Chapter Text
The sun hung high in the clear sky, kissing the earth below. The heat didn't seem to bother the people passing by the house, and the sound of the bustling crowd filled the air.
From his second-floor window, Merlin looked out at the busy market nearby.
He wiped the sweat from his forehead with a cloth, grumbling to himself about the heat and how tired he felt after helping his parents bake bread all morning.
As people gossiped in the Lower Town, news spread that the Prince of Camelot had succeeded in his mission, securing a village from bandits.
The prince had returned to the castle just that afternoon.
The King was so pleased that he decided to celebrate with a feast tonight. He sent a royal steward to order the bread from Merlin's parents' bakery.
It was a great honor. Merlin's parents were already famous for their baking, but an order from the King meant the family would be respected even more.
"Merlin!" he heard his father call from downstairs.
He hurriedly drank water from his cup and then ran down to his father. "I'm coming!"
On the table in the bakery on the ground floor of his house, Merlin saw ten large baskets. Those were the loaves for tonight's feast-a celebration of the Prince's success.
Sometimes he thought about how people spoke so admirably of this prince, as if he were the most lovable person in the whole kingdom.
Well, it wasn't entirely wrong, after all. He was the Prince, the sole heir to the throne.
People had also gossiped about the Prince's handsome face, and Merlin was more curious than he cared to admit to see if the rumors were actually true.
He couldn't deny that he preferred looking at boys more than girls. His parents knew about that; he had confessed it to them when he was sixteen, and two years had passed since then.
"Is everything ready?" Balinor asked his wife as she covered each basket with a clean cloth.
"Yes, we can bring the bread to the castle now." She looked satisfied with the preparations. "We need Tom's wife and Gwen to help us carry these."
"Have you asked them?"
"I have. They said they would help us gladly. And we still have plenty of bread left over for ourselves, so we can give them some. Clara and Gwen always love our bread."
"Alright, that's good," Balinor said, then turned to Merlin. "Merlin, bring one basket to the kitchens first, and take this small basket of bread to your uncle."
Balinor handed a large basket and a smaller one to Merlin, who accepted them eagerly. It wasn't every day a baker boy could enter the castle freely, was it?
"Uncle Gaius is back at the castle? When did he arrive?" Merlin asked. He remembered Gaius had been on a journey to find rare herbs for his supplies.
"Your uncle arrived yesterday. You didn't know because you were busy with Gwen," Hunith chuckled, teasing him.
"Oh yes, I was... busy with Gwen." His face flushed slightly red.
Indeed, he had been busy yesterday with Gwen, spying on the knights from afar while they trained-because, damn, those knights were hot.
Merlin and Gwen had decided they couldn't let the chance slide while they were free from chores. As the baker's son and the blacksmith's daughter, they made quite the team.
Balinor noticed the blush but didn't say a word. Ah... it must be about the men, then. He thought.
Balinor and Hunith understood their son's sexuality. It didn't matter that Merlin was different; it made him no less of a son to them. They loved him so much-their only child.
The real question was... what kind of men did their son like? Balinor had heard that Gwen and Merlin often talked about the knights; they shared the same spirit in that regard.
Now, they were the strongest of allies, happily discussing the men of the kingdom.
His gaze fell on Merlin, who was already standing near the frame of their front door, ready to deliver the bread.
"Well, go ahead, son. We'll wait for Gwen and her mother before we head to the castle. You go on and hand the bread to your uncle first."
"Yes, Father. I'm leaving now."
With that, Merlin began the walk to the castle. He held the baskets carefully, because God knew how clumsy he was.
He didn't want to ruin everything by accidentally dropping the bread on the ground.
He saw the Citadel gates ahead of him; though they were still a distance away.
As he drew closer, the guards' eyes seemed to glisten, their noses twitching as they caught the scent of the fresh bread.
"Ah! The baker boy!" one called out. "What's that in your baskets? Smells delicious, doesn't it, Derek?"
"Yeah," Dereck replied, "as if a Goddess touched the air."
Merlin chuckled. "It's the bread for tonight's feast."
"The bread from Hunith and Balinor is the best in the kingdom," the other guard, Edward, added.
Derek’s eyes glistened as his smile widened. "Exactly. That’s why it smells so incredible."
Merlin chuckled and thanked the guards for the compliment.
Merlin entered the Citadel, smiling happily because he couldn't wait to see his uncle.
Before beginning his journey, Uncle Gaius had promised to bring back a present for Merlin. He hoped it would be books, just like the ones his uncle always bought him.
Gaius had been teaching him to read and write since he was a child. Merlin remembered sitting in his uncle's chambers, surrounded by the soothing smell of herbs.
