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'You're a sorcerer!'
The scent of laundry soap threatened to make him sneeze, and he eyed the empty warming pan in Gwen's hand with a healthy dose of trepidation. She looked like she was sorely tempted to throw it at his head. Her hair tumbled down around her face, and her eyes were alight with anger and no small trace of fear.
It had been brave of her to drag him in here to make her accusation, but now she looked as if she regretted it, and he hated to see the glimmer of terror on her face.
This was all Arthur's fault. He had to be the one to crow about it – about unicorns and the people they associated with: virgins and sorcerers. Arthur, of course, had delighted in ribbing Merlin about his supposed innocence, as if he hadn't lost his virginity years ago and miles away, back in Ealdor. The knights had joined in, because they could be right bastards sometimes, and Gwen had frozen in the act of helping him clear the dishes, staring at him from behind Arthur's back in abject horror.
Unfortunately, while the knights were not very in tune with the castle gossip, the same could not be said for Guinevere, who had heard a thing or two and knew that Merlin was most certainly not a virgin.
Which left only one option.
'Er...?'
He could lie. He could absolutely lie and say Arthur was talking out of his arse, as usual, but something told him Gwen wouldn't believe a word he said. She was ardent in her rage, almost incandescent with it, and he had a healthy dose of respect for her anger. She was no delicate maiden. Only Morgana scared him more, and it was a close-run thing.
'You – you –' Gwen's chest heaved, which in any other circumstance would be a pleasant sight. Right now, though, he couldn't be sure if she was dragging in breath to scream for the guards.
'Gwen, please, I can explain!' He reached out a hand, and her flinch of retreat was enough to make him jerk back, apologies already frothing from his lips. 'It's – I – I use it for Arthur! You know what he's like, the danger he's always in. I use it to keep him safe. Him and Camelot! I haven't hurt anyone!' He winced at that, before quickly amending, 'At least, no one who didn't deserve it.'
She stared at him, the warming pan on its long handle held between them like a sword. He could see the whites of her eyes all the way around, and he shifted to the side so he wasn't standing between her and the door. It was an obvious gesture, and one that seemed to break through the sharpest edge of her uncertainty.
'Are you insane?' she demanded, her voice high and thin, muffled by the cloth stacked shelves around them. 'Merlin, they will kill you. They will find out, and they will kill you. You have to – you have to stop. Don't use it. Don't learn any more than you already have. Who even taught you? Don't they know the danger they're putting you in?' Her hair fluttered as she breathed hard. 'Not just from – from the King! Magic corrupts. It turns you evil.' The glimmer of tears embellished her lashes, her mouth wobbling horribly. 'Even if you're good now, you won't be in the end!'
She pressed the back of her hand to her lips, the warming pan going lax in her grip. Gently, Merlin stepped forward, keeping each movement slow as he relieved her of her makeshift weapon. It would be easiest to just agree with her, to lie and promise not to use it, but this was Gwen. He couldn't do that to her. Nor could he have her believing he was some sort of naive simpleton, dabbling in magic in a kingdom where it was outlawed.
'You're wrong.' He said it softly, apologetically. 'About so many things. Gwen, no one taught me this. I've always had magic, since before I even cut my first tooth. If it was going to corrupt me, it would have done so by now. It's not – it's not bad.' His voice throbbed over the words, desperate, because he'd spent years hearing the whispers of others and fearing he was as monstrous as they all suggested. 'I'm not bad.'
She hiccupped, her nostrils flaring as she took in a deep breath through her nose. 'You already had magic when you came to Camelot?' she asked, shaking her head in slow disbelief. 'You came here knowing what you are? What could happen to you? You stayed?'
Before he could answer, the door opened, whispering on its hinges as Lancelot darted through the narrow gap, sallow and worried. His dark eyes went to Guinivere, his heart, as always, carried in their depths, but it was Merlin he reached for, clasping a hand over his shoulder and asking a hundred questions with a single glance.
'Gwen's not stupid, unlike some people.' Merlin swallowed hard. 'She knows.'
'Wait,' Gwen managed, barely hesitating as Lancelot shut the door firmly behind him. 'He knows?' She turned on Lancelot. 'You knew and you didn't tell me?'
'It was not my secret to impart.'
'And you!' She spun on Merlin, her hands clenched into fists at her side before she thumped him, hard, on the shoulder. 'You told Lancelot before you told me? I was the first friend you made in Camelot! I liked you when you were a sad, stinking boy in the stocks!'
