Archive of Our Own ^beta

“So…” Lancelot blinked, looking at the small falcon perched on the table in his knightly chambers. “You’re… a bird.”

The bird—Merlin—chirped in response.

“And… you drank a potion.” Lancelot looked at the empty vial on his desk, still confused by the whole situation. “Did you make it?”

Merlin chirped again, sounding far too pleased for someone without opposable thumbs.

“Okay.” Lancelot sighed. “Why did you come to me and not Gaius?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at Merlin. “Since he’s the physician and should know how to fix this?”

Merlin looked offended, before chirping and giving what looked like an imitation of a disapproving look.

“Were you afraid of the Eyebrow?” Lancelot asked, blinking. “Merlin, you can’t stay a bird! You have a destiny!”

Merlin tilted his head, as if considering how to handle things.

Then, he hopped over to Lancelot’s armor, picking up a gauntlet in his beak and dropping it near Lancelot.

Lancelot sighed. “How am I supposed to explain a hawk following me?”

Merlin chirped, which probably meant it wasn’t Merlin’s problem what Lancelot made up.

“And what am I supposed to say about you?” Lancelot asked again, waving his hands. “Arthur will freak out and look for you and drive everyone crazy. Me included, because he always thinks I’m covering for you!”

Merlin stood still, staring at Lancelot.

“I do, but it’s just rude to assume that!” Lancelot groaned, before sighing and saying, “How do you get back to yourself?”

Merlin whistled.

“It’s not very clear,” Lancelot said. “We need to find a way to communicate.”

Merlin whistled, making Lancelot blink.

“Why do you speak spy code?” Lancelot murmured, staring at Merlin intrigued. Then, he thought about who he was talking to, and, knowing the answer might be either extremely obvious or the discovery of the pre-Camelot Merlin, some sort of mystical figure Lancelot honestly feared—because no one in their right mind would help a stranger break Camelot’s law—he said. “Don’t answer that, please.”

Merlin whistled.

He probably agreed with Lancelot’s final decision to live in obscurity.

***

“Lancelot.”

“Sire.” Lancelot nodded respectfully toward Arthur, ignoring Merlin’s insult-filled whistles directed at the king.

“Where is Merlin?” Arthur circled Lancelot, as if expecting Merlin to leap out of his horse and yell, Surprise!

"He's gone to visit his mother in Ealdor, sire." Lancelot responded promptly. "He told you about it last night, sire."

Arthur frowned. "I don't recall Merlin warning me of his journey..."

"Perhaps I wouldn't mention it to Merlin, my lord," Lancelot said, his voice remaining respectful despite the falcon's repeated prats. "He's quite touchy about not being listened to."

Merlin stared at Lancelot, utterly betrayed, as if he didn't spend half his time complaining about Arthur not listening to him.

"Of course, I..." Arthur blushed, before speaking. "Do you know when he'll be back?"

"...He told you, my lord," Lancelot decided to say. "I suppose it depends on the situation."

Merlin seemed amused at having turned the tables and put Arthur on edge. Perhaps, Lancelot thought as Merlin settled in and snuggled up to him, Merlin was just tired of being ignored.

****

Merlin hovered over Lancelot, whistling and warning him of approaching bandits.

Lancelot supposed it was a good use of his wings.

“Sire,” Lancelot called Arthur. “My falcon says bandits are coming.”

Arthur stared at him, shocked. “...Your falcon?” The king seemed concerned for Lancelot, which Lancelot could, after all, share and understand.

He was talking to a bird.

Of course, he was actually talking to Merlin, who had transformed himself into a bird and who refused to tell Gaius because he was immature and didn't want to admit he hadn't listened in the first place.

Which, now that Lancelot was replaying it in his head, made it all that so much worse.

“My falcon had been trained, sire,” Lancelot said. “If he says there are bandits, then there are bandits.”

Arthur snorted. “You’re starting to sound like Merlin, Lancelot. One is enough.”

Merlin whistled his usual creative insult at Arthur, making Lancelot more than happy to translate it just to see Arthur recognize Merlin’s uniqueness.

He didn’t, but the idea was there.

When the bandits attacked them, Lancelot didn’t feel guilty looking at Arthur and saying, “I warned you.” And then, since Lancelot wasn’t rude, “Sire.”

***

Gaius was looking at them with a Disapproving Eyebrow.

Merlin had lost his feathers, which was a good thing, but he seemed to miss his plumage.

“Is everything all right?” Lancelot asked, interrupting the staring contest between Gaius and Merlin. “You seem… sad.”

“Merlin, we talked about this,” Gaius said, sounding very stern. “You can’t become a bird because you want to.”

“It’s just easier,” Merlin murmured, looking at the ground.

“Easier what?” Lancelot asked, speaking softly.

“Managing myself,” Merlin replied. “Managing my magic, managing my emotions… I’m always angry, or sad, or disappointed, and I’m just tired of waiting.”

“Merlin…” Gaius spoke, sighing.

“I want to be free, Gaius,” Merlin whispered. “And I’m tired of waiting and seeing if Arthur will ever listen to me about trivial things.”

Lancelot stepped forward, pulling Merlin into a tight embrace.

“I know it’s hard, and I know you have a huge weight on your shoulders,” Lancelot murmured, “but you’re not alone. I’m right here.”

“You can’t fulfill my destiny.” Merlin said, leaning on Lancelot.

“No.” Lancelot agreed. “But I can be your support all the time.”

“It could take forever.” Merlin whispered.

“Then we will wait together.” Lancelot promised.