter of fact, it is,” Arthur huffed, “so what are you doing here?”
Merlin held up some kind of pass as answer, which didn’t work considering Arthur didn’t recognize it.
Merlin was apparently not too busy looking at fabric to realize that, elaborating, “Tent inspection, got some alerts of suspicious activity surrounding this area, so came to check it out.”
That got Arthur more on guard.
“Suspicious activity? Of what kind?” he asked, straightening his back like he would do in official meetings.
Merlin seemed slightly startled by the sudden change in demeanor, but that was as much as Arthur could gauge from him.
“Multiple individuals who had no reason to be here loitering around the tent,” Merlin said, not taking his eyes off the tent’s outline, “I’m trying to figure out if this stain is something we need to worry about.”
“A stain?” Arthur asked skeptically, putting a hand on his hip when Merlin’s eyes momentarily turned towards him..
“A stain that wasn’t there this morning,” the servant clarifies, touching the fabric before bringing his fingers to his nose. “one that reeks of very flammable alcohol.”
Arthur watched Merlin frown before looking at the stain in confusion.
“So what? Some knights were drinking outside the tent. Big deal. Wouldn’t be the first time,” he said decisively, moving to grab one of the swords he had originally entered the tent for.
He felt Merlin’s eyes follow him, his tone harsh when he spoke up, “The servants wouldn’t have alerted me unless they had good reason to suspect foul play.”
Arthur paused. He had a point there, but then again..
“If they had reason to suspect foul play, why did they come to you of all people?” he asked accusingly, “Why not come to, let’s say, the prince who is currently using the tent, and is of much better judgement.”
He belatedly realizes the underhanded slight he had sent to Merlin. Not exactly what he had meant to say, but whatever.
Merlin’s glare hardened.
“Because they knew I would listen,” he said plainly, but Arthur wondered what he left unsaid.
Why wouldn’t Arthur listen? If someone had a concern he would- he would-
Oh.
He would probably dismiss them, like he’d just dismissed Merlin.
That’s.. That’s not ideal.
And something about it felt terribly wrong. The idea of his servants- his people- not having faith in him.
But his father had told him a king should be certain, and doubting his own opinions wasn’t part of that plan.
“...Is the stain going to be a problem?” He asked, because what else could he say?
All the tension from earlier suddenly disappeared, and back was Merlin’s cheeky smile.
“Nah, you’re probably right about those drunken knights,” he said casually, walking towards the exit of the tent, “And if someone does decide to turn up the heat in here…”
He paused, turning up the tent flap and taking a step outside.
“I trust you’ll be able to find your way out.”
And with that, he was gone again.
Bloody tent inspection. When he was king, he’d get rid of that position.
______
Merlin covered his ears to protect his hearing.
From his place on the tribunes, next to Gwen, the roar of the audience was deafening.
He couldn’t say he was a fan, but it’s not like he could leave now.
Thanks to Leon, they had been able to reserve some great spots to watch the show from. Which was another thing he owed to Leon.
He was proud to say that, despite the knight’s insistence on remaining true to one’s station, they had become pretty solid friends.
Even when they found the other servants who Leon was supposed to relay orders to, he remained adamant on keeping Merlin as his right hand.
When Leon was trying to get a solid idea of all the knights attending, Merlin would man the sign-up booth and try to get a good read on them.
When Leon needed to know which nobles could be tent neighbours, and which ones would kill each other on sight, Merlin would subtly question the servants and get the information back to the knight.
When Leon finalized the orders for the tent locations, Merlin was right there to guide the other servants along.
And when Leon wanted to discuss nobles beyond what was necessary for the tournament…
Well, Merlin was more than happy to exchange observations and rumors.
So what if they gossiped like old ladies? Don’t act like you’ve never gossiped before.
All in all, Merlin was happy to help.
Best part of all, in between the studying he did for Gaius, and the work he did for Leon and Arrey, there was barely any time for him to think about the dragon that lived under Camelot.
Or destiny, or the prince he was supposed to be connected to because of it.
He didn’t need to think about all that. Despite what he hoped, he felt somewhere deep down that the story was far from over. He hated it, the feeling that something was going to happen and he could never know what.
No power to change it.
So he kept ignoring the dragon, instead focusing himself on the here and now.
Right, the tournament.
He glanced at Gwen, who sent him a nervous smile in return.
They had been planning this for about a week or so, and despite the thought they had put into it, they didn’t really know what would happen next.
You couldn’t exactly predict chaos.
It was risky, and could have consequences for all parties involved.
