Chapter Text
Merlin despised it when visitors came because it meant he had to actually behave around Arthur and act like a decent servant. Not that he wasn’t a decent servant, just his reigns were being pulled a little bit tighter. Why would visiting nobles come at a time like this? With Uthur almost on his deathbed, who could really guess the motives. To seize the throne? To shove their poor daughter or sister at Arthur to make a marriage alliance? Maybe they were just innocently coming to pay their respects early? Merlin highly doubted the last one. The second one made him laugh at the image of Arthur awkwardly rejecting women around him. And the first one hit a little too close to comfort with the people who’ve already tried while the king was in perfect health.
The Lord Homewoode was an interesting little man. For that reason alone, it set off Merlin’s instincts. Something felt off about the family; he had hardly known about them until they arrived at court. He assumed the condition of the king was spreading rapidly, and with it would come an increase in people in the castle.
To his advantage, servants talk. And they talk a lot. It’s one of the benefits of standing in the background, hidden from the nobles around them until wanted. And the visiting lord brought a few servants of his own who just so happened to love gossip about their own house, especially in exchange for the castle’s own. Merlin is usually not one to get into gossip unless it is useful to him. Some could say this gossip could be totally useful in the case of protecting Arthur’s royal arse.
“I heard that the lady of the house went insane. But no one knows why”
“I heard that Lord Homewoode still allows magic against the King's order, and that’s why they don’t visit the court often.”
“I heard that the twins have a weird relationship, one servant said they’re a little too inseparable.”
“Well, I heard that Lady Homewoode is actually dead. That she may have been killed by either her husband or children. They use the locked away from insanity to cover up her death.”
“One says that the lord practices magic himself. That he has a vendetta, but his land is too important for King Uther to take it from him, and that his son does too.”
“Another says that the son also has a peculiar relation with the cook's son. One more than lord and servant.”
Mostly uninteresting and useless. Most. Whether the magic allegations were true or not, it’s good for him to be safer than sorry. Especially with Camelot’s fate soon to be at the crossroads of Uther’s death and Arthur’s ascension to the throne. But that off-putting feeling grew more and more after hearing said rumors. Another part of him told him that rumors are rumors, meaning they could be misinterpreted and stretched out truths. Oh boy, does he know a thing or two about rumors and stretched-out truths.
For weeks, nothing happened. He stood by Arthur’s side, observing them quietly. Caoiliann, the young lady of the house, attended to the duties of her mother in her place, as well as interacting with the other young women at court. Lord Angus Homewoode was actually one of the most boring people Merlin ever had the displeasure of meeting. He could even go as far as saying that Lord Homewoode was more boring than George, if one could ever be. It was the son who interested Merlin. The young Sir Crawford Homewoode was a handsome man and held himself in great regard, but with an air of humility that is not as common with the courtiers of Camelot.
And either fortunately or unfortunately, Arthur has assigned Merlin in charge of the visiting lord’s small serving staff. ‘It’s your job as the step in as head of the royal household servants, since father and his manservant are not available. You’ll be in charge of it later anyway,’ the idiot had explained. All in a day's work. But it also made it easier for him to scout the suspiciousness of the family. And maybe this is how Merlin got in this position. A really interesting one. He may have found out that at least one of those silly rumors was true, especially laid out in a bed that was not his own or Arthur’s.
_
It started with glances; Merlin would notice Sir Crawford looking at him and smiling whenever they made eye contact. Especially when in meetings where he was assisting his aging father, or when he happened to also be practicing on the training fields at the same time as Arthur. Then, it turned to Merlin finding small flowers outside the physician’s chambers- he may have stepped on the first ones. He would later see the lord’s son sporting the same flower on his person.
The giggling that Lady Caoiliann would let out when she and her brother would happen to be nearby. One could almost mistake it as them giggling at him like teenagers towards their newest infatuation. When Merlin would serve him, it felt as if the nobleman would gently reach out to almost meet the prince’s manservant. Merlin was cleaning out the stables when Sir Crawford approached him. At first, the man was just there, intently watching him; there was something intent in his eyes. Merlin couldn’t tell completely what, so he kept his guard up when he walked forward.
“Merlin, was it?” the honey-like voice spoke out softly. That was new.
“Yes, my Lord. Is there anything I can do?” Despite popular opinion, he did know how to behave in the company of his betters.
“I know his highness is busy taking care of his departing father and kingdom, but does he always send his own manservant to do the dirty work?” Sir Crawford’s voice tattered on a teasing tone. This made Merlin chuckle a bit.
“I don’t mean this, stable work. I know you’ve been watching my family and I, quite closely, might I say. Servants aren’t the only observant ones.” He leaned against the pole, arms crossed and eyes narrowed towards Merlin.
“I don’t know what you mean,” scoffed Merlin. That’s when he felt a hand on his chin. It was a surprisingly gentle hold for the swiftness of the movement. Their faces are only a few inches from each other. Crawford smirked as his eyes roamed Merlin’s features more closely.
“What I mean is, does Prince Arthur always send his most handsome manservant to spy on visitors? Or does my household have the pleasure of you gracing us with your keen eye and snooping nose?”
For once, Merlin’s tongue was caught in his throat. He had to admit that the man in front of him was almost godly in appearance. His hair was golden, so light you could almost think it was the sun. Eyes are dark as the earth. His presence seemed almost divine. If you told him he was one of the old gods, he would probably believe you. After all of the teasing, lingering, and longing interactions with Arthur, no one (especially not a noble) had actually been this forward. It made his heart skip with anxiety; the fear of not knowing is this anger or lust was coming from the man. Still, the pause before Merlin’s response was deafening. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“So it hasn’t been you just so happening to pop up in areas around the castle, glaring at my family as we visit here? Watching us in case we slip up and do something ‘wrong’. Just some other handsome manservant who just so happens to look just like you?” Crawford whispered while he leaned in closer. And as quickly as he was there, he backed away. “If you wanted to know so badly, you could only have asked. I’m a very … open person, one could say.”
