Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Camelot had suffered at the hands of a lot of things and a lot of people. She needed security to make sure everyone who resided within the walls of the kingdom stayed safe. That was the job for the guards; to keep an eye out for sorcerers or any other people with an ill-looking intent. And so, that is what they did. They stood in their positions, staff in hand, and waited.

With the amount of times someone had ended up in Camelot to stir up some trouble, it seemed as though none of them were ever very good at their job. They tried, they really did, but magic alluded them and they would sometimes become too lenient and end up resting on the walls behind them, half paying attention to their surroundings. The fact that all of these sorcerers and assassins and every evil that snuck its way through Camelot ended up dead or gone was a mystery to them. 

All in all, the Guards of Camelot weren’t entirely sure they really were the ones doing their job. And then one day, two of the older guards had overheard a conversation, and suddenly it had started to become a little bit clearer.

Their job was being done by Prince Arthur’s manservant, Merlin, who was the ward to the Court Physician. The same man who called the royal prince an arse the first time they ever met and who attempted to fight Arthur on their second.

They’d come into this predicament as Uther had sent them to request Gaius on his behalf. The two guards headed down to the physician’s chambers, but stopped short at the door leading in. There seemed to be an argument occurring, and at that they hesitated. Then, the words registered to their ears and the two guards practically stopped functioning.

It’s not everyday they heard two people rather loudly talking about the highest treason possible to commit in their kingdom. But yet, here they had been, stationed outside the door as the illegal words filtered through.

“You mustn’t use your magic like that, Merlin! If Uther had caught you, you’d be in a cell waiting for your execution!” Gaius’ voice trailed through the wood, which caused the two guards to turn to each other in disbelief. They had known the physician for a long time and they knew he used to perform magic before the purge, but to hear him talk to his ward about it? Well, that had surprised them, to say the least.

“Well…” the one on the left began, quietly so he wouldn’t be heard by the other two men. “I suppose we’ll need to take them to Uther.”

“Yes, I suppose we will,” the one on the right responded, moving his hand to grab at the handle. Before he could turn it, however, Merlin’s voice wavered in.

“What was I supposed to do, Gaius? The man was so close to killing Arthur and none of the knights were close enough to stop it! I had to save him and I’m not sorry about it!”

The guards didn’t move. They didn’t attempt to open the door and call out sorcery, and they didn’t attempt to let their presence be known. Because doing that would mean having to decide what they were going to do about Merlin, and somehow neither one of them had an answer to that. Magic was the worst crime to commit in the rule-book of Uther Pendragon’s, but these guards had just heard about a man using magic to keep their prince alive.

Uther was their king, of course, but no one was ever as cut-throat as he was when it came to magic. The guards knew it was evil, they’d been taught to believe that, but here was a man screaming about how he risked exposing himself for Arthur, a man they were supposed to protect. It made the guards feel odd.

They both waited for the other to do something, so in turn neither of them had. Then, Merlin spoke up again, causing even more harm to the beliefs of the men he didn’t know were listening in to his conversation.

“What would you rather have happened, Gaius? Would you have preferred for me to use a little, ittie bittie bit of magic to send a dull, dainty dagger into the heart of a very bad man, or would you have liked it if I didn’t use magic and let Arthur Pendragon, heir to the throne of Camelot and the Once and Future King, die? Hmm?” There was a beat of silence, of which it was almost as if the guards could sense The Eyebrow being raised, before any more sounds came from the other side. “What’s one tiny stabbing in the grand scheme of things?”

“The Once and Future King?” the man on the left questioned.

“I have no idea what that means.”

“Me neither.”

“So…are we arresting them and bringing them to Uther?” the one on the right asked.

The guard on the left didn’t answer, his eyes glued to the wood in front of him. Gaius then mumbled something about how Merlin was still an idiot for using his magic so in the open, even if it was to save Arthur’s life. The physician and his ward then moved on to talk about medicine and some new herbs and other things that disinterested the two still stood out in the hall. 

“We still need to do as Uther asked and bring Gaius to him, even if we aren’t arresting them,” he finally spoke, turning to face the other.

“So, we’re not acknowledging that Merlin used magic and Gaius knows about it? We’re supposed to report any signs of sorcery to Uther immediately.”

“Mhm.”

“What does ‘mhm’ mean? It’s treason!” the man whisper-shouted, desperately trying to not raise his voice in fear that Gaius and Merlin would’ve overheard them.

The two stood in silence for a moment, one waiting for the other to give a reasonable explanation. “He saved Prince Arthur’s life.”

“Using magic.”

“Yes.”

“And we’re not arresting him. Or Gaius. For using magic and harbouring a sorcerer.”

“Yes. Well, I’m not, anyway.”

“Okay, okay.” The man on the right took a minute to slowly breathe in and out before responding. “Are you insane? Would you like to, at best, get fired and, at worst, get killed?”

“Not particularly, no.”

“But we’re not turning them in?”

“I don’t know what you want from me!” left whisper-shouted, clearly very agitated with his own arguing mind.

It took about five or so minutes of the two guards yelling at each other as quietly as humanly possible before they finally opened the door. “Gaius, Uther has requested your presence,” one of them said, and that had been all. Neither had said anything about the magic or what they overheard, not when Gaius walked with them, not when Uther questioned what took them so long, and not when it was all over. 

Magic was treason and yet they’d kept Merlin’s a secret, but neither of the guards could be the reason the man was sentenced to death, not in good conscience. If he hadn’t spoken of why he used magic, they would have gone to Uther of course, but Merlin did and that changed too much. He saved Arthur’s life, apparently intervening with someone who…was in the citadel? They hadn’t explicitly stated where it had all happened, but they knew the Prince hadn’t recently been out that day, which meant that someone had likely snuck in without them noticing. The Guards of Camelot. The people who should be noticing. 

That had been the first time any of the Guards had come to realise that the clumsy, loud-mouthed man was more than they originally thought. It had also been, for those two in specific, the first time they had ever gone against the law and let a sorcerer roam free. They were almost certain it would come back to bite them in the ass one day, when Merlin turned out to be evil and had even higher ulterior motives of keeping Arthur alive, but they’d left it be. Whatever the reason; not that the two could really figure out all that was going on in their brains.

And then, a second situation occurred, and it only made everything more complicated than it had been. Yet, also, seemingly solidifying some new beliefs of theirs. 

“I overheard the Court Physician, Gaius, and Prince Arthur’s manservant, Merlin, talk about him using magic! Apparently Merlin magically stabbed someone who was sneaking up on the Prince, I think. I rushed right out of there to go and tell the King, though perhaps I should have gone in there and arrested them straight away. I will admit, I was a little intimidated to do that, as he has magic, but I really should have done it, shouldn’t I? Oh, I suppose you two could go down there and get them while I inform King Uther!” The guard was one of the newest ones hired, as well as one of the youngest. They’d been needing more ever since the recent attack on the citadel which left only so few less than half the guards dead, more severely injured.