Was it worth it? Merlin would say he wasn’t the right person to answer that question.
His eyes landed on Uther, sitting in the royal box of fanciness, watching the battles from up above. Then his eyes caught on the two empty chairs at his sides.
Arthur and Morgana, both absent. Arthur preparing for his approaching battle, Morgana not having the courtesy of an equal excuse.
No one had noticed yet. It was fine.
He awaited the next match as the previous men left the arena, the crowd cheering for the victor as the new combatants readied themselves.
That’s when he spotted her, locking eyes with her as she stood in the entrance of the arena.
She smiled boldly at him, showing off her sword and winking at him.
Then her attention was back with the announcer.
Merlin let out an excited cheer along with the rest of the crowd.
So, yeah, maybe he had snuck Morgana’s name onto the list without telling Leon. Or Arthur. Or Uther for that matter.
Was he going to be hanged for his little oversight? Probably.
Was he going to die after watching this badass become the first woman to ever win a tournament in Camelot? He sure hoped so.
He had been reluctant at first, when Morgana had shown up to the sign-up booth all of a sudden without saying a word.
She just stood there, staring him down. He’d said no, before she’d even asked.
But she was stubborn, and had a lot of good arguments. Even if he hadn’t been expecting some of those arguments to come from the king’s ward. (Uther is stupid and why should we listen to his rules?).
Now though- Now he was excited.
Gwen had told him about the efforts the both of them had put into the battle armor.
There was a bunch of technical stuff in there, but it all came down to a few simple facts:
Less heavy armour for increased dexterity. More plated stuff to still ensure protection.
Or something like that, it had sounded cool, and it sure did look cool.
So when the announcer finally announced Morgana’s name, his encouragement was heard loud above the confused exclamations of the crowd.
And Uther, almighty king Uther, looked downright furious as his precious ward paraded onto the field.
He’d already decided not to worry about that. Morgana was already in the arena. There was nothing Uther could currently do to change that, not if he was unwilling to risk his image as king.
He’d either admit to his daughter disobeying direct orders, presenting this as an act of defiance, or let the audience know this had slipped his attention. Which would make him seem complacent.
If Uther was true to his political agenda, which he was, he wouldn’t dare do either of those things. All he could do was sit and watch until the match ceased.
The hope was that if Morgana won, Uther wouldn’t have any viable reason to withdraw her from the tournament anymore. She had assured them he would probably see that too.
So all Morgana had to do was win.
Which was truly a fifty-fifty chance.
Merlin had obeyed Morgana’s request and paired her up against a more experienced knight, wanting to allow her to prove her worth.
He was scared for a moment, what if he’d either over- or underestimated her? What if he had matched her with the wrong opponent?
Then Uther declared the start of the battle, and Merlin’s doubt disappeared.
Morgana was as swift as Gwen had made her out to be, and had as much strength as dignity.
Let it be known that Morgana had a lot of dignity.
He was personally more of a knife guy, and knew nothing about swordsmanship, but even he could see Morgana was winning this.
Most important of all, Morgana was glowing with focus and passion as she parried every blow without hesitation.
It was the first time Merlin had seen her so alive. He finally understood why she had fought so hard to stand there in the arena.
It wasn’t some bold statement to Uther, or a proof of concept. At least that wasn’t what Morgana had planned.
She just wanted the chance to fight, for real, and challenge herself in something she was passionate about.
Morgana handily worked her opponent into the ground, and Merlin and Gwen’s voices could be heard above all the others as they cheered for her.
Yeah, he was glad to have risked his neck over this.
___________
They had made a miscalculation.
A pretty big one.
He watched as Uther left the throne room, leaving behind a shaking Morgana and a hesitant Gwen.
Merlin had been deemed below his notice, and was left pressing against the wall after being told to hold his filthy tongue time and time again.
Leon hadn’t even been allowed access to the room.
Even though all of them had denied his involvement, his calm defense of Morgana had caused Uther to pin everything on the poor knight.
The worst part was, Merlin didn’t really know what to do.
“My lady?” Gwen asked, stepping away from the wall from beside Merlin.
She walked up to Morgana, who hadn’t moved yet.
“He took my sword,” she said quietly, though it echoed through the quiet room.
“I know-” Gwen started, but Morgana wasn’t done yet.
“He took my sword,” she repeated, tearing off her shoulder pads in frustration.
She frantically turned around to face both Gwen and Merlin, searching for something between the two of tem.
“I didn’t complain when he cancelled my training, because he feared I was too delicate,” she said, voice dark, “I didn’t protest when Arthur stopped sparring with me. But I showed him I was capable. I won the battle to prove my worth. I made him see how much this means to me. I did all of that. So what reason does he have to take my sword?”
