I’m too Gryffindor for this lol. This is probably not what you wanted but this is what happened, so whelp. Bit long but I hope you enjoy!
You hated Merlin. But he was busy and you were nearby and damn him for taking no time at all to drag you to Arthur Pendragon’s bedchambers and beg you to clean up before the prince noticed anything amiss. So there you were. In Arthur’s bedchambers. Cleaning up after the prince. Alone.
It wasn’t too hard a job. Arthur was a bit messy, but it was all just thrown clothes and leftover breakfast, which were no trouble at all to clean. You were nearly finished when you realized there was a sword laying abandoned under his bed. Who loses a sword? You picked up the blade and grimaced at the weight. Upon inspection, you realized it well sharpened and upkept. Perhaps hidden rather than lost? It didn’t matter. You decided to put it back right when the door opened with a loud bang.
You reacted on instinct rather than thought. In a matter of moments you strode to the foot of Arthur’s bed—toward the danger, not away—and held the blade out as though challenging the offender. It was heavy enough that you had to use two hands. You had no training with a sword. You had tried out daggers before, but never a sword like this one, so heavy you could barely wield it. You hadn’t yet comprehended who had come in before your sword met another, it arced and flew out of your hands, and you were pushed back onto the bed where you fell.
The air didn’t clear until a sword was leveled to your throat and you recognized the wielder as none other than Arthur Pendragon himself. His expression was one of surprise rather than hatred and it wasn’t until that moment that it occurred to you that he likely reacted on instinct just as you had.
“I promise this isn’t what it looks like,” you managed to say.
Arthur shook his head slowly. “Y/N?” he asked. “What—what are you doing here?” He looked hopelessly confused, but the blade remained firmly leveled to your throat.
“Um,” you began, throwing an obvious glance at his sword. He hastily moved back and sheathed his weapon, an embarrassed blush settling on his cheeks. “I was just cleaning,” you continued. “Gaius sent Merlin out on chores. It was faster if I did it. I, um, didn’t mean to point a sword at you?”
“Right,” Arthur nodded. “Yes, of course. You were cleaning. Because you’re a servant. And I didn’t mean to point a sword at you either but—” Arthur cut himself off. “Why were you pointing one at me again?”
“You surprised me,” you quickly put in. “I was just about to put the sword back. The door banged. I thought you were an intruder.” You blushed and straightened yourself, moving a few steps back.
Finally, some of the tension in the room settled, understanding dawning on both parties. You did know the prince, of course. You ran into him at times, he had asked for a couple of favours in the past. Merlin was always talking about him too. And Arthur was kind to you, or as kind as a prat of a prince could really be.
Arthur’s eyebrows suddenly furrowed and he took a step closer to you. “You thought I was an intruder?” he repeated. You nodded confirmation. “But I saw you. You heard me come in and all but charged for me. If you thought I was an intruder … Y/N, why not run?”
You blinked. That was one of the last questions you had expected. “Oh. Um, generally someone breaking into the prince’s bedchambers isn’t a good sign. They could be dangerous.”
Arthur sighed impatiently. “Yes, obviously. So why not run? Or hide? It’s like you said. It’s dangerous.”
You finally realized what he was getting at and shrugged. “What would happen then? I might be safe. Or I might be found, but let’s pretend I got away. The intruder gets what he came for. Keys to the dungeons or the vault maybe. A jewel or two. Then they run about the castle, kill a few other servants along the way. If I don’t alert a knight in time, they make it all the way to the dungeons and they let prisoners go, and then more people die. Or they take a magical artefact and all of Camelot is at risk, or—”
Arthur crossed the distance between you two and put his hands on your shoulders. You fall silent.
“Y/N,” Arthur sighed. “I know what the risks are. I know that intruders can be dangerous. But surely you know that protecting Camelot is not your responsibility? You could’ve been killed if it wasn’t me who walked through that door.”
You took a step back and his hands fell from your shoulders. “I can’t stand by and watch people die,” you said with narrowed eyes. “I won’t. A-and maybe I’m not so good with that sword. But I have to try.”
Arthur shook his head. “No, you don’t. You should run. Protect yourself.”
“Is that what you do?” you asked, wrapping your arms around yourself.
“It’s different,” Arthur denied, his voice raising. “I’m the prince and I’m a knight besides. It’s my job to protect Camelot.”
“It’s not different!” you argued. “You’re not the only one allowed to protect people—”
“I don’t want to see you hurt, Y/N!”
You froze. Arthur was breathing heavier and took another step closer. “What?” you managed to say.
When Arthur put his hands on your arms, you didn’t stop him. “Look, you could’ve died today. You don’t even know how to use that sword, Y/N. And I-I don’t want to see you dead or injured, especially not on my behalf. You’re too—you’re just—” He fell silent, unable to articulate what he meant.
“O-okay,” you stuttered. “But I can’t just stand by. If there’s a next time I mean. I can’t. Not even—” you blushed “Not even for you.”
Arthur ducked his head down for moment, tightening his hands on your arms just slightly. “I know,” he sighed. “So I guess we’ll have to start tomorrow.” He abruptly let go and stepped back, heading for the table where he began unbuckle and put his sheathed weapon down.
Your head was spinning from the change of pace. “What?”
Arthur shot you a small smile and leaned back on the table. “Well, any Defender of Camelot needs to know how to use a sword.” At your shocked silence, his smile dropped just a tiny bit. “And I suppose I’d feel better if you knew how to defend yourself.” He cleared his throat and looked away.
You couldn’t help but smile too. “In that case … okay. I’ll see you tomorrow.” You headed for the door, only pausing to pick up the fallen sword and toss it onto the bed. Just before you left his room, you stopped. “And Arthur? Thank you.”
(You are the Granddaughter of Geoffrey of Monmouth, Court Genealogist and the keeper of the Royal Library. You are a noblewoman. Lady (Y/N), who came to Camelot to follow Geoffrey’s footsteps as an apprentice. You were introduced by Geoffrey to Arthur and Merlin when Arthur was called by Uther to meet you in person.)