The man had bumped into the two guards who had still not said a word of what they heard to anyone, and when they asked the young one to explain why he was in such a rush, that had been what very quickly flowed out of his mouth. He seemed to be very amped up, if anything. He’d also assumed the guards he was speaking to would jump into action as soon as he was done, if not sooner but unfortunately for him, they did not move. It confused him and he had gotten very worried as he was trying to not get immediately sacked after being hired and assumed that not instantly going to the king when it came to sorcery would land him in such a position.

“You said that Merlin magically stabbed someone who was sneaking up on Prince Arthur?” one of the older guards asked.

“Uh, yes. I did. Shouldn’t we all be rushing to stop this?”

“What else did you overhear? Specifically,” the second one questioned, ignoring the young guard’s concern.

“Well, it was mostly that. Gaius replied with something along the lines of how Merlin needs to stop being so careless, and then that was retaliated with ‘I’m not being careless, I’m being helpful’ or something like that.”

The two guards looked at one another and the young guard felt very out of place and vastly confused. It was his first week on the job and the men in front of him were far more experienced at dealing with sorcerers, but he couldn’t for the life of him understand why they weren’t all rushing to either the King himself or back to the physician’s quarters. 

“Come with us, please,” the other then said, walking past the man and in the opposite direction of where their king was currently at. The second followed and the new guard went with them, because of the very reason that he was too new at the job, though he was very bewildered about the whole thing.

The three guards ended up in an empty room with the door shut and the youngest felt immensely terrified. He voiced as such, though the other two didn’t pay much attention to it. When they began pacing, he felt rather ill and had to sit down at the slightly dusty table. 

“So why are we not going to Uther about this? I thought sorcery was, you know, illegal? Has been for years, I’m sure.”

“Uh, yes that is true, of course.”

The two guards beat around the bush a little while, and honestly they’d been rather surprised the third guard hadn’t at any point just gotten up and left to tell Uther. They supposed he thought it’d be better not to dismiss orders from people who’d been around longer. Eventually, however, they managed to explain to him that, well, they already knew about Arthur’s manservant having magic.

“What?” The young guard didn’t screech, per say, but it was pretty damn close to it.

“Keep your voice down!” came in response, in yet another whisper that somehow still sounded like shouting. The two guards were worried that they’d just cost themselves everything by telling another soul that they left a sorcerer in Camelot be. Then, however, the young guard spoke up.

“I recently moved to Camelot, actually. I grew up with magic around me, not a lot, but a little, so I don’t think it’s necessarily evil, as Uther preaches, but I am in an odd state of heavily confused, concerned and, unfortunately, intrigued as to why two Camelot Guards who’ve worked in this kingdom for years are ignoring a sorcerer.”

It hadn’t been what either of them were expecting, far from it, but it was better than half the things they thought up. So, the two guards explained in more detail as to the hows and the whys and then ended it by inadvertently asking the young guard to keep it a secret. They didn’t really want to have to say out loud that they feared without Merlin around, Arthur would meet his demise because they’re not the greatest at their jobs, but the message got across nonetheless.

“Right, it’s clear to me that neither of you are as loyal to the king as you should be, though I don’t entirely blame you.” That last part had been mumbled under his breath. “Still, if you really believe that Merlin means us no harm then I won’t go and report it. I’ve been here a week so I don’t really know anyone or anything. The two of you do, however.”

For a second, neither one of them spoke. If they did, that meant their answer was final. That they were officially stating that they were going to withhold information from their King about a matter he cares deeply about. To allow a sorcerer to stay in Camelot, and to let that same man be in charge of the King’s precious son. When they spelled it out like that, the two guards couldn’t help but wonder if they’d finally gone off the deep end.

In the end, be that as it may, the three guards had concluded to keep the knowledge between themselves. Until Merlin caused proper harm, they couldn’t find a good enough reason to turn him in. Not when he was seemingly doing so much for the prince, a man they should have been keeping safe.

From this point onwards, more and more guards had slowly grown to hear about Merlin and his abilities, in one way or another. Whether it had been from a colleague of theirs or even from Gaius himself, though inadvertently, soon practically all the Guards of Camelot knew. They had all been made aware of the predicament that was their prince’s life and whose hands it was in.

And yet, not a single report had been made to Uther, because every time a new Guard of Camelot found out, they were pulled into the conversation of if their king was really as sane as he ought to be. They’d seen many horrors from the performance of magic, but their prince had also come back from too many hunting trips gone wrong unscathed, and they weren’t so stupid to not understand that coincidences like that aren’t common. 

Sorcery was treason and Merlin did it on the daily, and yet still none of the guards could make that count as a good enough reason to send the man to his death. The realisation of this sent a lot of the guards into midlife crises, or for the newer men a quarter-life one. Some questioned their morals while others questioned their job, but it usually ended all rather similarly. The guards stayed in their positions in the royal household and basically pretended as if they knew nothing. What had really sealed that for them, however, was a day that followed the last handful of guards finding it all out.

Merlin had gone missing for hours, and in those hours they had realised just what kind of damage his space would cause. They had witnessed Arthur running up and down the castle halls as he called out his manservant’s name, like a child who had lost his favourite stuffed animal. His hair was a mess and his clothes weren’t exactly right, and he walked barefoot on the cold floor. Once Merlin had finally come back, his excuse poor but not questioned, they had seen the way their prince’s eye lit up even as he threatened the man before him. 

Arthur needed Merlin in more ways than one, and Uther wouldn’t care if he knew of the true nature of his son’s servant. So, a sorcerer would stay in Camelot, if the guards had anything to do with it. It had been a terrifying thing to realise, that together they had all agreed to go against their king in secret and, basically, harbour a criminal. But, the more and more they heard about Merlin and his secrets, the more sure they were that they had made the right choice. Not for their king and his craze towards magic, but for their prince. There wasn’t a need to take away Arthur's shield, not when it would make everything worse. To send Arthur somewhere without Merlin was to send their prince to his death and, last time they all checked, that was a crime worse than magic in their books, no matter what King Uther declared. 

Chapter Text

Gwaine was a man who liked to spend his free time in the tavern, and he didn’t care who knew about it. He liked to relax with a jug of mead in his hand as he gossiped with his friends. Sometimes he was told he drank a bit too much and, depending on who it was, his reactions often varied. Perhaps he could cut back, but Gwaine felt as if it wasn’t the most important thing ever. So, he kept going to the tavern, talking with friends and listening in to other people’s conversations when he was alone.

