Chapter Text
Merlin turned the vial in his hand, studying its’ bluish tint, the glittery swirls of purple, wondering who it was meant for. Gaius hadn’t wanted to elaborate, only told him where to take it. The meaningful look — as if Merlin was supposed to read the old physicians’ mind — that Gaius had given him wouldn’t leave Merlin's head.
He’d already delivered the Lady Morganas’ sleeping draft, which had been a more or less successful task. Her name Gaius had had no trouble telling him. It only made the identity of this second patient more intriguing, like a mystery Merlin had to solve.
The winding staircases he had to climb to reach the tower Gaius had sent him to only added to the impression. Merlin felt out of breath two flights into the journey. Full of hope he looked up, only to sigh with defeat as there were about four or five more he’d have to climb to get to the top.
Seriously, who was kept up there? The king's dying mother, too old with age to care where she was kept? A stowed away, disfigured and probably illegitimate child of his? Another, more troublesome ward?
Merlin could’ve come up with countless theories. It was honestly kind of fun and a good distraction from the stinging sensation in his over-worked thighs and the prickling needles that seemed to penetrate his lungs with each breath he drew. But then he smelled it.
It was faint at first, Merlin barely noticed it, his brain storing the foul scent away as something irrelevant. Then, as he got higher and higher, it intensified, becoming more distinct. His nose scrunched, but he couldn’t afford to pinch it shut or he might’ve fainted from lack of oxygen.
The scent… it wasn’t overwhelming, like rotten eggs or a corpse that had lay in the sun a couple days. Nothing as horrible as that, but it still was bothersome either way, entering Merlin's nose and lungs.
Stale water was the first thing he connected it to. And mud. Like a moor on a warm day. And a flower, Merlin couldn’t remember its name, one that was all too sweet and heavy, clouding the senses if you sniffed it too hard. There was more to the scent that Merlin couldn’t place, but he felt overwhelmed by it.
His first instinct was to turn and hurry back down the stairs. Not really the type of reaction one got by simply smelling something one didn’t enjoy. Merlin thought so once the reasonable part of his brain joined back into the mix.
Stubbornly ignoring the way his magic curled inside him, urging him to retreat, he stomped up the last two flights of stairs. He turned the vial between his fingers, reminding himself and his magic that he had a job to do. Gaius gave him a task, a simple one, really, and Merlin would complete it.
With the last step behind him and his senses having gotten somewhat accustomed to the smell, making it more bearable, his theories came back to mind. Probably a haggard old relative then. Old people smelled weird, Merlin recalled.
There was no glorious entrance awaiting him. Only a plain, undecorated door, torches placed on either side, but they weren’t lit. No sound came from the room that lay behind it and for a moment Merlin questioned whether or not someone was even inside. He shook his head, then went to knock.
There wasn’t an answer immediately, which had Merlin rock back and forth on the balls of his feet. Unsure what to do, he first lowered his fist and then reached out again, ready to knock a second time. There was no need as he heard someone telling him to come in. It was odd though.
Merlin was sure he hadn’t heard heard anyone say anything and yet his mind was convinced there’d been a small, quiet voice that had said “Come in!”. Maybe he hadn’t been paying attention properly. It wouldn’t be a rare occasion that Merlin's ears turned off for the benefit of his mind focusing on whatever was going on up in his head.
Still a little unsure he opened the door, breath catching in his throat when he took a step into the room and the foul smell increased tenfold, engulfing him like a dense cloud. Merlin coughed, inhaling even more of it. His stomach turned.
'Who are you?'
Again, Merlin didn’t recall hearing the question, but it was there anyway, lingering in his mind, demanding his good manners to answer.
“Merlin. I mean, my name is Merlin.” He managed between taking shallow breaths, looking around the room for the person talking to him. “I’m Gaius’ new apprentice.”
The scan of his surroundings was rather brief as the chambers he found himself in were rather bleak. Unlike Morganas’, the walls weren’t filled with paintings, the floors bare of rugs or other useless furniture to take up empty spaces.
