Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was the last day of their travels to Camelot and unlike the past six, this was actually a nice one.

Sun shining, birds singing, bugs doing whatever bugs did - the whole deal. It was lovely, boosting Merlin’s already good mood.

It had him looking forward to their arrival in Camelot, which was supposed to be sometime around noon.

Emphasis on supposed to, because suddenly his sister was dragging her feet, taking abnormal amounts of pee breaks or claiming they needed to stop so she could tie the laces of her boots.

Merlin didn’t need to ask to know why she was tying laces that were clearly fine or wandering off to sit behind bushes and pretending she was actually relieving herself back there, when Merlin hadn’t seen her take even a sip of water in hours. And he’d know, because he was the one carrying the waterskin they both shared.

Jericho was hoping, in vain, that Merlin would change his mind, declare that he wanted to go home, back to Ealdor. Not because she was home sick or had anything of importance that she did not want to leave behind - hell, if anything she hated the simplicity their old life had offered them - but Jericho just really didn’t want to go to Camelot.

She’d said so when Hunith and Merlin had broken the news to her, that Merlin wanted to become a physician and to learn under Gaius, who lived in Camelot, and had said so again and again since. Every day before they’d left and every night since they’d begun their journey.

Merlin tried not to get annoyed by it, knowing his twin was only worried for him - after all Camelot was known for its… hostility towards sorcerers (like him) - but slowly and surely he noticed his nerves wearing thin. So by the fifth “Merlin, stop. I gotta take a piss.” he let out a breathy sigh and caught his sister's wrist and forced her to turn back to him.

“You don’t need to pee. You just want to delay us, because-” Merlin cut himself off, not needing words for Jericho to understand what he meant.

He could see it in the way her dark blue eyes hardened and her lips quirked downwards, a silent protest.

Merlin arched a brow, a silent plea.

For a moment they stood motionlessly, their quietness making the hum of a bee flying past them seem enormously loud. Eventually Jericho shook her head, the thick braid of her nearly black hair falling off her shoulder. It had nearly dissolved anyway, meaning Merlin would have to redo it soon.

Another delay. Surely the idiot had gradually loosened the strands on purpose-

“Fine… Let’s go. Walk into your impending doom.” Jericho huffed gruffly, yanking Merlin along as he was still holding on to her.

“It won’t be my impending doom if I play things smart. Be careful with my magic.”

“As I said, your impending doom.”

Merlin laughed, relieved to hear his sister do the same. He’d caught up to her again, the two walking in the same rhythm, feet falling and lifting in tandem.

Joking helped - always had - as long as they didn’t think about the real threat behind the words.

They made it to a hill, able to see the thick walls of the city they’d travelled so long for, only a forest separating them from it. The highest towers of the castle peaked out, looking amusingly small in the distance. Merlin’s heart took an excited jump, next to him, his sister’s did the same, but for a whole different reason.

“Is it too late to say that this idea is absolutely idiotic? Like the worst one you’ve ever had?” Jericho tried as it was probably the last chance she’d get to do so, her lips curled into a half-hearted smile.

Merlin turned to her, mirroring the smile. He was sure this was the right thing, the right step to take, but it hurt him to see how heavily this weighed on his twin.

Of course he’d offered to go alone and insisted that she wouldn’t have to follow him this time, but Jericho hadn’t wanted to hear it. She’d almost looked insulted that Merlin even considered such a thing.

“I’ve not left your side for eighteen years, so what makes you think I’d do so now?”

And that had been that.

“Way too late.” Merlin mused, before his eyes flickered to her chest. “How’s your heart?”

“Good.” Jericho answered, too quickly, her gaze moving anywhere but to Merlin's.

He knew that wall she put up too well, which meant he also knew how to get the truth out of her. A logical argument usually did the trick.

“Still… I should probably fix it properly before we get to Camelot, right? Would be a bit of a shame if they find out I’m a sorcerer two days in.”

“Two days?” Jericho chuckled, her eyes finally turning back to her brothers, a warm fondness in them. “You think you’ll last that long?”

“How long do you think-” Merlin took a deep breath, for once finding the maturity not to give into her taunting and instead focusing on the issue at hand. “Come on, I’ll take care of your heart once we reach the tree line.”

He walked ahead, hearing his sister's footsteps as she skipped down the hill to catch up.

“Oh, imagine someone sees you and we won’t even make it to Camelot before you get discovered!”

“Jericho!”



*



Merlin curled his fingers around Jericho’s shoulders as his palms found her heart with practiced ease, having done this hundreds of times. He pressed his hand against the bare skin flatly, feeling his magic pulse through him as it sucked the one embedded in his sister's heart back into him.

It felt weak, used up, but that would change quickly once it entered back into his system, where it would regenerate its old strength.

“Gods, Jericho, why didn’t you say something?” Merlin scolded, but Jericho just gave him an innocent look - a fake one for sure.

She was leaned up against a tree, one hand bracing her for what was to come while the other pulled the collar of her tunic down for better access. This whole thing worked better with skin to skin contact.

“I don’t know what you mean, I’m fine.” She lied, eyes wandering back up to the tree crowns above to count leaves or something.

Merlin glared as he wondered why he couldn’t have gotten a sibling a little less stubborn and selfless.

“The magic was barely working anymore! You know, how dangerous-” He shut up again.

Because of course Jericho knew how dangerous it was if she let the magic literally keeping her heart working would’ve died out. She’d experienced it a couple of times, but luckily Merlin had always been near, ready to pump a new batch of it into her chest and start it back to work.

He sighed, focusing on directing a decent amount of his powers into the palm of his hand. For a second or two he stayed still, just feeling, enjoying the familiar tickling sensation spanning through his arm, part of him already missing it.

Sure, Merlin had always been careful with his magic - or tried to be - but once they’d arrive at that castle they’d seen earlier, he’d probably have to reign it in even further.

“Ready?”

“Mhm…” Jericho hummed through gritted teeth, eyes closed as if that would make what was about to happen any less painful.

As a last attempt at comforting her, Merlin laid his free hand around the one that was holding the tunic, running his fingers over the back of it, before forcefully slamming his palm against Jericho’s chest, sending the magic right through it.

He could feel it reach its target - the heart - weaving around it, replacing the parts that had never grown properly and supporting the ones that wouldn’t work on their own. The unsteady beat it had fallen into evened out again, growing stronger and calmer.

As Merlin let out a breath of relief, Jericho pressed her lips into a tight line, muffling the scream that had clawed its way up her throat. But even after the initial jolt of pain had ebbed off into a steady, uncomfortable pulsing, she was still panting, her hand slipping off the tree and instead finding Merlin’s side, where her fingers clung to his jacket.

At least she was still breathing.

The thought comforted Merlin as he pulled Jericho upright, running a hand through her dark waves - the braid had dissolved completely now.

“Thanks.” She croaked, sluggishly dragging one foot in front of the other, clearly intent on continuing their last stretch.

Merlin didn’t suggest they rest for a bit, take one last break. Jericho would just think he was trying to be nice, which she actually would’ve been right about. But Merlin hated seeing his sister struggle and Jericho hated for anyone, including her brother, to think she was struggling.

“Always.”



*


The twins had a lot of expectations for what their first impression of Camelot may hold.

The execution of a sorcerer, however, hadn’t been one of them.

A booming voice sounded from the palace balcony, overseeing the town square, where dozens of people had gathered to witness the magician's death.

“Let this serve as a lesson to all. This man, Thomas James Collins, is judged guilty of conspiring to use enchantments and magic. And, pursuant to the laws of Camelot, I, Uther Pendragon, have decreed that such practices are banned on penalty of death. I pride myself as a fair and just king, but for the crime of sorcery there is but one sentence I can pass.” 

Merlin stood still, his eyes glossed over as if he’d fallen in some sort of trance, the only thing keeping him grounded was his sister's arm laid across his shoulder protectively. He didn’t see much, but the shine of an axe, raised high into the air.

Jericho looked at her brother, figuring that there wasn’t much she could do for him.

Sure, she could’ve dragged him away, spared him the experience of seeing one of his own die - no, be killed - like this, but she doubted Merlin would let her. He hated being seen as weak just as much as her and-

Jericho bit her lip, aware that it was selfish of her to even think this, but… Maybe it would be good for Merlin to witness an execution, put some of that healthy fear he was lacking into him, which would finally make him see sense.

Camelot was dangerous for him and Merlin should be anywhere but living in its very core.

“When I came to this land, this kingdom was mired in chaos, but with the people's help magic was driven from the realm. So I declare a festival to celebrate twenty years since the Great Dragon was captured and Camelot freed from the evil of sorcery. Let the celebrations begin.”

Definitely irritated by the man now, Jericho looked up to the balcony, to see who the first person she despised in this kingdom would be. A cold chuckle made it past her lips when she spotted the glamorous crown atop a sparse head of grey hair.

The king, of course.

Jericho must’ve missed him giving the signal to the executioner, because the moment the king had finished his despicable speech, the axe came soaring down. The many people surrounding them made it impossible to see exactly when the weapon connected to the awaiting neck, but it could be heard.

An awful, wet snapping sound echoed through the crowd.

Multiple gasps erupted, many whispered quietly and someone gagged. Merlin merely flinched, immediately being pressed closer against his sister.

He didn’t say anything, but leaned into her body as if it was his safe haven, that would never allow anything like that to happen to him. In a way the metaphor was correct.

“Let’s go.” Jericho whispered into Merlin’s ear as she wasn’t sure at what point after an execution a normal volume was appropriate again. “We still gotta find your Gaius.”

“He’s not my-”

Loud wailing froze the twins.

Their heads, along with everyone else's, snapped back around.

Jericho went on her tip toes, only managing to catch a glimpse of long, grey hair across the craning necks in front of her.

“There is only one evil in this land, and it is not magic! It is you!” The voice was frail and shrill, definitely belonging to an old woman.

Jericho found herself nodding along in agreement and she probably would’ve continued to do so, hadn’t Merlin grabbed her by the neck, immobilising it. She shot her brother a glare.

“If you don’t stop that, you’ll be up there sooner than me.” He hissed.

“For what?”

“Treason!”

Ah yes, that was a thing.

Before they could continue bickering and possibly draw any attention towards them, the old woman continued her - very justified - tirade.

“You killed my son! But I promise you, before these celebrations are over, you will share my tears.”

The king looked hardly impressed. In fact, he was beginning to turn around. A gesture so careless and apathetic it had the twins holding their breath, hands balling into similarly tight fists.

“Just to be sure… You still don’t want to go back to Ealdor, ri-”

“Jericho!”

“An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, a son for a son.”

That had the king stopping in his tracks and then storm to the edge of the balcony. His voice was barely controlled, a furious look on his face as he ordered his knights to seize the old woman.

Not really eager to know what would happen to her, Merlin and Jericho turned and walked away. They did actually have to find this Gaius.

“At least he seems to be a good father.” Merlin said, trying to find a silver lining in all of this.

How Merlin of him.

Jericho rolled her eyes as she grabbed Merlin's hand so they wouldn’t lose each other in the stream of people leaving the square.

“How would you know? You don’t have one.”

Merlin, thank the gods, chuckled, only some of the weariness still dulling his eyes. Jericho allowed herself to do the same.

“Well, neither do you, dear sister.”

“Never call me that again! Ew.”



*



Turns out Merlin lasted exactly half an hour without using magic.

Apparently the whole beheading of a sorcerer seemed appealing or something, Jericho couldn’t ask, frozen as she watched the old man - Gaius - get off the bed Merlin had magically moved underneath him so he wouldn’t break his back.

“What did you just do?!” Gaius barked, stalking over towards the twins.

He didn’t seem to be sure which one to look at as his eyes kept switching from Merlin to Jericho, finger pointing somewhere between them.

They exchanged a look, Merlin struggling for an excuse and Jericho resisting the very strong urge to drag her brother out of the physicians quarters and back to Ealdor.

“Erm…”

“Tell me!” Gaius arched a brow, deadly and effective as the twins instinctively stepped back, raising their hands as if to plead their innocence. “Either of you, tell me what just happened!”

“I- I- I have no idea!” Merlin stuttered, looking to Jericho for support - she was the more experienced liar out of the two of them.

“We saw nothing. Except for you… tripping off that-” Jericho pointed towards the stairs, putting on her most believable smile, supposed to be innocent and sweet. “That is a weird spot to keep a bed, I must admit, but still, good it was there.”

“That bed wasn’t there before you entered! Don’t think that I am some old senile man, girl!” Gaius snapped at her, before turning his eyes to Merlin, his gaze averted to the floor as he nervously chewed on his lower lip. It seemed to make things very obvious for the physician. “If anyone had seen that…”

“Seen what?” Jericho bluffed, instinctively stepping closer to Merlin in an attempt to shield him from that nasty raised brow Gaius was still giving them.

“That was- That had nothing to do with me!” Merlin started back to life, his lips pulling into a shy and equally sheepish smile. “That was…”

He ran out of excuses again, leaving Gaius to believe none of what Merlin had just said.

Letting out a deep, age old sigh the man shook his head and crossed his arms, hard gaze examining the twins.

Jericho could imagine how they must’ve looked to him. Tired, dirty and like absolute pricks. But that’s what a week of travelling with nothing but the most necessary items will do to you. Gaius should try it before judging them.

“I know what it was! I just want to know where you learned it.” He wasn’t looking at Jericho anymore, his sole focus on Merlin now.

It made the young woman uncomfortable, but she restrained herself from drawing the attention back to her.

Hunith had sent them here and told her children about her full trust in Gaius. So… Jericho would have to do the same. For now.

“Nowhere.” Merlin answered truthfully, leaving Gaius speechless with his mouth wide open, gawping like a fish on land.

“So how is it you know magic?”

“I don’t.” Another answer that did not seem to satisfy Gaius, but Merlin didn’t want to say too much, the images of the execution he’d witnessed about fifteen minutes ago still stuck to his mind.

He didn’t believe Gaius would… do that, tell on him, but he just couldn’t get himself to open up further.

Jericho shifted again, the back of her hand brushing Merlin’s, a small but welcome gesture of reassurance. At least he had her with him, which made the whole thing a little less intimidating.

“Where did you study-”

A loud groan interrupted the physician, having him turn his gaze back to the other twin. He looked as affronted as stunned over Jericho’s impolite boldness, but she just gave him an unimpressed blink.

He was asking too many questions, making her grow more impatient by the second. So, she’d just have to take matters into her own hands.

“He was born with it. He didn’t learn from anyone, he didn’t study it and yes, it is possible.” Jericho paused, giving Gaius a moment to process the obvious surprise. “Our mother sent us here so Merlin could learn from you in any way you can offer him. Now, we’ve been on our feet for days and really, really would like some rest… If that is possible, Sir.”

The silence was deafening, having Merlin shift his weight from one foot to the other.

He was used to his sister’s confidence, her loud mouth and her annoying inability to be scared of anyone or anything and usually he didn’t care, knowing she’d also take whatever consequences that brought, but this… This was going to be his future and he really didn’t want to fuck it up immediately.

Jericho turned to him, when Gaius still hadn’t said a word after a full minute of them just standing there, “Did I forget anything?”

“No, I think you summed that up pretty well.” Merlin replied, his voice a little tight.

“Thought so.” Jericho just shrugged.

Finally Gaius awoke from his daze, eyes flipping from one twin to the other and while his gaze was curious each time it met Merlin, it hardened when coming to his sister. She’d made a great first impression.

“But you’re not meant to be here until Wednesday."

Jericho sighed. An eternity of silence and that’s what he came up with?

“It is Wednesday.” Merlin remarked, helpfully as ever.

“Ah, well… You should put your bags here.” Gaius gestured towards a small, wooden table that Jericho was convinced would creak if they even so much as touched it.

She walked straight over there, taking Merlin’s bag as he stayed behind, gaze lingering on the old man.

“And you- you won’t say anything about the… Erm-”

Jericho hated how insecure Merlin sounded, how nervous his use of magic made him. Someone seeing him do what he was born to do. He wasn’t supposed to be afraid. He was supposed to relish it, embrace his power and-

She had to stop her train of thought or else she’d just get mad. The anger already bubbled in her stomach, threatening to come up any second, like it always wanted to.

“No. Although, Merlin, I should say thank you.”

And when Merlin appeared at his sister's side, helping her unpack whatever hardened and barely edible food they still had left over so they could have some lunch, he was beaming in a way Jericho had never seen him do before.

Fine, maybe this whole Camelot excursion was worth a try.



*



Gaius didn’t have much room in his modest chambers, so the twins had to make due with one room. One bed.

They fought over it vigorously, neither willing to back down. And situations like these led to arguing, which led to shouting, which led to screaming, which led to Gaius storming into the room, wearing nothing but his night gowns and that horrifying raised eyebrow.

“What is going on here?” He demanded to know, his strict tone having the twins freeze in their tracks - Merlin with a pillow in his hand, ready to throw it at his sister, who was standing on top of the bed, arms extended to catch the harmless weapon.

After a beat of silence, they both began complaining about the other so loudly and passionately that Gaius believed he was confronted by two children, not young adults.

“He refuses to sleep in the bed! It’s unbelievable! He should take it, because he’s an idiot, who apparently doesn’t know that the floor would hurt his back! Tell him he should take the bed!” Jericho demanded.

“She won’t take the bed, but she has a bad back and I know she's exhausted, so she should have it! I can manage on the floor. It’s just that she's so goddamn stubborn-” Merlin complained.

Once Gaius figured out the essence of what they were babbling about he raised his hands, dumbfounded, signaling for both of them to be quiet. They followed the order, but glared at each other anyway.

“Let me see if I got this right… You are fighting, not because you want the bed, but because you want the other to take the bed…” Gaius struggled to believe it, but was met with frantic nodding.

“Yes!” The twins shouted in unison.

“Gods, what have I gotten myself into?” Gaius muttered more to himself than anyone else, then turned to his problem at hand as he thought of a solution. “How about you both take the bed?”

“I’d rather die.” The answer came quickly and almost as synchronized as the one prior. The twins exchanged glares again.

“We wouldn’t fit anyway, two Merlin's might, but no way I’d fit in there with him.” Jericho muttered, crossing her arms as if to bring her point across better.

“Not my problem, you have such broad shoulders.” Merlin stabbed his finger into one of them, meeting nothing but hard muscle.

“Oh, sorry, but one of us had to learn how to fight and wield a weapon so your sorry arse was going to make it out of childhood.”

“I didn’t need your help for that-”

Once again Gaius raised his hand, looking more exasperated by the second. He needed sleep and he needed it now.

“How about neither of you get the bed then?”

“But-”

Another round of arguing started and it took forever to get things resolved. By the end of it an agreement to switch nights on the bed was established and the last of Gaius’ hair had turned grey, but at least there was no more shouting.

A little unwilling Merlin settled on the bed, while Jericho laid down next to it, beating a pillow Merlin had chucked down to her into shape. And yes, it had taken ten whole minutes to negotiate who’d get the bed first.

Gaius turned to the door, about ready to slam the thing of the hinges, but when he glanced over his shoulder, watching the twins settle in, he softened a little.

They looked younger in the warm light of the candles, the subtle hints of youth still visible in their features, the way they grinned at each other.

“You two will be the death of me, I just know it.” With those words Gaius closed the door.

Lucky or else he might’ve heard Jericho whisper, “With how old he is, that might actually be a very big possibility.”

Merlin chuckled, pressing a hand to his mouth to muffle the sound.

“Jericho, you can’t say that!”

“Why not?”

“He’s nice enough to let us stay here, we should return the favour and jokes like that are not nice!”

“Am I wrong though?”

Merlin huffed as he bent over to the night stand and blew out the candle. A comfortable darkness settled over them, making both of them realize just how tired they really were.

“No… you’re not.”



*



The next day Gaius made it his goal to get to know more about Merlin’s magic, being very fascinated with the boy’s ability to use it without knowing any spells or incantations.

Jericho just watched from her seat at the table, unaffected as if it was the most normal thing in the world. To her, it kind of was.

As it was their first real day in Camelot, Gaius didn’t involve them in his work and instead agreed to let them explore the lower town, but made them promise not to go anywhere near the castle unless it was to leave or re-enter the physician’s chambers. It was a promise Merlin gladly gave as the thought of just being in the town square made him shiver.

Was there still blood, clinging to the cobble stones, people walking across it as it meant nothing?

Before leaving, Merlin braided Jericho’s hair, making sure to weave the hair together tightly as he wanted to make sure it held until night. Jericho hated wearing her hair open, claiming it would bother her, always getting in her face and tickling the skin of her neck.

“You’ll… wear that to go out?” Gaius tried to keep the disapproval out of his voice as his eyes roamed the young woman, but wasn’t entirely successful, his brow quirking upwards traitorously.

“Yes.” Jericho’s voice was firm, her hands gliding along her blue tunic and down to her breeches.

She knew what Gaius’ criticism would be. That a woman shouldn’t be seen wearing trousers, that she should wear a dress instead as it was suitable for a lady, especially one of her age.

Jericho had gotten the same lecture more times than she could count and had grown utterly indifferent to it. So Gaius could save his energy for something else. She didn’t own a dress anyway.

Hoping to break the heavy silence the physician had opted for, Jericho nodded to her brother, who was already standing by the door.

“If you’d like to comment on clothing, Gaius, may I offer Merlin’s neckerchief as a topic of discussion?”

“Hey!” Merlin shouted, tugging at the red piece of fabric tied around his neck. “What’s wrong with it?”

“Nothing!” Jericho grinned, skipping to the door. “Let’s go!”



*



Camelot was stunning, the twins had to admit.

Everything was so lively and quirky, seeming almost careless to their untrained eyes, but they didn’t go looking around for flaws either.

Neither of them tried to draw much attention to themselves or attempt to get acquainted with the inhabitants of their new home, but they sure caught people’s eye. They laughed about it, unable to explain the glances and whispers to themselves.

It did make sense once a man, a handsome looking peasant, maybe a few years older than them, came up to ask for their names, making polite chit-chat with the twins. Jericho was the first to notice the brown eyes lingering on her longer than they did on her brother or how they’d trail down to her lips more and more often the longer their conversation continued.

Merlin only realised when his sister nudged his side.

Quickly they made up an excuse - someone desperately needed their help - and the twins hurried around the next corner, trying to hold back their laughter.

“So that is why everyone’s staring!” Merlin figured, carding a hand through his messy, black hair. “Of course even here you’re the most beautiful woman around. Poor guy, probably thought he found the love of his life.”

Jericho huffed, not nearly as amused by her brother's words. She waved a hand in the air to dismiss them as she tightened the strings on the collar of her tunic, hiding whatever little part of her chest she’d been showing.

“I’m sure they have more to offer here than back in Ealdor.” She said, keeping her voice deliberately neutral, when in reality the thought of another man smiling at her with anything other than friendly intentions made her want to throw up. “And you know I’ll fend off any man coming near me with a stick if I have to.”

“I know.”

„Besides, I wasn’t the only one being looked at.”

Merlin rolled his eyes, but his sister didn’t miss the uneasy expression passing over his face. Quickly he cleared his throat.

“Well, I’ll chase off any women coming near me with- with… a kind apology.”

“That’s it, my boy!” Jericho laughed, slinging a hand over Merlin’s shoulder as they continued exploring town.

It was sometime around noon that they intended on returning to the physician chambers. Big emphasis on intended.

Because as the siblings walked through the huge arch leading to the town square, two things happened.

Merlin and his godawful saviour complex immediately spotted a rather unpleasant interaction between what looked like a servant and some blonde prick, who was harassing the boy, forcing him to run around holding a heavy shield as the prick threw daggers at him.

Of course, Merlin couldn’t just let it be.

Technically this would’ve been the exact kind of thing Jericho was into. Rolling her eyes and muttering something about Merlin being too generous and now knowing when to walk away, but joining him, secretly itching for the chance to use her fists and agility to put a man to shame.

But she didn’t even notice interaction, having turned a whole different direction, her eyes directed upwards to the windows of the castle.

There two women stood by the window, looking down at the square with amused smiles, both undeniably beautiful. Jericho was in a trance, seemingly unable to focus on anything but them, observing their every movement. The way they leaned into each other, giggling at something happening behind Jericho, their lips turning upwards into the prettiest smiles she’d ever seen.

It was a breath-taking view.

And one of them, the taller one, really did something to the young woman. It was- Jericho couldn’t quite put her finger on it. But something in the way her silky, dark hair framed her pale face and her bright eyes crinkled as she laughed made her knees weak.