In fact, that was how he got into this mess in the first place. He had been eavesdropping. 

It had been a long day of training, with Arthur making the knights go through the harrowing steps of the practice again and again until their bones and their breath were all fed up. It wasn’t until the sun had already set that Gwaine made it to the tavern but, alas, he managed. He’d offered for the other knights to join him, but there were all far too tired to go anywhere but their beds. Pussies, the lot of them, Gwaine thought.

Ordering his usual, he sat down at the same table he always placed himself at when he was alone and started sipping on his drink. Merlin had helped him figure out which seat would be best for listening in on conversations, because apparently the man had tested out all the tables, or something. What? It was a fun way for him to pass the time when he was alone; Camelot’s people always had things to say. Granted, Gwaine was sure that at least half of the things he heard were complete fibs, or partly-lies and partly-truths, but that didn’t take too much away from his whole enjoyment of it.

“I heard that two of the maids are getting it on,” one person whispered to their friend. 

The girl, in reply, turned bright red. “W—who?”

“I don’t know, I’m not the one who saw them. But it’s scandalous!”

“I think it’s great that they’re happy.” If Gwaine had any money to give, he’d bet it all on the fact that the girl hearing the gossip was one of the girls who’d been caught, if her blush and panicked eyes were anything to go off of.

At another table came the confession, “I think he’s cheating on me.”

The response: a gasp. “That bastard!”

“My son’s got some guy friend he’s with. He thinks I don’t know about it. As if I don’t know what’s going on in my own bloody house!” A mother said at the table next to him, though she seemed more annoyed at the fact that her son was lying to her than what it was about, if Gwaine guessed. 

“Let him tell you in his own time,” her companion responded.

“It’s ridiculous! My own son thinks I’m some sort of an idiot!”

Ah, how Gwaine loved the tavern. 

“There’s no way it’s all just coincidences! It’s too many occasions to be so,” a woman a couple tables down from him said. For people who always seem to be revealing secrets, they’re not exactly quiet about it. Gwaine couldn’t say much though, he was sure he’s a hell of a lot louder than half of these people around.

“Well, they are the Knights of Camelot, so maybe they’re just that good.” This caught the Gwaine’s attention, and he ignored all the other conversations he’d been wanting to hear. He wanted to know if the friend figured out it was her friend who had been caught and he had been curious as to the mother-son dynamic from the other side. But this one, however, was about himself, so of course he had to know.

There were four people sat at a table, all roughly teenagers or young adults, and they all seemed very interested in the knights. The third had said, “I mean, they always come back relatively unscathed when you consider what they’re doing. It just doesn’t make sense.”

“Thank you!”

“Well, what do you think is happening?” the second asked.

“I’ve heard stories from Gwaine himself—” the first woman began, though was interrupted by the fourth, a woman who looked very similar to her. Sisters, or maybe even twins.

“Really?”

“Yes! He likes to get drunk and talk and comes here often. As I was saying, I’ve heard from Gwaine that a lot of branches are knocking out bandits. He glazes over that part, but it happens so often.”

“That’s true,” the third agreed, a lankly man with wide eyes. He seemed the youngest out of the lot. “I wouldn’t be surprised if Merlin’s got something to do with it.”

That had made Gwaine stop the motion of his hand, his cup of mead only so far away from his lips. He listened in closer at the mention of his dear friend, curious as to what the group might have been trying to imply.

“What are you on about?” the fourth questioned.

“I’m just saying! He’s always going everywhere with King Arthur and the knights, even though a manservant shouldn’t. He’s done it ever since he came to Camelot. It wouldn’t surprise me if he was secretly helping them out.”

“Well why would he keep it a secret? The King has made it clear he thinks his servant is rather useless, at least when it comes to battles, and when the knights mention him in their tales, he’s always cowering behind trees or bushes.”

“Or is he?”

Gwaine had to admit, he sort of understood where the group of people were coming from. They were always quite lucky when it came to their outings, though he usually assumed it was just because of their total awesomeness that they survived. But, Merlin? The same Merlin who didn’t know how to properly hold a sword? The man who was such a klutz that he’d honestly sometimes be worse than a drunk Gwaine?

Oh, please. What the hell did Merlin have to do with any of it?

“Do you really think so? Merlin?” that second woman asked.

“Yes! He has to have something to do with it! The knights are always so lucky, and Arthur has been too ever since he arrived. You remember that feast everyone talked about? For twenty years after the purge? Merlin saved his life!” the youngest replied.

The first woman then added on, “That is true! And then, he drank that poison for him, back with Bayard. I heard about it from one of the maids!”

The group of four began discussing more and more events where Arthur, and then the knights, were all saved. In every single one, Merlin was there. But then, wasn’t he always? Wasn’t the man who couldn't hold a sword properly or who couldn’t walk without making so much noise always there with the knights? To stand by the side of men in armour who wielded weapons; Merlin who wore nothing else but his everyday clothes. 

The more they talked about every event they could remember, the more it made sense to Gwaine. Stupidly, it actually made sense. Merlin and mysteriously fallen branches and gushes of wind. But how? That is what confused the man so much that it made him, for perhaps the first time in the entirety of his life, leave the tavern earlier than usual. It just stuck with him, about all the times he and his friends had been saved by such ‘accidental’ things, only now he’s heard people talk about them being more intentional than any of them ever thought. 

With bandits and assassins dying or disappearing at all the right times, and pots of luck that perhaps were more than just luck, Gwaine ended up going to his bed early, with his mind running wild. Merlin was something else, everyone who had ever met him knew this. But was he really the reason for so much? And how?

There had been a good chance that Gwaine was only taking it all to heart because he had been drunk and tired, but that changed very little for him. Because, even if Merlin had nothing to do with it, he still couldn’t shake the feeling that their journeys had more coincidences than most other trips should.

Maybe he was thinking about it too hard, but Gwaine was also a man who rarely beat around the bush, so he decided that the next morning he would find Merlin and ask some questions. What questions specifically? Well, he decided he’d just come up with them as he went. And, sure, being so upfront and honest usually got him in a lot of trouble—like, a lot a lot—but when had that ever deterred him from something? Never! Besides, what harm could asking Merlin cause?

The next day Gwaine had found himself with a small hangover as he made his way to the physician’s chambers. Usually he was quite alright, but apparently alcohol and thinking didn’t mix well. He supposed he could ask Gaius for something to help while he was down there.