(Also I do not own the entire production of the Merlin series. or even bbc
(3′rd’s POV)
Her name was Lady Y/N of Monmouth.
She was riding her horse, (horse’s name), riding on a path that leads to Camelot. Her cloak hood hides her face. She was personally asked by your Grandfather, Geoffrey of Monmouth, Camelot’s royal Court Genealogist and Keeper of the Royal Library, to be his apprentice.
She was an orphan. Her mother had passed away from childbirth and her father has recently died from sickness. She was currently living with her Aunt until one day she received a letter from her Grandfather Geoffrey.
He wrote of how he missed her so and wanted to offer her a position as his apprentice.
She took the offer and left the household of Monmouth the next day. She bid farewell to her Aunt and the servants that worked there. Y/N always believed in equality between commoners and nobles that the servants were like a second family to her.
She only wished that she wasn’t the only noble who believes in equality.
After a sennight of traveling, she finally arrived at the lower town of Camelot and slowed (horse’s name) by pulling gently on her/his reins and strut on the road, carefully passing through the busy crowd of working commoners and laughing children.
She suddenly pulled (horse’s name) to stop when she spotted a dirty young boy, who was staring hungrily at a pile of apples that was placed on a market stand. And judging by the state of the child, he seems to be a homeless orphan.
She got off of (horse’s name) and went to the merchant.
“Four apples and two pears please.” She asked.
“That’ll be 5 gold pieces miss.” the merchant grumbled.
Y/N gave him the money and grabbed a cleaned piece of cloth from her satchel to wrap the fruits in.
She then walks to the hungry boy and kneels down to his height.
“Hello, what’s your name?” She asked kindly.
“Allen.” He squeaked out. Clearly nervous by her.
She couldn’t blame him, an older stranger came to you and asked for your name seemed to be very intimidating for a child his age.
“Hello Allen, my name is Y/N is your mother or father around?”
“No.” He muttered.
“Where are they?”
“Dead.” He simply said.
She sighed sympathetically. “Do you have a place to live?”
Fortunately, he nodded. “With Uncle Morty. But he’s barely at home.”
“Why?”
“He works hard to provide us. But sometimes we don’t have enough gold to buy food.”
Y/N lifts his head gently by his chin and looks at him in the eyes. “Are you happy?”
“Yes, when uncle Morty comes back from work, we would play knights.”
“Do you want to become a knight when you grow up?”
“Yes, but I can’t.”
She frowns playfully. “And why not?”
“Because I’m not brave enough.”
Y/N thinks for a moment and then sparked an idea and leaned closer to Allen.
“Can I tell you a secret?”
“What?”
“You see my horse there?” She pointed at (horse’s name), who was standing behind her by a few meters the entire time she was talking to Allen.
“Yes.”
“Well you see young Allen, his/her name is (horse’s name) and he/she was actually a gift from a kind witch.” She whispered the last part to his ear.
“But magic is band from Camelot.” He said and she covered his mouth and shushed at him.
“I know.” She whispered. “That’s why I am asking you to keep it as a secret.”
He then nodded and Y/N slowly put her hand away from his mouth.
“Do you want to know what makes (horse’s name) so special?”
He nodded hesitantly.
“You see if you touch him his/her nose and doesn’t back up, it means you are brave enough to ride him.”
“And if he does back up?”
“Then. . . we’ll see what’s happens, just don’t scream, It’ll scare him/her more.”
Allen gulped and stared at the horse with scared eyes. “Do you think I’m brave enough?”
Y?N chuckled.“Young Allen, I have the privileged to meet a lot of brave men on my journey to Camelot. And every one of them has only one thing in common. Their eyes.”
“Eyes?” Allen frowned.
“Mhmm.” Y/N nodded. “The human eyes are made to show straight to your soul. And every man I met has the same bravery they had in them, all by a single glance in their eyes. And I must say you have the most courageous eyes to show all of Camelot and the kingdoms of the realm one day.”
“How?”
“You just need to see that no matter how dark the world is, there is light, There will always be light. You just need to believe that you can find it.”
Allen then lifts his chin high and march gently to (horse’s name). He then stops midway and looks back at me.
Y/N nodded and signaled him to continue.
He took a deep breath and then continues until he was in front of (horse’s name) and carefully lift his hand and bows his head down. Fearing of what would happen.
(horse’s name) then bows his/her head down to the child and pressed his/her nose to the boy’s trembling hand.
Allen opened his eyes in surprise and looks up. His smile appeared and looks back at Y/N in excitement.
“I did it! I did it Miss Y/N! I did it!” He said with enthusiasm.
Y/N smiled. “Of course you did. I told you, your eyes held courage. You want to ride him/her?”
“Can I?” He asked.
“Or course. Here.” She leads Allen to (horse’s name)’s side and lifts him by the waist to settle him on the saddle and then mount up so that she was behind him. Allen is secure in between her arms and she asked him to hold the bag of fruits.
Y/N made a noise with her mouth to signal (horse’s name) to walk and asked where Allen lives.
(At The Castle)
“So Geoffrey has a granddaughter?” Merlin asked.
“Yes, Merlin.” Arthur said in annoyance. “How many times do I have to tell you to make you understand with that pea brain of yours?”
“I’m just saying, Gaius has never mentioned anything about Geoffrey having a granddaughter. And that old man mentions a lot of things.”
“You know, now that you mentioned it. My father has never even mentioned about a Lady Y/N of Monmouth. Until now.”
“Maybe he had his reasons.” Merlin stated as he patted Arthur’s bed clean.
“Probably.” Arthur muttered.
Suddenly there was knocking at the door.
“Enter.” Arthur called.
A castle guard opened the door. He bowed then rise. “My Lord.”
“What is it?”
“The King had asked me to inform you that Lady Y/N of Monmouth has arrived.”
Arthur and Merlin shared a look and then looks back at the servant.
“I’ll be there in a moment.”
Arthur and Merlin walked down the hall that leads to the Royal Library where King Uther had asked to meet.