No, it was quite the opposite, everything in here served a purpose. There was a closet, a desk with two chairs, a round table which probably was meant to be eaten at and a bed. That was where Merlin's gaze got stuck.
On the rather small bed lay an even smaller child. A girl to be more correct.
She was mostly covered by a blanket, half her face buried in a heap of pillows, her long, blonde hair draped over them. She was staring right back at him through pale, grey eyes. They didn’t particularly stand out against her light complexion, which had a ghostly quality to it. For a moment Merlin squinted to see if she would go translucent if he just focused hard enough.
'You can hear me?'
The voice was there again and now that Merlin knew who it belonged to, watching the girl closely and noticing that her lips never once moved, he freaked out. Not physically, no, his body seemed to have locked up, trapped amidst the stuffy room, but his mind went into uproar.
Because what the fuck? How the hell could he hear the girl without her making a single sound? Some telepathic thing obviously, but… Why? Magic, of course. But the girl- They were in Camelot! In the castle of all places! Why would there be a girl with magic here? Who the hell would be idiotic enough to bring their magical kid here?!
Stupidly, his mind supplied that his mother, for example, had sent Merlin to Camelot too. And to live in the castle as well. Thanks, brain.
'My apologies. I didn’t try to scare you.' The small voice was there again, a gentle whisper bringing some clarity to Merlin.
“You didn’t.” Merlin assured, taking a wobbly step towards the bed. He hoped his lips curved into a warm smile like he told them to. “Sorry, I wasn’t expecting-”
The girl sat up, the motion seeming to cost her a lot of strength as she let out a stifled groan, her body trembling as her back rested against the stack of pillows. Her eyes had glazed over, but never left Merlin once. She seemed weary about his presence, her head tilting as she took him in further.
“I’m Merlin.” Merlin said again, an embarrassed flush spreading across his face as he realised how stupid he must’ve sounded.
But the girl was either good hearted by nature or raised very well as she gave him a shy, yet polite smile, not bothering to point out that he’d introduced himself twice now. This was, perhaps, the nicest interaction he’d had with anyone here in Camelot.
Well, meeting Gwen was a close second and the only reason it didn’t take first place was because of the fact that Merlin had actively been pelted with rotten fruit at the time.
A silence stretched through the room, only interrupted by the ruffling of sheets as the girl lifted a hand to wipe her forehead with the back of it. Up to that point Merlin hadn’t noticed just how unwell she looked. Every inch of exposed skin was coated in sweat, strands of her hair sticking to her face, and her eyes were hazy with fever and bloodshot.
“You’re sick.” Merlin needlessly pointed out. At this point he felt like hitting himself over the head.
The girl nodded slowly, losing focus for a second. Once she’d caught herself again, she forced another smile.
'Don’t worry, you won’t catch anything. It’s never contagious.'
“Are you sick a lot?”
Merlin was well aware that this wasn’t the most pressing matter at hand – he should’ve asked about her ability to telepathically communicate with him or who she was and what she was doing here – but the thought of her looking like this a lot, miserable and exhausted, twinged something in his chest. Suddenly the vial of medicine in his hand didn’t seem like enough and Merlin wanted to run back to the physicians’ quarters and get something stronger. Preferably something that would cure the girl immediately and forever.
Yes, most of the time. I think I’m sick more often than not.
“Why?”
What a dumb question to ask a child.
She shrugged, drawing her shoulders as far up as she could. Her head slumped to the side then to rest against one of the pillows. Her face had gotten paler, which Merlin hadn’t thought possible. Quickly he crossed the room, uncorking the vial on the way. The girl recognised it and lifted her head again, straining to keep it upright.
“Here, this should help.” Merlin said quietly as he held it to the girl's lips.
He was careful not to spill any of the liquid as he poured it into her mouth, a little surprised as she didn’t even pull a face. Out of curiosity he’d taken a whiff of it on the way and nearly retched at the smell. It was worse than the one coursing through the room.