He still hadn’t a clue what he’d specifically ask Merlin, only that it’d be along the lines of questioning why the man always insisted on coming with them. Because he did, insist that was, and Gwaine had seen it happen a number of times. At first, when he’d first met them, he assumed Arthur was an arrogant prat who forced his manservant to follow him everywhere, even to dangerous places, just for the fun of it. Then he spent more time with Merlin and eventually saw how it often played out. Arthur always gave the option to stay behind where it was safe, and every time Merlin would ignore it completely and come along anyway. It’s why the knights thought of him as brave, but now Gwaine couldn’t help but wonder. Why did he always insist on coming when he ended up hiding at trouble? Why did he always insist on tagging along on hunts even though he absolutely hated them? The entire time he would complain, so why bother at all?

Gwaine also couldn’t help but think about why it had taken him overhearing strangers talking about it for him to finally notice the things his friend does, but he decided to not dwell on that part of it all.

Finally, he’d gotten to his destination and was about to knock on the door when he realised it was slightly ajar. It was basically closed, with only a sliver of open air between the door and the wall, but yet the sound of Gaius and Merlin talking filtered through. Being the man that he was, Gwaine leaned his ear against the door to try and hear them better. Really, he’s been doing too much eavesdropping as of late. But, it was Merlin! He was allowed to eavesdrop on friends…right?

“Right, so I need to break into the vaults beneath the castle without accidentally alerting anyone else. So, it’s either I steal the key from Arthur without him noticing or I just open it with magic?”

It took a couple of second for Gwaine to react to that, to have any sort of emotion towards the words that had fallen from his friend. He’s been too caught up on the idea that Merlin was going to sneak into the vaults. Then, however, he froze as it had finally sunk in.

“Yes, it seems those are your only options. Both are very risky in their respective ways,” Gaius replied. 

“But it needs to be done, Gaius. The others won’t be able to stop him,” Merlin countered as he huffed.

What the actual hell? Gwaine couldn’t believe what he was hearing! Merlin had magic? Merlin had magic. Merlin. Had. Magic. 

How had Gwaine not known about this? He was Merlin’s closest friend, maybe after Lancelot—may that honourable man rest in peace—but still! 

The worst part of it all, however, was that it made sense. The fallen branches. The mysterious gushes of wind. The bandits and assassins who disappeared without a trace, no longer Arthur’s and the knights’ problem to solve. It’s all been because of Merlin. Of course it had; it just makes too much sense.

Gwaine’s never been known as a guy who easily puts things together, which is why it surprised him none of the other knights know. Unless, well, unless they did, he thought. Maybe they did know and were keeping it a secret? Oh crap. Am I going to have to keep this a secret? I surely can’t be the reason Merlin dies, no fucking way!

The two men started to talk in detail about how Merlin was supposed to steal the key from Arthur. They then talked of a plan to fall back on—also known as Merlin’s magic, because he apparently fucking had that—in case that first one failed. “It is risky, but I need to get inside that vault before that sorcerer does. For Arthur’s sake.” Merlin sounded determined, the most determined Gwaine had ever heard from him, really. But then again, Arthur always did have a very loyal servant; one he didn’t really deserve, if Gwaine had a say. They then began to talk about what to do after all of that, but Gwaine had stopped listening in, finally. 

He’d learnt his lesson about the dangers of eavesdropping, that was for sure. (Well, he’d learnt for about a week, then he had managed to overhear about the friend finding out and the son coming clean, and he went back to his ways.)

But, he had his answer. Merlin had magic and he was using it to keep Arthur safe. Sure, he was breaking into the vaults of Camelot, but it seemed important enough, and Gwaine knew who he trusted. And that was Merlin, he was sure. Maybe? Yes! Of course he trusted Merlin. Of course I trust him.

Magic though. He grew up without magic around him, but he also grew up without the hatred of it as well. So, moving to Camelot didn’t mean much to him, the laws hadn’t affected him or his opinions much. But they hadn’t been something he necessarily strived to agree with either.

Gwaine decided he needed another drink if he was going to have to deal with all of this shit. So, he turned around and began heading out when the sound of a door opening came from behind him. “I’m just—oh, Gwaine. Hello.”

He cursed under his breath and turned around, met face to face with the man who, in his head, had just drastically changed. I still love him though. And trust him, of course. I do. Trust him, that is. God, I need a drink. “Merls, hey.”

“What are you doing here? Do you need something?”

I wanted to ask about why you risk your life over and over again, but I think you’re in less danger than we ever are. “Not really. Was just wandering about.”

“Oh, okay.” Merlin stares at him oddly and Gwaine really hoped the man wasn’t wondering if Gwaine overheard. But what if Merlin did ask? What would he say? Would he say yes, he had heard, or no, he heard nothing? “So, are you just going to carry on standing there or…”

“Hmm? Ah, right! No, I’ll be off, then.” And with that, Gwaine clumsily left up the steps, leaving Merlin in the door entrance with a confused expression on his face. That was it, he needed two drinks for this shit.

After having a small mead break, Gwaine was called in by Arthur. It was about someone who had broken in and how they needed to be on high alert for any oddities around the citadel. Gwaine threw a quick glance to Merlin but looked away before the other man saw him. He wondered what was going on on the inside, which is odd considering he was supposed to be on the inside. He was a Knight of Camelot, which meant that he was supposed to be a man who knew the ins and outs of such things. But he wasn’t on the inside; at least not the true one. The true one was whatever else happened in that room of Gaius’, the truth was whatever the King’s servant and his mentor discussed when they thought no one else was around.

If it weren’t happening to him, Gwaine would have been enjoying every minute of the story.

So, the knights did as they were told and kept on high alert, but whoever had broken in was clever. He knew there must have been someone else because Merlin had mentioned a ‘him’ but he’d also wondered if the disturbance in the vaults was that man at all. Merlin had mentioned breaking in himself, had he not? Then again, Merlin had also said that ‘the others won’t be able to stop him’ so what the hell did Gwaine know?

The day went by quickly, what with how much he was in his own head wondering about Merlin and Gaius while also keeping an eye out for the mystery man. Gwaine wasn’t sure what he was meant to do. He could never turn Merlin in, that much was for certain, but he had made a vow to Arthur. He liked to be a man of his word when he could, you know. 

It got late and he had found no disturbances that warranted any investigating, and he’d grown annoyed at this. Gwaine didn’t much appreciate that he had basically been made to sit with his thoughts for a while; he didn’t like it one bit.

God, his brain had so quickly began hurting, and then he had to spend the rest of the day with that. He was a knight because he believed in honour (mostly) and liked fighting. He should never be made to think! It was offensive that his brain kept doing it, really.

It wasn’t until yells were heard in the armoury that he fully got himself together again, rushing in the direction of the sound and quickly falling in line with the rest of the knights. As they barged into the room, they took it in. The fallen swords and armour, Arthur stood with his own sword in hand as it was raised over a limp body, and Merlin; behind his King as he always was.

