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Hihi!!!! I just started watching Merlin and was reminded of your merlin/SaSi crossover fic with Virgil and Janus? (which I do not remember the name of but enjoyed a lot even without context haha) I was wondering if you'd ever consider writing more of/a sequel to that fic? If you want to of course. - Ro

 

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Janus sighs, glancing up over the edge of the sheaf of paper propped in front of him to see Virgil puttering around with the last of his armor, ostensibly making sure his servant is putting things back where they're supposed to go. Really, if he stares at this speech one more time, he might go insane, and then Virgil would be the one to deal with whatever consequences that action would incur so really, he's just saving him more work in the long run. How generous of him.

Virgil. Virgil, Virgil, Virgil.

When his father forced him to pick a manservant and he avoided it for as long as he could, he had a fleeting thought that perhaps he'd be allowed to just skate by without picking one. But no, instead he'd had a truly entertaining—in hindsight, and he would only admit so in his head—fight with a peasant boy in the middle of the market one morning and then the absolute fool had managed to save his life the very next day and the King decided that, well, the universe must have spoken. Neither of them had been content at the arrangement at first, but now, well…

They've gotten used to it, let's say.

Virgil is not a typical servant. He shows almost no regard for any sort of formality or propriety—unless he's doing it on purpose to make a point, in which case he's pointing out how much disdain he really has for it—he knows almost nothing about Camelot's traditions or anything to do with how the manservant to a royal should be behaving, and he acts as though everything he's doing is only because he wants to be doing it, not because he has to do it.

Virgil is also, without a doubt, the most loyal and stupidly self-sacrificing person Janus has ever met. He throws himself in front of swords like he's wearing the most indestructible armor. He shoves himself between anyone he perceives as helpless—or in need of help—and danger at the slightest notice. He talks back to everyone, even the King when he thinks it's warranted, standing up for everyone from the lowest servants to Janus himself. For all his bluster about being upset about being stuck with Janus for the rest of this life and possibly the next, he never truly complains about what he does to actually care for him.

Janus…doesn't know what to do with that.

Had this been before the days of waking up to things thrown at him and snarky remarks tossed back and forth, he might have laughed and said that was a servant's duty. But he's known Virgil now, for years, and it's more than that. Fine, perhaps some of his points—or lectures, as they inevitably turn out to be—about servants being people to have eventually rubbed off on him, but even so, Virgil goes so far beyond what could possibly be conceived of as regular duty that it's nearly astonishing. He's never had someone care about him like this before. Not his father, who only sees him as the heir to the throne, not the other knights, who saw him as a friend—maybe, however fleeting that might have been—and then as their commander, not even the other nobles, who hold him at arm's length. No, Virgil had decided somehow that he was going to be Janus's friend, and he hasn't wavered on that decision. Not in all the time Janus has known him.

Not even with the fact that he's a sorcerer.

Yes, Janus knows. He's not blind nor stupid. He knows that branches don't just decide to swing for no reason, he knows swords don't pick themselves up and impale the nearest bandit when his back is turned, he knows dust storms don't whip up out of nowhere to distract a crowd of people just because the wind has decided to be convenient. And he's not deaf either—he can hear those mumbled things Virgil says right before his eyes flash gold— if it wasn't far more dangerous for Janus to admit he knows, he would be scolding him left and right for being so stupidly obvious about it.

But he knows why Virgil hasn't told him.

He's not that cruel or unaware to realize the difference between them is far more than just class and station. He's protected in so many ways that Virgil could never hope to be—at least not right now. Poor Virgil is terribly alone here, not just because his family is a kingdom away, but because there…isn't really anyone who can help him. Not the physician, not any of his friends, not even Janus, as much as he pains to admit it. Magic is illegal in Camelot. The punishment for sorcery is death. Janus could no sooner sentence Virgil to death than throw himself on the pyre.

Virgil might be careless with his own life, but Janus absolutely will not be.