“What’s your name?” Merlin asked once the vial was empty and the girl had slumped back, drained of whatever little energy she’d had in her.
As he waited for an answer, Merlin figured he could make a fire. It was a little chilly in the room. And if he got a certain temperature in here, maybe he could open a window to let some fresh air in.
There was still wood in the hearth, neatly stacked up. He wasn’t entirely sure who looked after the girl, probably a nurse maid, but whoever it was had obviously forgotten to light a fire before leaving. A very human mistake, but it had Merlin roll his eyes nonetheless. You’d think a sick child would be enough for someone to remember that warmth was essential to recovery.
'Willow.'
“That’s a pretty name.” Merlin said and when he glanced over his shoulder, he saw the girl smiling.
I like yours too. Isn’t there a bird called Merlin?
“Yes! It’s my mum’s favourite.” Flint and steel did not seem to be on Merlin’s side today, so he whispered an incantation under his breath, satisfied at the quickly growing flames it produced. In her barely lucid state, the girl surely wouldn’t notice. “You’re very smart.”
When he rose and turned, wiping dust from his trousers, Willow was staring at him again, a faint hue painting her pale cheeks with a rosy pink. She didn’t answer though, something else nagging at her. Clearly, she must’ve been thinking really hard, the process evident in the way her thin brows furrowed and her teeth chewed away at her lower lip.
Merlin, not the most experienced man in the field of childcare, worried she’d give herself a headache. When he returned to her side, he put a hand on her forehead. Not having been prepared just for how hot it was, he drew it back again immediately.
'Why can you hear me?'
“What?”
'No one else can hear it when I talk to them in my mind. But you do. Why?'
Willow's directness was a little off putting, but Merlin supposed she didn’t get much interaction holed up here in a tower. And again, Merlin wasn’t an expert on humans younger than sixteen, but he was pretty sure kids were supposed to be funny. Or silly, at least. But the girl wasn’t either of those things.
The earnest expression on her roundish features reminded him of the old men he’d grown up with in Ealdor. He’d always assumed their faces had frozen that was – all serious and solemn – and they’d simply unlearned how to smile. In Willow’s case, Merlin thought, it seemed more like no one had ever taught her how to smile properly. Not beyond those polite ones he’d seen on her so far.
He decided to change that.
“Better question. Why don’t you talk to people normally?” He grinned, not letting himself be discouraged by the glaring lack of humour he received in return.
'I’m not allowed.'
“Not allowed?” Merlin asked, swallowing the worry that bubbled in his stomach. Who would forbid a child to speak? He tried to joke, “Did you swear too much?”
'No, I stutter. They said I shouldn’t talk at all if I couldn’t do it properly. Pen- People here don’t do things if they can’t do them properly.'
“Uhm…” Merlin didn’t know what to say to that. He didn’t know what to think of it either.
He’d known Camelot wasn’t paradise. Especially not for people like him.
But his mother had made it sound like it was better than Essentir at least. Less suffering for common folk, more protection from their king. And yet, after only three days here, Merlin wasn’t so sure his mother had been right about that.
So far, he’d witnessed one execution, he’d been thrown into the dungeons by one bully of a prince and now he found a child that had been forbidden to speak because of a stutter?
That last one felt the worst. Even without looking at Willow's defeated demeanour, he balled his hand into a fist. A weird gesture for Merlin. He wasn’t the type of person to get angry easily. Most of the time, if someone really pissed him off, he managed to reason with himself, see the other person's point of view and rationalise the anger away. But this was different.
This kid… Seeing her all small and sad over something some idiot had said to her dislodged something in his chest. And whatever it was sat there heavily, setting free some emotions Merlin wasn’t sure he was even capable of. Not to this point at least.
The urge to protect her was the strongest. It formed into a knot, sitting right at the base of his throat. His hand unfurled again. On its own, it reached out, hovering uselessly over the girl. And what now?