Arthur, who looked a little lost as to how the man got on the floor—as if he hadn’t been the one to put him there—and Merlin whose eyes were far too yellow for Gwaine to process. But then they were blue again, and Gwaine thought it looked too majestic to be real. But it was, he knew it was. 

It was magic.

“You did good, sire,” Leon said, giving Arthur a smile and a pat on the back.

“Thank you, Leon. I…I’m glad I got rid of him before he caused any harm,” Arthur said, poking the body with his sword to ensure that the man was in fact dead. The look of bewilderment had left him as he soaked in the congratulations, and Gwaine wanted to laugh. Instead, his eyes drifted from his King to his King’s manservant and he caught Merlin rolling his eyes, but it was fond. Annoyed, but without any heat. That was how most of their insults went by that time; lacking in anything malicious and purely for routine. It was annoying to Gwaine, though. Cute, but icky. (They needed to get a room, in his righteous opinion.)

Still, he gave Arthur a pat on the back before the man went over to Merlin. Gwaine watched their interaction; the way the king seemed to praise himself in front of his servant, a man who was very clearly mocking him. That strange banter that they always had, the one that had surprised Gwaine when he first met Arthur. For a prince, at the time, to allow a commoner to treat him in such a way; it’s one of the reasons he started to trust Arthur.

His eyes darted from one man to the other, and then back again. That’s when he caught it, that small tug of a smile that Merlin had on him, and the way his eyes had shone as Arthur went on. It was in that witnessed interaction that the knight had made his decision; it was then that Gwaine fondly rolled his eyes at the two and laughed to himself. In disbelief, mostly, at the absurdity of what those two were.

He was a Knight of Camelot, but his loyalties came to Merlin before they came to the crown. He stuck around for that man in the first place, after all. So Gwaine kept his mouth shut about the magic and the mysteries, allowing his friend to carry on with breaking the law for the son of the man who set them up. But it was clear to him that Merlin had Arthur’s best interest at heart, as he always seemed to, and it was clear that Arthur would never hurt Merlin like Uther might have. That if Arthur learned the truth—the inside of something he didn’t even know existed in his own kingdom—he wouldn’t be so quick to call sorcery and build a pyre. And for that, well who cares if a couple of crimes are committed here and there? What was it to him? Gwaine wasn’t a man who would tell on people, that just wasn’t the way he worked.

A criminal at the heart of Camelot? He’d never heard of it.

Chapter Text

Elyan made it a priority to keep his sister in the rotation of his chaotic life. Being a knight meant a lot of things, but he vowed to make sure it didn’t keep him from their weekly dinners at her house. He made sure to check up on Gwen when he could, of which she would berate him into ensuring he was taking care of himself, and he made sure that people were treating her right.

They had the same friend group, practically. Elyan was closer with some of them, like Percival and Gwaine, while Leon seemed to be close with everyone, but then there was Merlin and Arthur. During his time away, his sister had somehow found herself becoming close with the then prince and his manservant. She had been Morgana’s maidservant, so it made sense, but it was during these dinners with her that Elyan had grown to realise just how much time she spent with them. 

Arthur was brought up a lot from the both of them, with him being the King and all, and they shared similar opinions about how they could see just how different he was compared to Uther. But then when Merlin came up, Gwen just went on and on. 

It shocked Elyan, and then it kept shocking him because every dinner that man’s name was brought up. He knew Gwen was close with him, but apparently when neither of them are working, they were hanging out with one another. The two of them were close, like really really close and it had been beginning to concern Elyan.

He trusted Merlin, of course he did, but siblings were another matter entirely. He knew that there had been a spark between Gwen and Lancelot and, if the situation hadn’t been so heartbreaking, he would have thought that man to be a good fit for his sister. She had mourned, as they all had, but now it seemed as though she was moving on.

Elyan couldn’t be certain that Gwen and Merlin were courting, but it was either that or his sister had a crush. Surely, right? She talked about him all the time. The problem Elyan found himself facing was this: there were stories. 

Merlin disappeared for hours at a time, sometimes even days on the rarer occasions, and he’d come back with slight bruises or limps. He’s even heard a couple of the maids gossiping. Why does he always wear that neckerchief? Do you think something’s hidden under there? A bruise of a different nature perhaps? Elyan wasn’t one to blindly follow the word of others, especially when they had no proof to back them up, but he had to admit that the man’s actions were weird. 

He wondered if it was Gwen. He wondered if she was who he went to see when he disappeared at night, if she was the reason for things—though he chose not to look too closely at that part of it—and he wondered if there was nothing for him to be concerned about after all.

But then another week came around, and another dinner occurred. 

“Me and Merlin kept gossiping about it all earlier,” Gwen said as she placed down the food.

“What? While you were meant to be working?” Elyan joked. 

“We were multitasking,” she said with a smile. 

Elyan wanted to ask about it and see if he was just making something up or if he was hitting the nail right on the head. Still, he hadn’t been quite sure how to go about it. He settled for something simple. “I’m glad you’ve got someone close while you’re working.”

She beamed at this, and proceeded to go on about how Merlin was such a nice stop in her day. He made her laugh, both on purpose and just by being himself, and he was kind. Elyan knew all of this—really everyone knew all of this—but hearing it from his sister was something else. Either Gwen was being courted by Merlin or she wanted to be. Or, he supposed, she just really cherished their friendship, but he’d seen the way Merlin looked at her. Elyan believed that was what made him so strongly think that something was going on, because Merlin looked at his sister in a way he couldn’t explain. 

That must have meant something, right? 

When the following day rolled round, he went about his usual routine. Then, however, he picked up on more rumours of Merlin; apparently he had disappeared that night and had been seen sneaking back into the physician’s chambers early in the morning, limping and red. A blush, either from embarrassment or something else.

This made Elyan stop in his tracks, because it broke the theory that Merlin’s actions came from his sister, but that hadn’t been the case this time. He’d stayed the night at Gwen’s, and he knew for certain that no one had entered the house while he was there, and nor had she left at any point. 

Maybe Merlin wasn’t courting his sister, then. But, he had to admit, he had been so sure that they were. 

He ignored the giggling of the maids—was everyone in love with that man? Seriously—and decided to go visit Gwen since he wasn’t needed for anything else at that moment. He found her with two baskets in hand as she walked the halls, smiling when she'd caught sight of him.

“Elyan, hello! Are you alright?”

“Yes, I’m fine, Gwen. How are you?” he asked. He wasn’t sure what his brain was doing, but it seemed as though he was attempting to put pieces together for something. For what? Well, he hadn't gotten quite that far.

“I’m good! I spent the morning helping Merlin in his chambers.”