Jericho had to blink to make sure this wasn’t just her day dreaming again. But when she opened her eyes, the woman was still standing there, looking devastatingly regal in her purple dress.

A sigh escaped Jericho and for a moment she wondered if she was even allowed to stare at her like this.

She didn’t get time to make a decision as suddenly a pair of sky blue eyes was looking right back at her - or at least Jericho assumed they were, though the distance made it kind of hard to tell - and her heart stilled.

Not in the concerning way it sometimes did, when Merlin’s magic would seize to work, but the much more exciting kind. It felt like her insides had caught on fire, her organ finally kicking back in and full force too, slamming against her chest like it had somewhere important to go.

The woman was still looking, her delicate face blank as if she was considering… Taking Jericho in, head to toe.

Forcing herself not to think about the kind of expression she must’ve given off - ragged clothes, hair in a messy braid with strands sticking out all over… really she wasn’t much to look at - Jericho closed her mouth, unsure when she’d even opened it, and smiled.

Traitorously her guts twisted when she received a smile back, a small one, but a smile nonetheless.

Then the woman turned back, reacting to something the girl next to her had said, their attention back on whatever was going on behind Jericho.

That was when she heard it, the sound of her brother saying something insanely stupid, followed by a loud groan.

“Merlin…” Jericho sighed and turned around to find Merlin with his hands twisted behind his back, held by some blonde man.

“And who do you think you are? The king?” Merlin said, unable to see the man behind him break out into a proper grin.

“No. I’m his son.”

Jericho sighed again, her feet moving on their own.

She arrived at the scene just as two guards came over to restrain Merlin, clearly intending to take him away. It didn’t need much brain power for Jericho to figure that there wasn’t much she could do to stop them, however, she could make sure she’d be joining her brother.

The decision was made before Merlin had been dragged to his feet, his eyes widening when he saw a flash of blue and dark hair lunge at one of the guards and he realized what was happening.

He wanted to laugh as he watched his sister half-heartedly swatting at the man she’d tackled, but held back, considering he’d just insulted and kind of attacked the prince of Camelot. He stayed quiet as Jericho was dragged off the guard and then detained as well, although he could feel her scorching gaze on him, the need to scold him basically radiating off her.

But, thankfully, she kept quiet until they’d been thrown into a cell down in the dungeons - which were, obviously, deep within the castle. The one place Gaius had warned them not to get near.

“You smart arse!” Jericho hissed as she rubbed the throbbing elbow she’d hit during her rather ungraceful landing on the cold, wet ground. “What the hell were you thinking?!”

The door to their cell fell closed with a loud bang, the steps of the guards walking off echoing loudly. Merlin let out a breathy chuckle.

“Not much it seems. But I swear, I just wanted to help you that boy- I- I didn’t know that arse was the prince or else-”

“You still would’ve helped out.” Jericho said, her hard gaze softening as she saw the genuine panic on her brother’s face. “Because you are a helpless fool, but a noble one.”

She scooted closer to Merlin, leaning her back against the wall, only momentarily pulling a face at how cold it was. Merlin did the same, daring to lean against Jericho’s shoulder and when she did not push him away, he nudged his knee against hers, relieved to hear her laugh.

“We did hold out an entire day without getting arrested, so that must be a positive, right?”

“Merlin, you’re making it sound like getting arrested is something we want!”

“Isn’t it?” Merlin smiled sheepishly, picking up a piece of straw and fiddling with it.

He was already bored out of his mind.

Exasperated Jericho tilted her head back, letting out a deep breath. At this point she’d have her first gray hair by the time they’d be released.

“We could definitely be better places than this one!”

“For example?”

“I don’t know… The tavern?”

This time it was Merlin, who rolled his eyes and huffed.

For a moment or an eternity, both of them having lost all track of time, they sat in silence. The realisation of how stupid they’d acted settled in slowly, easing the tension away.

It was ridiculous, wasn’t it? Getting arrested on their first full day at Camelot.

Thank god their mother was far away in Ealdor, having no idea what mischief her children were up to, probably comforted by the illusion that they’d be careful and stay safe. And if her children had more than half a brain to think when it came to confrontation and better impulse control Hunith would’ve been right.

But alas, Merlin and Jericho’s most distinctive trait was to act first and think later. A blessing sometimes, a curse mostly.

Seeing the humour behind the whole mess, Jericho was the first to laugh, loud and cheerfully, her twin joining in a mere second later and once they’d started, it seemed impossible to stop. They curled over, holding their aching stomachs and gasped for air as tears rolled down their faces.

“Oh gods, you- you really picked a fight with the prince, didn’t you?” Jericho wheezed, coming her fingers through her fringe, blinking away the wetness in her eyes.

“I guess I did.” Merlin admitted, leaning back against the wall, chest raising and sinking heavily.

“Idiot.”

“Where were you by the way?”

“I got myself arrested for you, didn’t I?”

“You did.” Merlin grinned, giving Jericho’s hand a short squeeze, a thank you of sorts. “I’m just surprised you weren’t there first to get a swing at the prick.”

“Oh… I was busy.” Jericho said, suddenly suspiciously quiet. The way her cheeks began blooming a red bright enough to be seen even in the dark of the dungeon was a dead give away that busy actually meant-

“You were looking at a pretty girl, weren’t you?” Merlin mused, bending in closer as he lowered his voice.

Jericho gave him a disapproving look, but Merlin wouldn’t back off, laugh and direct their conversation to something else, so she had to surrender. If there was one thing she knew about her brother, it was that he was fucking stubborn and once his metaphorical fangs had latched onto something, he wasn’t going to let go of it so easily.

A shudder of embarrassment ran down Jericho’s spine. The uncomfortable heat in her face spread all the way down her neck and up to her ears.

“She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen…”

“That’s high praise coming from you.” Merlin chuckled, although his tone had lost that mocking undertone at the genuine astonishment shining in his sister's eyes.

“If you'd seen her, you’d understand.”

“Well, if we ever see the light of day again, you can show her to me.” It was supposed to be an encouraging comment, but Merlin watched a flicker pass over Jericho’s face, darkening it momentarily.

“She looked… royal, expensive- No, that sounds horrible.” Jericho buried her face in her hands over her poor choice of words, oblivious to the worried look her brother gave her. It wasn’t like her to lose control over what she said. “What I mean is, is that she was with another woman, who seemed to be her servant, so surely she must have some higher status around here.”

“Let’s hope she’s not related to the imbecile prince then.” Merlin snorted, pulling his knees up so he had something to rest his head on.

“Hah, that would be something, wouldn’t it?”



*



There was a little barred window at the top of the cell, letting the twins know that a full night had passed before Gaius bailed them out of their shared prison.

The physician, naturally, wasn’t happy at all over the ruckus they’d caused and before either of them could get excited over their freedom, he informed them that Merlin had been damned to an afternoon in the stocks.

“Why not her?!” Merlin complained, pointing an accusatory finger at his sister.

Jericho just rolled her eyes. Was Merlin really so quick to forget that she actually hadn’t really done anything?

Yes, she’d jumped a guard, but if she hadn’t, Merlin wouldn’t only be spending a couple hours in a wooden contraption with people throwing rotten food at him, but he’d also have had to kill his time in the dungeons by himself.

Gaius didn’t deem the question worth an answer and marched off again as Merlin was brought to his place of punishment, growling at the sound of his sister’s laugh the entire way.

Of course she didn’t leave him, but stayed close, sometimes leaning against the stocks Merlin had been entrapped in as all sorts of vegetables and other food items were hauled at him from giggling towns folk. She didn’t fail to voice her jokes and sarcastic comments and Merlin retorted something fitting whenever he dared open his mouth, but deep down he was glad she was here.

In their limited time in Camelot, Merlin hadn’t exactly managed to figure out how the people here functioned, how far they’d go for some good entertainment. Would they be satisfied just throwing stuff at him or would they want to do more?

And the young man knew Jericho was here to make sure everybody would stick to the first thing, always hovering close enough to reach him should anything happen, her dark eyes trained on the crowd that had gathered. For that he was grateful.

They met Guinevere - or Gwen as she preferred to be called - and Jericho instantly recognised her as one of the women who’d stood by the window and watched as Merlin had stood up to Arthur. The simple yet pretty dress she was clothed in only confirmed her assumptions that Gwen was indeed a servant.

The woman made it clear that she admired what Merlin had done, standing up to the prince, calling the blonde heir a bully. Merlin’s grin was a quiet agreement.

“And you…” Gwen turned to Jericho, the women standing on opposite sides of Merlin. “You… helped?”

Jericho shrugged, suddenly a little embarrassed by the thought of admitting she’d gotten herself jailed on purpose. “I just wanted to get a good punch in.”

“Oh…” Gwen looked even more confused, her brows knitting, though her kind, brown eyes stayed as polite as her smile.

“But- but yes, I was hoping to help Merlin. Since he’s my brother and all that.” Jericho quickly corrected herself, wanting to leave a good impression on Gwen.

“Oh, how I relish your sisterly love for me, but if you are really so fond of me, maybe you could try getting me out of here?” Merlin said as he attempted to shake some remnants of vegetable goo off his face.

The people had scattered for now, but new ones would surely be here any minute.

Jericho bent forward, using her sleeve to wipe some liquid off Merlin’s brow so it wouldn’t get in his eyes. The gesture was a little too nice, so Jericho made sure to wipe the stuff off on Merlin’s hair again.

“You are siblings.” Gwen’s voice hovered somewhere between a question and a statement.

“Twins.” The answer came in unison, but Jericho was swift to add, “I’m older though.”

“By like an hour!”

Gwen chuckled at the easy banter the two exchanged, her finger twirling around a strand of her curly hair. For a moment Jericho got lost, looking at her, only brought back to reality by Merlin’s voice.

“If you’d excuse me, Guinevere. My fans are waiting.”

And he was right. At least a dozen people had gathered, politely waiting for the two women to get out of the way.

Gwen did so right away, but turned back around when Jericho wasn’t following.

“I’d get out of the way if I was you.”

Jericho smiled at the nice advice, but gestured to her stained clothes. “I think it’s too late for me. Go save yourself!”

“Alright, I hope I’ll see you around.”

She easily could’ve meant both of the twins, but Jericho liked to imagine Gwen had only been referring to her.




*




Merlin’s magic in Jericho’s heart had this funny side effect, which over the years the twins had begun referring to as ‘the tether’, because that’s what it felt like.

Whenever they’d be more than a couple feet apart, the magic embedded in Jericho’s body would start tugging at her as if trying to pull her back to Merlin. Essentially it just wanted to be returned to its original source, which it couldn’t do without Merlin’s help, so it just wanted to be near him as much as possible.

It was useful most of the time and had definitely helped them out of some sticky situations, especially when they’d been younger - back when Merlin had had this thing for just vanishing and more often than not ending up in some place or around some people he shouldn't have been close to. It was probably also the only reason Jericho ever dared to let Merlin out of her sight.

Like now, where they’d split up to scour the markets in the lower town for some essentials they’d need in their new home, but hadn’t been able to carry with them all the way from Ealdor. Their mother had given them whatever money she’d been able to without suffering its absence for exactly this purpose.

Jericho had made sure to be the one to carry it around, not trusting her brother not to lose it.

She had found a stand selling clothes for cheap, eyeing some of the pieces that lay there as both her and Merlin would at least one more tunic and pair of breeches, when she felt a sudden warmth surge through her heart. Instinctively her hand clutched her chest, her head shooting up and darting around to look for any signs of her brother.

The second and only other side effect of the tether - Jericho could feel when Merlin used magic.

And right now he’d used it. Out in public. In Camelot.

With her head as empty as Merlin’s must’ve been in that moment, Jericho jumped through the market, dodging people left and right as she set out into the direction the connection led her to.

Another jolt clenched her fast beating heart. Jericho could feel it all the way up in her throat.

Muttering a string of curse words she picked up on speed, almost relieved when she spotted Merlin’s black hair. On the ground. Surrounded by a sea of red, the occasional golden crest of Camelot peeking through.

Another surge.

Jericho was only a couple of feet away when Merlin got up, wielding a mace - clumsily and untrained.

But the bastard was cocky, a sense of pride rushing through Jericho’s veins when she heard him ask, “Do you want to give up?”

From the angle she was at now, Jericho recognised who Merlin was speaking to. The prince, holding a much more impressive version of the weapon Merlin had in his shaky hands, grinned at the challenge.

“To you?” Arthur had pushed the words out like they were the funniest joke to ever be told.

Jericho wanted to scream at the arrogance, the fucking nerve this man had. How could such an unbelievable brat be expected to lead a kingdom some day?

Maybe it was for the best that she'd only come to Merlin’s aid now, meaning she hadn’t heard any of their earlier interaction. Or seen the taxing smiles the men exchanged, their intense eye contact…

“Do you? Do you want to give up?” Merlin asked again, but lowered his head, so no one but his sister knew he was actually moving a bucket with his magic, placing it in just the right spot for Arthur to step into and fall over.

Few people dared to cheer for the young stranger, but Merlin’s eyes roamed, spotting Gaius in the crowd. His face fell, all concentration swindling-

He didn’t see Arthur getting back up, nor the guards that had been with the prince inching closer.

Jericho did, throwing herself in front of her brother, snatching the mace from his hands as her body shielded him from anyone trying to get even remotely close to Merlin.

With her chin tilted high, Jericho lifted the mace, pointing it directly at the prince. It stopped both him and the guards dead in their tracks.

Merlin seemed to have caught up with what was happening too as his hand closed around her arm - the one that wasn’t holding a deadly weapon.

“What are you-” Merlin hissed, but was interrupted by Prince Arthur’s mocking voice.

“And who might you be?”

Jericho stayed silent, not really in the mood for small talk. Something flickered through the prince's intrigued gaze, his head cocking to the side as he took the woman in front of him in.

“What? You’re not going to talk to me?” He asked, his tone a mix of amusement and disapproval.

Clearly he wasn’t used to not getting his way, someone refusing him, which made the grin spreading over Jericho’s face all the bigger.

“I will, once you say something of importance.”

“Oh,” Arthur’s gaze flickered to Merlin, who was looking over his sister’s shoulder, and then back to Jericho. “there’s two of you now. I see.”

“You do? With your nose all the way up in the air like that?” Satisfaction rippled though Jericho as she watched the prince’s smile turn strained, his composure wavering.

His gaze hushed over to the people, only for a fragment of a moment, but it was enough for Jericho to firmly shove Merlin back behind her - because no way would she let the idiot anywhere near a fight again - and take a step forward. The mace was only a foot or two away from Arthur’s chest. A fact the prince regarded with a barely controlled scowl.

"What?" Are you going to fight me now?”

“If I have to… Although, I do hate wasting my time.”

“Excuse me?”

“Listen, Sire-” The words tasted bitter in Jericho’s mouth and she made sure to put all the irony she could muster into it as she straightened her stance, ignoring the growing pressure on her arm. “Just let Merlin go. He’s just… a simple minded fool. Doesn’t know when to hold his tongue.”

She didn’t feel bad for the insult. Because it was true. Merlin had used fucking magic, in front of the  fucking prince of Camelot, in broad fucking daylight- Like, did he want to land on a pyre so badly?

“As if you’re any better.” Merlin snarled into her ear.

“I can agree with you on that.” Arthur said, not aware that it made Jericho want to throw up into the bucket that still lay by his feet. “So… I should just let him go then?”

“As I said, I will fight you if I have to.”

“Well, I do not fight women.”

Jericho pulled a face.

“Of course you don’t… What a shame.”

And it really was. Her hands were itching, begging to be used, to get a couple good hits in when she had the chance.

Actually, her whole body was restless, strung, taught as it readied itself to lunge, jump, run. Anything.

But if she’d attack first, she’d be no smarter than Merlin. Using magic and starting a fight with the prince of Camelot were on the same level of stupidity as both would get them a death sentence quicker than they could say ‘Ealdor’.

“You won’t move?” Arthur asked, his voice more serious this time.

“No man in this world could make me.”

The prince sighed, his eyes moving to Merlin once again, the curious spark in them not getting lost on Jericho. Her lips pursed all on their own.

“And if I were to fight her, hypothetically, you would…”

“Help her. Obviously.” Merlin said without any doubt.

With a sigh Arthur waved a hand and the guards surrounding him eased away slowly.

“Let them go. They might both be idiots, but they are brave ones.” He said, turning to leave but not before he directed his attention towards Merlin yet again. “There’s something about you, Merlin. I can’t quite put my finger on it.”

I’m about to put a finger on you, was what Jericho wouldn’t have said, if Merlin hadn’t quickly covered her mouth with his hand.

He knew her well enough to have predicted a threat at the prince's comment. But Jericho couldn’t help it. Something about that pompous brat and the way he acted around Merlin just rubbed her the wrong way…




*




Merlin wasn’t exactly happy when they got back to the physician’s chambers just to be yelled at by both Gaius and Jericho as soon as the door shut.

He took some of it, admitting they did have a point. His complaining about Jericho ‘saving’ him even though he had everything under control was shut down immediately.

“Merlin, you can’t use magic here! And I say this with all the love I have for you, but you suck at combat. With your hands, a sword, a crossbow, a mace-”

“Okay, okay, I get it! I’m basically useless.” Merlin let out a bitter laugh.

“That’s not-” Jericho broke off, the hurt look in Merlin’s eyes making her take a step back.

But she was right. Merlin had never been the kind of guy to take an interest in learning how to physically fight. Because he never had to and detested violence in itself and never in a million years would Merlin have imagined to find himself in some weird stand off with some handsome and equally annoying prince.

It took him a moment to regain his nerves, but wasn’t given much of a break as Gaius picked up where his sister had left off to berate him about how dangerous his actions had been. The old man even criticised his lack of control over his magic. And that hit a nerve.

Gaius was right, too, of course, but-

“I don't want to! If I can't use magic, what have I got?! I'm just a nobody, and I always will be. If I can't use magic, I might as well die.”

Was he being a little immature and very dramatic? Probably.

Did Merlin have enough energy left in him to care? Not really.

He’d been in Camelot for all of what? Three days? And he’d already been to the dungeons, gotten publicly humiliated and food thrown at him and just half an hour ago he’d fought with the Prince of Camelot - not very successfully either, Merlin’s side aching painfully where Arthur had managed to land a decent blow.

On top of all of that Jericho was looking at him like she was responsible for all of it. She tried to hide it, look indifferent to the argument in front of her, but her eyes were dull, never leaving Merlin for a second.

It was  as sweet as it was infuriating as her feeling bad for Merlin made Merlin feel bad for her and that just made them both miserable, didn’t it?

Merlin was tired of feeling miserable and stormed off to his bed chamber, really not in the mood for any more arguing. He threw himself on the bed, tears rising to his eyes when the pillow smelled of nothing but dust and the fabric it was made out of.

It didn’t smell like home, like mum. Merlin really missed his mum.

When Gaius entered the room, he had eased up immensely, holding a medical basket. Even the way he sat down on the bed next to the young man was more careful and the way he talked to Merlin soothed his rising emotions.

Neither of the men heard the front door open or close.




*




Jericho had returned for supper, not really spoken much and excused herself to go to bed the minute the sun had gone down.

She’d fallen asleep quite easily, which wasn’t always a given for her, so being woken up in the middle of the night by an erratic Merlin didn’t really set her up to be in the best mood.

He was shaking her, holding her shoulders in a firm grasp so her upper body was actually lifted off the mattress, her head dangling from side to side as she blinked her heavy eyes.

“I have a destiny! I have a destiny!” Merlin kept whisper-shouting, his eyes wild.

Briefly he considered slapping Jericho as she wasn’t waking up quickly enough for his liking, but dropped the thought as soon as it had come up. There was no use of having a destiny if you were murdered shortly after finding out about it.

“How exciting. I have one too, actually.” Jericho muttered, still half asleep, her eyes opened the tiniest of slits. “Right after my birth I was warned about this unbelievably irritating boy that would join me in an hour and I’d be tied to him for the rest of my life, forcing me to put up with the most intolerable, infuriating man to have ever walked this earth.”

Merlin stilled his persistent shaking as he struggled to process the joke. He really hadn’t expected it, his mind in a haze ever since he’d walked into the cave below the castle. He’d met a dragon for fucks sake-

“Okay, you’re not laughing or complaining. This has to be serious.” Jericho mumbled as she sat up, tolerating Merlin’s hands, which were still clasped tightly around her shoulders. She managed a neutral expression, though the annoyance and mild worry tinted her eyes. “What destiny are you talking about and how do you suddenly know of it?”

Merlin spilled everything. The voice that had continuously called out to him every night since they’d arrived in Camelot - Jericho gave him a disapproving stare for not telling her about this -, his decision to go look for whatever was demanding his attention - more disapproval, this time in form of a head tilt, for not taking Jericho with him -, the dragon Merlin had encountered - that was just met with astonishment -, and finally the prophecy - which had Jericho jump into a crouch.

Her mouth opened. Then closed. Then it opened again. It stayed like that, as wide as her eyes were.

Merlin chuckled weakly, glad he wasn’t the only one disliking the idea of being tied to Arthur Pendragon for the rest of his life.

“I’m not a fan of it either.” He said, a more somber tone in his voice as the realisation really settled.

He hadn’t allowed himself to think much of the dragon’s words yet, too busy sprinting all the way back to his chambers to tell Jericho about them. She helped him process these things, rationalise them and form an opinion.

Though, by the way her eyes narrowed at something that wasn’t there, her mouth closing so she could grind her teeth, was pretty telling of what she made of all this. Merlin’s goddamn foretold future.

“This has to be a joke!”

“Yes, I’ve heard dragons are known for their great sense of humour.” Merlin’s joke wasn’t appreciated. All he received for it was a sharp glare.

“No, I mean- You can’t- You have greater things to do in life than help that- that-” Jericho struggled for the proper insult to use for someone she despised as much as Arthur. The hate she could form over one meeting with someone was truly miraculous. “Arse.”

“That’s all?”

“Merlin, it’s the middle of the night, ask me another day and I’ll deliver a better description for that toad-mouthed, crossbred, arrogant cock, okay?”

“There we go.”

They let out breathy chuckles. It felt wrong to laugh in a situation like this, but they didn’t know exactly what other ways there were for them to deal with the pent up anxiety hanging in the air, making the room feel awfully stuffy.

“I guess, I do have to help him though. If the dragon is right, Arthur is the Once and Future King - whatever that means - but if I am not there when he needs me to be, then he’ll never become what he is supposed to be.” Merlin said after a beat of silence, drawing his sister's gaze back to him.

It wasn’t quite as biting anymore. There was still some resistance in the deep blue as Jericho really didn’t like the idea of her brother, the most special person she’d ever met, being meant to act as a tool for someone else's success, but she nodded.

“Guess so… Just know I’ll be there too. Help you help him however I can.” Jericho laid her hand on top of Merlin's, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

Merlin leaned his head against her, enjoying the sensation of her fingers threading through his hair. That knot in his stomach that had been there ever since they’d returned from the altercation with Arthur dissolved into this air, leaving him with nothing but a comforting warmth and the smell of home that still clung to Jericho.

“The dragon didn’t mention anything about me in that destiny of yours, did he?” Jericho asked.

“No. You’ll go have to ask him yourself.”

“Oh, you can bet your arse I will! A dragon? Right underneath the very heart of Camelot? I’ll have to see that for myself.”

“Sure you will.”




*



Gaius had the twins run errands for him the next morning, claiming he could use the extra hands so he could dedicate himself to more important tasks.

Merlin was sent to gather some much needed herbs in the fields nearby and Jericho had to deliver a sleeping draft to the Lady Morgana.

A beautiful name, Jericho thought as she stood in front of the woman’s chamber. The door was already open, so she didn’t bother knocking before stepping in, just in time to see a familiar head of long, dark hair disappear behind a changing screen at the back of the room.

Jericho’s breath caught in her throat as she froze. That was her, the beautiful woman she’d seen at the window two days ago.

“You know, I’ve been thinking about Arthur.” The smooth, soft voice was as enticing as the rest of her, almost making Jericho overhear the name of her self-acclaimed nemesis.

Only almost, Jericho’s jaw still twitching and her shoulders tensing. Merlin’s comment about the Prince and the Lady possibly being related came back to her.

“I wouldn’t touch him with a ten foot lance pole.”

Okay, so probably not siblings, but Lady Morgana didn’t seem to like him very much anyway. The relief flooding though Jericho was near embarrassing.