He didn’t know her! He could hardly comfort her just because he felt some feelings. Quickly he pulled it back again.
'So, why can you hear me?'
“Oh right!” Merlin still hadn’t answered that question. Stupid him.
It made sense now, why Gaius had sent him here. Obviously the girl was like him – to some extent at least – and Gaius must’ve hoped they’d… get along? Something like that? He’d have to admit he had magic if he wanted to be honest with the girl, but Merlin didn’t really see a reason why he shouldn’t be.
She was a child, so not very threatening, and the fact that she could telepathically talk to him meant she had it too, so telling on him would be useless. Not that Merlin expected her to do that. She seemed nice enough.
“Err, I have… magic?”
It didn’t come out quite as securely as Merlin had hoped. But honestly, who could blame him?
He’d had to keep his powers a secret all his life – eighteen years of self-control and lies – and the only people who knew about them were his mum, Will and Gaius. And in two out of these three cases, the unveiling of his secret had been by accident rather than a choice. He’d never outright told anyone about his magic.
This was a first and for that, it wasn’t half bad. The reaction that followed however-
Willow, in a surprising surge of energy, jumped onto her feet. Her legs gave him immediately, leaving her to cower on the bed, still half covered by the blanket, scooting into the wall behind her. It couldn’t have been a comfortable position, especially with the condition she was in, but she didn’t seem to be aware of any of that.
All her attention lay on Merlin.
Her eyes were blown wide in shock and horror, her mouth open as if she might start screaming any moment. But she didn’t. Merlin wondered if her not being allowed to speak rule extended to sounds as well.
She was a magical child, for sure, but a child raised in Camelot nonetheless. That thought caught up with Merlin a little too late. Surely, even up here in a tower, she must’ve heard the reputation sorcerers were given in this kingdom, probably had it engraved into her brain from a very young age.
Well, an even younger one. How old was she even? It was hard to tell.
Merlin hadn’t been able to assess her properly without seeing her height. She looked small enough, but that wasn’t always a reliable indicator. Merlin himself had been mocked for years because he’d been much shorter than the other kids his age.
'You can’t say that out loud! What if someone hears?!' Her voice was louder now, echoing through Merlin’s mind with a curious vibration to it. The panic in it was nearly enough for him to think it was his own.
“All the way up here? I don’t think so.” Merlin forced a casual tone, hoping it would help soothe the girl's nerves. He could barely stand to see her this upset, how tense she was. She should lie down and rest. “But you have it too, right?”
Something dark flashed through Willow's eyes and for a moment they turned to storm clouds. It was gone as quickly as it had come, replaced with broken resignation. Her shoulders slumped again as if she only now remembered that she was sick and exhausted. She nodded, a nervous flicker passing over her delicate face as she waited for Merlin’s reaction.
“That’s great!”
Okay, maybe a little too much enthusiasm. Obviously it wasn’t great that this kid living under the same roof as Uther Pendragon, slayer of anything mildly magical, possessed said magic. Swiftly Merlin went to correct his mistake.
“I mean, there’s nothing wrong with that.” Merlin said, cringing under the glare he received in response.
'There’s everything wrong with it! Magic is evil. It corrupts! It’s- it’s…'
The girl blinked hard, her face twisting in frustration as if she'd forgotten the next adjective that belonged behind the word ‘magic’. Merlin felt his stomach drop at the sight. How convinced Willow sounded of this.
She was so young and yet she had already been subjected to such beliefs. Believes that painted her a villain.
Without thinking, he sat down on the bed, leaving enough room between them for Willow to move away if she felt uncomfortable. She didn’t, instead ogling him like he was crazy for wanting to get so close to her. Merlin didn’t miss the way her body relaxed, even if it was just the slightest bit. He smiled softly, gently extending a hand, letting it hover between them.
Not a word passed his lips as he conjured a tiny flower in his palm – a Forget-Me-Not, his favourite – and then took it between the fingers of his other hand. It was very foolish, he knew, and if he hadn't the bewildered gaping the girl reacted with would’ve told him as much.