“Doing what?” he blurted out, startling her. Honestly, he needed to calm down.

“...He needed an extra hand for some of the chores Gaius gave him.”

“Oh…right.” 

She stared at him wildly, which was fair given his outburst, but he wanted to protect his sister. And, well, that was what it was; the thing in his brain. Something wasn’t adding up with Merlin but Elyan’s sister was involved and that concerned him. 

“Do you like Merlin?” he blurted out, again, because he needed to know. If it was a yes, then he would have some choice words for the man. If it was a yes, Merlin had to know about her feelings and was messing with her. If it was no, well then Merlin could do as he wished.

“Of course I do,” she replied. 

The siblings quickly said their goodbyes and Elyan found himself getting mad. Not angry, per say, but irritated. He didn’t want to jump to any conclusions, he really tried not to do that since when that rarely ever work in someone’s favour, but he just couldn’t think of any other reason for all of this. The bruises, the limping, and then the glances between his sister and Merlin.

He had left for years, leaving his sister and father alone, and as much as his time away had been an adventure, a part of him regretted it. He wanted to protect her, just as she had protected him growing up, and if that meant giving his friend a piece of his mind, well then so be it.

Elyan walked the halls towards Merlin and Gaius’ chambers, but stopped short when the sound of a familiar voice echoed through. It was just the man he had wanted to speak to. He peeked past the corner to find Merlin slipping out of a room; the one the visiting princess was placed in, he was sure of it. So, there were other women. 

Merlin then snuck away to the other end of the hall and Elyan watched as Gaius appeared. The two of them began talking, whispering and yet still somehow being loud enough that he was able to hear.

“Merlin! I told you not to go in there!” Elyan knew it was wrong to eavesdrop, but his anger was very quickly simmering down as his mind poked a bunch of holes in his idea and plan. Maybe Merlin didn’t know about Gwen’s feelings, and if that was the case then he could do what he wanted. Elyan just wanted to do right by his sister, was all.

“I had to check Gaius! I just had to.” This intrigued Elyan a little, and got him listening more intently.

The physician sighed. “Well then?”

“She’s going to kill Arthur, I’m sure of it.” Wait, what now?

“She is a being of magic, Merlin, so if she really is planning to kill Arthur, then we’ve got to figure out how to stop her ourselves.” Hold on. 

Elyan retreated a little, and the voices became a little fainter. He could still hear some of their words—really, for something so illegal they were being rather loud about it—but he drowned most of it out. Well this…really changed things. 

He couldn’t believe what he heard, but as it sunk in he realised that it was fixing all the holes in those pieces he’d been trying to stitch together. The bruises, the limps, the disappearing. Merlin wasn’t out with some other woman, he was just dealing with problems that aren’t his to deal with. That had to be it because the two men were being far too calm at the prospect of someone in Camelot being a secret assassin. Like, far too calm.

“I need to enchant her, but it needs to be powerful. We’ve got to work out how best to defeat…whatever she is, and then go from there.” Elyan peeked out from the corner again at Merlin’s words, watching as the man’s eyes glowed gold. He muttered something, but nothing happened and he groaned. “I still can’t perform that spell we found. Either I figure it out or we find something else.”

“Don’t worry, Merlin, I’m sure we’ll find what we need.” And with that, the two of them went their separate ways, with Merlin heading back from where he came. Which was where Elyan was, standing there like a bit of an idiot as he questioned what he just heard, questioned what he had been thinking, and questioned…well, a lot of other things, really.

“Oh, hello Elyan,” Merlin said, giving him a smile. And to think, he’d been mad at this man not so long ago.

“Hello, is everything alright?” he asked, curious as to if he’d say anything of interest.

“Just fine.” He did not, then.

The two parted ways and Elyan went about his day, his thoughts consumed by what he heard. Firstly, he thought that if Merlin and Gaius are going to commit treason, they should talk about it more privately. Secondly, he began to fill in the blanks of the stories he’d heard, and then very quickly started to make sense. Thirdly, Gwen. So, there was no one else it seemed, which was good, and he thought that perhaps Merlin really was an okay pick for his sister. Lastly, the whole sorcerer thing. 

In all honesty, Elyan had just been glad that Merlin wasn’t being sleazy. It took the day coming to a close for him to properly think about it. In his years away, he had come across a lot of things. He knew when moving to Camelot that the power magic held was strong, but that hadn’t meant to completely agree with it. He stood with Arthur, and he also trusted his gut. His gut told him that Merlin was on their side, and he thought better than to question that. Besides, he had been told that the visiting princess was banished from Camelot, so clearly Merlin knew what he was doing. 

But then again, magic? Right in front of him all these years he’s been a knight, and not to mention that Gwen’s been around him since Merlin came to Camelot. 

He decided to visit Gwen again, given all the chaos that had unfolded in his day. Knocking on the door, he was greeted with a surprised-faced Gwen who let him in. “Can I help you with anything?”

“I just wanted to say something, is all.” She stared at him for a moment, as if trying to guess what was going on. He looked over to the kitchen to see that she was preparing some food. She nodded for him to go on. “I wanted to say that I…accept Merlin.” He wasn’t sure how else to put it, but he carried on. “He’s a great man, and you seem to really like him. I will admit, I had some doubts, but he’s proven that he is loyal and trustworthy, I would say.” Granted, Elyan had just found out the man performed magic, but he found himself really not overly worried about that aspect of it. He’d grown up in Camelot, sure, but he’d learnt too much out in the rest of the world to abide by the rules he had once been taught. 

“Elyan, what are you on about?” Gwen questioned, bringing him out of his thoughts.

“You and Merlin. I’m okay with it.”

“Okay with that?”

He took in her stance, the way she looked at him with puzzled eyes and a cocked eyebrow. “You’re courting?” It came out as a question, really, and for a moment the room was silent. Then Gwen burst out laughing and Elyan had no longer been sure about his day being real. Assassin princesses, sorcerer Merlin, and a laughing sister. Maybe he dreamt it all up? Gods, he had started to wish he had. “What’s so funny, Gwen?”

“You think me and him are courting? You actually think that?”

“Are you not?” Another burst of laughter, and this time Gwen put a hand on her stomach to calm herself down. “But I thought—you talk about him all the time!”

“He’s like my best friend, Elyan. Of course I talk about him all the time! Gods, when you asked me if I liked him earlier, I was so confused. I thought you meant as a person, so obviously I said yes, but clearly I read you wrong.”

He felt embarrassed. And confused. But mostly embarrassed. Or…no, definitely confused. Gods, she wasn’t going to let him live this down anytime soon. “You’re so close to one another. You giggle with him all the time! I’m sure I’m not the only one who thinks you’re courting.”