“Pass me that dress, will you Gwen?”

Well aware that now would’ve been the right moment to clear her throat and reveal that she wasn’t actually the woman’s servant, Jericho walked over to the table where a beautiful gown lay and silently handed it over the changing screen. A pale hand took it out of her grasp, leaving Jericho to stare at the long, thin fingers right until they disappeared again.

The sound of fabric rustling as Morgana began undressing had Jericho take a few steps back and turn around so she was facing the wall. Her cheeks were burning hot and she screwed her eyes shut tight, just in case… She just wanted to be safe.

“I mean, the man’s a total jouster.” Morgana continued. “And just because I’m the king's ward, that doesn’t mean I have to accompany him to the feast, does it?”

Jericho took note of the whole ‘the kings ward’ thing, but was mostly preoccupied, loudly agreeing to what Morgana was saying in her mind. Someone as gentle and well spoken as the Lady Morgana shouldn’t be anywhere near a buffoon like Arthur.

Plus, the lad would just stick out like a sore thumb next to her, his appearance not anywhere near as appealing as hers.

“Well, does it?” Morgana asked a little sharper when she hadn’t received an answer.

Knowing there was no chance to pretend she was Gwen any longer, Jericho took a deep breath, evening her rigid posture into something that might’ve come across as relaxed to anyone who didn’t know her that well. She did stay facing the opposite wall though.

“Unless he’s asked you properly, I don’t think you should be expected to give him the pleasure of taking you as his escort.” Jericho’s voice was much more stable than she felt and somehow she’d managed to lace it in a flattering sweetness.

Immediately half of Morgana’s face appeared as she peered over the changing screen, a surprised gasp escaping her when she spotted Jericho’s frame standing in her room, instead of her servant. Jericho would’ve loved to see the expression on her face.

“You’re not Gwen.”

“No, I am Jericho. Gaius sent me to give you this.” Jericho extended her hand to show the Lady the vial with the sleeping draft in it.

“Oh… You can put it over there on my nightstand.” Morgana said, her thin brows knitting in confusion when Jericho simply backed up, back still facing her. “And turn around.”

Now, Jericho prided herself on her strong will, the ability to give a shit about men’s orders and doing the opposite of whatever she was told to do, but it was a little different when it came to women.

Before her brain had even the chance to catch up, she spun around, meeting a pair of curious blue eyes. She had intend to avert her gaze, hold her head low until she was out of this room again, but Morgana seemed to have captured her, Jericho’s own body not listening to what her mind wanted it to do.


“You are the woman I saw. On the town’s square, you- you threw yourself at one of the guards to help that boy.” And that was all it took for Jericho’s heart to take off again, beating hard and fast over the small fact that Morgana had been looking at her - and remembered her too.

“Yes, uhm, I- He’s my brother so… kind of had to help him.” Jericho wasn’t very proud of the way she stuttered like a child or the way a small blush crept onto her cheeks, but she, for the life of her, could not get her feet moving to set the glass vile down where the Lady had told her she wanted it and leave again.

“People who ‘have to’ do something usually don’t smile while doing it.” Morgana wasn’t being condescending, although her words sounded like it. A small smile tugged at her arched lips. “You seemed to be enjoying yourself more than enough while jumping at that guard.”

Jericho had to take a deep breath or else she might’ve fainted. One more comment that revealed how observant Morgana had been of her and Jericho would have to be carried out of this room.

“Uhm, I…”

Morgana laughed, her head disappearing again as she began dressing herself and Jericho basically lunged over to the nightstand, her body suddenly fully functional again as if a ban had been lifted off it.

“But I do agree with you,” Morgana continued as if nothing had happened, leaving Jericho to stop by her bed. “If Arthur wanted me to go with him, he should have asked me, yet he hasn’t.”

“What an idiot.” It was barely more than a sigh, having escaped Jericho’s mouth without her being able to stop it in time.

Instead of being punished for it, she was rewarded by the sound of Morgana’s laughter.

“He is, isn’t he? But… I assume you are familiar with the Prince’s stupidity after your altercation with him.” Morgana’s voice was free of judgement like she wasn’t aware that Jericho, a peasant, shouldn’t really be talking badly about Arthur. Especially not to a noble woman like Morgana herself.

Luckily, Jericho wasn’t aware of that either or simply didn’t care enough to say something about it.

“Oh, very familiar.”

“I need some help fastening this-”

Jericho didn’t need to know what it was Morgana needed help with, only that there was no way in hell she was getting behind that screen. Nervously clenching and releasing her fists she waited for something, someone to release her of this situation and-

“My Lady, I-” Gwen had stepped into the room, a confused smile brightening her face as she saw Jericho awkwardly standing around. “Jericho, what are you doing here?”

“I brought this!” Jericho sounded a little too relieved for her liking as she pointed at the nightstand, not finding it in her to explain exactly what ‘this’ was. Her hand found Gwen’s elbow on their own, gently pulling her towards the changing screen. “Lady Morgana requires help… getting dressed.”

And poor Gwen really tried not to frown as she gave the young woman a look before going to assist her mistress, but Jericho’s behaviour really was odd.

“You know, you could’ve helped me too.” Morgana said, a hint of amusement in her satiny voice.

Okay, so Jericho had to stay.

Her manners weren’t the best, but she did have a feeling that unless Morgana would dismiss her or stop talking to her at least, she’d have to stay. Kicking her feet she came up with a response. Something proper that wouldn’t ruin the Lady’s expression of her indefinitely.

“I don’t think that would be very proper, my Lady. I am not a servant and not trained to… handle dresses as beautiful as yours. I’d ruin it at best.”

“Oh well…” Morgana sighed and Jericho wanted to kick herself at the slightly disappointed undertone it carried. “At least tell me what you think of it.”

And this time Jericho could’ve kicked herself for not leaving when she’d had the chance. Why hadn’t she-

All sense - and air - was knocked out of her when Morgana appeared from behind the changing screen, wearing the most breath-taking gown Jericho had ever seen. It was bright purple with sheer blueish sleeves that showed her thin arms, perfectly complimented by heavy golden jewelry.

Jericho never would’ve dared to wear anything like it, but somehow Morgana pulled it off, like it was meant to be worn by her and her alone.

“So?” The question ripped Jericho from her admiring daze, reminding her that, oh yes, Morgana had asked for her opinion.

Gwen, who was standing next to her mistress, let out a small giggle. But not in a mocking way, more as if she understood Jericho’s momentary lack of brain power.

“It is… Uhm, you- you look-” Jericho carded her fingers through her hair, slightly tugging at the roots in hopes it would kick her mind back into action. But no, it remained slow and unclear as if a thick layer of fog had settled in. “I’m sorry, I can’t seem to be able to find the words…”

With an unnervingly shy smile she watched Morgana, waiting for her reaction. The woman looked back at her, assessing her and eventually smiling back.

“So, it’s whether I wear this little tease or…” Morgana held up another dress, which she’d draped over her arm - Jericho had completely failed to notice the red piece until now - her innocent smile widening into a mischievous grin. “Or give them a night they’ll really remember.”

Jericho gulped, swallowing became unnaturally hard all of a sudden. Both options sounded downright amazing to her.

But she had half the mind not to say that out loud.




*



“... And I will not have any funny business from either of you tonight, do you understand?” Gaius said most seriously as he entered the banquet hall, Merlin and Jericho trailing after him.

He’d basically forced them to attend the feast, saying it would be good for them to witness first hand how things around here worked - how they’d be expected to act. Meanwhile the twins couldn’t really get over the fact that the only purpose of this feast was to celebrate a man who’d killed hundreds upon hundreds of magic users.

“I promise we will behave, Gaius.” Merlin sighed for about the tenth time.

But apparently it wasn’t enough yet as Gaius stopped at the threshold, forcing the twins to come to an abrupt halt, Jericho bumping into Merlin, causing them both to nearly topple over. The physician waited until they’d regained their balance, before raising his finger - and that damn eyebrow - his milky eyes landing on Jericho.

“I want to hear it out of her mouth too!”

Clenching her jaw over Gaius not just addressing her directly, Jericho nodded.

“Properly!” Gaius demanded.

“I promise I will do my best to not do anything stupid.” Jericho huffed, before making her way past Gaius, who was easy enough to overtake, considering his age and mobility.

“I guess that is the best I’ll get from her.”

“Yeah, sorry…” Merlin apologised as he hurried after his sister, who pretended not to have heard their interaction.

They stayed in the back of the room, technically supposed to be working along with the serving staff, but unsure of where to begin. Getting a lay of the land would be a good start for sure.

“Oh, gods…” The annoyed groan had Jericho’s neck snapping to where Merlin was looking - Arthur.

The prince wasn’t far off, standing by one of the tables nearby, talking and gesturing widely to a couple of men about his age, all dressed in chainmail and red cloaks. Some words floated over to them, making it obvious that he was recounting his encounter with the twins.

“Annoying prat.” Merlin said quietly.

“You can say that louder.”

“I think that would go against the promise we made to Gaius.”

“Yeah, but-”

A murmur echoed through the room, bustling and filled with tension, and while Jericho’s gaze jumped to the cause of it right away, Merlin only did so when he watched Arthur do a double take on someone and Jericho gasped.

Morgana had entered, not in the gown she’d worn when Jericho had been in her chambers but the other one, but it hadn’t looked nearly as impressive then. Now that it was filled by Morgana’s body, tight and loose in all the right places, it was an entirely different thing.

Jericho’s favorite part about it was that it was sleeveless, only held up by a golden adornment, which laid around her neck.

“That’s her!” She whisper-shouted, body bent towards Merlin as she couldn’t lift her eyes off the king’s ward.

“Who?”

“The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. I told you about her in the dungeons.”

“Oh, I remember…” Merlin was silent for a moment, but even without looking at him directly, Jericho knew there’d be some kind of snarky remark coming from him soon. “I thought you were into blondes.”

Finally Jericho turned, surprised to find Merlin not looking at her or Morgana, but at Arthur. Again. She grinned, wide and mean.

“And I thought you weren’t.”

Merlin flinched as if he hadn’t realised what he’d been doing until his sister had pointed it out, immediately averting his gaze. But it was far too late, a teasing poke into his side making that very obvious.

“What- I’m not- That is not what’s happening!” Merlin stuttered, hands coming up to cover his strangely hot face. “I still hate him- I mean… Sure, our destinies are tied together or whatever, but that- that doesn’t mean I-”

“Of course not.” Jericho mused, turning back to watch the festivities unravel.

“Remember, you’re here to work.” Gaius warned them as he passed the twins, before walking away to take his seat at one of the tables.

“Oh, yeah.” Merlin sighed, pulling his sister along to go help out a servant to their right as he seemed to be struggling to carry three pitchers of wine at once.

Gwen found them soon after, showing them how to do things correctly around the drunk and laughing nobles.

She talked to Merlin mostly, something about Morgana becoming queen some day and how having to marry Arthur was a horrible thing and Jericho wished she could’ve ripped her ears off when something like flirting happened between the two.

Well, it wasn’t like there weren’t enough distractions around for her mind to focus on. Between staring at Morgana and attempting to keep men from staring at her there wasn’t much time for chit-chat.

If only Gaius hadn’t forced her to wear a dress.

Honestly anything piece of clothing with the ability to hide her cleavage would’ve been nice. But the physician had pressured her, saying she would be kicked out of the hall if she wasn’t wearing something proper for “a young woman” and that she really needed this job to earn some money for herself. She hadn't even been able to use her excuse of not owning a single dress as Gaius had handed her one he'd gotten from the palace staff. 

But now, biting the inside of her cheek every time she bent forward to refill a goblet and immediately feeling at least three pairs of eyes on her chest, Jericho really wished she would’ve just told Gaius off. Being an eye candy for low-moral men surely wasn’t the only work she could’ve gotten.

At least no one had had to gull to touch her yet. So how bad was it, really?

“How are you holding up?” Merlin had sidled up next to his sister when they’d gotten a moment to breathe as the king had made his entrance.

“Fine.” Jericho lied.

She’d been fighting the urge to throw up for the past half hour and her skin felt like ants were crawling all over it, leaving her utterly uncomfortable in her own skin. The usual way for her to deal with emotions like these was to punch something, go outside and pick up a stick and just whack it at whatever was closest. Of course that wasn’t possible now…

“No, you’re not. You’ve looked tense ever since you started serving the guests.”

“Then why bother asking me if I was fine in the first place, if you already know the answer, Merlin?” Jericho realised how harsh that had come out, cringing at the sharpness in her voice and the way Merlin flinched back. Regret twisted her guts and she rubbed a hand over her face, putting the other on Merlin’s shoulder. “Sorry, that wasn’t fair. You didn’t do anything wrong. Please, forgive me.”

Jericho sighed, a small wave of relief washing over her when she felt Merlin reciprocate the touch. It wasn’t entirely enough to drown the guilt from her stomach, where it kept pecking away at her.

“Who upset you then?” Merlin asked, his voice painfully gentle.

Jericho would’ve preferred it if he would’ve made some sarcastic joke.

She nodded towards the general direction of the table they’d been waiting on, knowing Merlin wouldn’t need more to understand. Because he knew Jericho’s weak spots just as well as she knew his.

His eyes darkened as he quietly and disgustedly whispered, “Men.”

It was sweet, really, enough to get a quiet chuckle out of Jericho.

“I raised you well.”

They’d completely missed the king's speech, but when music began to play and someone sang, the twins shut up.

Good thing they did or else they might’ve missed the way everybody in the hall started falling asleep.

By the time the twins recovered from the shock of what was unfolding before their eyes to glance at each other, they had already pressed their hands over their ears. They gave each other appreciative nods before turning back to the very obvious cause of this… curse or whatever it was - the singer. Her gray hair matched the cobwebs that had begun forming around the hall.

She was no longer the beautiful lady that had stood there moment before, but the old woman that Jericho recognized to be the same one she’d seen threaten Uther on the day of their arrival in Camelot.

A son for a son.

That explained the way the witch was inching closer to Arthur and the dagger she pulled from the sleeve of her dress.

Oh well, Jericho thought, shrugging, but Merlin didn’t seem as happy over the looming threat to the prince’s life.

Jericho’s heart tightened as her brother used his magic to drop a chandelier right on top of the old woman. Not a second too soon either as she’d been about ready to throw the weapon at Arthur.

As her singing stopped, the people slowly began waking up again and the twins saw it safe to uncover their ears.

“Merlin, I think she’s still alive.” Jericho pointed out as she watched the witch rise to her feet, but her nonchalant attitude changed quickly when she noticed that the force of the chandelier had knocked the old woman further towards Morgana. And she still had her dagger.

Sure, her goal was to kill Arthur, but what if she’d suddenly decide that the king's wards life was a pretty good revenge as well?

At the same time Jericho and Merlin surged forward, time suddenly slowed around them so they’d make it in time. The dagger glinted white in the light of the torches, high up in the air and- Merlin pulled Arthur off his chair as Jericho threw herself in front of Morgana - just to be safe - and the dagger sliced into Arthur’s chair.

With a deep breath, Merlin lifted his magic, causing everyone to wake up much, much faster.

Uther was the first to come to a conclusion, astonishment painting his face whiter than it normally was. His eyes wandered from Merlin, who lay on the floor with Arthur, to Jericho, still hovering over Morgana protectively.

“You saved my boy’s life!” Uther said, completely ignoring his son forcefully shoving Merlin off him as he turned to Jericho. “And you would’ve saved my precious Morgana.”

“You would have?” Jericho glanced down to where Morgana was looking up at her, the position making the Lady’s eyes seem even bigger, the questioning admiration in them sending Jericho’s stomach plummeting.

“Of course, my Lady.” Jericho, for the first time since she’d seen Morgana, feeling in control enough to muster up a somewhat cocky smile.

“A debt must be repaid.”

“Oh, well…” Merlin winced, his sister sharing the please-no-please sentiment of it.

“Don’t be so modest! You shall be rewarded, both of you.” Uther seemed awfully pleased with himself. As if he was doing them a favour.

To be fair, the king couldn’t have known that, to the twins, being noticed by him was like the worst thing that had happened to them yet.

“No, honestly, you don’t have to, Your Highness.” Merlin tried again, looking to Jericho for support.

“We really are fine, just... happy to have helped out.”

“No, absolutely. This merits something quite special. Especially for you, boy.” Uther’s eyes skimmed the dagger stuck in his son’s seat. When he returned his attention to Merlin, he seemed to have made up his mind. “You shall be rewarded a position in the royal household. You shall be Prince Arthur's manservant.”

Before either Merlin or Jericho could say something, Arthur scrambled to his feet, looking absolutely disturbed by the idea of having to spend any second longer with Merlin.

“Father!”

Arthur seemed to have expected his father to pay any sort of attention to him, ask him what Arthur’s issue with the proposal was, but when Uther didn’t even look at him, the Prince’s face fell. Jericho snorted, a twinge of satisfaction blooming in her chest, but it quickly died when Uther addressed her.

“And you… Unfortunately there is no need for another maidservant, so you shall be at both Arthur and Morgana’s service, to assist with any task requiring an extra set of hands.”

Okay, this was the worst thing to happen to Jericho since she’d come here. Being employed. Having an official job.

Not because she disliked the idea of working, fuck no, she’d toiled away in the fields for hours a day back in Ealdor and still found it in her to help her mother around the house after, but things were different in Camelot. Merlin needed more protection here, requiring more observance and time from Jericho.

Time she wouldn’t have if Uther actually made her care for his useless son and his ward at the same time.

“Your Highness, do not think I do not appreciate your most generous offer, but I really cannot accept it.” Jericho wanted to throw up in her mouth for having to speak so… politely.

Oh, she’d have to do that all the time from now on. Gods.

Uther’s face changed. Subtlety, he was still a man with years of training in maintaining a royally polished facade up at all times, but Jericho saw the light in his eyes dim and the corners of his mouth quirk ever so slightly. The angers was etched into his eyes, though, as if Jericho had insulted him and not kindly rejected his proposal, making her regret that she'd not just called him an arse.

“It was not an offer, girl. Anything Arthur or Morgana want from you, you will give it to them. And it is an honor I am letting you be a part of.” The king’s eyes narrowed, threateningly and unwavering as he took Jericho in, gaze gliding up and down. “That dress suits you very well.”

And Jericho didn’t need to be knowledgeable in the behaviour of royals to understand the underlying message in the king’s words. The phrasing, the pronunciation of certain words - his son’s name -, the comment about her dress… It made it very clear what Uther expected of her. Partially at least.

Her throat had gone dry, making it hard for her to swallow, so Jericho just nodded and croaked a quiet, “Thank you, Your Highness.”

Nobody else seemed to have noticed what just had passed between the two, so when the king rose to once again proclaim what honorable thing he’d just done, everyone clapped and stood up from their chairs as well.

Jericho scrambled over to Merlin, her head hanging just as low as his as they stood there, wondering how the fuck they’d just gotten this screwed over for doing the right thing.



*



Naturally, when doing the right thing, a lecture served by Gaius was in order.

Jericho barely listened, her head heavy on the pillow, trying not to focus on the coldness of the floor biting through her clothes and settling in her skin.

A couple times she would hum, hoping it would sound agreeing as she really didn’t have it in her to actually pay attention to the physician’s complaints.

Merlin seemed to be doing similarly, his responses not even close to the protest he’d usually put up and by the time Gaius handed him a book on magic and spells, he hardly even looked excited.

They got their peace then, similar exhausted sighs coming from both their sleeping spots.

When Jericho was nearly asleep, she turned, forcing her eyes open to peer up at the bed, Merlin’s figure barely visible in the dark room.

“Hey, Merlin?”

“Hm?”

“I’m proud of you.”

It was quiet for a moment and Jericho feared she might’ve been a little too vulnerable, but when she was about ready to turn around and pretend she’d never said anything, there was movement on the bed and Merlin’s warm hand cupped hers.

“Haven’t heard that in a while.” Merlin’s voice was almost quiet enough to hide the small tremor in it.

“I’m sorry…” Jericho whispered, her eyes suddenly stinging and she had to take a deep breath to force down the suffocating feeling in her throat. “I think, I just… assumed you knew I was. Forgot to tell you. Sorry.”

Merlin laughed softly, his thumb stroking over the back of his sister’s hand in circles. It wasn’t often she let him do that - not without slapping his hand away after two seconds.

“Don’t worry about it.” He said and after a moment of comforting silence he added, “Could you said it again?”

“I’m proud of you, Merlin.” Jericho could barely keep the tremble out of her voice, but if Merlin had heard it, he didn’t let her know.


“Right back at you.”

Chapter Text

“Head.”

“Head? Ow-”

Merlin didn’t get time to recover from getting clobbered over the head with a heavy fucking sword as Arthur continued delivering blows to his armoured body. The prince probably thought he was being nice, warning Merlin exactly one second before each hit to tell him where he’d strike next, but he seriously overestimated the younger man’s reaction time.

Or the strength in his arms; they felt like liquid already, struggling to even lift the shield he’d been handed.

But Merlin persisted, too stubborn to just let Arthur hit him again and again without at least attempting to defend himself. Arthur didn’t seem to see it that way.

“Come on, Merlin! You’re not even trying!”

I am, thank you very much, Merlin snarled in his head, momentarily distracted by a flashy smile peaking through the opening of Arthur’s helmet and promptly feeling the blunt edge of the sword stab his side. He groaned.

Surely, he’d have a better chance blindfolded.

Jericho thought the same as she walked past the scene, desperately wanting to step in and take over for her clumsy brother, but found herself unable to do so. Which was goddamn frustrating.

Not so frustrating? The reason she had to keep walking, only able to sneak glances at the most exciting thing happening since Jericho had arrived in Camelot, Morgana, walking a couple feet ahead with Gwen, looking absolutely stunning in her night-blue gown.

It was Jericho’s first day as substitute servant for her and Arthur, but unlike Merlin, she hadn’t been summoned at the most ungodly hour of the morning and instead been called to Morgana’s chambers sometime after breakfast. The reason - Morgana wanted company to go on a walk around the castle.

Jericho had barely been able to keep herself from following the tether so she could find Merlin and rub her luck under his nose.

“Jericho, come on! Catch up!” Morgana called over her shoulder, her voice high with excitement as she blinked her pretty eyes at the young woman. “How am I meant to give you a tour of the castle if you’re all the way back there?”

Oh… that’s what they were doing? Jericho’s feet sped up before she even had the time to give them the order to do so.

Just once she glanced back, finding her brother lying in the grass, shield discarded somewhere to the side, Arthur’s broad frame looming over him, almost predatory… hadn’t it been for the wide smirk on the Prince’s face. When Arthur’s hand reached out to pull Merlin back up to his feet, Jericho dared to turn back around, just as she reached Morgana’s side.

Gwen, who was walking on the other side of their mistress, leaned forward to give her a smile. She did that often, Jericho had noticed and wasn’t sure what to think of it yet. For now, she just smiled back and enjoyed the way Gwen’s eyes sparkled when she did so.

“Don’t worry, Arthur might be an insufferable brat, but he’d never actually harm his servant.” Morgana said suddenly, as if she’d read the well hidden concern right off Jericho’s face.

“I wasn’t worried.” Jericho lied reflexively, schooling her face into something resembling amusement. “Just a little jealous. I’d do a much better job holding that shield than Merlin.”

Gwen leaned forward again, this time the smile was tinted with disapproval. If it was for the very informal way Jericho spoke to Morgana, as if they weren’t from vastly different social standings, but friends, or her admitting to wanting to partake in activities entirely unsuitable for a woman wasn’t clear - Jericho assumed it was a bit of both.

And she really couldn’t get herself to care for it.

Morgana on the other hand seemed to be entirely unphased, looking at Jericho from the corner of her eye as they passed through an arch that would lead them back into the inner courtyards of the castle. The expression on her face was unreadable, no matter how hard Jericho stared back at the noble woman.

“Oh, so you enjoy holding up a wooden board while someone is smashing against it with a sword?” It was a genuine question, holding no judgement for whatever Jericho would answer, so she decided to stick to the truth.

Which was harder than expected, her throat awfully dry as she tried to find the right words to be both honest and not make a complete freak of herself at the same time.

“In the ideal situation, I’d be holding a sword instead of a shield, but I am good with both… my Lady.” Jericho’s lips twitched into a nervous smile at her hiccup and the lingering gaze of intense blue eyes made her stutter on. Like she had to explain herself. “I- It’s just that I have a lot of energy, so- Training is a decent outlet for it.”