“Wouldn’t be better if we meet the Lady of Monmouth in the Council Hall?” Merlin asked.
“Geoffrey personally asked my father if the Lady Y/N could visit the Library as soon as she reached to Camelot.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know Merlin, why don’t you asked the granddaughter of the Keeper of the Royal Library?” Arthur said sarcastically.
“Never mind.” Merlin muttered.
The two individuals reached to where the main doors of the Royal Library. Merlin opened the door and the two enter.
They immediately found King Uther, Geoffrey, Morgana and two men from the council, talking to each other in hushed voices around Geoffrey’s study desk.
Merlin spotted Gaius at the end of the table and frowned. It was unusual for Gaius to be here when in the early morning he mentioned that he was gonna have a busy day.
“Father.” Arthur greeted Uther.
“Arthur, so nice for you to come.”
“Well, I don’t exactly have a choice do I?” Arthur joked.
“Yes well,” Geoffrey started. “Prince Arthur I do hope you know why you are here.”
“Of course Geoffrey,” Arthur said. “Where is Lady Y/N?” He asked kindly.
“She is just browsing around the library. She was hoping to find a book that’s based on a certain level of herbalism.” Geoffrey then turns to one of the sections of the library.
“Is she a herbalist?” Merlin thought but accidentally said it out loud.
“Don’t be foolish Merlin,” Arthur gave him a look. “She’s a Lady, of course she isn’t.”
“Actually,” Gaius said. “My Lord, the Lady Y/N was actually hoping if there is a herbalist in Camelot so that she would learn more about healing.”
Merlin looked a little smug whilst Arthur seemed a bit shocked.
“Is there a reason why she would want to know how?” Arthur asked after he awkwardly coughed, trying to loosen up the air.
“As a matter of fact yes,” Uther said with his usual emotionless stare. “She wanted to prepare if Camelot were ever to be in a worse condition.”
Smart. Merlin thought.
“Confounded! where is that girl?” Geoffrey muttered to himself. “Y/N! Y/N!”
Suddenly a figure came out from behind of one of the bookshelves. Head down with a book in hands.
Merlin, Arthur and practically everyone in the reading area spotted the figure and knew right away that it was the Lady Y/N.
Y/N then pulled your eyes away from the page that she was reading and saw a couple of gentlemen.
Merlin and Arthur couldn’t help but stare at her with equal stares of their eyes widened in shock. Though Merlin had his mouth slightly opened as Arthur let out a small breathy gasp.
But there was no doubt that they were both enchanted by her beauty.
Her (enthusiast your skin color) reflects perfectly by the light from the sunbeam from the windows. Her eyes sparkled with glee as she smiled shyly at the new arrivals.
She then deducted that the blond one was Prince Arthur. Since his attire was more formal than the dark haired one. Although you couldn’t deny. The dark haired one was more dashing than the Prince. No matter how ordinary his clothes were.
“Y/N!” Geoffrey said with a smile on his face. “There you are, I thought that you might’ve been lost.”
Y/N chuckled and bookmarked the page that you were reading with her finger as she walks to stand next to Geoffrey.
“Sire,” Geoffrey began. “May I introduce to you my granddaughter. Y/N.”
She smiled and did a curtsy. “My lord.” She raises.
“How quaint it is to finally meet you.” Her gentle voice bounced the ears of Arthur and Merlin. Even her voice sounded angelic as much as her looks.
“P-Please, the pleasure is mine.“ Arthur stuttered out after remembering why he came to the library.
He took her other hand instead of the one that wasn’t holding the book and looks at her straight in the eyes.
“It is my honor to formally welcome you to Camelot, my Lady.” He then kissed her hand and she gave him a sweet smile.
“How kind of you.” Y/N said then looks behind the Prince to see the dark hair gentlemen.
“And who is this?” She asked.
Arthur turned and looks back at her.
“No one of importance.” He smiled.
“I don’t believe that.” She confessed casually.
Arthur frowned. “You don’t?”
“You don’t?” Uther repeated.
“You don’t?” The dark hair gentlemen said.
Y/N shooks her head no and smiled kindly. “I don’t. I believe that everyone in the kingdom, may they be noble or commoner has an important role in their own special way. How else will Camelot can cope without the hard work of the commoners? Or without the order and sacrifices from the nobles and council?”
Uther and Arthur stares at her in surprise whilst Morgana looks at her with admiration along with Merlin and Gaius.
“So may I asked?” She said as she smoothly walk around Arthur to stand in front of the dark haired young man behind him.
“What is your name?”
He coughs a bit then answered. “Merlin. My Lady.”
“Merlin.” She muttered. “What an unusual name. Yet unique.”
He smiled awkwardly. “My mother picked it.”
Y/N smiled sweetly at him. “I’m sure she sounds like a lovely woman.”
“She is.” Merlin smiled shyly. Feeling nervous around the noble woman.
In all of Y/N years, she has a way to see the light and goodness in people.
And just as she told Allen, the young boy she met earlier.
‘There will always be light, you just need to believe that you can find it.’
Someone then coughs and they both turn to see Geoffrey walking towards Y/N and place his hands on her shoulders.
“My child, I believe it’s time that we catch up on the years I’ve missed. Now tell me how fair is your Aunt?”
Geoffrey leads her to somewhere in the library. Not while sneaking a glance to Merlin, who was smiling like an idiot.
She smiled back and turns her attention to Geoffrey.
Arthur, who was still confused about why would on earth the Lady Y/N speaks to Merlin as if he was her equal, frowned and turned to Merlin.
Merlin quickly flashed an innocent smile.
Arthur rolled his eyes and then signals him to follow as he marched out of the library.
This is will be interesting. The Lady Morgana thought smugly.
“You’re making the usual supply run for Gaius for some herbs in the forest. Merlin accompanies you. Danger ensues, and in a panic, Merlin uses magic. You never knew.”
It's an OC fic because I don't like second person. Word count is around 3k because I'm a lunatic.
I take imagine/oneshot requests too if you're interested!