“You know, I mention Merlin all the time because he’s just always got something going on in his life. As for the giggling, well we’re both just hilarious people.”

“The way he looks at you!” Elyan continued, sitting down at the table so as to not trip over. He’d been so so sure that something was going on. “Explain that.”

“He’s told me many times that I’m a special friend of his. The rest of the people he hangs out with don’t always get him. Arthur’s the king, and while some of the knights—including you—grew up as commoners, you’re not anymore. We just have a lot in common. Like, for example, we’re often the only people in this kingdom who use their brains.” That last part was very obviously directed towards him. 

“Oh.”

“Yes. Oh. And just so you know, I’m not anything close to his type in a person.”

“Really? You might just be friends but you can’t deny that a lot of men would find you very…pretty,” he said, settling on that word because calling his sister attractive made him feel like throwing up. But, he was trying to prove a point. A point that made him feel less embarrassed (not that it was exactly working). “What do you think his type in a person is, then?”

“You really want to know?”

“Yes, Gwen. Why would I ask if I didn’t want to—”

“Arthur. His type is Arthur.” Oh. Oh.

“Oh.”

“Ha! Your face. Gods, you’re an idiot, Elyan. Is that you’re only response to being told your wrong? ‘Oh’. Now, since you’re here, you may as well stay for dinner, so long as you help out.”

Elyan stared at his sister for a moment, properly taking in her words. Then she called his name again and he snapped into action, helping out with the food. So, he’d been wrong about what Merlin got up to in the dead of night, he’d been wrong about Merlin’s relationship with Gwen, and he’d been wrong about Gwen’s feelings towards Merlin. So, really, he hadn’t been right about any of it. Still, he found himself rather alright with that, with Gwen and Merlin being just friends—because he had to admit that Merlin liking Arthur made everything about the two of them make far more sense—and he found himself rather alright with the whole magic thing, for some reason. Well, mostly alright with it anyway. Perhaps once he dealt with the ‘Merlin and his sister aren’t courting’ thing, he could deal with the ‘Merlin’s got magic’ thing.

It was odd, for sure, that he just hadn’t really questioned it. But he couldn’t find a good enough reason to. Gwen had always told him to trust his gut, and his gut was telling him that Merlin clearly knew what he was doing and was doing it for Arthur. If he ever found out the man wasn’t, Elyan would call it out right then and there, but as he started to take in Gwen’s stories as they were—as tales of Merlin being himself and no longer focusing on how much his sister talked about the man—he’d come to the conclusion that he had nothing to worry about.

Except maybe the fact that Merlin seemed better at being a knight than he did. But then again, he seemed better than all of the knights, so at least Elyan wasn’t alone in that.

“I cannot believe you thought we were courting! Even if he wasn’t into Arthur—allegedly, anyway, because he’d kill me if he knew I keep confirming it—he doesn’t like women.”

Elyan sighed from where he was sitting. They’d finished dinner a while ago and Gwen hadn’t let up once. “Yes, you’ve mentioned multiple times already about what an idiot I am.”

“I am never letting you live this down, Elyan. I’m very sorry to say.”

“I hate you,” he groaned, his head hitting the table.

“I love you too.”

Chapter Text

Percival was a peaceful man. He always had been, and he was sure he always would be. He’d grown up in a village where magic wasn’t illegal, and so while he had never dabbled in the art himself, he knew that there was more to it than Camelot said there was. He had followed his friend Lancelot to help save lives and restore a prince to his kingdom, and he did it gladly. The fact that magic was a crime punishable by death never fully sat right with him, but he was given a proper home to live in and his friend had promised him that they were on the right side of it all. Besides, he could just tell that Prince Arthur was a good man at heart, it was written all over him.

When Lancelot died, Percival wasn’t sure what to do with himself. He’d gone to help Arthur because his friend had asked him to accompany the journey, but now he had found himself without that same friend. For a while he wondered if Camelot was right for him, but as time went on he realised that, yes, he could get used to it. He could get used to Gwaine’s insistent, down-right dreadful flirting, and he could get used to the early training and late nights, and he could get used to Arthur, King of Camelot, being the man his loyalties lied with.

That hadn’t meant he gave up his morals or beliefs, however. 

His job involved apprehending a lot of sorcerers and Percival knew that the people of Camelot were set in their ways and that he wouldn’t be able to refuse if Arthur asked him of something. Still, he found himself trying to see the other side of things, to be the one in the group who didn’t get wrapped up in panic at the mention of magic. He knew he wasn’t the only one, but he made sure to not let that deter him from keeping his mind as sharp as it was.

That is why when he spotted Merlin and Gaius out in the forest while on patrol, he had kept himself quiet, listened in, used his brain to end at a conclusion of his own.

“This is boring,” Merlin complained.

Gaius just raised his eyebrow up at the boy, though he paid his mentor no mind. “Is it now?”

“Yes, Gaius, it is. I could be doing so many other things right now, like the chores Arthur gave me—not that I want to do those but he’s going to kill me when he finds out I didn’t do them—or hanging out with Gwen. This is not how I wanted to spent my day.”

“And I didn’t want to spend by day listening to you complain non-stop, boy,” Gaius replied, looking rather done with his ward.

“I am not complaining non-stop, I’m just complaining here and there, thank you.”

“Oh yes, because that is far better and more mature of you.”

Merlin gasped in horror, rather comically if Percival could say, and stared at the old man. “How dare you.”

“I will send you back to Ealdor. Now…” The old man had continued, but Percival stopped listening in.

The only real reason he had begun listening in in the first place was because he wanted to keep an ear out for anything out the two men, he wanted to make sure they were safe and secure and out of harm’s way. But then he managed to grasps bits and pieces of their conversation, and suddenly Percival had found himself wondering if they needed the guard-like presence he gave at all.

“One would think that considering I’m the most powerful sorcerer to ever walk the earth, that I am Emrys, and that I am magic itself, that I wouldn’t need to collect special herbs for spells,” Merlin complained as he crouched down, looking over the plants Gaius had been pointing to.

“You know that is not how magic works, Merlin. We have been over this.”

“Yes, yes, I know. That doesn’t change the fact that it’s irritating though,” the man complained.

They couldn’t see Percival from where he was standing, which was behind them and within the bushes and trees. He probably looked rather odd, half-hidden in the green, but he stared at the two men intently. Merlin had magic and was apparently a very powerful sorcerer. He had to admit, he’d been glad it was him who overheard that conversation and not one of the other knights who were out with him—though they were a little way away—because anyone else would have shouted sorcery, surely. Percival, however, just kept listening.