“Hm.” Morgana hummed, frustratingly reserved.

Jericho forced herself to turn her gaze back ahead, silently cursing herself. It had been a long time since she’d struggled with anything as much as talking to Lady Morgana and she didn’t even know the reason for it.

Yes, Morgana was breath-takingly beautiful, but so were other women. Gwen for example. And Jericho didn’t trip over every second word when talking to the maidservant.

So, what about Morgana-

“These are the stables, over there are the knights quarters - those have their own entrance - and this-” Morgana hadn’t taken a single breath until she’d pointed her finger at a rather shabby wooden building, two guards standing at its entrance. It was in no way special, but the way her blue eyes flickered for the briefest moment made Jericho believe that might not be entirely true. “this is the armoury.”

There was a pause and if Jericho would have let her delusions take over, she would’ve believed it was charged with importance. As if Morgana was trying to tell her something without using words. Then she blinked and the moment was over, Morgana and Gwen moving to continue.

Of course Jericho needed to know where the armoury was. With her being at Arthur's disposal as much as Morgana’s and with the upcoming tournament, she surely would be sent to get weapons there often.

Once inside, Morgana declared she’d have lunch with the king and that Gwen should continue the tour on her own. The women curtsied as their mistress parted from them - Jericho a couple seconds behind as she hadn’t realised that was something she had to do until Gwen was a head shorter all of a sudden.

“Do you really like fighting? Like men do?” Gwen asked, a hint of awe in her question.

Jericho shrugged, opting for a very non-committal answer, “Remember, I come from a very small and boring village. I had to pass time somehow.”

“Oh, I guess that makes sense…” Gwen’s face brightened. “Now, let me show you the kitchen and then the laundry rooms and then the-”

Jericho put on her most convincing smile as her thoughts drifted off to where Merlin was probably being thrown to the ground for about the tenth time.




*




“You’re tense!” Jericho scolded as she dug her thumbs into the firm muscles of Merlin’s shoulders, which seemingly did not want to relax, no matter how long she massaged them for.

Her brother hissed in response, his head nodding forward as he tried to curl away from the torture he was being subjected to, but Jericho pulled him right back, her grip tightening to hinder Merlin from any further attempts at fleeing. He’d thank her tomorrow.

“So, I assume your first day went well?” Gaius asked them as he hovered over some tincture he was boiling over on the stove. He’d returned a couple minutes after the twins and had been awfully busy since then.

Merlin tapped his head, “Do you hear clanging?”

“No more than usual.” Jericho muttered, putting some pressure on an especially stiff knot right between Merlin’s shoulder blades, causing him to arch away and bite his lip to avoid a scream - not very successfully.

Once he’d recovered, taking a couple deep breaths and casting a very healing glare over his shoulder, Merlin continued, “It was- ah- horrible! And I’ve still got to learn all about tournament etiquette by the morning-”

Had Jericho known Merlin was about to use magic, she might have stopped massaging him for the moment, but he hadn’t thought of warning her. So just as she went to work on another knot near her brother’s neck, a heavy book came clattering over the table, nearly knocking over their cups, hadn’t she reacted instinctively and caught it.

“Oi!” Gaius shouted from across the room, but spared himself the lecture as he looked up to find the twin both bent over it, Jericho’s fingers working away, a deep frown on her face, perfectly matching Merlin’s. “You two…”

“Merlin, can you read it to me? I can hardly do two things at once.”

The request was unnecessary as Merlin had already begun to read out loud, sighing at the interruption before restarting from the top of the page.

It was a boring lecture, but they had to get through it unless they wanted to be humiliated in the upcoming days. At some point between the stumbles over barely coherent paragraphs, Merlin’s constant panting and Jericho shaking her sore hands every couple minutes, Gaius took pity on them and marched over to the table, handing a salve to Jericho.

“Apply this, it will soften the muscles over night.”

Gratefully Jericho took it, mumbling a thanks and then doing as instructed. Merlin gasped when the salve touched his sensitive skin.

“Ah! It’s cold!”

“There really is no pleasing you.” Jericho groaned, rubbing the tincture in a little harder than necessary.

“Sorry, you’re right… Just still annoyed over the whole ‘saving Arthur’s life and then being made his personal servant’ thing. Like how is it fair?” Merlin complained, his head sagging again as he pretended to reread the page they were currently stuck on.

In truth, he was just staring, his eyes barely able to focus on the letters as they kept blurring. As Jericho fished for an answer to Merlin’s valid argument, Gaius already had one prepared.

“I’m not sure fairness comes into it. But, you never know, it might be fun.” Gaius said, but immediately had to lift his hands in a sign of surrender when he received disbelieving stares from the twins.

“You think mucking out Arthur’s horses is going to be fun? You should see the list of my duties!” Merlin laid his head down on his folded arms, letting out a relieved sigh when Jericho finally loosened her death grip on his shoulders and sat down next to him.

He did feel a lot better though, he had to admit. Testing he rolled his shoulders, giving his sister a thankful smile when the gesture didn’t make him want to scream. Jericho rolled her eyes, very clearly mouthing the word ‘dramatic’, before looking back to Gaius, who didn’t seem to be ready to give up on his lecture entirely.

“We all have duties, Merlin. Even Arthur.”

“Oh yes, his suffering must know no bounds. With all the women and the fame and the glory.” Jericho cut in, not liking the way Gaius made it sound like Merlin was lazy.

Maybe he hadn’t meant it that way, but the young woman had always been quick to defend Merlin, even if there was nothing to protect him from. Still, the ‘we all have our duties’ didn’t sit right with Jericho. As if Merlin didn’t know.

As if Merlin hadn’t grown up in a village where everyone had to help out with tasks necessary for their survival from the moment one could walk.

Her choice of words apparently warranted a warning from the physician and he was swift to correct her, “He is a future king. People expect so much of him and he’s under a lot of pressure.”

“That makes two of us then.” Merlin huffed a half-hearted chuckle.



*



“And you are sure it’s not too heavy?” Gwen asked worriedly as she watched Merlin carelessly drape the chainmail over his sister.

Jericho wanted to respond, reassure Gwen that she was doing alright, but found herself with a face-full of metal rings, so she waited until Merlin managed to pull the chainmail down far enough for her to poke her head out of the foreseen opening. She ran a hand through her hair, sorting it out of her face and grinning widely.

“Not at all, but thank you for your concern, Gwen.”

The genuine words and lack of sagging on Jericho’s part were enough to wipe all doubt of the other woman's face and she resumed explaining all parts of necessary armour to Merlin.

He’d been smart enough to drag all of Arthur’s armour and Jericho down to Gwen’s house after learning that she was a blacksmith’s daughter to get a lesson in how to put it on someone as he would have to do so multiple times in the upcoming days. Jericho, while knowing a lot about weapons, was relatively useless when it came to proper protection, serving as a model of sorts.

So as Gwen did the instructing and Merlin executed the orders as well as he could, she just stood there and tried to move as little as possible.

“So you’ve got voiders on the arms.” Gwen handed the parts to Merlin.

“Mh-hmm…” Merlin attached them, fingers shaky as he worked the lacing.

“The hauberk goes over the chest.”

“The chest. The arms. The chest.”

Jericho had no issue standing up right, but she did wonder how someone was supposed to remain agile and swift on their feet with all that extra weight.

A helmet was plopped on her head, the surprise having her shift forward momentarily.

“Ouch, thanks.”

“Sorry!” Merlin did not sound sorry at all, his grin so wide Jericho couldn’t even see the whole thing through the narrow cracks in the helmet. Then he turned to Gwen. “Thank you so much! I have no idea what I would’ve done without your help!”

“That’s alright. It’s one of the perks of being the blacksmith’s daughter; I know pretty much everything there is to know about armour… which is actually kind of sad.” Gwen's smile lessened as a rosy blush spread over her cheeks.

“No, it’s brilliant!” Merlins said at the same time as Jericho’s muffled voice sounded from underneath the helmet, “That’s not sad! That's amazing!”

Gwen laughed, her pretty face glowing at the enthusiastic compliments she was receiving, which had the twins laugh with her.

“You two…” Gwen hummed, sounding much more endearing than Gaius as she said it. “Now, let’s get you back out of that armour. We have a long day ahead of us.”



*



While Merlin had to help Arthur get ready, Jericho had followed Gwen to Morgana’s chambers to do the same, just minus the whole struggling with tricky metal parts.

Still, Jericho hadn’t prepared for exactly how much had to be done before Morgana was ready to face the public eye. A dress had to be picked, colours debated, matching shoes had to be found, her hair had to be brushed and styled, a small amount of coal was applied around the edges of Morgana’s eyes - to accentuate them, Gwen had explained - and the right perfume had to be determined.

Gwen took over for most of this as she was practiced in what the king’s ward liked, but showed Jericho what steps were taken, just like she had instructed Merlin on the proper use of armour this morning. Jericho toyed with the idea of building a shine in the girl's honour.

Morgana hadn’t said much until she was in her dress, seated at an artfully crafted desk, examining her face in a mirror. Her eyes shifted, meeting the reflection of Jericho’s, who went still at the sudden attention. Morgana’s lips pulled into something between an innocent smile and a mischievous grin - a thing Jericho hadn’t believed possible.

“You could start brushing my hair while Gwen makes my bed.” Morgana suggested, which in itself was kind of grotesque.

She should be ordering Jericho around, not nicely asking. But Jericho didn’t dare question her, reigning in her nerves as she stepped behind Morgana and took the pearl hairbrush she was being presented with. Sending a quick prayer to the gods that she wouldn’t break the delicate tool, she gathered the curtain of dark waved in one hand, holding back a less than voluntary sigh at how soft it was.

Haphazardly Jericho realised that this was her first time touching Morgana and she pushed the thought away as soon as it came up, not wanting to blush with the mirror in front of her and Morgana’s eyes fixated on her already.

Instead she focused on the task at hand, making sure her hand stayed where it was and not accidentally grazing against the Lady’s neck or shoulder. Making Morgana uncomfortable was the last thing she wanted to do.

“You are very gentle.” Morgana said after a few minutes of silence, the surprise in her tone not getting lost on Jericho.

She smiled to herself as she set the brush down at the crown of Morgana’s head before letting it stroke all the way down to the end, making sure not to pull too hard whenever she met resistance, taking her time to brush out any kinks or knots.

In truth, Jericho didn’t have much experience at taking care of someone else’s hair, let alone her own. But the way her scalp tickled whenever the thought of the way Merlin would yank a brush through her hair every morning was enough for her to kind of get a feeling that that wouldn’t be the right thing to do to Morgana.

“Do I not strike you as someone capable of being gentle, my Lady?” Jericho teased without thinking, her eyes darting to the mirror and was relieved to find that odd smile on Morgana’s face again.

“You do not, but it is good to know you can be.” Morgana said so quietly Jericho struggled to understand her properly.

But by the time she leaned in, Morgana’s lips were closed already, her eyes trailing off to the side, inspecting a bouquet of flowers that was standing at the edge of the desk.

Why-

“I can take over now.” Gwen had finished making the bed and had come over, politely hovering.

Slightly dazed Jericho stepped aside, trying to read the Lady’s expression, only to be unsuccessful once more.



*



The tournament, oh gods, the tournament.

Jericho would’ve given anything to be on the field with the knights- She’d even make do without a weapon if it meant getting the thrill she craved so badly. But just watching was a privilege already, exciting in a way Jericho had rarely felt before.

And Merlin had to suffer for it, forced to listen to his sister’s comments, watch her shuffle around as she mimicked the fighter’s movements as if she was standing there instead of them. At some point he started wondering whether or not Jericho was psychic as she somehow seemed to predict the strikes before they happened, yelping and gasping a solid couple seconds before anyone even fell to the dusty ground.

“I’d pay good money for you to get in there right now.” Merlin said after cheering for Arthur, who’d just bested another man, a seemingly unstoppable force out on the field. “I bet you’d knock out a couple of them.”

“Only a couple?” Jericho laughed whole heartedly, swinging an arm around Merlin’s shoulder and pulling him in, then she whispered, “Listen, if you know any spells that turn me into a man, I’m right here. Don’t be shy.”

Merlin snorted at the eager tone in his sister’s voice and shook his head, “Unfortunately I haven’t come across any spells that would have such an effect, but I’ll let you know if I do-”

Just in time the young man managed to bring his hands up and cover his ears as Jericho shouted at the top of her lungs when another knight fell - one she had proclaimed to have a dislike for from the moment he’d stepped through the entrance to the tournament.

“He just looks shifty.” She’d said when Merlin had asked why.

Arthur won his round, unexpectedly coming to the twins after to watch the upcoming fights with them. He looked awfully young, trying to suppress the grin over his victory and keep up the practiced composure, but not really succeeding.

“What did you think? Did I look nervous?” The prince asked Merlin, referencing a conversation Jericho hadn’t been a part of.

“No, you didn’t.” Merlin admitted with a smirk. “You looked rather great out there, actually. Fighting-wise I mean.”

As if that needed clarification. Jericho rolled her eyes as she propped her arms up against the fence that separated the spectators from the field… hopping over it would be really easy.

Merlin, seemingly able to read thoughts, put a hand on her shoulder, his grin widening as Jericho sent a confused glance over her shoulder.

“Would it help you, if I promised to spar you with a broomstick later?” He asked.

“I appreciate the offer, but-” Jericho winced, remembering what she’d seen Merlin do during training with Arthur the day before. “You are as rubbish with a broomstick as you are with a shield.”

“So, you saw that, huh?” Merlin’s cheeks turned a rosy colour, matching to the one his ears assumed.

Jericho nodded.

Arthur, not liking being excluded from their conversation, inched closer, the twins turning around and looking at him like they’d completely forgotten he was even there - it had Arthur blinking in confusion. He was used to being the centre of attention wherever he walked, heads turning whenever he entered a room and yet here he was… being forgotten about by two servants.

While Merlin cast him an apologetic look that Arthur pretended to ignore, his sister’s expression stayed entirely unimpressed. She wouldn’t look away either, just stared as if demanding why Arthur had come closer and Arthur had no idea how to deal with that. Any reaction he could think of would somehow make him come across as some sort of fool.

The Prince cringed at the relief that flooded him, when Merlin spoke up again, ridding the air of that awkward tension.

“Knight Valiant looks pretty handy with a sword.” The young man nodded towards the battle currently unfolding.

Three pairs of eyes landed on a yellow shield, taking note of the bright green snakes spanning across it. It was prominent in the sea of grey, unmissable, but attention soon wavered and Merlin went back to pretending to be interested in the fight, while Jericho and Arthur analyzed.

“He’s too aggressive.” Jericho noted after a few strikes had been exchanged. “Lacks defence.”

Surprised at the accuracy of her statement, Arthur glanced her way before agreeing, “Which works against his current opponent, but it won’t against everyone.”

“Like you?” Jericho arched a brow and Arthur had a feeling that answering 'yes', would amount to stepping into a trap.

“We’ll see.”

Cheering erupted through the stands and Merlin turned to them, “Valiant won.”

“Thank you, Merlin, but you know I’ve got eyes. Right?”

“Of course, he knows that-” Jericho bit her tongue, not because she wasn’t supposed to talk to a prince in such a sarcastic way, but because she spotted Valiant walking closer to the stands where Morgana and Gwen were seated, his face brimming with pride as he waved to the king’s ward in a way that… He was flirting, for sure.

Through narrow eyes she watched the knight exit the arena and appear by their sides a minute later, his gaze not leaving Arthur once. It was… a little unnerving, something was off about him, hiding behind his eyes, just out of reach. Jericho glanced to the side, exchanging a look with Merlin, who seemed to be thinking similarly.

“May I offer my congratulations on your victories today?” His voice was deep, scratching at the back of Valiant’s throat. And it was just a little too tight.

Arthur seemed oblivious to those subtleties, “Likewise.”

“I hope to see you at the reception this evening.” The words ended up sounding like a threat and again, Arthur didn’t pick up on it, politely waving a hand as Valiant departed, followed by his servant.

The twins exchanged another glance.

“Creep.” Merlin muttered once he was sure the knight was out of earshot.

Both he and Arthur snorted, their eyes meeting in silent agreement. Jericho stood between them wondering if it would be rude to just walk away too.

“Uh, for tomorrow, you need to repair my shield, wash my tunic, clean my boots, sharpen my sword and polish my armour and chainmail.”

“Sure thing, Sire.”

Arthur turned to Jericho, “You’re not better at putting on armour than Merlin, by any chance.”

Merlin gasped, outraged at the suggestion that his skills weren’t sufficient enough, but Arthur ignored him, raising his chin in a silent demand for Jericho to answer.

“I’ve never done it before, Sire.”

“Too bad.”

Again Merlin waited until Arthur was away far enough before leaning closer to Jericho and whispering, “Having magic is going to make this job so much easier.”

“Haha.”



*



With Gwen not feeling well and Merlin being busy fulfilling his many duties of being Arthur’s manservant, Jericho was the one to stand behind them and try not to yawn as some sort of courteous meeting between the hosting royals and the visiting knight was happening.

It was abnormally stuffy in the throne room, the last light of the day falling through the window in heavy, golden beams. It was all so suffocating; the formalities, the arrogance wafting through the air like a sour stench, the king’s general aura, the dress Jericho had been ordered to wear for the duration of her service… Jericho would’ve ran herself through even with the bluntest of blades if she’d been handed one in that moment.

And then Valiant had to walk up to the king to introduce himself and Uther, being the exact same type of insufferable man as the knight, actually seemed to like him. Congratulated him on his win, his aggressive fighting style.

Jericho had to fight hard to suppress the urge to look over at Arthur, but lost eventually, only to find Arthur already sneaking a glance at her. Something close to agreement passed between them, the corners of their mouth twitching as they both tried not to smile.

And then Arthur remembered that his father was standing only a couple feet in front him and that Jericho was a servant - a girl too.

And Jericho remembered that it was Arthur and that she’d much rather clean the floors of the entire hall with a toothbrush than share a nice moment with the Prince.

Uther’s booming voice ripped them both back into reality, the king turning to Morgana, his hand extending ceremoniously. As if he was showing off a precious treasure - item - rather than a human being. Jericho’s nose scrunched up as she tried to keep the rest of her facial expression neutral.

“Knight Valiant, may I present the Lady Morgana, my ward.”

Even the way he phrased it made Jericho’s veins flood with hot, red anger, her fingers twitching with the need to roll up into fists and- She took a deep breath, telling herself that this was nothing new.

Men spoke about women like this all the time, because it was how they saw them. Empty vessels they could brag about and do with as they pleased.

The new found stability Jericho had found lasted about as long as it took Valiant to bend forward and place a kiss on the back of Morgana’s hand. His eyes, which stared up directly at her, were not filled with the admiration and awe Morgana deserved, but a sort of possessiveness, something predatory.

“My Lady.”

Jericho clenched her teeth.

“I saw you competing today.” It was only a statement, simple, yet Morgana managed to make it come across as a compliment.

“I saw you watching. I understand the tournament champion has the honour of escorting my Lady to the feast.”

Teeth on teeth weren’t enough anymore. Jericho needed to bite something, opting for the inside of her cheek, the pain easing her into the restraint she needed to stay put.

“That’s correct.” Morgana sounded less engaged this time, but Jericho doubted any of the men around her noticed as long as the smile on her red lips stayed intact.

“Then I will give everything to win the tournament.”

Everything - Jericho didn’t doubt it, the sinister pronunciation sending a cold shiver down her spine.

Valiant walked over to the other knights to join their conversation, fitting in perfectly. Jericho wasn’t sure if that meant everyone around her was blind and deaf or if she was overreacting. But… Merlin had found his behaviour after the first day of the tournament creepy too and they’d observed him the next as well, just to come to the same conclusion.

Arthur was next in line to greet the king, just like everyone else had before him, which was a little odd considering they were father and son. But they took it very seriously, so Jericho didn’t question it.

Once they’d exchanged their hello’s, Arthur walked over to Morgana and Jericho.

“They all seem rather impressed by Knight Valiant.” Morgana said, not in the least surprised by the Prince’s gruff response.

“They’re not the only ones.”

“You’re not jealous, are you?” Morgana smiled teasingly sweetly, her thin brows furrowing in played worry.

“I don’t see there’s anything to be worried off.” Arthur had answered a little too quickly and a little too sharp.

Morgana giggled and Jericho was unable to not join in. Arthur’s mouth opened, disbelief written across his face as he took a step closer. His eyes moved from Morgana, knowing he couldn’t retaliate in this setting, to Jericho.

Raising his hand and pointing at his substitute servant, he lowered his voice, “You better be careful! I can still hand off all of Merlin’s chores to you!”

Jericho had a hard time not laughing again at the cute, yet very ineffective way of scaring her, but Morgana on the other hand seemed to take the ‘threat’ a little more seriously.

Crossing her arms she leaned over, cutting off Arthur’s view of Jericho and said, “Actually, you can’t. I need her services much more than you do, so I will not have you preoccupy her with your useless chores.”

“Useless?! Morgana, I am in the middle of a tournament, what could be more important than-” Arthur had become heated - and louder.

Uther glared over at the commotion, silencing his son with a single look. For a moment Jericho nearly felt sympathetic towards him as Arthur’s face fell ever so slightly and he turned around, giving off the impression of a kicked dog.

But Morgana just smiled her deadly sweet smile and turned around.

“I actually do need your assistance later tonight.”

“Whatever you want, my Lady.”



*



“Come on, faster! Or they’ll catch us!” Morgana whisper-shouted, picking up the pace as she rushed through the last stone arch, leaving behind the castle and running through a moonlight clearing.

Jericho tried to keep her breath even and keep up with Morgana at the same time, though she was struggling more with the current situation, still unsure if this was a dream or not. Because when the young woman had gone to Morgana’s chambers, she’d expected to take over Gwen’s nightly duties - nervous to even knock at the door as she’d never done those before - but never in a million years had she prepared for what she found inside.

The Lady Morgana, dressed in a grey shirt and matching breeches, a corset-like plating of armour secured around her mid section and the widest grin on her face, eagerly jumping up from the bed the second Jericho had entered.

Too puzzled to speak, Jericho had stood in the doorway, mouth open much wider than she would’ve liked. She kept looking up and down, up and down, until Morgana provided her with an answer to her unspoken question.

“I watched you during the tournament, saw how you itched for a fight…” The Lady had walked over as she’d spoken, rounding Jericho as if they were already on a battlefield, her blue eyes glowing in the dark. “I thought we might be able to do something to help you with that.”

And before Jericho had been able to process everything - Morgana having watched her once again, referring to them as ‘we’, or how utterly inappropriate this was - Morgana had grabbed her wrist and dragged her through the torch-lit halls.

They had to dodge quite a few patrolling guards, find a way out of the castle that would allow them to leave unnoticed and Jericho had to sneak into the armoury through the back window to get them the swords Morgana had requested. She had her own, a beautiful piece, adorned with sapphires on the handle, and Jericho just grabbed one of the many that lay around.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Jericho asked when they reached a small group of trees, which stood close enough to provide them with some protection, yet just far apart enough for them to still move.

Morgana didn’t answer immediately, taking a couple steps away as she testingly spun the sword in her hand and when she looked up, her face was illuminated blue by the moonlight shining through the crowns of the trees. It was a enchanting view and when Jericho gasped, it wasn’t due to their sprint.

“No, but you don’t strike me as the type of person who’d turn an idea down because it isn’t ‘good’.” The tone of Morgana’s voice was teasing, but the way her face softened gave Jericho the understanding that she had a choice.

There was some risk to what they were doing, surely some cruel punishment delivered by Uther himself if they were discovered, but looking at Morgana’s slender figure in the enticing shadows of the night made it seem like a risk worth taking. And Jericho really was restless, the need to clash a sword against another crawling under her skin.

“That’s because I’m not.”

And with that the agreement was sealed, the women simultaneously moving their feet, beginning to circle each other, waiting for the other to make the first move. Jericho lunged first, Morgana deflecting her easily, both going at it easily to assess the others fighting style before going at it properly.

Once speed picked up, attacks and parry’s followed closely, Jericho had to admit that Morgana was an excellent swordswoman and one of the most enjoyable opponents she’d ever fought against. Every slash was done with purpose, precise and controlled - it was nothing like the men Jericho had fought, if in earnest or just in play.

To bystanders their duel might’ve looked more like a dance, their movements falling into a steady rhythm of readjusting jumps, spins and lunges. Jericho found herself laughing after another rejected attack by Morgana.