Sneak peek at this one:
"Run!" she shouted to Merlin, reaching back for her sword and shooting upright. She barely registered the click of an arrow loosing from a crossbow, barely heard it slicing through the air, before she reacted. One moment she was standing and the next she was weightless, falling in the place that Merlin had just been. She was sitting up before she had even registered she'd hit the ground, and then—
Everyone was dead.
It wasn't a good day to be in the woods. Ana didn't typically travel with Merlin when he searched for Gaius' herbs, but this day was an exception. With the dark clouds rolling in, no one wanted to be caught in the woods alone, and Ana would only speed up the process of gathering. With luck, they would both be back in the castle before the first drops fell from the sky.
Ana had practice collecting herbs, though Merlin certainly had more. Still, she found that she already knew where to find the herbs on his list, and could identify on sight which she could pick and which required digging, which she could store together and which she dared not crush between her fingers. Ana was staring critically at two plants in her hand when Merlin appeared just behind her, looking over her shoulder. Ana jumped when she felt his breath on the side of her neck and he smiled guiltily. She should have heard him coming, but she had been far too preoccupied with her findings.
"I can't tell the difference," she told him, holding up the two leaves she had in her hand. They were both the same yellow-tinted green hue, with pointed ridges and thick veins. If she hadn't collected them from two different spots, she wouldn't have known they were different plants at all. Merlin grimaced and plucked one from her hand, tearing it gently. He showed her the inside edge of it, clearly lined in yellow.
"This one is poisonous," he told her, crushing it and dropping it to the ground. "Look, you can see it here, this stem grows thick where it touches the base of the leaf." He used his pinky to poke at the plant still in her hand, gesturing to the stem in question. She felt it and realized it was textured.
"Right," she sighed, slipping it into her pouch. "You always know, don't you?"
Truthfully, Merlin had an advantage over her. The poisonous plant wasn't natural; he could detect a tiny bit of magic in it and he always could. He didn't have to look for the tiny signs he was showing her, he just knew. He didn't say this though, instead just nodding. "I gave Gaius the wrong ones a few times. He wasn't happy."
Ana grinned at him as she knelt down and picked a couple more from the base of a tree. "I imagine he wouldn't be. His business is healing, not murder."
Merlin laughed. "A plant like that would give you a stomach ache," he told her. "You'd be fine by morning."
Ana watched him carefully as she stood up, adjusting the shortsword in her sheath as she did. "You picked up a lot, you know. About Gaius' healing. You could probably become an apprentice or something, if you wanted to."
Merlin chuckled and shook his head. "Nah, not me," he assured her. "It seems more impressive than it is."
"So you say," Ana hummed, taking the list from his hand and looking over it. "We need the aethrils, but after that, do you think we could risk going back?"
Merlin peeked and shook his head. "We need to get some more dreamroot. We didn't get enough for him to make his powder."
Ana nodded and followed him when he began heading in the correct direction. "You know," she began thoughtfully. "I used to live so close to forests like these. But kids . . . we would just starve, get sick, die or recover. All the plants in here, they were just plants. But now every single one of them is a different kind of medicine."
Merlin gave her a side glance, his steps slowing. "If Gaius was always around, everyone would be a lot healthier," he mused. Ana pretended that she couldn't see the sadder look in his eyes, the look that told her his life in Ealdor was not as different as she may have thought to her own.
As they continued walking, Ana began to feel uneasy, and not just because of the topic of conversation. They slowly fell silent and Ana was hyper aware of the quiet between them, thick and—
And not just around them. Slowing down, Ana put her hand out to touch his arm gently. Merlin slowed in suit and gave her a confused look, opening his mouth to speak to her. She shook her head quickly, waving her hand in front of him to shut him up. When they stood still, she became certain. The woods were silent. There were no critters that she could hear, and certainly no birdsong. Part of her thought it was because of the coming rain, but she couldn't bank on it.
Something must have scared the creatures away.
Ana put her hand on her shortsword and Merlin's eyes followed the motion. Ana didn't move to pull it out.
"I get the sense we should run," Ana told him quietly. She could fight but Merlin couldn't. As strong as she was, Ana didn't trust herself to protect him and herself at once.
"Brilliant idea," someone said from behind them. Ana turned around quickly, her sword out before she could even see who she was facing. It was too late. The man who had spoken stood only a few feet away, his sword safely stowed. And that told Ana everything she needed to know; he had nothing to be afraid of. She could hear the shifting in the woods, and she caught the sound of a click. She dropped the sword without a word. Merlin made a sound of confusion but Ana just looked around more openly, enough to attract Merlin's attention to the situation. There were two other men, one on either side, both wielding crossbows pointed directly at them. "But I'm afraid it came a bit late."
Ana clenched her jaw and crossed her arms, not unaware of the archers tracking her movements. "What the hell do you want?"
"That's no way for a lady to talk," the man said, shaking his head. "Even if you are a servant."
Ana wanted to swear. He knew they were from the castle. It was a funny thing how quickly you could gain enemies just by being near to the prince or king. Ana didn't need to ask any further questions. "What do you want?" she repeated. She knew the answer. They wanted to get to the prince or the king, to get information. Feigning confusion was the safest bet to assure them they knew nothing.
"You know what I want," the man scoffed. "The king needs to fall. And you have the information I need to make it so."
"We don't," Merlin said, taking a step forward. He froze when the archers followed his movements. "We're just servants, we don't know anything. I-I just work in the stables. She's in the kitchens. We've barely even met the royal family."
"And you also don't know the entrances to the castle? You don't know the rotation of guards? You don't know what food the king eats to poison him?" The man took a step forward. "You, girl, you had a sword. You learned how to use that in the castle without knowing how to get past the knights?"
Ana shifted and crossed her arms. "We're servants. We don't have time to watch the guards,we don't know what entrances are best, we go through servant entrances. We don't have what you're looking for. Just let us go and we won't say a word."
The man shook his head slowly, putting a hand on the hilt of his sword. "No, I know a lie when I see one." He gestured to Ana. "Come this way, slowly."