'Ow! Ow! It's not like I told either of you. You found out!' Merlin raised his hands to ward off any further blows, breathing out a sigh of relief when Gwen subsided, just a fraction.
'When?' she narrowed her eyes at Lancelot in a manner that suggested he would be fortunate to share the pleasure of her kisses any time soon.
'The griffin.' Lancelot's hands where still held out, appeasing. 'My lance burst into magical blue flame, and Merlin was the only one still standing to cast such a spell. He saved us, Guinevere. My blow would have done nothing to the beast if not for his help.'
'That's – it's –' She shook her head, slumping down onto a laundry chest as she stared blankly at the flagstones. It made Merlin's heart ache for her. She wasn't like Lancelot, worldly and well-travelled. She had lived in Camelot all her life. How many executions had she witnessed? How many times had magic attacked her home and threatened her safety? How many years had she listened to Uther's rhetoric on sorcerers and believed the words of her king?
And yet, she still had not screamed for the guards.
'He keeps us safe, Guinevere,' Lancelot promised. 'I don't know all that he has done, but it has been for us. For his friends. He would never offer us harm. If I thought him a danger to anyone, I would not have kept his secret. I would not have risked my life for him.'
That got Gwen's attention, and she blinked at him, realisation crumpling her features. 'The King would execute you too, for hiding what he is.'
'It will never come to that.' Merlin said it with utmost certainty. He would enchant Lancelot into silence to save him if he had to. 'I won't let it. If I'm ever dragged to the pyre of the headsman, I will go alone.'
Gwen's brown skin took on a greyish tinge at that, and at last her eyes met his, looking at him as if she were searching for the man she knew in the face of a stranger. It was a desperate, heartfelt gaze, carrying with it the weight of the world, and Merlin saw the moment she found her resolve.
'No. No, you won't, because that's not going to happen.' She brushed a hand over her face, dashing away the tears that had threatened, but never quite fallen. 'You're my friend. You always have been, and you always will be.' Her voice wobbled before she seemed to master it. 'I can't say I understand, or that I accept it – not yet. Not completely, but... But Merlin, I can't condemn you either. I don't think I ever could.'
She let out a tight sound as he reached for her hand, her grip surprisingly strong as she yanked him into an embrace. It was awkward, he had to bend over to get his arms around her, but there was strength there too: comfort and promise, and he let out a shaking breath of relief as he hugged her back.
'Thank you. And if, somehow, my magic ever does corrupt me? I've got you and Lancelot to set me straight. One way or the other.'
He hunkered down, putting himself on Gwen's level so he could look into her eyes, hoping she could see his sincerity. He meant every word he said. It was not magic that corrupted people, but the power that came with it. If he ever fell victim to that, then he hoped his friends would have the strength to stop him.
'Okay?'
Gwen swallowed, letting out a shuddering breath as she slowly nodded her head. Her hand gripped his, tight and fierce. 'Okay,' she agreed.
Distantly, the sound of Gaius calling for him reached Merlin's ears, and he swore quietly. He'd promised to gather herbs, and now he looked over his shoulder at the door, wondering if he could possibly delay.
'Go,' Gwen urged, pursing her lips until they bleached white. 'I'll be all right.'
'You're sure?' He looked over at Lancelot, seeing the promise in his eyes. He wouldn't leave Gwen alone. He would provide a target for her questions and her ire.
'Tell her whatever she wants to know,' Merlin said at last, giving Gwen a quick squeeze and straightening up, 'and if Lancelot doesn't have an answer, ask me. I'll – I'll answer honestly.' Even as he said it, he felt almost dizzy with the implications of it. Here were two people. bound to him not by blood, but by friendship: two accidental guardians to the secret that would see him dead.
He wanted to trust them – he did trust them, but... Well, there was always a "but".
'Go,' Lancelot urged. 'Before Gaius sends out a search party.' Tentatively, he took a seat by Gwen on the chest, shoulder-to-shoulder, offering her everything: silent support or a willing punching bag on which she could vent her emotions.
'All right, and thanks.' He included Gwen in his gratitude, knowing she would understand the depths of it. He wasn't just talking about this moment; he was speaking of the choice she had made. Uncertain she may be, but she had looked between the laws of Camelot and the life of a friend, and chosen the latter.
He only hoped that, one day, all his friends would do the same.