“Enjoying yourself, Jericho?” The Lady purred, sidestepping another slash of Jericho’s blade with ease.

That was another thing. Morgana's agility was impressive, something Jericho could match much better than the brute force a man would apply instead.

“Quite, my Lady.” Jericho swirled around, a little performative, but still in time to clash her sword against Morgana’s, stopping her from ripping a hole into her tunic. “You can’t imagine-”

“Oh, I think I can. Being watched over every second with no one even considering letting me do anything but walk and talk and maybe read, I can relate very much…”

“Maybe we should do this more often then?” It was a bold suggestion to make, but in the heat of the moment, Jericho’s brain too fogged by euphoria and adrenaline, she hadn’t been able to hold it back.

“Maybe we should.” Morgana said, going slack, just for the blink of an eye, but it was enough.

With one hard, well aimed strike, Jericho hit the sword from her hand.

“Good. Again.” Morgana demanded as soon as she’d picked up her sword.

And so they went at it, again and again and again. Their scores were pretty equal and they exchanged advice in the form of friendly banter.

Morgana would joke about Jericho not being nimble enough, too reliant on her swings instead of her footwork and Jericho would make comments about Morgana’s timidness when it came to attacking - both taking the other’s criticism and putting it into action.

Jericho got too into it, was too caught up in the moment. But she didn’t realize until it was too late, her sword had already collided with Morgana’s armour plate, the impact enough to send the Lady to the ground.

For a moment everything was quiet, not a sound to be heard in the darkness of the night, but Jericho thought her ears would burst, her heart beating loud and heavy as she viewed Morgana’s motionless body sprawled on the grass covered ground. A horrifying, consuming fear tugged at her stomach, guilt clawing at her chest like a rabid animal.

She hurt Morgana.

The realisation was like a punch to the face, sending her a step back, before her brain kicked back in, sending her forward to the injured woman.

“Morgana!” Jericho’s voice was somewhere between a panicked scream and a desperate sob.

She fell down to her knees, her hands trembling as she grabbed a fist full of Morgana’s tunic to turn her over as the Lady had landed on her front. Jericho, in her frightened state, didn’t register the lack of blood or the way Morgana’s body wasn’t as limp as it should’ve been for someone currently unconscious.

“Morgana, please, open your eyes. I’m sorry, I’m sorry-”

It wasn’t much, just a twitch of a brow and a slight curve of her full red lips, but it was enough to send a shiver of relief through Jericho. She was distracted, not noticing the hands suddenly closing around her biceps or how the body next to her shifted.

“Ah-” Jericho yelped when she was suddenly flipped to her back, a strong push of a hand to her chest pinning her down and legs straddling hers.

Then, the cold edge of a blade pressed tightly against her throat.

She had to blink, the sudden change of thinking she’d wounded her mistress to having said mistress sitting on top of her, grinning down at her widely was a little much, even for Jericho. But Morgana barely gave her time to recover, throwing her head back to laugh at her victory, before gazing back at Jericho, her blue eyes brimming with joy and-

“Hah, you fell for it! You actually thought I was hurt!” Morgana cheered, her voice higher than it normally was.

“You weren’t?” Jericho asked, too comforted by seeing Morgana unharmed to actually be mad at being tricked in such an unfair way.

Involuntarily she jerked forward, a stinging sensation at her throat, but was quickly reminded that she couldn’t really go anywhere before the sword was removed.

“Of course not, dear. I was just pretending.” The king’s ward giggled, not relenting her grip on the deadly weapon pressed to Jericho’s neck for even a second. “But it is good to know what it takes for you to call me by my name.”

“Oh…” Jericho pulled a face, heat rising to her face. “My apologies, I forgot myself-”

“No, it wasn’t meant as criticism.” Morgana shifted, her face now hovering even closer to Jericho’s, but that had probably been a coincidence as she didn’t adjust herself again. “But I had started wondering if you even knew it. Always so adamant at calling me by my title.”

“I thought that was the proper way to do things.”

Jericho felt uncomfortably put on the spot with Morgana’s body pressed to her, the inability to move and the bright blue eyes digging into her like she was a book, ready to be read by them. It was different though - with Morgana - as there was a severe lack of disgust and shame coming with being trapped underneath her.

Where her organs would twist with dread if a man even looked at her, her skin crawled with something… exciting at Morgana’s touch. That sensation possessed her to actually grin back at Morgana, a suggestive thing and for a moment it seemed like Morgana would give into it, the hand on Jericho’s chest sliding somewhere and-

“It’s getting late… or rather early. We should return to the castle. Get at least a couple hours of sleep.”

With that, Morgana swung herself up to her feet again, the absence of her body leaving Jericho to shiver as she did the same. She gathered her sword from where she’d dropped it to go check on her mistress.

When she turned back around she found Morgana’s eyes on her, but not to meet her gaze, instead focusing some point lower. Her eyes were narrow, brows drawn together in deep worry as she slowly stepped closer. Her hand was stretched out timidly as if she was afraid Jericho would run if she wasn’t careful.

“Morgana?” Jericho, unsettled by her behaviour, looked down at herself but couldn’t find anything wrong. Maybe a little dirt on her tunic, but that could hardly warrant such a strong reaction.

Cool, slender fingers curled around the side over her neck, Morgana’s thumb tenderly stroking along the line of Jericho’s throat. She swallowed heavily, not daring to move.

“I hurt you.” Morgana whispered, a mortified tremble in her voice.

Jericho couldn’t bear it, her hand coming up Morgana’s, pulling it away from her with a soft smile. She let her free hand run down down her neck, discovering a small cut, a little blood sticking to the pads of her fingers. It was in no way a grave wound, broadening her smile.

“I’m in no pain, my Lady, there is no reason for you to worry.” She said, giving Morgana’s wrist a reassuring squeeze before urging her to follow her.

Without any resistance Morgana walked alongside Jericho, her gaze still fixed on the servant. Jericho gazed over at her, making sure to give her a smile each time, but the Lady wouldn’t stop her staring.

“I’ll have something to remember you by, at least.”

It was barely more than a whisper.




*



Jericho didn’t really expect to run into Merlin on the way back to Gaius chambers after returning the swords to the armoury.

And Merlin seemed just as surprised, his breath a little too quick, his eyes too shift… Something else had happened. There wasn’t much questioning required to get him to talk, the twins speaking in hushed tones as they strode through the quiet castle. At some point Jericho had taken the bag with Arthur’s armour from her brother.

“I ran into Valiant. In the armoury. After-” Merlin swallowed, his face twitching nervously. “I could swear I heard a hiss from Valiant’s shield and… one of the snakes blinked.”

“Blinked?”

“Yes, I know it sounds absolutely insane, but-”

“I believe you.” Jericho said with ease, putting a hand on Merlin’s shoulder, reciprocating the thankful smile he gave her.

“Anyway, I went to inspect it, but then Valiant was suddenly there, holding a sword to my chest and-”

“He threatened you with a sword?!” Jericho exclaimed, stopping dead in her tracks, about ready to turn back and find that fucker. Completely ignoring Merlin’s protesting tugs on her tunic she asked, “And when was this anyway? I was in the armoury too.”

“Why were you in the armoury?” Merlin arched a brow.

“That’s not what we’re focused on right now, Merlin.”

He sighed, relieved when they continued their way up the stairs. “We must’ve missed each other. And he let me go after I said I had to get Arthur’s armour because I forgot to fetch it earlier.”

“Ah, that’s why you’re still awake then?”

“Yes, it is.” Merlin said, his brow inching up just a little further. “Now might I ask what you’re still doing out at this hour? Or is that ‘still not what we’re focused on’?”

With a laugh Jericho tussled Merlin’s hair and said, “You’re so smart.”

He just glared at her, both going silent as they stepped into the physicians quarters, sneaking into their room so they wouldn't wake up Gaius.

“I think we should keep an eye on Valiant.” Jericho said as they settled into their sleeping places, her on the floor and Merlin on the bed.

“Probably.”



*



They did keep an eye on him and after one more day of watching sweaty knights roll around in the dust, the twins were pretty sure that something about Valiant was seriously wrong - their suspicions manifested when a knight that had fought Valiant showed signs of a snake bite and the matching symptoms with it.

Unfortunately, Gaius - being the hopeless realist he was - was quick to tell the twins that they couldn’t just march up to Uther or Arthur and tell them about their findings. Not without proof at least.

Even Merlin’s observing first hand how one of the snakes on Valiant’s shield came to life to eat a mouse apparently wasn’t enough. His only reward was a thorough scolding from Jericho for getting himself into a dangerous situation without telling her beforehand.

“You’re one to talk!” Merlin had retorted, pointing at Jericho’s neck, the cut having nearly healed by now. “Unless you explain how you got that, I won’t be sorry for getting into trouble.”

Jericho did not explain, hadn’t mentioned her nightly adventure with Morgana to anyone. Not even Morgana herself, because she hadn’t said anything either. Hadn’t suggested they repeat their training session.

The silent explanation for it laid in the glances she’d give Jericho, her eyes always draining of all life when her eyes scanned the scab on her throat.

Another tournament day passed by and the final battle was clear - Arthur would have to fight Valiant.

Something shifted in Merlin, Jericho noticing the change in his eyes right away - it was the type of look he always got before doing something stupid. Like throwing all caution to the wind and storming into the great hall to tell Uther about Valiant’s shield - all evidence be damned. So, she stayed close, ready to tackle Merlin to the ground should he make any rash decisions.

Gaius was a little helpful, suggesting that if they’d get the antidote - which could only be made from the venom of the snakes - Sir Ewan could testify for them. As a knight, he’d be believed.

The physician had barely been able to finish formulating his thoughts when Merlin was already up on his feet, taking long strides to get to the door. Jericho was right behind him, not sure what they were up to, but knowing that whatever it was, Merlin would definitely require some back-up.

That’s how they found themselves in Valiant’s guest chambers, Merlin holding a sword as the snakes appeared from the yellow shield. Jericho was distracted momentarily, marveling at their bright scales and pretty heads, but snapped back into reality just in time to grab one of them. Merlin cut its head clean off and stuffed it into his pocket. Just in time they snuck out of the room and around the nearest corner, heavy steps echoing through the corridor behind them.

“Bit of a shame.” Jericho muttered when Merlin showed the snake’s head to her. “It’s not their fault.”

“This really isn’t the time for your love of reptiles.” Merlin huffed, but couldn’t hold back a small smile.

“Aren’t you the guy who made me hike a mile through the deepest snow just to come look at a bird?”

Merlin winced at the memory.

“It was injured, alright?”

Once they returned to Gaius, he immediately went to work on an antidote. Close enough to the finish line, Merlin decided it was time to tell Arthur. He had to bring him dinner anyway.

“Hey, Merlin!” Jericho called out to him, having her brother turn in the doorway. “I’m proud of you. No matter what that blonde prick says.”

Merlin smiled, “Right back at you.”



*



“You? You chopped its head off?” Arthur bit back a laugh as he looked up from his dinner.

Merlin shifted uncomfortably, schooling his face into a serious mask. He didn’t expect Arthur to just blindly believe him, not right away. But if he went at this the right way, maybe he could convince the Prince of his claims.

“Ewan was bitten by a snake from the shield when he was fighting Valiant. You can talk to Gaius, you can see the puncture wounds in Ewan’s neck where the snake bit him.”

The little sense blooming in Arthur’s face had Merlin’s voice grow more secure. He had to make him believe.

“Ewan was winning, so he had to cheat.”

Arthur looked at him for a moment longer, clearly not ready to accept Merlin’s claims just yet, his upbringing forbidding him to just blindly trust a servant’s word over the honour of a knight.

“Valiant wouldn’t dare use magic in Camelot.”

It was a weak argument - plenty of people used magic in Camelot, even nobles.

“Ewan was pinned under Valiant’s shield. No one saw the snakes bite him.”

“I don’t like the guy, but that doesn’t mean he’s cheating.”

Merlin bit his tongue, holding back a sigh at his master’s stubbornness. If Arthur could get over the fact that he was a servant and just for a moment focus on the evidence Merlin presented him with, this conversation would already be over and guards on their way to Valiant’s chambers.

Some of his frustration showed on his sharp face as he tried battling his way through to Arthur with logic, “Gaius is preparing an antidote to the snake venom. When Ewan's conscious, he'll tell you what happened. If you fight Valiant in the final, he'll use the shield. It's the only way he can beat you. Look at it!”

Merlin picked up the snake head so it hovered right in front of Arthur’s face, the disgust on the Prince’s causing a twinge of satisfaction in Merlin’s chest. If he’d just believed him, Arthur would’ve been spared this.

“Have you ever seen any snakes like this in Camelot?” He pushed on, recognizing the slight waver in Arthur’s conviction. He was doubting his own words, actually hearing Merlin out.

Arthur stayed silent, but took the snake head from Merlin to take a better look at it himself, his facade crumbling further. For a brief moment Arthur’s eyes fleeted to Merlin’s, examining him just like he had the reptile. Merlin swallowed.

“I know that I’m just a servant,” Merlin said quietly, his gaze dropping to the table. “and my word doesn’t count for anything, but I wouldn’t lie to you.”

Not about this at least, Merlin thought as he looked back up at Arthur, letting out the breath he’d been holding when he found the Prince looking at him with something that could’ve been interpreted as trust. He believed him.

“I want you to swear to me what you’re saying is true.” The words weighed heavy on Arthur’s tongue as if he was struggling to even form them.

“I swear it’s true.” Merlin replied with all the sincerity he could conjure.

“Then I believe you.”



*



Jericho didn’t see Merlin again until after his unsuccessful attempt at convincing Uther of Valiant’s use of magic, his sacking as Arthur’s manservant and his meltdown in front of a dragon.

Her and Gwen found him sitting on the steps that led up to the castle, knees pulled up to his chest and looking utterly miserable. While Gwen gave him a worried, but clueless look, Jericho didn’t need to ask to vaguely figure what had happened - minus the details.

Without hesitation she went to sit next to Merlin, wrapping him into a tight hug. And despite the many people scurrying around and Gwen watching, Merlin leaned into her, resting his head on her shoulder with all the need for comfort of a little brother.

Keeping her concern out of her voice Jericho whispered, “Things went badly?”

“To hell. They went to hell.” Merlin’s voice was scratchy as if he was desperately fighting the urge to cry.

Gwen had made her way over too, folding her arms over her chest as she asked, “Is it true that Valiant is using magic?”

Merlin just nodded, slowly lifting his head off his sister’s shoulder.

“What are you going to do about it?” Merlin let out an annoyed sound, ignoring the way Jericho squeezed his shoulder.

“Why does everyone seem to think that it’s down to me to do something about it?” He sounded a little too agitated, but he couldn’t stop himself from letting the anger bleed into his voice, even if not all of it was intended for Gwen.

The talk with the dragon had really done a number on him. Like, why couldn't that oversized lizard just give him a straight answer? Was anything older than a hundred years forced to speak in riddles? - No, of course not, the dragon was just a special kind of cruel and-

“Because it is!” Gwen said, taking a step forward as if trying to physically urge Merlin into action. “Isn’t it? You have to show everyone that you were right.”

Jericho nodded in agreement. If Merlin wasn’t going to do anything, she would, her pride wounded on Merlin’s behalf by some half-witted king and his blindness to rationality. But by the way Merlin perked up, she figured that her brother would, after all, not give up this easily.

“And how will I do that?”

Gwen shrugged, her expertise being the motivational speech thing. “I don’t know.”

The women watched as Merlin let his gaze wander. He perked up, his eyes getting back their glow as he shot up to his feet, a huge grin plastered over his face. The change in expression almost gave his sister whiplash.

“That’s it!” Merlin shouted, already half way across the square.

“What are you doing?!” Gwen and Jericho asked as they followed him, Jericho slowing on purpose so Gwen, running in a dress, could keep up.

“Do you have a wheelbarrow?”

“Merlin, what the fuck?”



*



Merlin tried the spell over and over again, but to no avail. The dog statue stayed as it was, no movement, no bark. It just didn’t work.

And he was becoming as desperate as he was tired.

He’d already tried talking to Arthur, who’d barely tolerated having him in his chambers, but it had been just as unsuccessful as his attempts of bringing a block of stone to life.

“Then I die.”

Merlin still shivered at the memory of Arthur’s cold tone, that conviction the Prince had looked at him with. He was just willing to… waste his life like that, for a tournament that essentially meant nothing. Merlin could neither understand nor let that happen.

It wasn’t like he necessarily wanted Arthur alive, not really, Merlin just didn’t want to fail his destiny two weeks after learning about it. And if the whole prophecy was right, Arthur would be worth much more alive than dead. If that stupid spell would just work-

“Okay, Merlin, go to sleep.” Jericho sat up, stretching her stiff limbs.

She had the bed tonight, but even with the comfort of pillows and a soft mattress underneath her, she hadn’t been able to get a wink of sleep in. Not with her brother slowly, but surely losing his mind over in the corner.

It had given her time to think, come up with an alternative plan in case Merlin’s wouldn’t work out.

“But I have to-”

“No.” Jericho said, soft but firm as she got up and pulled Merlin to his feet. She was much stronger than him, easily fending off his weak pushes and instead shoving him over to the bed. “You can try again in the morning. When you’ve gotten some rest.”

“I need to help Arthur. I can’t let him die.” Merlin tried but failed to convince his sister to let go of him, sighing deeply as he fell onto the bed.

His eyes closed all on their own. He really was exhausted.

Jericho let out a knowing hum as she pulled the blanket up all the way to Merlin’s chin, making sure he was fully covered. Gently she ran a hand through his messy hair, brushing a few strands away from his forehead. A smile hushed over her face when Merlin leaned into the touch, probably subconsciously, but it warmed her heart either way.

“I have a plan, Merlin. No matter if your spell will work, I’ll make sure Arthur comes out of that battle alive.”

“How?” Merlin asked, sounding awfully small.

“You don’t worry about that right now, just sleep.”

“Okay…” Jericho straightened her back, taking a deep breath before stepping back and towards the door.

She already had her hand on the handle, when she turned around, a fond smile tugging at her lips as she viewed her brother’s figure, rising and sinking in a slow rhythm.

“Merlin, I’m proud of you.”

Even though he’d been half asleep, Merlin answered reflexively, “Righ’ back at you.”



*



With Merlin no longer an option, Jericho was summoned to Arthur’s chamber the following morning to help the Prince get ready for the tournament.

The atmosphere between them was thick, heavy with unspoken questions and insults.


“Why did you sack my brother? He was just looking out for you, you incel!”

“Why does your brother have to be such a fool?”

“If you weren’t so arrogant and blind, you’d be a much happier man. And the people around you might like you for more than just your title.”

“I swear to god, you two are the most exhausting people I’ve ever met. I bet you’re even worse than Merlin.”

“Actually, Arthur, go fuck yourself.”

“I’ll sack you the second you give me a good enough reason for it.”


Some of their dislike for each other showed in their glares, a sort of truce struck, that as long as they stayed silent, it would stay like that. But, of course, Arthur had to break that agreement.

“I thought you said you were worse at this than Merlin.” He gestured toward the strap Jericho was fastening around his shoulder.

“No, I said, I’d never done it before. That’s two different things.” Jericho said sharply, tightening the strap a little too much, biting her lower lip to keep herself from smiling when Arthur winced.

“You know, you really shouldn’t talk to me like this.” Arthur said, resisting the urge to turn and look at Jericho as she disappeared behind his back to put on the next piece. “I am your prince and that means you have to respect me, no matter what-”

Jericho groaned, the sound muffled through her clenched teeth. Arthur stopped, too stunned by her insolence to continue his lecture.

“You might be the Prince, Sire.” Arthur was surprised just how much of an insult the word sounded when coming from the young woman’s mouth. “But all I can see right now when I look at you is the man who sacked my brother over- What was it again? Oh, yes! He tried to save your life and as a reward, he got yelled at and humiliated.”

“He was humiliated?!” Arthur couldn’t keep himself from spinning around, nearly knocking Jericho over with his shoulder as it had hit her in the face. “I was humiliated! In front of my father, the entire court and Sir Valiant, of all people!”

“Poor you.” Jericho faked a sympathetic demeanor, but the anger was etched deep into her deep blue eyes, mocking Arthur to the point he wanted to raise a fist and-

“You- you- Stop talking to me this way! You have no right and- I could have you flogged for your behaviour!”

The Prince straightened his shoulder, crossing his arms over his broad chest to intimidate the young woman, but to his dismay, she just laughed. She actually laughed at him, throwing her head back into her neck, not afraid of what Arthur could or would do to her in the slightest.

It was as infuriating as it was unsettling. Arthur had never felt so out of control and it made him want to scream like a bratty child that didn’t get its way. But he didn’t get the time to figure out how to deal with this sorry excuse of a servant as she had already come up with a response, her voice exasperatingly steady.

“Do with me as you please, but think about it, Arthur. By tonight your humiliation will be over, everybody will celebrate you as the great hero they think you are, but Merlin… He’ll still be where he is right now, holed up in his room, everyone thinking him a fool and without his position as your servant. And only the gods know why, but working for you actually seemed to have meant something to him.” Jericho took a deep breath, looking at Arthur for a moment longer before turning around to get the last missing piece of armour.

Arthur considered, thought about Merlin. How the man had actually come back in spite of Arthur's wrath against him, just for the chance that the Prince might save his own life by withdrawing from the tournament.

Yes, Merlin was a fool, but he was a brave one… One that had already saved his life once and may deserve a little more of his faith than Arthur had given him in the last couple days.

He couldn’t admit all that to Jericho, his pride wouldn’t allow it.

He couldn’t tell Merlin either, there was no time before the start of the tournament.

And withdrawing… Arthur would never be able to look into his father’s eyes ever again - he doubted his father would want to do so anyway, should he bring such shame on their family name.

“It’s only over if I win.” Arthur’s voice was steady again, a little quieter than he’d hoped, but if Jericho had picked up on the hint of fear in it, she didn’t show.

“You will.”

Arthur really would’ve liked to know how she could be so sure of that if she believed that there were actual life snakes popped out of Valiant’s shield, but he never got the opportunity to ask, as a knock sounded from the door and Morgana entered.

The king’s ward stopped when she saw them stand there, both tense as if they were about to jump at each other’s throats… but while Morgana had seen first hand how well Jericho wielded a sword, she didn’t really want to see how she’d hold up against a man in full armour.

As she crossed the room, Morgana noticed that Jericho and Arthur were actually the same height, the snort she tried to disguise as a cough as they fully turned to her, some of the rigidness in their stances dissipating.

Jericho was the first to react properly, bowing her head and mumbling a, “My Lady”, that had Arthur gasp in shock. How did he get a half-arsed “Sire”, but Morgana’s title was spoken like a prayer?

“Jericho, could you-” Morgana’s eyes shifted to the door, no further words necessary as Jericho had already understood, turning to leave.

The interruption was quite perfect actually. Jericho had better places to be. Like the top of the outer wall, the one closest to the tournament grounds, where a crossbow was waiting for her.



*



Jericho crouched on the wall walk, crossbow in hand and arms steadied by the crenel they were propped up on.

She had one eye closed for better aim, the bolt following Valiant across the arena like it was magnetically drawn to him. She did not doubt that she’d hit him, having plenty experience from her hunting trip - although she’d always had a bow with her, not a bow.

It shouldn’t matter though, the aiming was the important part.

She’d seen Merlin somewhere along the seams of the crowd, but didn’t know whether he was there because the spell had been successful or because too kind-hearted to stay in his room while Arthur fought for his life. It didn’t matter, Jericho would shoot Valiant either way.

Somewhere between loading the bolt and getting ready to fire it, she’d made the decision. And it wasn’t made on the sole reason that she didn’t like him.

No, because what would happen to him if Merlin succeeded in revealing that Valiant had been using magic to win? Uther would have the man executed, probably burned on the pyre and no man deserved a death like that.

Maybe, Uther would get creative, have him quartered, or hanged, or strung up on a stake until he’d died of thirst… Or, Valiant would be tortured, forced to reveal who’d sold him the sword and more than one man would die as a result. And those men might not be good, but still… Jericho would give him a quick death.

Her eyes were trained on the knight, so it was fairly easy for her to tell when it would be her time to step in.

There was some commotion, Valiant getting the upper-hand. Jericho pulled the trigger.

And just as the bolt surged through the air, she heard Uther shout, “Seize him!”

Not kill him, seize him. To do god knows what with him.