Ana bit the inside of her cheek but took a few steps forward, aware of the archer on her right following her path.
"Let's see if servants are as brave as knights. Boy, you'll want to answer me if you want her to live, do you understand me?" The man looked to Merlin and must have found the answer he was looking for because he took another couple steps toward Ana and took his sword out, holding it in front of him, still a foot from touching her. It was redundant and for show as long as the archer was on her right, but it did the job of reminding Merlin the stakes. "You said you worked in the stables? When does the king leave the castle then? Or the prince?"
"I-I don't know," Merlin answered quickly, his voice slightly higher than usual. "The prince sometimes goes on hunting trips. But he just went on one, I don't know when he'll go again. . . . You don't need to hurt her, we'll talk."
"I need more than that. Think hard. How do I get to the king?"
When Merlin stumbled for an answer, Ana stepped up. "There's an entrance. To the castle. I don't know how you'll get to the king, but it'll get you in. It leads just above the prison. Some of us use it to avoid the guards when we're feeding prisoners."
That entrance didn't exist. There was an entrance that lead into the prison, but it was barred off with metal and unusable. There were no other hidden passageways leading in or out of there; it would be undefendable.
"I see," the man hummed. "Was cooperation so difficult? At nightfall we'll go and scout the area. But you'll be coming with me to do it." He tilted his sword toward Ana.
Ana heard Merlin take a step forward and then halt quickly. "That wasn't the deal. She can draw a map, just let us go!"
"A deal?" the man laughed. "You're down by two bows and a sword, we don't need a deal. Her I'll take. And if the king dies, I might even let her go. But you I can't have messing with my plans; can't have the king knowing what's happening before he's dead, hm?" The man raised his offhand halfway, and Ana recognized it as the beginnings of his signal for the archer to shoot.
Faster than she could have planned, she leapt forward and grabbed the blade right above the hilt, twisting the sword out of his grip and slicing her hand on its edge. Unable to make use of it fast enough, she threw it away from the both of them and then fell back back, hitting the ground and just managing to dodge an arrow that nearly hit her from the archer on her right.
"Run!" she shouted to Merlin, reaching back for her sword and shooting upright. She barely registered the click of an arrow loosing from a crossbow, barely heard it slicing through the air, before she reacted. One moment she was standing and the next she was weightless, falling in the place that Merlin had just been. She was sitting up before she had even registered she'd hit the ground, and then—
Everyone was dead. Or it looked that way. They flew back, they collapsed, all of them, all at once, and she hadn't touched them, and she hadn't felt a thing, and that wasn't possible, it just wasn't, unless—and when she turned around she had her answer. Merlin was behind her, his hand raised, breathing heavily, gold fading from his eyes. He had magic. Ana didn't even know how that was possible. How was he a practicer of magic in Camelot? Without Gaius or Arthur finding out, without anyone finding out? Ana didn't realize she was breathing heavier or that her fingertips were beginning to shake; Merlin, however, noted it with panicked and pained eyes before he spoke.
"I—I can explain," Merlin said quickly, raising both of his hands in innocence. Ana tensed instinctively at the gesture and he dropped them, concealing a small wince. "I can explain, I swear, but first—" He floundered and then gestured to her.
It was only when she shifted to sit straighter that she realized what he was talking about. She was bleeding. She immediately moved to put more pressure on her abdomen, stifling the bleeding at the cost of pain, her fingertips reaching around the shaft of an arrow to do so. "You want to . . . what? Heal me? Merlin, I . . . I don't even know how you got magic, you can't just—"
"You're going to bleed out," Merlin said, pleading. He took a couple steps forward. "Look, I'm not going to hurt you, I just want to—"
"Don't be stupid, Merlin," Ana scoffed weakly, "I know you're not going to hurt me. Just . . . come over here, all right? At the least you can help me stop the bleeding."
Merlin was evidently cautious, but after watching her expression for another moment, he was beside her and putting another hand on her abdomen, pressing harder. "Ana, I can't heal this without magic," he said, his voice pitching up. "I-I don't know how."
"I need you to explain first, Merlin," Ana insisted, attempting to sound severe. She shook her head. She couldn't let him. Not yet.
"Just trust me," Merlin insisted, breathing in sharply. She felt his hand tremble slightly where he was applying pressure. "I was born with magic, I didn't choose it, I was born with it. I'll tell you everything, but I need to heal you first, please just—"
"I trust you, Merlin," Ana sighed, wincing at the movement. "You're right, I trust you. So . . . so do it. And I expect that explanation after, all right?" Cautiously, and not without a glance at Merlin to see if he would stop her first, she grabbed hold of the arrow, took a deep breath, and pulled it out in a swift motion that left her in dizzying pain.
After the immediate shock faded, Merlin's eyes lit up in relief at his new opportunity, his shoulders relaxing minutely. Ana expected him to prepare her, or explain, but instead he gave her an uncertain look, ducked his head, and muttered words she couldn't make out under his breath. After a moment, he applied more pressure to her wound and repeated the words again. She jumped when the wound began to sting, but it was over as quickly as it came. Merlin slowly eased the pressure off her wound and no blood poured between his fingers.
Ana shifted to lean back immediately, putting both of her hands on the place the wound used to be. "Shit," she breathed. "It's not—it's not bleeding. It barely hurts. How did you—?" Ana cut herself off when she saw his expression, nervous and uncertain. "I . . . don't think you're evil, Merlin. I just don't understand. I—why didn't you tell me? And what do you mean you were born with it? And what about all the magic that happens in Camelot? Are you the one doing it? Because a lot of that is—" Ana caught herself and stopped, waiting for him to answer.
Merlin kept his eyes on the ground, propping up a knee and leaning on it. "I was born with magic," he said again. "It's not common, but it happens. Some of the druids are born with magic too. I can't just stop. It's a part of who I am." He risked a glance up to see her expression and then looked down again. "I only use magic to help people, I swear. Like Arthur. I protect him. And I can't tell anyone or—"
"You'll be sentenced to death?" Ana offered. "That's a reasonable answer." She paused, digging her fingers into the dirt as she thought. "I didn't know people could be born with magic. It's, um, it's different. To know you didn't choose it. I mean, I don't think all magic-users are evil but—" Ana dug her fingers deeper into the ground.