“Why do I have to learn this spell?” Merlin asks, sitting on the floor and huffing, as if he’d been walking for hours. Percival was almost certain that he hadn’t been, and even if they had, Gaius, the old man, seemed perfectly fine. Then again, Merlin complained about walking anywhere, at least when they went out on hunts or trips. Arthur hated it, but Percival found it quite fun.

“Because you do not know everything, Merlin, and you never will. You must always be learning. Besides, this spell will help you better protect Arthur.” At Gaius’ mention of their King, Merlin went back to looking through the plants and weeds. It was as if the reminder that he was doing it to help Arthur kicked him back into action.

Percival watched with interest. Merlin was an…odd man, to say the least. One of the strangest things about Camelot was indeed that man; with his neckerchief and mischief and ability to call Arthur out on his bullshit, as well as just overall being a bit of a nuisance. But in a good way, Percival had very quickly realised in his time as a knight. Merlin was just always there, whether they were on a hunt—even though he constantly talked about how he didn’t like hunts—or on a mission to a dangerous place; there Merlin was in nothing more than the old rags he wore everyday.

A very strange man indeed, but beloved nonetheless. Percival could very easily see why, though that might have been swayed from how much Lancelot used to talk about him. Well, him and Guinevere, that was. (He missed his dear friend, but man could he talk when he wanted to, especially when it came to the people he loved. It’s why they’d become so close, actually; for Lancelot talked of his adventures and Percival was happy to listen.)

“The things I do for that prat,” Merlin mumbled to himself, following Gaius to another patch of plants Percival couldn’t have named. Another thing the knight had very quickly learnt was that the insults thrown between the King and his servant were rude, made-up, and full of a love no one could quite explain. One could try to, of course, and he’d been sure some had attempted it, but no explanation had ever quite sounded like them.

Percival didn’t make himself known at any point while the two men were discussing, and instead he soon left to carry on with his patrol. Merlin had magic, but so what? He’d watched as that man stood time and time again beside a king and his knights, with no weapons besides that mouth he was never taught to shut. Arthur might have believed that all magic was evil, but Percival could just tell that the man who claimed to be ever so powerful was someone he could trust.

Even if he barely knew the two of them,—he did know them, of course, but not as well as the rest of the knights—he could see just how much Merlin cared about Arthur, how much he risked to be side by side with the King at any given moment. It was odd and strange and, well, incredible. And dangerous, of course, which is why Percival thought it was best if he kept the knowledge he found to himself.

It wasn’t until he got back to Camelot that he properly thought about it again. It seemed as though Merlin and Gaius had returned from their trip while he was still on patrol, and he walked by the training yard to see the King and his servant getting into a tussle. Given the new information he had learnt, he wanted to keep an eye on it, just in case. His job was to protect the crown after all, and Arthur was his friend as well. He trusted Merlin, but he watched intently nonetheless.

“You are a pompous, two-faced, lying prat who is so far up his own ass that your head is back on those wonky shoulders of yours!” Merlin screeched, his face red as his fists clenched. Percival had heard insults thrown between the two of them, names that sounded as if they came right from hell itself, but this was something else entirely. 

His eyes had then caught the other knights, who were far closer to the two arguing men but seemingly backing away from them as stealthily as possible. Percival locked eyes with Gwaine and he raised an eyebrow, of which Gwaine’s only response had been to mouth the word ‘run’. He had thought that the man was being dramatic, but then he turned back to the insane scene that was the two men.

He watched as Arthur took in his manservant’s words, and Percival couldn’t help but cringe at the way he grew as red as Camelot’s colour as his jaw practically hit the flaw. “Excuse me?” Oh, Percival had been wrong. Merlin hadn’t been the one who screeched, because that was an ear-piercing shriek if he’d ever heard one. And boy did he hope to never hear it again.

“You heard me!”

It happened in the blink of an eye; one moment Arthur was standing a couple of paces away from Merlin and the next he was far too close to the man for anything good to come of it. By this point, the rest of the knights were more or less standing with Percival, watching from afar in absolute dread and agony. Percival was sure they could, together, pull the two men apart quite easily, but it seemed as though none of them wanted to risk it in fear of their own hide.

Maybe he just hadn’t been around long enough, but Percival hadn’t personally witnessed that much physical violence between the two of them. Yeah, he’d seen horseplay that was really just Arthur’s excuse to wack around his servant, but a full on fight was new territory; at least for him anyway. Then again, he’d also been at a complete loss as to what had started the fight in the first place.

“I don’t know and I’m too fucking scared to ask,” had been Gwaine’s response when he asked. 

For a man who can’t hold a sword the right way round, Merlin had put up one hell of a fight. It was interesting to watch, especially with the knowledge he had just learnt about the secret magical side to the servant, and yet here he was, very clearly using anything but magic. And he was losing. Percival could guess that perhaps Merlin just didn’t want to risk it, which would have been fair, but he liked to think that Merlin just wouldn’t use magic to win at something compared to Arthur like this, even if they had been alone. Games in the tavern? Sure. But a brawl clearly powered by a deep argument?

It was food for thought, he supposed, and he’d rather think than have to watch the chaos that was folding out in front of him in a disgustingly ugly manner. Eventually the knights kicked into action and managed to break them apart, and they all cooled down. Sort of, anyway.

Percival watched Merlin with a close eye, not out of suspicion entirely—though that had been a part of it, he’ll admit—but out of curiosity also. He did this over the next couple of days, watching as the servant’s eyes turned gold seconds before Arthur hilariously tripped or dropped his sword or did anything embarrassing. He never caused any harm except to the King’s ego, it would seem, and really Percival couldn’t find much to be worried about in that department. Especially when some sorcerer had rushed in, a hand raised towards Arthur. Then, as Percival watched blue turn to gold, it had been to ensure Arthur’s safety, and Arthur’s safety alone. No other tricks to embarrass the man, and no other games to feel satisfaction. The King’s safety came first, that had been clear enough.

Overall, Percival had learnt not to let go of his morals or beliefs, and he’d learnt that his King had yet another loyal, trustworthy man keeping him safe. Only that one was far braver than the rest of them, and for a multitude of reasons. He was risking his life just being in Camelot, and he was brave enough to tell the King what was what.

As for that argument from before, Percival had never quite figured out what had caused it, not even after Elyan relaid what Gwen had told him. Not that she really made much sense to her brother either, or to any of the knights for that matter. Still, the gist of it had been that it was a breaking point for Merlin who had, up to that situation, been doing it utmost best to protect Arthur of something. She didn’t specify what, but he was certain he could figure it out for himself.

Percival missed his friend dearly, but he was thankful for Lancelot for showing him this world while he still could. The one filled with a King he would die for, and men who he would die with. Percival could just tell that one day his home would be far kinder to people like Merlin, he just knew it, but until then, he would be fine to keep quiet on what he knew.