And if only Merlin could answer that. All he knew was that they’d made a miscalculation.
They’d shown that the rational choice was to let Morgana continue to fight.
Uther hadn’t been rational.
“He had no right to,” she said, the words catching in her throat, “Ban me from the tournament, forbid me from fighting, I would’ve understood,”
Her eyes grew teary, and Merlin had the idea that her anger was the only thing that kept her from crying.
“But he had no right to take my sword,” She finished, stubbornly looking down at the ground and kicking a piece of discarded armor.
Gwen reached out helplessly, her hand hovering beside Morgana, too scared to initiate contact with her despite their close friendship.
Merlin felt like he was intruding upon something.
Gwen seemingly didn’t think so, as she offered a quiet explanation.
“It was her father’s.”
And Morgana’s reaction suddenly made a lot more sense.
That’s it. Merlin’s had it. How dare Uther. That absolute son of a-
He stomped his way over to Morgana, opening his arms wide as he stood in front of her.
She looked at him skeptically, but Merlin just gave a small nod of confirmation.
Arms were surrounding him before he knew it, and Morgana was trying her best not to cry into his chest as she squeezed him tight.
He looked at Gwen, offering a hand to hold. She took it, nodding gratefully. Then she took a deep breath, and let her still extended hand fall onto Morgana’s shoulder, who leaned into the touch immediately. The three of them providing comfort to each other.
Silent solidarity filled the room as they stood there, none of them willing to speak. The hug was probably already a step too far, and he didn’t want to push Morgana by trying to offer comforting words in something he knew nothing about. Especially not since this was the second time they met face to face.
He knew a thing or two about hugs though, and Morgana deserved one right now. Even if that was from the random peasant boy who helped her sneak into the tournament.
Hesitantly, Morgana pulled back slightly, Merlin’s grip easy to break. She didn’t move away, but eased her grip on him enough that he could breathe now.
“Thank you,” she said, clearing her throat. Her eyes refused to meet his, and Merlin didn’t press.
He was fine with pretending this hadn’t happened as soon as they’d left the room.
“Don’t thank me yet, I haven’t even told you my plan,” he wiggled his eyebrows mysteriously, and Morgana’s eyes lit up at the idea of mischief.
“Plan?” Gwen asked, and Merlin tugged on her hand to pull her a bit closer.
He leaned towards her, whispering just loud enough for her and Morgana to hear.
“To have Morgana win this tournament ofcourse,”
The maidservant and mistress exchanged a long look, having some sort of silent conversation before both turning back to him.
They nodded in assent, determination shining in their eyes.
Merlin started explaining his plan.
Huddled into their tiny group, they conspired quietly, taking Merlin’s idea and building off of that.
Morgana didn’t let go through the entirety of the conversation, and Merlin didn’t mention it. He was happy to make her feel safe for a bit.
Plotting soon turned into joking, and they were giggling childishly by the time footsteps approached their location.
Merlin froze at the sound, giving the others an alarmed look.
Gwen and Morgana didn’t have an answer either, eyeing each other nervously.
“Morgana?” A voice called out. Ah oh, Merlin knew that voice.
Moments later, the prince rounded the corner, eyes zeroing in on the king’s ward.
“Morgana! I’m so glad you’re still here,” he said, sighing in relief as he walked over, “father told me you-”
Then he noticed the other two people in the room.
Or, more specifically, noticed Merlin standing in the room. Merlin, who, fun fact, was still in exceptionally close proximity to Morgana.
Which was basically a death warrant for any servant.
Going by Arthur’s reaction, he seemed to agree.
Merlin quickly stepped back, mouthing a ‘sorry’ to Morgana as she removed her arms from him.
“What do you think you’re do-” the prince asked, one hand on the pommel of his sheeted sword.
Merlin was already halfway out the room.
“Now hold on.” Arthur said, trying to stop Merlin, who had decided that the best way to ignore Arthur was to just talk over him really fast.
“I just remembered I have stuff to do and I really can’t stay so sorry your highness but good to see you again I’ll talk to you guys later about the thing we talked about hope you feel better soon don’t let anyone discourage you byeee,”
As soon as he exited the room, he broke out into a sprint.
So maybe running from the prince wasn’t exactly gentleman-like.
Here’s the thing though: Merlin really liked his head. He’d had it all his life and he was kind of fond of it.
Besides, he didn’t have time to get involved in petty crimes with the crown prince.
He had a sword to find.
________