“Doesn’t seem very evil or corrupted, does it?”
'No, but-'
“Did someone teach you?”
Willow shook her head, her eyes still glued to the flower. When Merlin offered it to her, her eyes grew impossibly large and it seemed like she wanted to take it, but didn’t know what to do with it. Gently, Merlin pushed her hair behind her ear before tucking the flower behind it as well.
'Nobody taught me. I was born like this.'
“You-” Merlin’s voice broke off, all air leaving his lungs under the heavy sadness that settled over his chest.
He hadn’t met many sorcerers over his life, but he’d heard of others. His mother had made an effort to figure out as much about his people as she could and later Will had too, which was how Merlin knew that apart from him, there weren’t many like him. Actually, he’d never heard of anyone else that was born a magician. Until now.
And gods did it hurt.
It had already been hard for him, growing up with powers beyond his understanding, only knowing that they could be dangerous. To him. To others. His mother had always warned him never to tell anyone about them. In Essentir, people capable of wielding magic were enslaved. Sold on markets, brought to the king as soldiers in his army, forced to make weapons stronger than any blacksmith could ever forge. It had been a scary outlook on his future, but effective to make him keep quiet.
But at least he’d had his mum to encourage him about the beauty of magic. Whenever they’d had an afternoon to themselves, she’d take him out to the woods and let him grow flowers, befriend animals and try out whatever he wanted. She’d clap and laugh and compliment him.
Willow… Sure, Merlin didn’t know much about her, but figuring by her reaction to the topic he felt it safe to assume that she’d had none of that. No support, no one to turn to… All she had were burnings and beheadings every other day, lies about the horrifying things sorcerers were capable of and people in her ear telling her to stay away from them.
The silence had stretched a beat too long. Willow's thin fingers had begun twisting into the silky fabric of her nightgown and her face was etched with concern.
“I was born with it too.”
'You were?' A hint of disbelief swung in the question, but there was hope too.
It reflected brightly in her eyes, making Merlin's heart twist in agony. She must’ve felt so alone, stuck here for years without anyone to turn to and now… now she’d found someone just like her. It was a relief. Merlin knew it was because he felt it too.
Someone like him, born with magic, no other choice but to live the way he had, right here in front of him. He felt selfish right for it, too, but not enough for it to dampen the smile that curled his lips.
“Yes, I was.”
'I’m sorry. That must be… I’m sorry.'
“Don’t be.” Merlin finally felt safe in placing a hand on her shoulder. The touch was featherlight at first, but when he felt Willow shift against his hand, he tightened it ever so slightly. “I think it’s a good thing. I don’t think it’s evil.”
A frown appeared between her brows. She wasn’t entirely able to believe Merlin, but at least she settled again, drawing her knees against her chest and leaning against the wall rather than trying to hide herself in it. It must’ve been a lot for her.
'Why not? People like us are… not good.'
"I beg to differ. You’re the nicest kid I’ve ever met.” Merlin squeezed her shoulder. “And I have lived like this for eighteen summers and have not yet had the urge to do anything seriously ‘not good’ so far.”
At that Willow paused, the cogs of her mind turning visibly. Her head tilted again, partially out of exhaustion this time. Merlin shifted his hold on her, carefully lowering her back into her pillows. When he pulled back, she let out a small sound, her hand shifting to rest on top of the covers. Somehow understanding the silent request, Merlin took it into his. It was cold to the touch, a stark contrast to the scolding heat of her forehead.
'Is that okay?'
“Of course!” Merlin said, bringing his free hand up to her face to smooth out the worried creases on her forehead.
This was easier than he ever could’ve imagined. For a child Willow was quite… trusting. Easy to let him near her. It was quite the opposite of the wild, free-spirited children they had in Ealdor.
A warmth spread through Merlin’s chest, rooting in his heart, as he watched Willow calm down again, letting herself relax in his presence. Affection and pride, that’s what that sensation was.