Merlin watched her movement carefully but didn't comment on it. "How are you so calm?" he asked. "No one else who found out were, were like this."
"I'm not calm, Merlin," Ana said plainly. "I—I'm freaking out. This isn't normal. Or okay. I just don't—I don't know how I'm supposed to feel right now. You're not the first magic user I've met, but even then . . ."
"But you still trust me?" he asked. His voice was cautious, if hopeful. Ana paused to fully look at him and realized suddenly that he must have been rejected before, that he couldn't possibly be used to acceptance.
Ana opened her mouth and then closed it. It took a moment before she attempted to speak again. "Of course I do. You're still Merlin." After another moment, she even managed the smallest of smiles. "And I have the slightest feeling that Arthur's not lucky at all. Puts all the dropped branches, swords, and chandeliers into perspective."
Merlin's eyes widened and he barked a laugh, far giddier than he should have been. "You don't know the half of it," he assured her. His words were punctuated by the first few drops of rain that began to fall through the trees, splashing dew on their skins.
Ana cleared her throat. "I don't suppose you could stop this rain then?"
Merlin wouldn't have dared try and Ana didn't expect him to. Both of them knew that it was too soon, that she wasn't ready for it and he wasn't ready to witness the reaction. But that didn't keep either of them from smiling at the question, or put a damper on Merlin's mood when he stood up and offered her a hand to stand as well. There was something about the air around them that assured them it would be okay soon.
Gaius would have a word with them when he saw the pair, soaking wet and muddy, with blood dotting their clothes. He would notice Ana's behaviour and Merlin's careful avoidance of the suspicious and realize the secret had been told. Of course nothing would ever be the same. But in that moment, Ana and Merlin thought of none of that. Instead, they hurried home, still shocked beyond what they could express, with an odd sense of relief filling their bones.
The list Gaius had provided was not merely long; it was punitive. It trailed from Merlin’s hand like a ribbon of parchment sentencing him to a slow, botanical death, curling all the way down to the damp earth of the forest floor.
“I’m fairly certain he made half of these up,” Merlin grumbled, squinting at the crabbed handwriting that danced before his eyes in the dappled sunlight. “What in the name of the Old Religion is ‘Grog-wart’? It sounds like something Arthur would call me on a Tuesday.”
YN, walking a few paces ahead of him, laughed. The sound was bright and unburdened, cutting through the humid stillness of the Darkling Woods. She swatted a low-hanging branch out of her path, her movements practiced and agile, completely at odds with Merlin’s stumbling trudge.
“It’s a fungus, Merlin,” she called back, not bothering to turn around. “Grows on the north side of rotting oaks. Good for gout. Though I suspect Gaius wants it for the King’s digestion after last night's feast.”
“And the Silvershine Moss?”
“For polishing the phials on the high shelf. He’s running low.”
“And the River-leech?”
YN stopped then, turning on her heel to face him. She was grinning, her eyes crinkling at the corners in a way that always made Merlin feel a little less like the weight of Albion was resting solely on his narrow shoulders. “That,” she said, pointing a finger at him, “is just to see if you’ll actually wade into the mud to get it.”
Merlin groaned, letting his head fall back. He stared up at the canopy of ancient trees, the leaves shimmering like emerald coins against the blue sky. “He hates me. Everyone hates me. I am a servant to tyrants and madmen.”
“You love it,” she teased, waiting for him to catch up. She fell into step beside him, bumping her shoulder comfortably against his. It was a gesture of easy camaraderie, one that required no words or explanations. In a castle full of secrets, hierarchies, and rigid protocols, YN was a rare breath of fresh air—someone who knew him. Not just Merlin the servant, or Merlin the clumsy idiot, but Merlin.
She knew about the magic. It had been an accident, months ago—a falling chandelier, a whispered spell, and YN standing in the doorway with a basket of linens. She hadn’t screamed. She hadn’t run to Uther. She had simply asked if he could fix the broken vase she’d dropped the week prior. Since then, the bond between them had solidified into something ironclad and fiercely protective.
“I do not love it,” Merlin argued, though the bite was gone from his tone. “I could be sleeping. I could be eating. I could be doing literally anything other than hunting for Grog-wart in the most spider-infested part of the kingdom.”
“But look at the day, Merlin!” YN spread her arms wide, encompassing the forest. “The sun is shining, the birds are singing, and Arthur isn’t here yelling at you to polish his chainmail for the third time. It’s practically a holiday.”
Merlin looked at her. She had a smudge of dirt on her cheek and a few leaves caught in her hair, and she looked entirely at peace. It was infectious. “I suppose,” he conceded, hitching the strap of his satchel higher on his shoulder. “But if we see a giant spider, I’m using you as a shield.”
“Fair enough. I’m sturdier than you anyway.”
They walked in comfortable silence for a while, the only sounds the crunch of dry leaves under their boots and the distant, rhythmic hammering of a woodpecker. The woods were beautiful, Merlin had to admit. Away from the stone walls of Camelot, the air smelled of pine resin and damp earth rather than horse stables and woodsmoke. It hummed with a subtle, underlying energy—the life force of the land—that buzzed against Merlin’s senses like a second heartbeat.
He watched YN scan the tree roots, her focus intense. She was better at this than he was. While Merlin had the magical affinity to sense life, YN had the practical knowledge passed down from her grandmother. She knew which berries would sweeten a tart and which would stop a heart in three beats.
“Found it,” she whispered triumphantly, dropping to her knees beside a fallen log that was more moss than wood.
Merlin crouched beside her. “The Grog-wart?”
“The very same.” She pulled a small knife from her belt and began to carefully pry the ugly, bulbous fungi from the rotting bark. “Hand me the sack? The canvas one, not the linen. This stuff stains.”