Jericho didn’t feel even an ounce of regret as she watched the bolt hit its target, boring itself deep into Valiant’s eye, the man going limp immediately.

His lifeless body hit the ground just as Jericho ducked behind the battlement of the wall, hidden to the eyes that turned her way. She let out a shaky breath, pushing down the panic that dared to bubble up and consume her - she’d killed before, this wasn’t anything special - and then discarded the crossbow, running away from the scene of crime as fast as her trembling legs allowed.

There was no stopping until she was in her room, tucked away in the furthest corner.

An angry red mark bloomed at the base of her thumb. She must’ve held the crossbow wrong, gotten snapped by the string.

It wasn’t an open wound, the skin still intact, though some blood vessels beneath the surface had popped. Surely that would leave a nasty bruise.

Jericho stared at it unblinkingly, sometimes rubbing it harshly to speed up the process.

Merlin didn’t look necessarily happy when he burst into the room about an hour later, his expression a mix of anger and distress. Jericho was just happy Gaius wasn’t following behind.

“Why did you do that?!” Merlin didn’t need to ask to know it had been his sister who’d shot the knight, the conversation last night in the back of his mind. “I revealed the snakes. Everything would’ve been fine-”

“Merlin…” Jericho looked up to Merlin, who had positioned himself right in front of her, his shins touching her pulled-up knees. She considered taking his hand, but pulled back when her eyes landed on the mark. “What do you think they would’ve done to him if they’d captured him alive?”

Merlin flinched, not having thought about that at all. But now that Jericho had pointed it out, countless options floated through his mind, having him zone out for a moment.

“I did it out of mercy. What Valiant did was… wrong. Of course it was, but- but what Uther would’ve put him through would’ve been wrong too. Valiant didn’t deserve… A death like the one I gave him was fair.”

Merlin’s expression softened as he crouched down in front of his sister, nodding repeatedly. Yes, she had done the right thing, as horrible as that may be.

“I’m just… sorry you had to do it.” He said quietly, voice breaking away at the end of the sentence.

Wordlessly he bent forward, cupping Jericho’s face between his hands and a small, selfish part of Jericho wanted to give into the dread that had her stomach in knots, cry maybe. But then she looked into Merlin’s eyes, finding nothing but worry and sadness - for her, what she had done - and shook that idea off.

Forcing a believable smile she tilted her head to the side, “That’s alright. We should get ready for the feast.”

“Jericho…”

Instead of an answer, Merlin got a clean tunic thrown at him.



*



Jericho was about ready to throw up as Uther introduced Arthur as the champion.

It wasn’t because she was jealous that Arthur still got to be the winner of the tournament, even though he technically hadn’t killed Valiant himself, but because of the reminder of what she’d done. And it wasn’t the only one.

Wherever she walked, people were whispering about it. The assassin that had saved them from the magician and protected Arthur. They spoke of her deed in awe, when all Jericho felt was disgust.

No matter how many times she told herself that she’d done the right thing, the urge to scratch the bruise on her hand bloody didn't lessen or stop her guts from twisting and turning like they were a nest of snakes. The taste of bile was permanent, seemingly getting worse each time she swallowed.

Once Morgana and Arthur finished their dance and neither of them came over to her, Jericho found it the right moment to excuse herself. She didn’t go far, just to an ancient pot down the hall to vomit into it. Twice.

Then she was back in the great hall, grabbing a cup of water to wash away the sour taste left behind.

Just in time too, as Merlin was suddenly all up in her face, babbling something about having his job back. Jericho congratulated him, at least she thought she had, unable to hear herself speak properly.

Everything was toned down, blurry. Even her vision had gone fuzzy around the edges.

She wasn’t sure how long the feast lasted or what she’d done there and when she came back to her senses, she was in a whole different place. Another corridor - the castle really had a lot of those - facing a rather angry looking woman.

“Girl, are you even listening to me?” Her voice was deep, raspy.

Jericho blinked, recognizing her as the head maid of the staff, meaning she’d been in Uther’s service the longest and made sure other servants stayed in line. She’d only met the woman once, but that encounter had left her with the impression that she should never upset the woman and right now… She looked upset.

“Yes-” Jericho had to clear her throat, but before she could so much as blink, the maid shoved a piece of fabric against her chest.

“Put this on and then go to the Prince’s chambers. You’ll be taking over his manservant’s duties for tonight.”

Jericho unfurled the cloth, feeling herself paling when she held the dress up higher to look at it. It was a pretty thing, deep red and shoulderless and… the most revealing piece of clothing she’d ever seen. Her heart dropped all the way to the pits of her stomach.

“But- but the Prince rehired his manservant-” The maid didn’t want to hear it, shaking her head with a disapproving click of her tongue.

“King’s orders.”


“It was not an offer, girl. Anything Arthur or Morgana want from you, you will give it to them. And it is an honour I am letting you be a part of.” - “That dress suits you very well.”


The woman was about ready to turn and leave, but Jericho opened her mouth. She didn’t have much to lose here, did she?

“Does the King often send female servants to the Prince’s chambers?” She asked slowly, making the real question behind her words clear.

The older woman didn’t seem impressed in the slightest, shrugging as if this was the most un-bothersome thing she’d done during her career.

“Not before, but I guess he decided it was time for Arthur to get some… experience.”

“Ah…” Jericho closed her mouth quickly, feeling something itchy in the back of her throat, but she wasn’t sure whether it was a sob, a laugh or more vomit. None of the options sounded like a very appropriate reaction. “Can I refuse?”

The woman’s face scrunched up, not deeming the question worth a response. Because seriously, it was an honor for a king to select a woman to be worth touching his son. Jericho should be grateful - or at least that was what the maid’s eyes seemed to be telling her.

As she walked away, she called over her shoulder, “If I hear you didn’t show up, you’ll be dealing with a whole different set of problems! And do not dare to be difficult.”



*



“Wow, Merlin, my room is actually clean for once. I didn’t think you were capable of-” Arthur froze mid sentence when instead of the manservant, he expected to see upon his return to his chambers, he spotted Jericho.

She stood in the middle of the room, arms crossed behind her back and face smoothed into an unreadable mask. She hadn’t known what to do with herself while waiting for the Prince, so instead of sitting and worrying - which wanted to make her crawl up the walls - she’d occupied herself with literally anything, leaving the room in a spotless condition.

But now that Arthur was here, standing there and seeing her in that awful, tight dress, the panic flooded back into her system like ice had been injected into her veins. She couldn’t move, though her eyes kept darting to the door-

“What are you doing here?” Arthur’s voice was tight, his eyes narrow. After their argument earlier, Jericho really was the last person he wanted to see.

“King’s orders.” Jericho’s throat was bone dry, but she knew no amount of water would change that.

She just needed this to be over.

Arthur frowned, but didn’t question her. He moved over to the bed, ridding himself of his chainmail as he walked. Had he turned his eyes to the side, he would’ve seen Jericho tense, her whole posture rigid as she prepared herself. This was it.

She’d made her peace with it as she had with shooting Valiant, but she wouldn’t make it easier wouldn’t… offer herself like Uther probably expected her to. No, she wanted Arthur to know she wasn’t doing this willingly, and wanted him to feel the shame as he made her.

“Could you get me my night clothes?” Arthur asked.

Stiffly Jericho did as asked, placing the pile of clothes at the foot end of the bed before stepping back. Arthur took it, but hesitated.

“Could you, uhm, turn around?”

It took Jericho a moment to understand the words. Arthur didn’t want her to see him undress, did that mean he wouldn’t… She didn’t let herself hope yet, chewing on her lower lip as she followed his order again. It made her just as sick as the thought of ending up on Arthur’s bed.

The sheets rustled as Arthur settled down and Jericho didn’t know what to do. Maybe, if she just stayed still enough, he’d forget she was even there.

“Could you get me a cup of water?”

There was one on the table, so Jericho fetched it for the prince, holding her breath as she walked over to the bed to hand it to the Prince. Now was his chance. If he would do as the King intended for him to do, this would be the moment.

The goblet was taken from her hand and Jericho thought she was off the hook, ready to straighten up when-

Arthur grabbed her wrist and Jericho’s breath hitched in her throat, her heart rate spiking, the useless thing hammering against her ribcage so hard it was almost painful.

But the dreaded pull never came, her knees never meeting the soft mattress. Instead she felt her hand being turned from one side to the other.

“Where did you get that?”

When Jericho dared to glance down, she found Arthur inspecting her bruise.

“Oh, I- I don’t remember.” Jericho bit her tongue, forcing a steady tone. “Must’ve hit it on something by accident.”

Something flashed across Arthur’s face - suspicion, disbelief, Jericho couldn’t tell, the emotion gone too quickly. For a moment longer Arthur held on, his eyes back on the purple mark… he was contemplating and Jericho couldn’t have him do that.

She didn’t doubt the Prince’s ability to identify wounds and what weapon had inflicted them, but she could hardly just pull her hand away.

“Is there anything else I can do for you, Sire?”

Ripped from his thoughts, Arthur blinked up at the servant, his eyes drawing up that well trained wall again, keeping Jericho from reading what was going on inside him.

“No, you may go.”

And Jericho went, only able to keep her steps slow until the door had fallen into its lock. Then she was running. Crying and sprinting and sobbing and she didn’t know where she was going.

Everything had broken in over her at once. All the guilt and fear and whatever other emotions she’d been suppressing.

Merlin’s worried eyes stared at her in every dark corner. Morgana’s lack of interest in her since their nightly fighting session weighing on her like an anvil. Valiant’s limp body materialising in the corner of her eye, just to vanish whenever she turned her head.

She couldn’t go back to the physician’s quarters, wanting neither Gaius nor Merlin to see her like this. They’d just- They’d want to know what happened and even the thought of explaining where she’d been. Merlin would see her in this godforsaken dress and he’d know… It would break his heart. He’d do something rash, Jericho knew it.

She didn’t know where her subconscious led her, but suddenly she found herself in front of a door. Knocking on it. Jericho wanted to turn and run, but her body seemed to be rooted in place, waiting for the door to open, when she didn’t even know who it would be.

“Who-” Morgana’s pale face appeared, the dismay of being woken instantly vanishing when she saw who stood before her. “Jericho? Whatever happened?”

She flayed the door open, her brows knitting at the lack of response, but then she took Jericho in fully, her tear stained face, her hands tearing at the dress she was wearing as if she wanted to rip it but didn’t have the strength to do so… Morgana gasped, surging forward and pulling her servant into her chambers.

“Do you- Would you like to tell me what happened?” Jericho shook her head and Morgana accepted the answer.

But she had to do something, she couldn’t just stand by while…

“Can I give you a hug?”

Jericho looked up, saw Morgana standing there, arms spread invitingly and basically lunged at the woman, crashing into her with unusual uncontrolledness. Her whole frame shook under the heavy breaths and sobs that grew as she pressed her face against the crook of Morgana’s neck, finally feeling some of the comfort she’d been craving when she felt her slender arms hold her tightly.

Morgana cooed helpless nothings against Jericho’s hair. Noticing just how straining it was for Jericho to stay upright, she lowered them to the ground, adjusting their position once they both sat, so Jericho was half on her lap. It made it easier for Morgana to urge her closer, one hand rubbing over the servant’s back and the other brushing through her wavy hair.

She wasn’t sure how long they stayed there like that, but once Jericho had recovered enough to at least breathe properly, her sobs having turned into occasional whimpers and hiccups, Morgana pulled her over to the bed, where she sat Jericho down.

As soon as her hands were unoccupied, Jericho began ripping at the dress again, her breath growing more laboured by the minute. Instantly Morgana rushed to her closet, digging up a pair of breeches and a tunic and bringing them to Jericho.

Not needing any instructions the young woman changed into them, not caring whether or not Morgana was watching - Morgana had definitely turned around, getting a bowl of water and a towel Gwen had left earlier.

“Here, let me-” Morgana pushed Jericho’s hair behind her ear before gently wiping the wet cloth over her messy face.

And Jericho just stared blankly into space, her thoughts somewhere far away, where Morgana couldn’t reach them. Clearly something distressing must’ve happened, but Morgana didn’t just want to assume or pressure her, so she continued cleaning her.

“What can I do to make you feel better? I understand that you do not wish to talk to me about it, but is there anything else that would help you?”

“Could we go outside? Train like we did three nights ago?” Jericho asked, so timidly, her voice still thin, that it shattered Morgana’s hearts into pieces.

“Of course… Of course we can do that, Jericho.” Morgana said gently, taking the hand in Jericho’s lap into her own and giving it a careful squeeze.

It was with the same caution that she pulled Jericho up to her feet and let her out the room.

Chapter Text

Beating an Afanc had been one thing, recovering from the shock of almost getting Gwen executed under the false belief that she was a witch… that was a whole different thing.

Even days after the defeat of the beast and the release of Gwen, Jericho found herself running from the maidservant’s side, holding her as she cried over the lingering fear of her imprisonment and almost death, over to Merlin, who - understandably - felt endlessly guilty over what his actions had nearly caused.

“Listen,” Jericho sighed, unsure of what else she was supposed to say so her brother would feel better. “it worked out this time. Better than any of us could’ve hoped for. The Afanc is dead, Gwen is alive and so is her father. Worrying about what could’ve been won’t make things better, but figuring out how to better handle such situations in the future will.”

Merlin, who’d stood leaned against his sister’s shoulder next to the door to Arthur’s chambers, in which he’d be expected shortly, let out a similar deep breath. Then he straightened up, a tired smile on his face.

“You know, it’s frustrating at times.”

“What?” Jericho allowed herself a smile as she watched the corners of Merlin’s lips quirk - it wasn’t a smile yet, but it would be soon.

“How oddly wise things your otherwise simple mind can come up with.”

“Simple mind?!” Jericho spluttered, furrowing her brows in played offense, but the wide grin on her lips gave her away. For good measure she shoved Merlin, who was definitely cheered up now, laughing as he grappled for balance. “How dare you, you bastard?”

With a faked gasp, Merlin pressed a hand to his heart, eyes wide and sparking with amusement, “Me? A bastard? What about you? You are a bastard too!”

Jericho easily caught Merlin’s wrists to stop him from shoving her back, though she didn’t account for his feet. Groaning, she hopped on one leg - the one Merlin hadn’t kicked her in - and briefly let go of one wrist, so she could deliver a half-hearted slap to the back of his head.

“You know- ah!”

Merlin had apparently not picked up on the fact that they were supposed to be pretend-fighting and fully headbutted her. Jericho let go of him fully, rubbing one hand over the growing red patch on her forehead, still taking the time to glare at her brother.

“This whole bastard thing isn’t as effective… with us being twins and all that.”

“Oh yeah, sometimes I forget.” Merlin shrugged innocently, only his eyes revealing how much he reveled in his victory. He didn’t get many of those when it came to physical altercations.

Once the worst of the pain had subsided, Jericho lowered her hand and they both grinned at each other in the same foolish, toothy way. The stress of the past days dissipated like steam over a pot.

“Merlin!”

The twins groaned with the exact same fed up energy when they heard the muffled voice of the prince shouting from the other side of the door. Merlin shot Jericho a look.

“What do you have to be so annoyed about? You’re not the one who has to go in there and serve him.”

“Oh, true! That’s you!” Jericho snickered, pointing a finger at a now pouting Merlin.

He turned to the door, hand already on the doorknob when he turned back. Jericho lifted a brow in silent question.

“Don’t you have to be with Morgana? Since Gwen’s still off work until the end of the week?”

“Fuck, you’re right!” Jericho spun around on her heels, hurrying down the hallway before she even heard Merlin open the door. Muttering more to herself than anyone else, she added, “And we have that shite treaty thing to prepare for…”

And even with the dread that came with any visiting nobles and the exhausting responsibilities accompanying them, Jericho found herself smiling as she reached Morgana’s chambers.



*



“Thank the gods you’re back for this.” Jericho said as she leaned closer to Gwen, who was rummaging the huge closet for the gown Morgana had requested. “You’d think this treaty is the event of a century with how on edge everyone is.”

Gwen chuckled against the back of her hand, which she’d managed to press there just in time. Jericho made a similar noise before returning back to her job, which was to sort out all of Morgana’s jewelry and lay it out on her dressing table; there was a lot of it, she’d been at this for nearly an hour.

“Am I really so horrible to deal with?” Morgana had both her maids flinch and turn as she rounded the changing screen, wearing nothing more than a cream, silk nightgown. Jericho was quick to fix her eyes on Morgana’s, finding a hint of amusement in them and relaxing again. “I thought we had a good time or did we not, Jericho?”

“Of course we did, my Lady.” Jericho hummed as she turned her attention back to an earring and a necklace that just did not seem to want to separate from each other. “But you have to remember, I do not only serve you, but Arthur as well.”

Morgana let out a condescending huff as she took a look at the gowns Gwen had laid out on the bed for her. Her eyes flitted from one to the other, trying to pick out the perfect option for a feast as important as the one she was to attend.

“Is that fool giving you unnecessary tasks again? I thought he had a servant of his own.”

Jericho cringed, the image of her brother’s tired face fleeting through her mind.

In truth, Arthur hadn’t required her services many times over the past weeks, not directly, but Jericho would sometimes take over whatever heinous amount of chores he’d given to Merlin. Just small things that wouldn’t be noticed by the prince, like polishing his armour or laundering his clothes.

“I think I’ll go with this one.” Morgana continued, her face lightening up as she picked up a beautiful night-blue dress with golden embroidery on the sleeves and collar of it. “Gwen, will you help me get dressed?”

As the Lady and her maidservant disappeared behind the changing screen once more, Jericho couldn’t help but silently admire the way Morgana spoke to her - both of them, actually. She rarely demanded and was much more prone to asking them if they 'could do' things for her, which was definitely not something a person in Morgana’s position had to do.

And yet, in her kindness, Morgana treated them as… something close to equals.

Once she was dressed and Jericho had done her hair, the smile on Morgana’s face widened as she stepped over to the table she usually dined at. It was only then that Jericho and Gwen noticed two neatly folded dresses laying on it and exchanged mildly worried glances.

“So now that I am ready, it is time for you to do the same.”

“Morgana?” Gwen asked cautiously, stepping closer to get a better look.

The way her face pulled into an almost pained expression made it clear to Jericho that she was going to like those dresses even less than Gwen. Briefly she considered making a run for it. Ealdor couldn’t be that far if one just sprinted at full speed to get there.

“These,” Morgana picked one of the pieces up, unfurling it to its full, shocking length and presenting it to her maids in all its tacky, red and golden glory. “are the gowns you will be wearing tonight. They are the standard for servants that attend these kinds of treaty feasts.”

She didn’t even pretend like she felt bad, just kept on grinning as Gwen and Jericho reluctantly took their dresses, looking equally put off by them.

“They are very…” Gwen struggled for a nice word that wouldn’t be a total lie.

“Ugly.” Jericho said simply, pursing her lips as her fingers traced along the golden ruffles on the sleeves of the monstrosity.

“I know, but you two should be grateful I didn’t include the head coverings that are meant to be worn with them.”

That cheered the maids up fairly quickly as they both hurried out of Morgana’s quarters to get dressed before the start of the feast. They did exchange helpless shrugs as they parted, Jericho practically sprinting back to the Physician’s chambers and making it there just in time to see her brother in an even worse attire - because Merlin had not been able to escape the hat.

“Oh gods, you- you-” Jericho couldn’t get out a straight sentence through her wheezing laughter.

Merlin rolled his eyes and pulled the hat off quickly, his fingers running along the ginormous feather as if he was about to pluck it off. Not that it would’ve made the hat look any less ridiculous.

Jericho wasn’t finished laughing until she’d changed. Even with Merlin sitting on the bed with his back turned towards her, she knew he was pouting, but found it hard to really care for his hurt feelings - over something this small too. If they’d had a mirror, so Merlin could’ve looked at himself, he surely would’ve laughed with her.

“Alright, your turn. Time to make fun of me.” Jericho said as she adjusted the heinous, striped sleeves.

As she did a little turn, Merlin looked back at her, the expectant grin on his face dying when he took her in and the pouting made a return.

“What?” Jericho asked, frowning as she looked down at herself. “Now’s the time for you to put that sarcasm of yours to good use.”

But Merlin stayed quiet for a moment longer, his eyes pinched into narrow slits as if his sister’s mere presence was offensive to him. Jericho was about ready to go and shake him, because it really wasn’t like Merlin to stay quiet for this long, when he finally shook his head in disbelief.

“It’s so unfair! Even an ugly dress like that can’t make you look bad!”

“Merlin!” Jericho barked a laugh at how defeated he sounded, ignoring the underlying pull of dread in her guts as she walked across the room to whack Merlin with the end of the cord that was tied around her waist.

Merlin dodged the thick string and instead grabbed Jericho’s wrist to pull her down on the bed next to him. Her initial instinct to get back up was stopped by Merlin’s hands keeping her in place.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“Uhm, your heart needs a magic change?” Merlin replied, hand already firmly pressed against Jericho’s chest as he began withdrawing the used magic in there.

Jericho blinked, “It’s been a week already?”

She still had to get used to it, how much faster time passed in Camelot than it had in Ealdor. She figured it was due to the increase of interesting things happening on a daily basis. Where Jericho had spent hours upon hours doing boring and repetitive field work back in her village, her time here in Camelot was filled with new and varying tasks.

And if she wasn’t running after Arthur or having the privilege of servicing Morgana, there were still plenty of activities to partake in, like helping out Gaius or accompanying Merlin on whatever stupid things his brain would come up with or simply going into town and watching people.

Most days it turned dark much sooner than Jericho was ready for, a stark contrast to her childhood, where night had never come soon enough.

“Ouch-” Jericho bit her tongue just in time not to actually yell at the sharp, hot pain that shot through her torso. “How about a warning?”

Merlin had a shit-eating grin on his face as he pulled his hand back, “What is it you said about my clothes again?”

“I didn’t say anything.” Jericho grumbled, rubbing the sore spot on her chest. “All I did was laugh.”

“Same thing.”

“How is that the same thing? Merlin-”

A knock kept the twins from what might’ve been their fifth fist fight this week. Soon after Gaius’ face emerged, his brow already cocked at however much of their bickering he’d already heard from outside.

“You two better be ready!” No answer was needed as Gaius began to smile once he properly looked at them more carefully. Clearly he thought they looked ridiculous as well.

Jericho and Merlin sighed, exchanging equally suffering glances as they got up and moved out of the room like a united front - almost as if they weren’t ready to rip each other’s heads of just a couple seconds ago - following Gaius to the feast.



*



Jericho was pretty sure Merlin must’ve disappeared into thin air.

There was no other plausible explanation for his sudden vanishing. Just a second ago he’d stood only a few feet from her, laughing at his sister’s attempt to stifle a yawn, which had been caused by Bayard’s never ending and very boring speech about peace and friendship or whatever he was raving on about.

But now that Jericho’s eyes trailed off again, trying to find something of interest that would keep her from actually groaning at the visiting king’s words, there was no Merlin. No glimmering smile, just a glaring gap between the other servants, which were all lined up by the sides of the banquet tables.

Jericho shifted from one foot to the other, swallowing the nervousness that rose right back down.

It was impossible for her to move without drawing any attention towards her as she stood right in the eyeline of Camelot’s royal family. And Arthur had been glancing at her all evening, almost expectantly as if he was waiting for her to somehow fuck up.

Not that Jericho had been paying him any mind, much too busy enjoying the way Morgana would look at her too, the expression on her face telling her that the Lady shared her exasperation over this uproar over the simple signing of a piece of parchment.

There was some motion, everyone stood to toast, meaning that Bayard’s brabbling must’ve found an end. Jericho had never been this wrong in her entire life.

“To your health, Uther!”

That had to be it. They’d drink now and Jericho could start moving around, use her stiff legs for something other than standing still.

“And Arthur.”

The groan that sat at the back of her throat turned into a badly concealed cackle when Jericho watched Arthur nearly take a sip from his goblet, only to practically choke when Bayard spoke again.

“The Lady Morgana.”

Arthur, somehow for once paying attention to more than one thing at a time, had heard his substitute servant’s laugh and turned his gaze to her, but the intimidating heat in his eyes only made it harder for her not to break out into a fit.

“The people of Camelot.”

Alright, Bayard seemed to be actually done as he raised his own cup to his lips. Arthur deemed it safe to do the same, holding Jericho’s gaze as he did so, a smug kind of grin tugging at his lips.

“And to fallen warriors on both sides.” Uther proclaimed, having everyone stop in their tracks once more.