Back then, he had found it a bit lonely, so he began dragging Gwen along every time he delivered the bread. After all, it was the only reason he ever entered the castle.
Since that day, they had learned to read and write together.
Whenever Gaius gave Merlin a new book, he and Gwen shared it, reading about poetry, mythical creatures, and even magic-as Merlin often practiced spells from the pages.
His thoughts of books snapped when he accidentally bumped into someone.
The baskets slipped from his hands.
Just a second before they hit the ground, the baskets were pulled back by an invisible force, landing safely back in his grip.
Merlin realized he hadn't used his magic; he had barely been able to react before the baskets were gone.
"Oh! I'm sorry, I slipped and bumped into you." A man said.
Merlin looked at the man's face and felt a wave of relief. What a blessing, Merlin thought. His eyes beamed at the older man.
This man, Iseldir, was the Court Sorcerer. He was a Druid and had a great power who had served King Uther Pendragon for almost twenty years.
He admired this Court Sorcerer so much.
"No need to apologize, my lord. It was inevitable," Merlin said.
"Good boy, but it was my mistake after all. May I ask where you are heading?" Iseldir asked, looking at the baskets in Merlin's hands.
"Oh, I'm heading to the kitchens. I'm delivering the bread for tonight's feast."
"Ah! The celebration of the Prince's successful mission. Yes, yes... Go ahead, you can't keep the cooks waiting. Have a good day."
"Yes, my lord. Thank you." Merlin bowed slightly and continued on his way.
As he passed the training field, he deliberately slowed his pace, stealing glances at the knights from the corner of his eye.
Oh, how he wished Gwen were here! Because those knights would have made them swoon and their knees buckle.
He shook his head and giggled. He had to tell Gwen later that he got to see the knights this close.
He entered the kitchens through the servants' entrance. Inside, the room was bustling with people preparing food for the upcoming feast.
"Merlin!" called an old woman as she approached him. It was Eleanor, the head cook.
Merlin placed a large basket on the table beside him, still clutching a smaller one in his other arm.
"I’ve brought the first basket of loaves. The others will be delivered soon by my parents, Clara, and Gwen."
Eleanor pulled back the cloth covering the basket, looking pleased and satisfied with the fresh bread.
"Thank you, Merlin. It is a very busy day in the kitchens today; it’s a help that you’ve delivered these early," she said with a warm smile.
"Happy to help," Merlin replied, nodding with a bright grin.
She reached out and picked up a shiny apple. "Here," she said, shoving it into Merlin's hand. "A treat for the adorable baker boy."
Merlin laughed softly. "Oh, Eleanor, thank you so much!"
"You're very welcome, dear."
"I have to head off now; I'm delivering this last basket to Uncle Gaius."
"Go ahead, Merlin," she waved him off.
With a happy smile, he left the kitchens and headed toward the Court Physician’s chambers.
He munched on the apple as he walked, crossing the courtyard and passing under the stone arch before slipping into the stairwell.
His thoughts drifted back to Eleanor. She had always been kind to him, ever since he was a child visiting his uncle with Gwen.
She would always give them a fruit or a sweet—one or two, if they were lucky.
And the only places he was allowed were the kitchens and Gaius’s rooms.
Eventually, he arrived at his destination.
He knocked softly and pushed the door open. He saw Gaius sitting at his workbench, hunched over a large, open book.
His brow was furrowed in deep concentration. Gaius was murmuring something barely audible to himself, glancing back and forth between the text and his mortar and pestle.
He was clearly in the middle of a delicate mixture.
"Uncle," Merlin called out.
Gaius jumped slightly, his head turning abruptly toward the door. "Ah! Merlin. Come, sit, my boy."
Merlin sat at the table across from Gaius, placing the small basket of bread between them.
"We baked the bread for tonight's feast as the royal steward requested. I’ve delivered a big basket to the kitchens, and brought this one for you."
"That is a wonderful news. Everyone in Camelot loves your parents' bread, Merlin."
Merlin chuckled. "I love it too—that’s why I’m always sneaking into the bakery in the middle of the night for a snack."
"Yes, some things never change," Gaius laughed along with him.
Suddenly Gaius stood up and walked over to a shelf packed with books. "I have something for you from my latest journey."
A book again! Merlin couldn't hide his excitement. He loved gifts like this and already couldn't wait to share it with Gwen.
Gaius marched back toward Merlin, clutching the book to his chest before placing it firmly on the table. "Well, this book might help you if you ever find an... attractive man."
"Uncle? How-" Merlin asked, confused.