“So, uhm, now that we have all the important stuff out of the way, can I ask who you are? Or where your parents are? It’s not every day I meet a child living in the tower of a castle, you know.”
Willow’s eyes, which had slowly drifted closed, popped open again. This time there was a hint of suspicion shimmering through the fever. Her hand, which still lay in Merlin’s, twitched nervously.
'It’s- it’s complicated.'
“Okay…” Merlin drawled, hoping he came across trustworthy and not too curious.
'I don’t have a mother. Well, I did, but she died. At my birth.'
It was so, so very weird to hear a child speak – or rather think – of such a sad matter in such a cold, plain way. Unlike before, there was no sadness in her tone. Not even that much emotion. Maybe she was too young to really understand what it meant to lose a parent. The fact that she’d never come to know the woman that had given birth to her might play into it as well.
'And my father-' That choked her up. Willow lowered her gaze, fixating the covers as she contemplated what to say. Merlin let her gather herself, keeping his worry at bay. 'It’s complicated. I’m not allowed to say.'
“Hm… Who takes care of you then?”
Please, let there be someone, Merlin prayed. He wasn’t entirely sure what he’d do if there wasn’t, but the question of how hard it would be to drag a mattress up all those flights of stairs did cross his mind.
'I have a nurse maid. But she doesn’t come around often when I’m sick. She’s still convinced I’ll kill her by passing something along. And… she's not here much when I’m healthy either. Not since I’ve learned how to eat and dress by myself. Sometimes there’s tutors who come by to teach me stuff or Geoffrey, but that’s only when I don’t return the books I lend from the library.'
“And who sends those people here?”
'The king.'
“So… you’re his ward?”
Or his daughter. Merlin shivered at the thought, only inches away from throwing himself to his knees to actually pray that that wasn’t the case. That would be the most morbid joke of the gods to date.
To his relief, Willow shrugged with half a nod.
'I guess. Not officially, but… I don’t really know.'
She yawned then, covering her mouth with her hand. Her eyes closed and didn’t open again even when it was over. A deep breath made her practically deflate, making her seem even smaller than she already was. And sicker, too.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be bothering you with all these questions.” Merlin said, absentmindedly carding a hand through the mess of blonde hair. Another sigh left the girl’s slightly parted lips, though this one sounded a lot more peaceful than the last. He smiled to himself. “You should rest… Is there anything else I can do for you before I leave?”
'Will you come back?'
“Of course!” Merlin’s mouth spoke before he could even think about it. It didn’t make the promise any less true. “Someone has to bring you your medicine. Gaius’ knees will probably be happy if I make that my job from now on.”
'I’d like that.'
“Me too.”
Heavy hearted Merlin stood up. Willow’s breathing evened out before he even made it to the door. He threw one last glance toward her sunken figure before leaving.
He’d almost forgotten about the suffocating smell until he left it behind, breathing fresh air again. The clarity it brought slammed Merlin out of the bubble he’d been in — the one containing only him and the magical girl – and back into reality. And reality brought many questions, ones only one man could answer for him.
Accelerating his pace, Merlin jogged back to the physicians’ chambers, where he found Gaius bent over his workbench. The old man was muttering to himself as he read something from a leather bound book, which looked about half a century older than him. But Merlin didn’t feel bad to rip him from his concentration with the slam the door shut with.
He was a bit angry, if he was being quite honest. The same kind of anger he felt when Willow had told him about being forbidden to speak. It was impossible to explain away, no matter how long Merlin looked at Gaius’ shocked face.
“Have you gone mad-” Gaius started but was quickly interrupted by Merlin, who strode across the room, one finger pointed at his mentor.
“She has magic! She has magic and you didn’t tell me!” He accused the older man. “Why? Does she even know you know? It didn’t seem like it, the way she reacted when she found out I have it too.”
“You told her?” Gaius had the audacity to look mad.