Merlin fumbled in his bag, retrieving the rough canvas sack. As he held it open for her, he watched her hands work—steady, precise, efficient.
“You know,” Merlin said softly, “you could have been a physician. You know almost as much as Gaius about the flora.”
YN paused, her knife hovering over a particularly stubborn patch of fungus. A wistful shadow passed over her face, fleeting as a cloud blocking the sun. “A nice thought, Merlin. But the court doesn’t look kindly on physician’s assistants who wear skirts. Besides,” she glanced up, smirking, “who would keep you out of trouble in the laundry creates?”
“I don’t get into trouble in the laundry,” Merlin defended.
“Last week? The red sock? Arthur’s white tournament tunic?”
Merlin winced. “That was… an alchemical miscalculation.”
“It was pink, Merlin. The Prince of Camelot wore pink to the training grounds. Leon nearly fell off his horse laughing.”
“It brought out the color in his cheeks,” Merlin muttered, though he couldn't help but smile at the memory. He remembered the look on Arthur’s face—a mix of homicidal rage and utter confusion.
Once the Grog-wart was harvested and stowed away, they continued deeper into the woods, the terrain growing rougher. The ground began to slope downward toward the river valley, the earth becoming softer and more treacherous. This was where the Silvershine Moss grew, on the damp stones near the water’s edge.
The slope was steep, slick with the previous night’s rain and hidden beneath a deceptive carpet of dead leaves. YN navigated it with the grace of a mountain goat, finding footholds where there appeared to be none. Merlin, however, was less fortunate.
He took a step, his boot found nothing but slick mud, and his arms pinwheeled wildly.
“Whoa!”
“Merlin!”
He didn’t tumble so much as slide, a chaotic descent of flailing limbs and indignity. He grabbed at saplings that uprooted in his hands and clawed at grass that offered no resistance. He came to a halt only when the ground leveled out at the bottom of the ravine, landing flat on his back in a puddle of stagnant, brackish water that smelled distinctly of sulfur and decay.
Silence reigned for three seconds.
Then, from the top of the ridge, a face appeared. YN peered over the edge, her expression battling between concern and amusement.
“Are you alive?” she called down.
Merlin spat out a mouthful of muddy water. He sat up, peeling a wet leaf off his forehead. His tunic was sodden, his boots were caked in gray sludge, and he could feel the cold damp seeping into his very bones.
“I’m fine,” he croaked. “Just… resting.”
YN scrambled down the slope, sliding the last few feet in a controlled crouch. She landed lightly beside the puddle, barely kicking up a speck of dirt. She took one look at him—drenched, miserable, and looking like a drowned rat—and bit her lip.
“Don’t,” Merlin warned, pointing a mud-covered finger at her. “Do not laugh.”
“I’m not!” she insisted, her voice trembling with suppressed mirth. “I’m very concerned. Truly.”
“You’re vibrating.”
“It’s the cold. Shivering.”
Merlin glared at her, but the absurdity of the situation caught up with him. He looked down at himself. He was covered in slime. He sighed, a long, suffering exhale. “Gaius is going to kill me. This was my clean tunic.”
YN couldn’t hold it back anymore. She let out a snort, which dissolved into full-blown laughter. It wasn't mean-spirited; it was the kind of laughter that invited you in. She offered him a hand. “Come on, you bog monster. Up you get.”
Merlin took her hand, letting her haul him out of the muck. As he stood, dripping and squelching, he looked at her beaming face.
“You seem to be enjoying yourself,” he noted dryly, wiping sludge from his neck.
“Oh, immensely,” she admitted, her eyes dancing. “It’s the highlight of my week. Watching the most powerful warlock to ever walk the earth defeated by a patch of mud? It’s poetic, really.”
Merlin rolled his eyes, but he felt the corner of his mouth twitching. “Glad I could entertain. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to avoid catching pneumonia.”
He glanced around. The ravine was deep, shielding them from prying eyes. The trees grew thick here, creating a natural wall of privacy.
“Coast is clear,” YN said softly, knowing exactly what he was thinking. She turned her back to him, facing the slope, keeping watch. “Do your thing.”
Merlin took a breath. He centered himself, feeling the warmth of the magic in his chest, a golden coil ready to spring. He whispered the words, his eyes flashing gold for a fraction of a second.
“Bael onbryne.”
A rush of warm air, like the blast from a furnace, swirled around him. Steam rose from his clothes in a thick cloud. The mud dried instantly, cracking and flaking off, turning to dust that he easily brushed away. The dampness in his boots evaporated. Within seconds, he was warm, dry, and relatively clean, save for a few stubborn stains.
“Better?” YN asked, looking over her shoulder as the steam dissipated.
“Much,” Merlin sighed, rolling his shoulders. “I love magic. I really do. It’s significantly better than towels.”
“Show-off,” she nudged him. “Now, look. While you were busy wallowing, I spotted the moss.”
She pointed to a cluster of rocks jutting out into the stream a few yards away. They were coated in a shimmering, silver-green substance that seemed to glow in the dim light of the ravine.
They moved toward the stream, the task refocusing their minds. As they harvested the moss, scraping it carefully into glass phials, the atmosphere shifted into something more contemplative. The earlier laughter settled into a comfortable, quiet intimacy.
“Do you ever think about leaving?” YN asked suddenly.
Merlin paused, the glass phial in his hand suspended over the rock. He didn't look up immediately. “Leaving?”
“Camelot. The chores. The secrecy.” She sat back on her heels, wiping her hands on her apron. “Just packing a bag and going somewhere where you don’t have to hide. Where you could… I don’t know. Be a court sorcerer? Or just a village healer who doesn’t have to lie about how he cured the miller’s gout?”
Merlin scraped the last of the moss into the jar and corked it. He sat down on a dry stone, looking at the rushing water of the stream. It was a question he asked himself in the dark hours of the night, but hearing it out loud made it feel heavier.
“I can’t,” he said simply.
“Because of destiny?”
“Because of Arthur.”
YN smiled softly, picking up a pebble and tossing it into the water. Plunk. “He doesn’t know how lucky he is. To have a friend like you.”