"I asked the merchant for a book for teenagers, and the seller recommended this. I know what you are, Merlin, and I know what you and Gwen get up to from afar," Gaius said, giving him a knowing wink.
Merlin turned as red as a tomato. He knew Gaius was aware that he liked men, but he hadn't realized Gaius knew about him and Gwen spying on the knights!
He felt incredibly embarrassed in that moment, rubbing the back of his neck as if he could somehow hide his burning face from Gaius.
Suddenly, he felt an overwhelming urge to peek at what was inside. Despite his awkwardness, his curiosity for the book was far stronger than his shame.
He opened the book, scanning the elegant handwriting.
It was a collection of chivalric romances—poems and stories about legendary knights, grand quests, and courtly love.
Courtly love... Merlin sighed shyly. What did Gaius expect him to do with this? It will only fuel my fantasies of being a damsel in distress rescued by a handsome knight.
"Merlin, I need you to help me deliver a sleeping draught for Lord—"
"Lord... Handsome?" Merlin interrupted, his voice dreamy.
The romantic fantasy in Merlin’s head scattered as Gaius’ voice ran through his ears, knocking some sense back into his brain.
Gaius stared at him, one eyebrow creeping toward his hairline. "Lord Baron, Merlin. Are you quite alright? You look like you've been hit over the head with a rolling pin."
Merlin felt his face heating up.
"Yes! Lord Baron. Sorry. I'm just... busy. And I can't deliver it! I don't know who he is, or where he is. I can't exactly... feel my way to him, can I?"
Gaius paused, squinting at his nephew. "Why on earth would you need to feel your way to him? Is he hiding in a dark cave?"
"To... magically sense his presence?" Merlin offered with a weak, awkward smile.
Gaius sighed, rubbing his temples.
"You haven't let me finish. You can simply ask the guards. He is usually in the Great Gallery at this time of day. Try using your eyes, Merlin. They work much better for finding Lords than magic does."
"Right..." Finally making some sense of it, Merlin added, "I should go to this Lord right away."
He grabbed the small vial of sleeping draught and the book, then slid out through Gaius’ wooden door.
Merlin walked down the stone stairs, his hand tightly gripping his things. He felt nervous, as his thoughts were still a mess from the book and Gaius’ teasing.
Usually, he only knew the way to the kitchens and his uncle's chambers, but now he was heading deep into the castle.
As he walked through the long corridors, he couldn't hide his amazement.
The ceilings were so high, and the air didn't smell like flour or herbs; it smelled like expensive candles and old, rich wood.
He felt so small in this big place.
Seeing a guard standing nearby, Merlin approached him cautiously.
"Excuse me, I'm the nephew of the Court Physician and I have a delivery for Lord Baron in the Great Gallery. Could you tell me where it is?"
The guard looked Merlin’s simple tunic up and down, putting him under heavy scrutiny.
Finally, he pointed toward the end of the long corridor. "Turn right at the end of the corridor. The Great Gallery is on the left, with red tapestries on both sides of the doors."
"Thank you." Merlin gave an awkward smile and hurriedly walked away.
His heart was beating fast; he had never talked to a royal guard inside the castle before.
He reached the red tapestries and was about to open the door, but he suddenly halted when he heard voices nearby.
Not far from him were two people. One was carrying many pieces of armour and looked very distressed.
The other stood facing him; Merlin could only see the back of the man's head—blond hair and a very fine tunic and breeches.
He must be a noble, Merlin thought.
The blond man was holding a helmet, looking at it thoroughly before handing it back harshly.
"I can still see my disappointed reflection on this helmet. Polish my armour again, Morris."
Morris let out a heavy, tired sigh. "But I've already done it four times, Sire."
The blond man did not look pleased. "Stop complaining and polish it. I need it clean and shiny. If you keep complaining, I'll have you mucking out the stables for a month!"
"Yes, Sire. I'll polish it immediately," Morris muttered, scurrying away with the heavy pile of armour.
Merlin couldn't believe what he was seeing. He really didn't like that kind of behavior. He secretly prayed he would never have to involve himself with a person like that.
Without a second thought, Merlin pushed open the door and entered the Great Gallery.
He didn't notice it, but as the door swung shut, the blond man turned his head—having clearly noticed the dark-haired boy.
When Merlin entered the Great Gallery, he found himself walking toward Lord Baron slowly and deliberately, trying not to let his boots echo too loudly on the floor.
The Lord seemed lost in his thoughts, staring at the painting longingly.
To Merlin, it looked almost painful—like a star forcefully cut off from the moon.
It was the painting of Queen Ygraine.
Everyone in Camelot knew about the Queen.
She had died giving birth to the Prince, but she was so kind that she lived on eternally in the minds of the people.