Which is why he's watching him right now, just to make sure the fool doesn't try to do something like use magic to cheat at his chores right in front of Janus while he thinks he isn't paying attention. He's gotten a little bit smarter about it—just a little, this is still Virgil he's talking about—but still, he doesn't put it past his idiot to do something stupid the minute he lets his guard down.

That's another interesting development that he hasn't thought too much about. Since when has he started thinking of Virgil as his idiot?

Sure, technically the whole manservant thing makes Virgil his in all but blood, but that's not the same thing. Virgil has this very annoying independent streak, almost like a cat, and if he didn't want to be tamed at all, well, he wouldn't let himself be. But in the same way that Janus has found himself growing softer, more forgiving, more human since Virgil, Virgil's been letting Janus actually see him more. Sure, the idiot's still an idiot who sometimes spouts the most unique pearl of wisdom he's ever heard, but he's growing more and more into his idiot and the slope is getting more and more slippery by the day.

"You've been quiet for too long, what's wrong?"

Janus gives himself a shake. Virgil's staring at him from the other side of the bed now. "What?"

"You've been staring at me without saying anything."

"I'm not staring at you, I'm staring into space."

"Oh, well, then why are you staring into space?"

"I'm thinking."

"You know how bad that is for you."

Janus balls up a sheet of paper and throws it at him. Virgil dodges it effortlessly and looks down with disdain.

"Now you're giving me more work!"

"It's a single piece of paper, are you truly so lazy that picking up a singular piece of paper is an insurmountable workload?"

"I'll show you insurmountable workload," Virgil mutters under his breath as he stoops to pick up the paper. Conveniently, he moves out of the way of the mirror, which enables Janus to see the stupid, fond smile on his face and he quickly schools his expression into one of annoyance. "How's the speech coming?"

"Why, eager to read it for me?"

"Eager to see if the steward's been having any luck getting you to actually make a point instead of blustering on for two rolls of parchment."

"I'll have you know I've been a bench marker for eloquence for years."

"Yeah, I forgot that they need to make measurements for the low end too."

"Oh, like you'd be able to do better? You roll your eyes at every bard that comes into the great hall to perform."

"Yeah, 'cause they're all suck-ups who glorify things that don't need to be glorified or money-grubbers that try to turn a profit off of the human art of storytelling. I don't scoff at real bards who actually know what they're doing."

Janus blinks. "We've had every single famous bard this side of—"

"You know they're the ones who decide who's famous enough to be a royal bard, don't you? You and all the other royals, who end up picking the bards that are the nicest to them and not the ones that actually have any sort of reliable talent."

Silently, Janus might concede that point. Half of the bards they've had recently are shoddy musicians at best. Out loud, however, he says, "you can just admit you've never had a penchant for music."

"I like music!"

"You like bawdy tavern songs that you can sing while drunk, that's not the same as liking music."

Virgil's ears turn red and he disappears into a flood of furious muttering as he busies himself with another chore. Ah, yes, the tavern. The greatest lie the two of them tell regularly and the one that Janus is going to poke at until Virgil admits he doesn't so much as know where the tavern is. He's not sure why the physician is truly so abysmal at lying—well, yes, he does—but he does know that Virgil is a lot of things, but a drunkard isn't one of them.

Still, perhaps it affords Virgil some cover. If the rest of court believes his manservant to be a drunken fool, then Virgil can get away with mouthing off and talking back the amount he does for it'll be dismissed as the ramblings of a sloshed idiot. And for that, well, Janus is happy to play along.

"Seriously, is everything alright?" He blinks to see Virgil's staring at him again, concern naked on his face. "You've not been—you're—what's wrong?"

"How eloquent of you."

"Janus."

What he should say is something like I'm allowed to think in the privacy of my own chambers. Or it's adorable that you care so much about me. Or don't you have chores to do?

What he absolutely, positively should not say is: "I know you have magic."