Arthur looked like he was about to call it a night when he tried to take a sip of wine for the third time, only to be interrupted once more.

But not by either of the kings this time. Not by Morgana or any of the present lords either. No, it was-

Jericho’s blood froze, her heart missing a couple beats as Merlin’s shrill, panicked voice rang through the filled hall. She heard him before she saw him, though she stood on her tiptoes, shoving the servant next to her out the way so she might get even a glimpse of her brother’s black hair or that forsaken neckerchief.

“Stop!”

Merlin dashed forward, through the crowd of maids and servants, through the gap between the tables and right towards Arthur. His face was flushed red, the upset of that had his voice tight also visible in his expression and posture.

Merlin’s hand reached for the goblet Arthur held before he was even near him, his fingers trembling.

“It’s poisoned! Don’t drink it!” He shouted as guards stepped forward to remove Merlin should Arthur or Uther give them a sign.

The warning wasn’t met with the appropriate reaction, like worry or anger, but rather annoyance for Merlin’s intrusion and suspicion as to why he’d claim such a thing. Peace had just been made, so why would anyone risk tampering with that in such a fragile period?

While Merlin was busy ripping the goblet from Arthur’s grasp, wholly oblivious to the nasty looks he was being given by nearly everyone in the room, Jericho stepped forward. Not far, bringing just enough distance between her and the row of to allow her to run without being hindered by anyone. Should that be necessary - Jericho was sure it would be.

“What?” Uther’s question was like spitting venom, his eyes fixated on Merlin like he was prey.

“Merlin, what are you doing?” Arthur sounded just as irritated as his father, but there was an undertone, making his voice come across softer, almost concerned.

A protective instinct made Jericho’s stomach lurch, urging her to jump in and drag Merlin away from them. Arthur and Uther were a threatening force already, but behind Merlin stood Bayard and his men, not looking any less insulted than the King and Prince.

And Merlin should be nowhere near them.

The realisation that she couldn’t go and get him without serious consequences for both of them was like a punch to the face. Whatever Merlin was on about, what he’d gotten himself into… Jericho couldn’t fix it right away. So she stood and watched, waited for a moment to insert herself into the situation.

“Bayard laced Arthur’s goblet with poison.” Merlin explained, catching his breath as he held said object close to his chest as if he expected Arthur to snatch it away again.

Jericho found a small curl of amusement at the thought, but when her eyes moved to the Prince her mouth dropped. Because Arthur did look like he wanted to take it from Merlin, his hand readily hovering in the air between them, his controlled mask slipping to reveal the tiniest hint of distress. She blinked once, sure she’d imagined it, Arthur’s face back to its normal, angry self when her eyes opened again.

It wasn’t the only thing that had changed.

Bayard had moved several feet closer to Merlin, his face red with unbridled fury - clearly he’d taken offense over a servant's claims that he plotted an attempt on the Prince’s life - and Uther was hovering somewhere between Arthur and Bayard, as if trying to establish an invisible barrier, his eyes steadily observing Merlin.

Oh, and there were Bayard's men, all having drawn their swords, ready to slaughter whoever their king commanded.

Jericho found her fingers twitch to her waist, flexing around the imaginary hilt of a sword. What she would’ve given to carry one in this moment. Not to fight - not this time - just to make sure she’d get Merlin out of this alive and unharmed, should a bunch of men decide to wage another fight over their hurt egos.

“Order your men to put down their swords.” Uther said in a surprisingly calm manner as Camelot’s guards came rushing in.

They stood around the Mercians, encircling them with ease. There were far more of them than there were of Bayard’s men. Obviously, they were in Camelot after all and Bayard seemed to realise that too, but he was not yet ready to back down. Jericho could tell by the way his shoulders straightened and he straightened up to his full height, which probably wasn’t as impressive of a gesture as he might’ve hoped for.

“I will not let this accusation go unchallenged.”

Jericho shuddered, straightening up herself, when three pairs of eyes shifted to Merlin; first Bayard's, then Uther's and finally Arthur's.

“On what grounds do you base these accusations?” Uther demanded, his voice a deafening boom, sounding so much like it had when Jericho and Merlin had first seen him on the balcony, sentencing a sorcerer to death.

That was when Jericho took her first step forward and then another. She made quite a few, actually, only stopping when she had reached the end of the table filled with visiting Mercians. One long jump and she could lunge at someone. Merlin, to tackle him should anyone be fooling enough to throw something. Or either of the kings, should they decide to take physical action.

Everything in her was tense, each muscle taut with anticipation as her gaze never stopped wandering, trying to be everywhere at once to take note of every movement going on around her. But it wasn’t just Jericho that was worried; Merlin’s magic was tugging at her heart stronger than it normally did as if it sensed its host's distress.

“I’ll handle this.” Arthur said, awfully quick to push Merlin back by his shoulders, away from the looming stares of the two kings. It might’ve been a total coincidence, but he steered his servant right towards a waiting Jericho, loudly asking, “Merlin, you idiot! Have you been at the sloe gin again?”

It was a complete lie, Merlin wouldn’t get near alcohol if he could avoid it and certainly never had any, but no one but the three of them would know that. Jericho frowned.

Arthur was protecting Merlin, clearly, she just didn’t have the faintest clue as to why he’d do that.

She didn’t get the time to ponder about it, too glad to have Merlin close enough to lay a protective hand on his shoulder. Briefly he turned to look at her, ducking at the questioning anger he was met with, but he didn’t relinquish his hold on the goblet. Not even when Arthur finally tried to get it back.

His fingers already grazed the gold, but Merlin yanked it back so abruptly that some of the liquid spilled onto the sleeve of his heinous robes. Overall, an improvement.

“Unless you want to be strung up,” Uther droned on, “you will tell me why you think it’s poisoned. Now.”

Merlin was quick to answer, not sounding doubtful in the least, “He was seen lacing it.”

Jericho glanced at her brother, but he didn’t look back at her, eyes firmly directed at Uther. So she had to make her own guess, unable to eye-question Merlin if this sudden revelation had occurred during the period of Bayard’s speech that he’d missed out on.

“By whom?”

“I can’t say.” Merlin replied sheepishly.

Hadn’t it been for a constant stream of murmurs erupting around the hall, more people might have heard Arthur and Jericho suck in a breath in the same exasperated, fearful way. They exchanged a look, similarly appalled by doing anything the same way, before returning to staring at Merlin like he was the dumbest person in all of Albion.

In that moment, he truly was.

“Merlin, what the f-” Jericho was interrupted by Bayard's sharp laugh.

“I won’t listen to this anymore.”

“If you’re telling the truth-” Uther started, taking a step towards his son, but his piercing eyes were on Merlin, locked on him as if his stare alone could disintegrate the boy right where he stood. His brow twitched when Jericho moved to stand by Merlin’s side, shield him from the king’s gaze.

“I am!”

“Then you have nothing to fear do you?”

The kings discussed something, but Jericho paid them no mind, much too upset by the iron grip her brother still had on that goblet. Filled with poisoned wine.

It had no business being anywhere near Merlin.

Her hand, which had rested on Merlin’s shoulder, slipped down to his wrist, prompting him to look at her. Merlin’s gaze was steady, filled with certainty and acceptance like he’d down the liquid in one go if he was asked to and that was fucking terrifying. Jericho stifled a gasp.

“Merlin, give me that.” She hissed and lowered her head so they were face to face.

Nobody was looking at them, too busy listening to the argument going on next to them. Only Arthur’s head twitched, turning towards them, though his gaze seemed to be glued to his father. The twins didn’t notice.

“No, I… did- I have to-”

“Have to what?!” Jericho asked sharply, her fingers closing tightly around Merlin’s wrist as if she could make him drop it. Something about the way he stared back at her told her he wouldn’t do that, not for anything in this world. “And you didn’t do anything. Nothing bad, that is, you’re just trying to protect them… Arthur.”

She looked up at the prince. It was a quick glance, so Jericho might’ve been mistaken and she hadn’t caught Arthur swiftly turning away from them.

“Exactly, I am making sure this gets nowhere near him.” Merlin gestured towards the cup, brows knitted as if he couldn’t fathom where his sister's objections came from.

“So, what? You’re going to drink it?” Jericho huffed a disbelieving laugh, the sound dying in the back of her throat when Merlin just stared back at her silently.

No, he couldn’t-

“That is exactly what he’s going to do.”

The twins hadn’t noticed how still everything around them had gone as the kings had come to an agreement. Dozens of pairs of eyes were staring at them, including Uther, standing further away again, his chin raised with hurt pride.

“He’ll drink it.” He said and Jericho’s heart picked up a merciless, hard beat.

The world came to a crashing halt, a voice in her head screaming at the top of its lungs to stop this - do something - blocking out any noise around her.

Her eyes wandered to Merlin, expecting him to look at her for help, but he was facing Uther, his shoulders sinking and rising in a steady rhythm. He was actually ready to do this, to-

Jericho was slammed back into reality only to notice that she no longer had a hold on her brother’s wrist. He must’ve shook her off. He wasn’t standing right next to her anymore either, but a couple steps away, leaving bother her and Arthur behind.

“But if it’s poisoned, he’ll die!” The argument came from Arthur, his voice higher than normal and Jericho watched his hand twitch restlessly at his side.

It distracted her long enough for Merlin to turn away fully, his face hidden from them.

“Then we’ll know if he’s telling the truth.” Uther said simply.

“And if he lives?” Bayard questioned, his grim expression darkening when he looked at Merlin.

“Then you have my apologies and you can do with him as you will.”

The sheer casualty with which they discussed Merlin’s fate - or more like his death, because Jericho seriously doubted Bayard would let him live should he not die of poison - had her seething and clenching her jaw. Cruel bastards both of them, but what could she do?

The options were limited.

Dragging Merlin away to make a run for it wouldn’t hold up well or long as there were about fifty men in this room that would chase them and guards stationed all around the castle that would make an escape even more impossible than it already was. And then there was that prophecy shit that Merlin seemed to take very seriously (if he didn’t, he wouldn’t be in this situation in the first place), so he probably wouldn’t be very fond of running away from Arthur either.

Convincing two kings to let her brother off the hook wasn’t really plausible either. Jericho could probably strip down naked and spread her legs and they still wouldn’t grant her that wish.

So… She could either go for the element of surprise, snatch the cup from Merlin and down it before anyone could stop her or she could try the civil approach of asking first. She went with the latter, but kept the alternative in mind.

“Your majesty, I will drink it. Willingly." Jericho schooled her face into a pleasant smile, keeping her voice smooth and low. No need for Uther to know that she was currently going through an inner panic like she’d rarely ever before. “Please, just leave my brother out of this. He was only trying to help the Prince, I swear.”

That got Merlin to turn, but Jericho couldn’t do more than spare him a glance. Still, she used it to the fullest, memorizing that innocent, suddenly panicked face, the wide blue eyes and the way his mouth gaped open as if he was trying to plead or question or insult her. Jericho’s stomach churned painfully, her chest tightening it felt like a bear had her in its paw, claws digging into her flesh and all that.

There was no way she’d let him get hurt. She couldn’t.

Then she looked at Uther, the way his gaze flickered up and down being more of an explanation than his words, “No, he got himself into this and the boy will pay the price for it.”

Bayard was looking at her too, though, unlike Uther, he was less subtle, staring right at Jericho’s chest as he mouthed something that looked suspiciously like the words “that would be a waste” and licking his lips. And if her brother hadn’t literally been in a life threatening situation Jericho might’ve had half the mind to tell him to fuck off.

She straightened, ready for another attempt, ready to throw herself to her knees and humiliate herself in a way that would haunt her for the rest of her life, but she never got the chance as Gaius stepped forwards to plead. Half-listening to the physician, Jericho caught an interaction between Arthur and Merlin.

Though, the word interaction might've been a stretch.

They looked at each other, didn’t speak a word, but it didn’t seem necessary. Merlin had an urgent expression on his face as if he was asking something of the Prince and Arthur looked reluctant and still did when Merlin looked away again, but he’d nodded, a tinge of defeat shining in his eyes.

“You should have schooled him better.” Uther responded to whatever weak excuse Gaius had come up with.

His words had an air of finality, but whatever had just gone on between Merlin and Arthur had the Prince ignore that as he turned to his servant, speaking loud enough for everyone to hear, “Merlin, apologise. This is a mistake. I’ll- I’ll drink it!”

Jericho didn’t need to see Merlin’s face to know he was shocked. Because she was too. To be fair, everyone was.

The one and only heir of Camelot offering to drink from a (probably) poisoned goblet? Just so his manservant wouldn’t have to (probably) die? It was unheard of and no one seemed to know how to react.

Uther caught himself first and while Merlin repeatedly said no as if it was the only word he’d ever learned, his expression morphed from irritation into downright anger, creasing his face deeper than it usually was. Even Jericho, who didn’t find herself impressed by a man’s rage easily, felt a chill run down her spine.

Probably because it wasn’t directed at her, but Merlin. And Arthur…

He didn’t need to say anything, Merlin was already toasting to him and Bayard like the cocky bastard he was and as he lowered the cup every muscle in Jericho’s body went taut.

As she leapt forward, hands stretched out to get a hold of the damned thing, the anxious fear in her stomach finally quieted down into a numb contemptness.

Whatever was in that cup, it would go down her throat, not Merlin’s and whatever the aftermath would be, it would not involve her crying over her dead brother’s body.

It was kind of hard to understand at first why she didn’t get close enough to actually put her plan into action, the sensation of something hard and warm wrapped around her torso needing a moment to get through to her. Then she heard gasps and heavy breathing right next to her ear. And Merlin…

Jericho watched as he gulped the wine down, too late to realize Arthur was holding her back. Too late to fight back and still make it.

“What the fuck do you- Let go of me!” She yelled, blinding hot terror rushing through her veins.

She dared to lift her eyes of Merlin for a second, still waiting for a thud of his body hitting the floor or the sound of choking, and stared at Arthur instead, her nails digging into the fabric of his tunic so hard she was sure it had to hurt. But Arthur didn’t waver, even tightened his grip even when Jericho tried to wrench his arm away, shoving and twisting and pulling on whatever she could get a hold of.

“It’s fine.” Merlin’s voice was almost too faint for Jericho to hear and she only turned her head because Arthur had, bolting away from him the second his arm eased around her.

And then she was by Merlin’s side just as Uther gave Bayard the okay to take him, do with him as he pleased.

“Merlin, you-”

Jericho felt something was wrong before the first struggling gasp left Merlin’s lips.

It was sudden, the magic in her heart fading away from its normal bright, lively energy so quickly that for a moment she thought it wasn’t there anymore.

Horrified, Jericho watched Merlin reach for his throat, his fingers lingering over the slender column, trying to get a hold of something that wasn’t there. He was choking on air and there was nothing Jericho could do but watch as he fell, taking her world with him to the cold ground.

Throwing herself to her knees, Jericho grabbed Merlin’s shoulders, shaking him. He’d gone unconscious, limp and Jericho would’ve given anything for the sounds of his ragged breaths back, because at least those meant he was still alive. Well… he still was now, Jericho checked his pulse point first, but his heart was beating weakly and she feared it might go away completely.

Her own heart was racing, pounding against her ribcage as if it wanted to show Merlin’s how to work properly again.

Arthur was there too, kneeling on the other side, hands hovering as if he wanted to help, but didn’t know how. Jericho found a little sympathy for the helpless expression twisting his face.

Gaius took one look at Merlin and instructed them to bring him to his chambers, then turned to Gwen and asked her to fetch the goblet and take it with her.

There was a short discussion over who’d get to carry Merlin, until Jericho decided they’d wasted enough time and wrapped her arms around her brother’s chest and lifted him up, his head lulling against her chest, and stared expectantly at Arthur. He just sighed and picked up Merlin’s other half by the ankles.

It looked utterly ridiculous, but they were much faster than if just one of them had carried the boy.



*



From the moment Merlin’s body lay in the safety of the cot, Jericho turned around, waiting for instructions.

There had to be something she could do, put her to good use.

Still, she could barely hold still, roaming around the room, touching books and vials and pots and the seat Merlin had been in just this morning, eating breakfast and laughing at Jericho’s stupid jokes. The picture was pristine and fresh in Jericho’s mind, a hope to hold on to and she didn’t want to taint it by looking at her brother now - sweaty and sickly as he was, mouth hanging open just a little and brows knitted.

Even in his state, he was still in pain, huffing and whimpering, not finding any rest. Jericho couldn’t bear it, nearly jumping out of her own skin when Gaius informed them that there was a cure.

A flower, a leaf, somewhere underneath the earth, guarded by some ugly, venomous reptiles.

Whatever, the decision had been made and nothing would persuade her from it.

“Alright, where’s this forest?” Jericho sounded awfully chipper.

Probably because she was. Everything in her had shifted, dread turning to confidence, because if there was anything, even the slightest chance that she could help Merlin, she’d do it. Successfully.

It was the one thing she was truly good at after all.

She didn’t wait around for an answer, ignored the shocked sound from Gwen, and rushed to the door instead. A pair of steps accompanied hers and when Jericho turned, she found Arthur walking next to her, a look of determination on his well-groomed face.

“Sounds like fun.” Arthur explained when Jericho raised a brow at him and they both came to a stop in front of the door.

Gaius cleared his throat, concern making him look older than he already was, “It’s too dangerous, Arthur.”

For once Jericho agreed with him, even giving the physician a small nod. She cared little about the danger part of the upcoming adventure, she just didn’t want Arthur to come with her.

“And if I don’t get the antidote, what happens then?” Arthur asked calmly, knowing the weight the argument held.

Jericho didn’t even want to think about it, snarkily turning back to the prince to answer, “Then I’ll get it, now move.”

She didn’t look back, didn’t listen to hear if Arthur followed. There was something she had to do before stealing a weapon and a horse.

Two things actually and one laid deep, deep beneath the castle.

Merlin had described the way down to where the dragon was held, but Jericho hadn’t really felt the need to go there herself until now.

What would she ask him? How to best do Morgana’s hair in the morning?

But with Merlin being the one possibly losing his life and Jericho embarking on a mission that might involve magic, she was the one who’d have to go face the scaly beast and ask it for help. She sure could use some (except in the form of Arthur Pendragon).

It was a long way, full of cobweb covered corridors, dust coated statues and steep flights of stairs, which Jericho descended to the beat of her heart, nearly losing her footing twice. She wouldn’t have minded as long as it got her to that dragon faster.

And then she was there, standing at the edge of a cliff, overseeing a huge cave system. This had to be it.

“Dragon?” She called out, hearing her own voice thrown back at her as it echoed off the vast rocks around. “Hello?”

Wings flapped, loud and mighty, making Jericho take a step back so the wind they caused wouldn’t swipe her off the ledge. The dragon appeared from above, taking a seat on a boulder across the young woman.

It took her a moment to find his eyes between all the scales and spikes on his face, but when she did, she was surprised to find an equal amount of amusement and concern in them.

“It was only a matter of time until you’d show up here.” Jericho had no time to examine the reason as to why the dragon had pronounced the ‘you’ that way, pointed and sharp as if her presence was a bothersome thing, as the dragon continued. “I assume the young warlock has gotten himself into trouble?”

“How do you know?” Jericho was aware that any questions that were not in regard to the flower she was supposed to find were a waste of time, but she couldn’t help herself.

It wasn’t every day one got to see a dragon and she wasn’t quite sure what the proper reaction was. All she knew was that she was impressed, a little excited and fucking stunned.

He was huge, a beautiful mixture of bronze and gold that surely would be even more impressive in the sun and his deep, booming voice had even her stop in her tracks at the way it reverbed through the cave.

“Because he’s not here.” The dragon simply said, crossing his impressive claws over the other the way a human would fold their hands.

“Well… you’re right. Merlin’s currently busy… dying.” Jericho swallowed drily as even saying it had her stomach curl as if it was about to empty itself. Trying to save face and not come across as a scared girl, she straightened her spine and put on the best version of a brave face she could muster. “But I’ll stop it by getting Gaius, that Mortaeus flower, which I’ll find in the Forest of Balor.”

“Great.” The dragon said as if it wasn’t great at all, huffing smoke from his nostrils. “Then what are you still doing here?”

“Uhm… I-” Jericho felt her cheeks burn and her hands tighten into fists at her side as shame was replaced by anger. She did not like feeling stupid. She wasn’t. And that dragon should know that. “I want your help. Anything you got to make sure Merlin stays healthy and alive. And I assume as a dragon, you should be able to help me in some way, no? Maybe you can give me one of those neat prophecies of yours, like the one Merlin got?”

The dragon hummed, looking the defiant girl in front of him up and down - at least Jericho assumed he did, his eyes barely moved, but she did feel judged - then he sighed. Apparently that was a thing creatures like him did just as well as humans, with that same unnerving hopelessness.

“What?”

“You don’t have a prophecy.”

“Excuse me-”

“Or a destiny.” The dragon continued, oblivious to the way Jericho’s shoulders sagged and her eyes widened, waiting for him to admit this was just a joke.

But he didn’t add anything, just sat there. His mouth opened, a glowing red flame glimmering at the back of his throat, which sent wads of smoke to escape through his enormous teeth. It took Jericho a second to realize he’d just yawned.

That fuck ass dragon had yawned at her. At telling her that she did not have a destiny, like- like this was the most boring topic in the entire world to him - a dragon living in a cave with absolutely no other entertainment.

And meanwhile Jericho felt like her whole being had just been sent head first down that cliff she was standing on.

What did that mean? Her not having a destiny… She’d never thought about it much before, but ever since Merlin had come back from this cave, practically glowing over the news that he’d help bring peace to sorcerers and make Arthur the Once and Future King, Jericho had kind of thought that the fates might have something in store for her too.

Turns out they didn’t and Jericho was a fool for having hoped otherwise.

“I don’t? Why not?” She heard herself ask, the anger turning back into shame.

“Because, little girl-”

Jericho shuddered at the nickname, emotions melting into one messy, ugly ball and if it had been another time, filled with less dread and anxiety over her brother's impending doom, she might’ve actually gotten into a fight with the lizard. There were a lot of fights she wanted to pick that night, but couldn't. 

“-you were never supposed to be born.”

“What- Oh… yeah.” Jericho’s hand instinctively wandered to her heart, which was still beating wildly to no specific rhythm, completely out of control.

She hadn’t realized until now, but this wasn’t just a cause by the events of the evening. Something was seriously wrong with it and judging by the lack of magical fizzle surrounding it, it must have something to do with Merlin currently lying on the cot in Gaiu’s chambers. And it wasn’t exactly the first time something like this happened.

Merlin had been sick before, weakening the steadying effects of his magic, but it’s never been- This was much worse than it had ever been - a fact that Jericho tried to ignore. So she didn’t think about how this felt exactly like the moment before her heart would give out. That last, desperate crescendo before it would come to an abrupt halt.

It wouldn’t get to that point, not unless Merlin died and that wouldn’t happen.

“You have no place in Merlin’s destiny- or Arthur's."

Jericho flinched, not because of the harsh words, but because for a moment she’d gotten lost in thought and had completely forgotten she was still in a cave, talking to a dragon that did not seem to necessarily like her very much.

It was a wake up call of sorts. She had to get out of here, get going.

Fuck that non-existent destiny. She’d gotten through life without one just fine and she could continue to do so too.

“Yeah, that’s very sad and all-” Jericho suppressed a small smile at the disapproving huff the dragon let out, then turned around. “But unless you have anything more to add that would actually help Merlin…”

She glanced over the shoulder, the smile finally breaking when the dragon took a deep breath and leaned forward. His neck was so long he nearly bridged the gap that separated them, his head coming to a stop only a couple feet away from Jericho.

“Don’t go alone.” He said solemnly and something in his eyes twinkled, making Jericho suspect that he knew this was possibly the worst piece of advice he could have given her. 

“Great… And who should I bring? Because I don’t know how much castle gossip you get to hear down here, but I’m not exactly liked very well around Camelot.”

The dragon chuckled, definitely aware of that, then he said, “The right person will find you. Now go.”

“I will.” Jericho took a step forward, already through the entrance that would lead her to the stairs when she reconsidered and quickly poked her head back into the cave. “But not because you told me too!”

The dragon just stared at her, but when a few moments had passed and Jericho had climbed the first couple of steps, she could’ve sworn she’d heard a muttered “Whatever…”, which wasn’t necessarily a word you’d expect to find in an ancient dragon's vocabulary.