At least, that’s what Merlin's mother had always told him.
"Excuse me, my Lord," Merlin whispered.
Lord Baron turned, looking suddenly suspicious, his sharp voice. "Who are you, boy? Why are you here?"
Merlin’s nerves were high, and his hands trembled slightly under the Lord’s gaze. "I’m the nephew of the Court Physician. He told me to deliver this sleeping draught to you."
Merlin handed over the vial, which the Lord accepted without question.
"Ah... yes. My sleeping draught."
Merlin’s eyes drifted back to the painting. The Queen was so beautiful; it was as if she had been kissed by the sunlight of a goddess.
"She looks gorgeous..." Merlin murmured to himself, his voice barely audible.
Lord Baron looked at Merlin, clearly having overheard him.
He turned back to the portrait. "She is indeed gorgeous. She looks so alive here. But..." He paused, his fingers trembling as he held the vial. "Some stars are only meant to be looked at, never reached. It is a heavy thing, to carry a light that the world says must stay in the dark."
He let out a long, shaky breath, as if the grief were physically weighing him down. "One can spend a lifetime admiring the garden while knowing they will never be the one allowed to hold the rose."
The Lord gave Merlin a small, sad smile, then left the gallery without another word.
Merlin stood there for a long moment, his eyes widening as the realization hit him hard.
Lord Baron was in love with the Queen.
The "courtly love" from his book rang inside Merlin's head. It was an unrequited, hidden grief that was eating the Lord alive.
Merlin couldn't imagine carrying that much pain.
"Who are you?" The sudden voice made Merlin spin around, startled.
It was the blond guy from the corridor.
"I-I was..." Merlin stammered. "I’m the Court Physician's nephew. I just delivered a sleeping draught to Lord Baron."
The blond guy narrowed his eyes. "Then why are you still here? I don't see Lord Baron anymore," he said, suspicion and arrogance dripping from every word.
Merlin recognized that tone immediately. He remembered what this guy had done to poor Morris.
Now he’s trying to be a prat to me, too, Merlin thought.
"I was just... looking at the painting," Merlin replied, gesturing toward the portrait of Queen Ygraine.
He tried to ignore the man's suspicious gaze. "She’s truly gorgeous. Her hair is like spun gold; she looks so kind and noble."
The blond guy stepped closer, puffing out his chest a little. "Well, I have blond hair too," he stated, as if it were the most important fact in the world.
Merlin turned his head and slowly raised an eyebrow, looking the man up and down.
He thought of the bullying and the arrogance. "No," Merlin said flatly. "It doesn't look good on you."
The blond guy’s jaw dropped. He looked like he had been slapped with a wet fish.
"How dare you! I am Prince Arthur of Camelot, the Crown Prince! You can't just insult me like that!"
Merlin went silent. His heart did a little jump—this was... the Prince?
Then he remembered the armour and the stable-mucking threats to Morris.
The romantic image of a noble prince in Merlin's head shattered instantly. This wasn't how a leader should behave at all.
"Doesn't change anything," Merlin said, crossing his arms stubbornly. "Still doesn't look good on you."
Arthur’s face turned a deep shade of red from pure anger. "You are the most insolent, disrespectful—"
"And you’re a bully!" Merlin snapped back, forgetting his shyness. "A royal crown doesn't give you the right to be a prat to everyone you meet!"
"A prat?! Did you just call me a prat?!"
Arthur's jaw tightened as he tried to restrain his anger.
He had just come back from a week-long mission to secure a village from bandits, and he still had to attend a feast that would be held only two or three hours from now.
He just wanted to indulge his bad mood or at least ease his mind, but then this commoner insulted him like he was nothing in the boy’s eyes.
It wasn't just that he was a prince; he was twenty-one years old now, certainly older than the boy standing in front of him who seemed to possess no sense of decorum or respect.
They began bickering loudly, their voices echoing off the high ceilings.
Arthur stepped closer to be intimidating, but Merlin stood his ground.
Finally, they both ran out of breath and fell into a heavy, exasperated silence.
They stood inches apart, staring into each other's eyes, neither willing to look away first.
"You're lucky I'm too tired to have you thrown in the stocks right now," Arthur muttered.
Arthur didn't like Merlin because he couldn't believe a commoner would be brave enough to talk back to him.
He found Merlin's honesty insulting and completely out of line.
Meanwhile, Merlin didn't like Arthur because he didn't behave like a future leader should.
To Merlin, a prince should be noble and kind, but Arthur was nothing more than a bully and a prat.
From that moment on, they both promised themselves that they would never, ever let their paths cross again for the rest of their lives.