“Of course! She talks to me telepathically! What else was I supposed to do?” Merlin shook his head in disbelief, taking the break to dampen his shouting into a sharp hiss. “What did you think would happen?”
“I…” At a loss for words, Gaius turned his eyes to the floor. When he spoke again, his voice was quiet, drenched with something Merlin couldn’t quite place, but it made his stomach clench. “I didn’t know what to do with her anymore… She’s- Oh, Merlin… Her magic isn’t healthy for her.”
He sounded so defeated, Merlin felt sick with guilt for yelling at him. Not enough for it to dispel the anger completely. He still wanted answers, the image of the sick girl still fresh on his mind. Her fearful face when she’d talked about magic. Herself.
“Does it have anything to do with that awful smell?”
Gaius’ eyes flickered towards him, brows raising in surprise over Merlin’s ability to puzzle those two things together. Merlin scoffed.
“I’m not stupid.”
Leaving the biting tone uncommented, Gaius drew a heavy breath and he sat down, folding his hands over his lap. Merlin wasn’t quite read to do the same, so he began pacing, though the space for that was limited.
“I haven’t been able to look into her condition properly due to a lack of records about similar cases, but… I’ve been treating her for years and have made my own observations. And if I’m right, then her sickness and the smell lead back to her inability to use her magic.” Gaius said solemnly, a concerned frown furrowing his fading brows. “It… rots away. That’s what I’ve figured.”
“Wait does she not- Never?” Merlin gaped at that, the thought of not using his magic making it rush through his veins protestingly. “I can’t imagine…”
“I’ve seen her do it once or twice. Probably by accident. And it’s never anything big. She’ll light the fire in the hearth or open a window… and it only ever happens at the height of her illness. After that, she’ll usually get better.”
“But then she supresses it and she gets sick again.” Merlin hummed.
His eyes caught on Gaius – the guilty look on his creased face – and his anger resurfaced.
“Does she know this?”
“No… I’ve never-”
“Why not?” Merlin was back to shouting. “You know magic! You’ve taken me in! And she’s the same as me- She was born with it. Why would you help me but not her?”
Gaius flinched, but the increase of regret in his expression made it clear that Merlin had struck some kind of nerve.
“It’s not the same with you as it is with her, Merlin.” He tried to explain, finding little understanding on the young man’s face. “She’s… she grew up here. In Camelot. I feared that if I let her know anything other than what she learned from Uther, that… It would heighten the risk of her being discovered.”
“Oh, so you let her rot away and stew in sickness? What a relief.” Merlin barked a laugh, too cold and hard. He didn’t sound like himself at all.
But the injustice got to him. Willow didn’t deserve it. For what? Simply… being born.
“You don’t understand! Willow is too young. I can’t be there to protect her, watch over her and make sure she doesn’t slip up when other people are around.” At that Gaius’ eyes darted to Merlin.
Realisation dawned on Merlin. He nodded slowly, some of the fire dissipating as he did.
“So you thought that I… Oh.”
“I know, I contradict myself. I hoped she wouldn’t learn of your… talents quite so soon, but I also wish for you to guide her… I am sorry, Merlin.” Gaius got up then, approaching Merlin, who’d since stopped his journey up and down the room. “This is a lot for you already. You came here hoping to learn from me and now I ask you to teach someone else, too, but I…”
“It’s alright.” Merlin mumbled.
He’d help Willow. That decision had been made long before this conversation and before he’d even entered these chambers. There was something… something that drew him to her.
Maybe it was that he understood her – and she understood him – like no one else. Or maybe it was Merlin’s never failing need to protect people in need, which she definitely was. It didn’t really matter anyway.
He’d be there for her, end of story.
“Thank you.” Gaius gave him a gentle tap to the cheek, before sorting his face out and returning to the work bench. “Would you mind helping me out for a while?”
“Not at all.”
All through the afternoon, while stringing herbs up on the ceiling so they’d dry properly, Merlin’s thoughts were far away, up in a tower in the far end of the castle. He’d go see her again tomorrow. Definitely.