“He thinks I’m an idiot,” Merlin reminded her.
“He thinks you’re an idiot because that’s the mask you wear,” she countered gently. “But he trusts you. More than he trusts his knights. I see the way he looks for you when he’s stressed, or how he relaxes when you’re in the room. You’re his anchor, Merlin.”
Merlin looked at her, surprised by the depth of her observation. “You see a lot, don’t you?”
“I’m a servant, Merlin. We’re invisible. People say things and do things in front of us because they forget we’re there. I see everything.” She shifted, turning to face him fully. “I worry about you, though. Carrying all of that alone. Even with Gaius… it’s a lot of weight for one person.”
“I’m not alone,” Merlin said. The words came out before he could filter them, honest and raw. He looked at YN—at her kind face, her steady presence. “I have you.”
YN’s expression softened, a genuine warmth flooding her features. She reached out and squeezed his forearm. “Yeah. You do. And don’t you forget it. If you ever need to rant about destiny, or dragons, or how heavy Arthur’s head is… I’m here.”
“His head is remarkably heavy,” Merlin joked, breaking the tension. “I think it’s all the hot air.”
They shared a laugh, the sound lighter this time, grounded in shared understanding. It was these moments, Merlin realized, that kept him sane. The moments where he didn’t have to be the savior of Albion or the bumbling servant. He could just be Merlin, sitting by a stream with a friend.
“Right,” YN said, slapping her knees and standing up. “Sentimental hour is over. We still need the River-leech. And I am not catching those. They’re slimy.”
Merlin groaned, standing up. “I hate leeches.”
“You have magic,” she pointed out. “Can’t you just… summon them?”
“It doesn’t work like that. Living things are tricky. If I summon them, I might accidentally summon a water snake. Or a very angry pike.”
“Manual labor it is, then.”
They spent the next hour wading in the shallows. Thankfully, no further falls occurred. They collected the leeches (which were indeed disgusting), found the wild garlic Gaius wanted for his soup, and even stumbled upon a bush of sweet blackberries, which they ate until their fingers and tongues were stained purple.
By the time they climbed out of the ravine, the sun was beginning to dip low in the sky, casting long, golden shadows through the trees. The air was cooling, the heat of the day giving way to the crispness of evening.
They were walking back along the ridge when Merlin stopped dead in his tracks. He held out an arm to stop YN.
“What?” she whispered, freezing instantly.
Merlin tilted his head. “Do you hear that?”
“Hear what?”
“Hissing.”
YN paled. “Snakes?”
“Bigger.”
From the undergrowth ahead, a massive shape emerged. It wasn't a snake. It was a badger. But not just any badger—this beast was the size of a large dog, with stripes as wide as a man's hand and claws that looked capable of digging through stone. It stood in the center of the path, chittering aggressively, its teeth bared.
“That,” YN whispered, “is an unusually large badger.”
“It’s a Dire Badger,” Merlin corrected, his voice hushed. “Territorial. Very grumpy.”
“Can we go around?”
The badger took a step forward and snapped its jaws. Snap. The sound was like a branch breaking.
“I don’t think he wants us to go around,” Merlin said.
“Magic?” YN suggested, gripping Merlin’s sleeve.
“If I blast it, it’ll make a noise. We’re too close to the patrols near the city limits.”
“So, what? We run?”
“Badgers are fast, YN. Surprisingly fast.”
The badger growled, a low rumble that vibrated in the ground. It looked ready to charge.
Merlin scanned the area. He needed a distraction. Something subtle. His eyes landed on a heavy branch hanging precariously above the badger’s head, attached to an old oak tree by a sliver of wood.
“Cover your ears,” Merlin whispered.
“Why?”
“Just do it.”
YN clapped her hands over her ears. Merlin focused on the branch. “To-springe,” he muttered, his eyes flashing gold.
The wood snapped with a sharp crack. The heavy branch plummeted straight down.
It didn't hit the badger—Merlin wasn't cruel—but it landed inches from its nose with a thunderous thud, exploding into a shower of bark and leaves.
The Dire Badger, startled out of its wits, let out a high-pitched squeak that was entirely undignified for a creature of its size. It performed a clumsy backflip in its haste to turn around and bolted into the underbrush, crashing through the ferns like a runaway cart.
Silence returned to the path.
YN slowly lowered her hands. She looked at the spot where the badger had been, then at the fallen branch, and finally at Merlin.
“Did you just… prank a badger?”
“I prefer the term ‘tactical redirection’,” Merlin said with a grin.
“You almost gave the poor thing a heart attack.”
“Better than it eating our ankles.”
YN shook her head, laughing as she started walking again. “You’re impossible, Merlin. Truly.”
“I try.”
As they neared the gates of Camelot, the tension of the city began to settle back onto them. Merlin’s posture shifted, his shoulders hunching slightly, the mask of the servant sliding back into place. YN noticed, and she moved closer, her voice dropping to a murmur so the guards on the wall wouldn't hear.
“Thank you,” she said.
“For what? The badger?”
“For the day. For trusting me.”
Merlin looked at her. The castle loomed ahead, a monolith of stone and duty. But for the first time in a long time, the walk back didn't feel like a march to the gallows.
“Anytime,” he said softly. “Although, next time Gaius asks for River-leeches, we’re telling him we couldn’t find any.”
“Agreed. I’m not scrubbing slime out of your boots again.”
“I have magic for that!”
“And yet,” she teased, poking him in the ribs as they passed under the portcullis, “you still missed a spot behind your ear.”
Merlin frantically rubbed at his ear, causing the guards to give him strange looks as he passed. YN laughed, skipping ahead toward the physician’s chambers.
“Wait! YN! Is there really mud?”
She turned back, walking backward, her smile radiant in the torchlight of the courtyard. “No. But you fell for it.”
Merlin shook his head, a genuine smile breaking across his face. He hurried to catch up with her. The destiny of the Once and Future King could wait until tomorrow. Tonight, he was just Merlin, and he had a friend to help him carry the load.