With that, the young man walked away from the stables. He called one of the boys to bring him his horse. Before he rode off, he turned back towards Merlin and gave a wink. What has he gotten himself into now? A week after that incident, Sir Crawford asked kindly to take Merlin off Arthur's hands for part of the day as his manservant had to unexpectedly be sent back to the estate. Personal family matters, he said. And for some damn reason, Arthur agreed. Merlin saw that it sort of hurt Arthur; he agreed, but he said it would just be a few extra duties for Merlin anyway. Just waking the man and cleaning his chambers after he finished with Arthur’s. The prince couldn’t let the visitor completely take away the head of the royal household servants.
It was when Merlin walked into the room, not thinking anyone would be there, that he caught the two Homewoode siblings sitting in front of a small mat with ruins drawn along the edge, the Lady Caoiliann holding small bones and speaking in another language. Their voices were in hushed whispers and seemed not to have noticed Merlin standing there against the door.
“Is the one they speak of near?”
“Yes. I’ve asked, and the bones say he’s close by.”
“And of your visions?”
“Still unclear. But the crows say that death learns closely in the corner and new beginnings will come to pass.”
“Merlin. Please stop standing there,” the lord’s son acknowledged. The two siblings seemed to be in sync as they turned towards him. Sir Crawford stood up slowly as his sister quickly put away the evidence. He casually handed the servant the dirty linens, almost purposely touching his hands over Merlin’s, “And please, nothing you just saw or heard goes past that door. I know how much servants love to talk.”
It was a strange interaction that put him on edge. He felt the magic in that room, but this magic was different. Very different from the magic he was used to, which may have explained the strange feelings from before. Caution, still, not lust. The magic felt different, yet still familiar. Divination was practiced in the room of a visiting noble, who didn’t even keep the door locked, and a vision dream. It scared Merlin, reminded him too much of Morgana. But that’s not the part that worried him the most. It was what they said. Who was near? Death is near and change is coming, that's who. And that was what unsettled Merlin the most.
What annoyed Merlin the most was that the Homewoode family had no ill will against Camelot or her people. They were just there, and the son of the house was not subtle in his advances towards Merlin. But he tried not to think too much of the almost golden visitor or his almost identical sister. Instead, he focused on poking the fire of the hearth in Arthur’s room. All while Arthur lay out on his rug.
“Do you know what it’s like to lose a father?” Arthur questioned. This caused the other man to just sit there contemplating. Yes, he has, and he never properly grieved Bailnor. But then again, how can you grieve a father you had only just met a few days prior? He had made it that far without him anyway.
Merlin hummed in response, unable to put his thoughts into words. “I am scared of the day I lose my mother.”
“Hhm. You grew up with just a mother, and I with just a father.”
“He died when I was young. I vaguely remember what he looks like, an idea, but nothing more.” Merlin lied as he stood up. A soft ‘oh’ came from the man, now sitting up and looking towards them. Merlin wasn’t completely lying, but he still wasn’t telling the complete truth. Merlin tried so hard at times not to think about his father, how, even though he had just met his son, Balinor was more than willing to die for him. Protecting him from both the pyre and the blade.
When Merlin thought about it, it seemed almost ironic. He was a peasant who grew up only with his mother, who nurtured him into the man he is today. Arthur was a prince with only a father; he was a son who would constantly compete for his father's attention. They really were two sides of the same coin.
“Merlin, you’re to stay the night. I …” Arthur trailed off as he walked towards his desk, leaning against it. “You’ve seemed to have forgotten which family you serve first before anyone, and I just need someone here that doesn’t drone on about cleaning.”
“So you’re saying you missed me? Wasn’t it your idea to have them feel welcome?” Merlin teased.
“It was my idea, but I was also hoping you got one of your strange feelings about them and tell me. But no, nothing.”
“I think you’re just anxious. What you need is to hit that pretty little head of yours on the pillow and dream of whatever prattish princes dream of.” Merlin retorted.
“But you’ll stay?” It almost sounded to Merlin that Arthur was begging him. It wouldn’t be the first time, and fate knows it wouldn’t be the last.
When Merlin returned to his own chambers, he found a gift lying on the table with his name on it. Gaius was just as confused that another visiting servant delivered it. The gift: a book. Specifically, a magic book. And that scared him. It wasn’t hard for him to figure out who the gift was from.
He wanted to burn it. To get rid of it entirely. But when he opened it, it seemed to be written in a strange print. Different from the usual magic books that just so happened to be spared by some miracle. He may have spent the entire night looking through it. But the most interesting past would be the note he found at the front of the book:
‘A gift to understand our magic. Enjoy but hide from others.
This magic is powerful and different from the magic practiced
here on this side of the sea.
C. Home’
Oh great. Just what Merlin needed: a new possibility of magical threats to Arthur and Camelot. But he could not deny his intrigue in this book and this area of magic. Most of the sections talked about divination and prophets, set ups, and possible meanings about dreams, visions, and rituals. Not many spells, which is probably what saved it from the purge. It seems the rumor of the Homewoode family practicing magic was true. He woke up hearing pounding on the main door to the physicians quarters and Arthur yelling to Gaius. Something about him to come quick to Uther’s chambers. And with that, both Merlin and Gaius were out and ready to go in just a few minutes.