But that's what comes out of his mouth, and he watches Virgil turn white so quickly it's like he's turning into a ghost right in front of him. He stands quickly, worried Virgil's about to faint, only to cry out when Virgil drops the basket and bolts.

"Virgil!"

He manages to catch him just before he makes it to the door, arms wrapped around his torso, but Virgil flails and thrashes like a gasping fish and Janus grunts when fists manage to hit his ribs. Virgil not trying to hurt him, he realizes with no small amount of relief, he's just trying to get away, but Janus can't let him. Not until he fixes this. He ends up wrestling him down—which is much harder than he'd anticipated—and all but pinning him to the floor.

"Virgil! Virgil," he calls, trying frantically to get Virgil to just look at him, "Virgil, calm down, it's okay, it's alright, I'm not angry."

Virgil's eyes are so wide he's worried they'll fall right out of his head. His breath is coming in short, sharp pants. He's nearly frothing at the mouth.

" Sweetie," Janus murmurs, "sweetie, it's okay. It's okay, I promise. Shh, shh, you need to breathe, sweetie, shh…"

"J—Janus—Janus—I— I—"

"Hush, sweetie, shh, it's okay—I'm sorry, I shouldn't have sprung it on you like that, shh, don't fight me, don't fight me, you're going to hurt yourself." He squeezes Virgil's wrists, leans down to press their foreheads together. "I'm sorry, don't be so afraid, please, just—just calm down."

Virgil is not calming down. He's crying now, which is worse, so much worse, and Janus can't help but wrap him up in his arms and pull him close, head sobbing into the crook of his neck and his whole body shaking. Gods, Virgil's shaking, he must be so afraid…

No wonder. He's just had a secret that could get him killed revealed by one of the people responsible for upholding the laws that say so. He closes his eyes and tucks Virgil into the lea of him.

"Don't fret," he whispers, "don't fret, I'm not going to turn you in, I'm not going to arrest you, I'm not going to execute you. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, sweetie, I didn't mean to frighten you. You're right, you're always right when it comes to be not thinking before I do things. I'm sorry."

"No fire," Virgil pleads, "no fire, you can—you can do it any other way, just please—"

"I'm not going to have you killed, you fool," he says in a rush, his own chest twisting at the mere thought of it, "you're not going anywhere. I forbid it."

That, more than anything, seems to cut through the worst of Virgil's panic. He pulls back just enough to let Virgil look at him, see that he's telling the truth, before his eyes well up with a different sort of tears and he's letting out a comforting noise before he realizes it.

"Oh, you poor thing," he whispers, pulling him back in for a proper cuddle, "don't worry, I'm not about to let you get hurt. It's alright."

"It's—it's for you," comes the hoarse response, "my magic, it's only—it's only for you."

"You fool," he murmurs, affection lacing every word, "what about you?"

"You—you're always saying I should trust—should trust you to take care of me—"

Janus squeezes him tighter. "Of course I'll take care of you, you stupid idiot. That's my job. Oh, Virgil, I'm so sorry…we'll repeal the ban on magic, I swear it."

Now Virgil well and truly sobs, this time out of relief, and Janus can't help the smile spreading across his face as Virgil goes limp in his arms. He closes his eyes and soaks in the relief of it himself, of having Virgil heavy and secure in his arms, of having him trust him enough to hold him like this, his idiot sorcerer of a manservant who somehow tricked his way into becoming the most important person in Janus's life.

At some point, they'll get up off the floor, Virgil will go to bring them dinner—because he's going to make Virgil eat, that fool doesn't eat nearly enough as he should if Janus can feel his ribs right now—and Janus is going to start drafting repeals on magic bans. They're going to tease each other, make fun of each other, and piss off his father so much he might rise from the dead about it. And then, when Virgil is safe, they're going to have a long conversation about other things too.

For now, Janus is going to sit here and hold his idiot while he cries and make sure that he never doubts how much Janus will do to take care of him. Can't have himself one-upped by an idiot, can he?