*



Jericho felt a lot heavier when she knocked.

The nervous excitement of speaking to a dragon had died down and all that he’d said, all that was still ahead of her weighed on her. She hoped she’d find a little relief on the other side of the door.

“Jericho?” Morgana’s bright eyes blinked up at her, in no way surprised, but darkened by something.

Jericho didn’t know how to decipher it, didn’t have to as she was pulled inside the Lady’s room. She didn’t bother looking around to check if anyone else was there - Gwen or another maid to wait on Morgana for the night - her eyes firmly stuck to Morgana’s frame.

She’d turned away, her shoulders drawn up as if she was waiting for something. An attack or-

“I have to go. There’s an antidote to save my brother and… Morgana?” Jericho frowned at the way Morgana had flinched, tentatively stepping closer.

Her hand hovered close to the one flexing at Morgana’s side, but she wasn’t sure whether she should take it or not… if she was allowed to. She wanted to as Morgana was clearly in some kind of distress and Jericho hated the sight of it.

“Morgana?”

She turned around, slowly and deliberately, keeping her head low so her hair acted like a curtain, hiding her beautiful face from Jericho. Her chest rose and sank steadily and it made breathing a little easier for Jericho too, as if Morgana was teaching her how to do it.

“Please, I know I have duties toward you and I am sorry, but I have to- He’s… he’s my brother and I can’t-” The forcefully pushed down emotions dared to spill, having Jericho’s voice tremble as memories flashed.

Images of Merlin’s flushed, sweat covered face floated through her overworked brain. Not just from tonight, but from the past too.

Merlin had been a sickly child, catching fevers and colds well into his adolescent years… But unlike many other memories, these were all fuzzy around the edges, the pictures never staying long before fading away and being replaced by another. Because Jericho had never witnessed him in those states for too long.

As soon as she’d been able to walk more than a mile at a time, she’d been the one to go out and get the healer or march out into the forest and dig up whatever root or herb was needed or hunt for a rabbit for Merlin to eat or fresh water for him to drink. She’d never been the one to stick around and watch. Her mother had done that well enough for the both of them and now there were Gaius and Gwen to take care of Merlin.

Delicate fingers brushed across Jericho’s cheek, drawing her attention to Morgana. She was standing right in front of her, looking at her and…

Tears pricked at her eyes, giving them a glassy look as they threatened to spill. Jericho gasped and she wanted to ask Morgana what pained her so much, but she’d barely opened her mouth when she was shushed by Morgana’s other hand coming up to cradle her face. Frowning in worry and confusion Jericho tilted her head to the side, subconsciously leaning into the touch.

“Of course you have to go… of course.” The last part was barely more than a whisper, a sad smile sneaking on Morgana’s full lips. “I knew you’d go. I knew from the moment you tried to get that goblet from Merlin and Arthur stopped you.”

Oh yes, that had happened.

Jericho had forgotten in the heat of the moment, but now… Maybe Merlin could hold on a little while longer so she could go yell at that prick. What had he been thinking anyway? He didn’t even like her so why would he stop her from-

“I prepared this for you.” Morgana’s hands slipped off Jericho’s face as she turned to the bed, probably not having noticed how her servant leaned in, chasing the warmth of her touch in a moment of weakness.

Surprised Jericho widened her eyes when she found the armour plating Morgana used during their nightly duels on the bed, along with trousers and a tunic. When she turned, mouth still wide open and brows arched so high they might as well have disappeared into her hairline, Morgana muffled a giggle with her hand.

“Well, you can hardly leave for a rescue mission in… that-” The Lady gestured up and down Jericho’s body, which was still stuck in that god awful dress she’d had to wear for the feast.

“Oh gods, you are right! I’d completely forgotten!” Jericho exclaimed, already trying to rid herself of the gown.

It was trickier than anticipated, with all the lacing and buttons, and soon Jericho found herself standing still on Morgana’s command while she stood behind her servant, unlacing the back. Kind of an ironic position they were in and kind of the exact thing Jericho did not want to get flustered over.
But of course she was burning brightly by the time she stepped behind the changing screen to slide the dress off, glad for the privacy so she could calm down before facing Morgana again.

One by one Morgana draped the clothing pieces over the screen, staying silent as Jericho got dressed. After the armour plating had been snapped into place, Jericho thought she was done, but got stunned when her mistress's hand appeared again, this time with a necklace dangling from her slender fingers.

Jericho took it, doing her best not to have a physical reaction when her hand brushed Morgana’s, and just held it.

It was a stunning thing - a silver chain with five turquoise gems hanging from it. The middle one was the darkest, and the two on either side lighter than the one before it. They were rounded, giving them a look similar to pearls.

“My Lady?”

They still couldn't see each other and Jericho would’ve loved to change that to get at least the smallest chance of reading what Morgana was thinking, but she didn’t move, so neither did Jericho. There seemed to be a hint of uncertainty in the air though, having her hold her breath until Morgana finally spoke.

“I thought you might wear it… for luck.” A faint snort accompanied the last part as if Morgana thought she sounded stupid herself.

Tenderly Jericho turned the necklace in her hands, her fingers tracing the shape of the gems, studying them. Where could one even get those? They looked too pretty to just spawn somewhere beneath the ground, buried under dirt and rocks for years and years… Expensive, that is what they had to be.

“My Lady, I can’t. If I lose it or break it- I could never repay you-” Jericho went quiet when a rustle announced Morgana walking around the changing screen.

She didn’t object when Morgana took the necklace from her and didn’t move when she brought the chain around her neck, her eyes never leaving Jericho’s as she worked the clasp. The silver was cold against her heated skin, bringing some clarity to her - it didn’t work very well, not with Morgana looking at her with so much purpose, something indecipherable laying in the icy blue of her gaze.

“Then you better make sure you get it home safe.” Morgana said, but the conversation no longer seemed to revolve around the necklace. “Be careful, please?”

“As careful as I can be.” Jericho nodded, turning her gaze to the floor.

She should leave now. So much time had been wasted with that rather pointless conversation with the dragon and who knew how long Merlin would last. He’d already seemed in a bad state when Jericho’d left and she was pretty sure it would just get worse and worse and-

Jericho cleared her throat, taking a step back. Only then did she realize how close she and Morgana had stood, a shiver running down her spine when she left the warmth that had been between them. Fighting the urge to draw her back in, she folded her arms behind her back, looking for something to say.

She didn’t need to as Morgana laid a hand on her shoulder, gripping it firmly, “You will go to the armoury and take my sword then get to the stables - you know which horse is mine, right?”

Jericho nodded, a little dazed by the immediate shift in the way Morgana talked to her. All of the nervous worry had faded from her expression and instead been replaced with a steely determination. Jericho leapt onto it, making it her own.

“And then you’ll wait. Make sure to stay hidden until he-”

“He?” Jericho lifted a brow.

Somewhere in the back of her mind echoed the dragon's words, just like they had down in the cave, but they sounded much more mocking now, “Don’t go alone. The right person will find you.” And now it seemed awfully obvious who that right person would be.

Morgana took a deep breath. Her hand attempted to massage the tension out of Jericho’s shoulder, but the muscles stayed solid as a rock.

“I talked to Arthur. He will go look for the antidote as well, even though Uther forbid him. If you stay in the shadows and sneak past the guards, you’ll make it out, but you’ll have to be careful when you come back… I love Uther, but I wouldn’t put it past him to- to do something to the both of you for disregarding his orders.”

Jericho didn’t doubt her words, not after what had happened tonight. That tyrant of a king had made Merlin, the person who’d saved Arthur's life by telling him about the poisoned wine, drink said wine even though multiple people had intervened. Just because he could and wanted to. What a fucking wanker.

She nodded, hoping to hide the displeasure of the thought that soon she’d be in the presence of Arthur and probably would be stuck there for a while (she could take that out on him, not Morgana), but felt like she should say something.

Morgana had done so much for her, more than most people would have, and she didn’t even look like she expected anything in return. The urge to hug Morgana overtook Jericho so unexpectedly that her arms reached out before she could stop them - even more surprising though?

Just when she finally regained control over her body enough to freeze, Morgana leaned in, her slender arms encircling Jericho effortlessly as if this thing had been her idea. For a moment longer Jericho stood motionlessly, her arms dangling in the air which must’ve looked stupid, as she considered what to do next. Had anyone seen this… Let’s just say it was highly improper for a Lady and a servant to embrace like this.

And then Morgana rested her chin on Jericho’s shoulder, letting out a low, breathy sigh and all that was forgotten about as Jericho pulled her in tight until their chests were flush and she could finally feel that calming breath against her own.

“Thank you.” She hummed into Morgana’s ear, ducking slightly to reach it. Their height difference wasn’t as dramatic as the one between Jericho and Gwen, but there was still a little bit of distance to make up for.

Morgana didn’t respond immediately and when she did, there was a hint of worry in her otherwise light voice, “Your heart… It's racing. Are you alright?”

“I am just a bit nervous. That’s all.” Jericho was anything but nervous, still she could hardly tell Morgana the truth.

What would that even sound like? Oh, yes, my life is just magically tied to my brothers, since my heart wouldn’t develop properly when I was in my mothers womb, so if Merlin dies, I die too and right now I am feeling the side effects of his illness? - Yeah, that wouldn’t work.

So Jericho gave Morgana one more squeeze before releasing her. It was a struggle, to fully let go and step back and by the way the Lady shuffled her feet, eyes constantly switching between looking at the floor and Jericho, she seemed to be feeling similarly.

“You remember everything I told you?” Morgana asked at the same time as Jericho muttered, “I should go.”

They laughed, briefly melting away the tension that hung in the air and when their eyes met again that spark was back in Morgana’s gaze, instilling some hope in Jericho. She’d see that again, just like she’d see her brother again. Well and alive. It wasn’t a possibility, but a fact.

She shrugged, a sheepish smirk on her lips as they walked from the changing screen to the door, “I know I promised you I’d stay safe, but is there a possibility that a missing finger would still be in the realm of possibility?”

For a moment Morgana looked shocked, then she recovered, matching the dark humour with a sharp grin as she responded, “Depends on which one. A thumb or a pinkie I might tolerate, but anything in between…”

Jericho didn’t pick up on the undertone Morgana had taken on, mentally already half out the door as her focus turned back to the quest that lay ahead.



*



When Arthur reached the stables Jericho was already standing there, the halter of his and Morgana’s horse in each hand. She’d decided being mad over Arthur coming with or trying to stop him from doing so was pointless and a waste of time - however, she could still be mad at him.

It explained the gloomy stare the Prince was greeted with, having him hide his surprise over Jericho’s presence and quickly following her lead and climbing on his horse.

They left the city wordlessly, pretending it was due to the threat of getting detected and dragged back to the castle, when in reality Jericho was pretty sure she wouldn’t be able to stop yelling once she started and Arthur just really not knowing what to say. He’d never gone on a dangerous adventure with a girl and had certainly never met once who’d volunteer to go on one.

Sure, Morgana had been quite the spirit when they’d been children and she did make her jokes about wanting to clobber some men over the head or sometimes tried to sneak her way into training, but she’d never actually… Or maybe she would, if she had the chance. But that was a concern Arthur did not need to pile onto his currently existing ones.

Saving Merlin had to be his priority and little distraction was to be allowed.

Though the way Jericho’s gaze burned into him from the side was one he could hardly dismiss, no matter how hard he tried. There was something so penetrating about it as if she dug deep inside him, trying to read his thoughts, make sense of his feelings. But Arthur didn’t want to be the one to talk first for once, keeping his lips sealed into a tight line.

They’d ridden into the forest about an hour ago or maybe two - it was hard to tell time without a clear view of the moon - when Jericho finally interrupted her glaring and began looking around instead.

She hadn’t noticed how quiet the woods around Camelot had been until they’d ridden far enough for the trees to rustle again, the quiet sounds of distant animals to break through the darkness and the gushing water of a river or stream nearby. It was amazing and terrifying all at once.

Jericho couldn’t remember how old she’d been when she’d first realised how Merlin's well being would affect the earth itself, but once she had it was almost impossible to miss. When they’d go on walks there’d be a sharp increase of birds singing in the trees above, bunnies hopping out of bushes way too close, but they did not seem frightened in the least - no, sometimes they’d even pause and just… look. It was the same with deer and foxes and even insects.

And that wasn’t all. Grass seemed greener, flowers bloomed more fully and everything seemed to thrive the way Merlin did.

But Merlin being sick or sad or wounded had the same effect. Nature suffered with him, at least the parts close to him. Jericho doubted it was just Merlin’s good heart that had him favoured by the earth, but rather his magic. It was… different.

She hadn’t met many sorcerers or witches in her life, but Jericho was pretty sure their deaths didn’t cause trees to rot and animals to hide in their dens or else all of Britain would have made a drastic decline since Uther’s magic ban. So something about Merlin’s gift was inherently powerful, ancient even.

Jericho had never dug around too much to try and figure out what the exact cause or source there was for it as Merlin seemed stressed enough as it was, but it made her feel useless instead. She never knew how to help with it, what would ease the pressure of it and what would push her brother too far…

“So… Why are you going against your fathers orders to save a servant? Seems kind of foolish, doesn’t it?” Jericho asked, needing a distraction.

She didn’t look at Arthur directly, but he flinched hard enough for her to see even if it was just out of the corner of her eye. Quickly she pressed her lips together to hide her grin.

“Aren’t you here too?” Arthur replied, though he didn’t sound as smart as he’d hoped as he’d considered himself safe with Jericho being distracted by gods know what for so long.

“Am I the future king of Camelot? Was I forbidden to leave?”

“Fair enough…” Arthur sighed. He had no idea how to answer the initial question, but it probably wouldn’t matter anyway. Jericho seemed to find a problem with everything that came out of his mouth. “But… I am here because Merlin sacrificed himself for me and I have the chance to repay him for it. I have to at least try, it’s the honourable thing to do here.”

“Ahh, honour…”

Holding back a groan Arthur tilted his head back, gazing at the woven branches overhead.

Every time he talked to Jericho - which wasn’t often as he tried to avoid said activity like it was the pest - he felt like he was at a disadvantage. Like it was a set up, one she’d planned and studied just for the sake of humiliating him every chance she got. But no, that would be insane.

Somehow Jericho always managed to outwit him, her answers and remarks dripping with confidence and sarcasm. Arthur found her questions to be traps and her answers the sound of them snapping shut. His fists tightened around the leather lead as he waited for her to continue.

“So you’re not doing this out of the goodness of your heart, because you think Merlin deserves to be saved, but because of some codex you’ve sworn to hold. Am I right?”

Arthur thought of an answer, but he knew he didn’t have long or else the questions would start to pile and he wouldn’t be able to make sense of which to answer, which to ignore and which to punish her for once they’d get back to Camelot. That girl really had a big mouth and she wasn’t afraid to use it and it bothered the living hell out of Arthur.

“You are partially correct. I am doing this out of obligation, yes… but-” Arthur’s gaze flickered over to her, hoping to catch even the smallest emotion on Jericho’s face to figure how honest he could be with her.

He didn’t like lying, but he also didn’t like being made fun of. Jericho was turned forward and her profile was neutral, no twitch in the corners of her mouth or any other sort of betrayal on her sharp edged features. For a short moment Arthur nearly mistook her for Merlin, but then they rode into a small clearing, the moonlight illuminating the young woman and the illusion was over.

The small tug in Arthur’s gut however stayed and he decided to take a leap of faith.

“I couldn’t live with myself if I weren’t here right now giving my best to try and save him. And that’s not entirely because of the moral codex I’ve dedicated my life upholding…” Arthur cut himself off cautiously, though the tightness in his throat might’ve had something to do with it too.

“And what might that other reason be?” Jericho asked, the judgement momentarily gone.

“I- He’s not entirely terrible, I guess… Well, he is shit at his job- Really, one of the worst servants I’ve ever had, but… Merlin’s entertaining and he tries, you know? And he’s loyal and-” Noisily Arthur cleared his throat, embarrassed by the amount of positive things he had to say about his manservant and even more so by the traits and observations that came to mind but he didn’t dare say aloud.

Jericho nodded and for once, a genuine yet minimalist smile crept across her face.

“That’s Merlin for you. Can’t blame you for getting wrapped around his finger so quickly.”

“What?!” Arthur’s outraged yelp had Jericho laughing, nearly doubling over and for a moment she fumbled for balance on her horse - Morgana’s horse, Arthur had noticed. “I am not wrapped around his finger! Or any other part of him for that matter! I just- No, fuck what I’ve said. Forget about it. I am only doing this out of duty and nothing else!”

“Oh, please!” Jericho rolled her dark eyes as she barked another laugh. “You’re a liar.”

“Can’t call me that, remember? I’m the Prince and you-” Arthur had meant it as a joke, even feeling himself starting to grin, but a sudden turn around of Jericho’s mood had him freeze.

It was like a wall had been erected, high and thick. In a matter of a heartbeat Jericho’s smile faded, her face smoothing back into that defensive look she always carried and that joyful shimmer in her eyes died as they went dull like the night sky above.

Arthur stared, his brain rattling as he tried to figure how he could have caused this - because clearly he had done something for her to shut down like this - before he remembered that he shouldn’t. He shouldn’t worry about hurting a servant's feelings; shouldn’t feel like he had to apologize.

He shouldn’t have been joking like this with her in the first place.

They passed a creek, shallow enough for their horses to get through without issue. Jericho was facing ahead again, giving Arthur the chance to examine her more closely - her clothing, the items she was carrying (the other parts of her he’d already looked at during past weeks).

It was rather obvious that the armour plating and sword didn’t belong to her, a peasant like her wouldn’t be able to afford it and Arthur doubted any respected blacksmith would sell such things to a woman. So where could she have gotten it from?

Arthur's eyes caught on the sword's hilt, the sapphires that decorated it, and then the Latin engraving on the blade. He would’ve recognized it anywhere as he’d been present when his father had purchased it just a year ago - it was the present Uther had given Morgana for her eighteenth birthday.

“Did you steal that?” He asked briskly, not shying away from the piercing blue glare of Jericho this time as for once he was sure he’d be in charge of their conversation. Because if his assumption was correct there was absolutely no moral high ground for her to take.

“What?” Jericho followed Arthur’s gaze to where it lay on the sword which she’d clumsily shoved into her belt. She hadn’t thought of bringing a sheath or a proper fastener for it. “Ah, that… Why do you care?”

The annoyance her careless retort brought was on full display on Arthur’s face. His jaw was tight, his gaze burning. Jericho grinned and pulled the sword from her belt so she could get a better look at it, playfully lift it to the side of her head as if she was about to attack something.

When she turned back to Arthur he was seething.

“Because it’s Morgana’s! I know it is, so don’t think of lying to me! Did you steal it?”

“No.”

“So she gave it to you?!” Disbelief had Arthur’s eyes nearly pop from his head.

“No.”

“Then- then what?!”

“Doesn’t matter. But clearly I need it on this mission and my current possession of it will make your life easier as well, so why don’t you just drop it?” Jericho’s voice had taken on the tone of an overly-patient mother and she nearly annoyed herself with it, but Arthur just gaped at her, puzzled.

“I… What is wrong with you?” He was genuinely curious.

Jericho shrugged, biting back a laugh as she was pretty sure that would actually get her thrown into the stocks the second they’d get back to Camelot. Arthur looking wholly unsatisfied by her silence was everything she could have hoped for though, his frustration nearly making her forget about the ache that had settled into her chest a while ago.

What Jericho liked to do when she was in pain - really, the only way she knew how to deal with it - was make someone else hurt too and while she couldn’t physically attack Arthur, bringing him to the brink of insanity with her words was just as good, if not even better.

They travelled for about another hour or so (in silence) before Arthur declared that they were far enough from Camelot to make camp. He ignored Jericho, who stayed seated on her horse, arms crossed and a withering scowl on her face, and set up a fire with a few branches and sticks that lay around. When Arthur propped himself up against a mossy tree trunk that was just comfortable enough to get a couple hours of sleep on and Jericho was still towering over him, he sighed full of exasperation.

“What now?”

“Didn’t you forget something?”

“No, I’m pretty sure I haven’t.”

“Oh, let me enlighten you then!” Jericho let out a raspy, joyless laugh. “Remember Merlin? My dying twin, who’d very much appreciate if his saviour would forgo his beauty-sleep for one night and instead go and get the fucking antidote?”

“Wait, you are twins?” Arthur frowned at the new piece of information.

He thought they were just siblings. Not because they lacked similarity - hell if you cut Jericho’s hair short and made Merlin a couple inches taller, they could be the same person - but Jericho just seemed… older. The confident attitude she carried herself with, the maturity she showed in most things she did… It seemed to age her. Just like that look in her eyes that reminded him of some of his most experienced knights-

“How- Arthur, how is that important right now?!”

He didn’t have a good response, so Arthur let his growing anger talk for him, “For the last time, you cannot talk to me like this. I am the Prince and you are not to question my decisions, my orders or my status as your superior and you cannot insult me either! If you do it again, there will be consequences.”

For a moment Jericho stared at him, weighing her options and when she eventually nodded, Arthur was sure it wasn’t because his words had gotten through to her, but because it was the wisest decision in that moment. And she took as much leniency as she could because while she did not call him a rude name or continued to argue, she did slip out of the saddle looking as defiant as one could while dismounting a horse.

She stumbled when her feet hit the ground, but before Arthur could even consider getting up and stabilizing her, Jericho had one hand on the back of her horse as she regained her composure, chin raised high to make up for the embarrassment.

Arthur thought her surrender meant that he could finally close his eyes and get to sleep, but soon found out that Jericho had other plans.

Instead of joining him on the wet, dirty ground she kept walking around, doing god knows what. One moment he could hear her fiddling with the saddle, the next there was the sound of wood on wood as she probably threw more into the fire and then she was just… wandering around.

Now, Arthur wasn’t one to have a hard time falling asleep. He’d trained his otherwise sensitive hearing to turn off once he laid down somewhere, which he’d had to do once he started leading men into week long battle and since he’d been pretty much undefeatable when it came to dozing off.

A war field while wounded knights screamed in agony and others patrolled around them? No problem!

During a hunting trip where others would stay up for hours and sing around the fire? No issue with that either.

Arthur could even take a nap at a banquet, peacefully indifferent to the food flying, the men dancing on tables until they creaked under their weight and the alcohol had everyone speaking louder than normally.

But somehow he couldn’t handle Jericho sneaking around like a kicked dog.

Maybe it was because it reminded him of Merlin too much. He’d pull off a similar show, grovelling and avoiding eye contact, whenever Arthur would scold him - with reason each time, but it still made him feel like the most awful person in the world and there was no way to get rid of that feeling other than explaining himself. It took him much longer to give in with Jericho though.

“Gods…” He groaned quietly as he opened his eyes, finding Jericho hovering a few feet away with Morgana’s sword in her hand, viewing it quietly.

She wasn’t paying attention to Arthur yet, so he got a full view of her scrunched face, dread playing across it like the flickering light of a flame. She fought it, tried to keep it in, but something made it very hard for her. It took a couple seconds for Arthur to become aware of the way she stood, slightly bent forward, one hand pressed against her chest as the other clung to the handle of the sword until her knuckles turned white. A sheen of sweat spanned across her forehead, which Arthur hadn’t noticed before and only did now because Jericho was standing right under the moonlight.

“We need to rest now.” Arthur paused when the young woman whipped around, looking about two seconds away from a fatal heart incident, and he gave her a moment to recover from her shock, sitting up a little straighter as he waited. “I am exhausted and so are the horses, but we will continue by dawn and then we will arrive at the forest of Balor by noon and by nightfall we should be back in Camelot. Merlin won’t die because of a few hours lost so we can gather our strength.”

“You might think that, but Merlin pulls off some pretty impressive shit.” Jericho didn’t seem to be talking to Arthur directly, her eyes unfocused as she stared off into the distance, so he decided to let it slide.

“Well, I won’t allow him to pull off this one. Now would you stop pacing and sit down?” He gestured towards a stump across him on the other side of the fire. Quietly he added, “You must be tired as well.”

Without another word Jericho took the place Arthur had assigned her, letting the Prince finally get his desired rest.



*



Morgana hadn’t planned on visiting Merlin.

They’d hardly spoken, she barely knew him at all, so just showing up in the physicians quarters where a worried Gwen and Gaius would be hovering over the sick boy had seemed kind of inappropriate. Buuut after a very frustrating discussion with Uther, who’d figured out why he hadn’t seen his son in a couple hours, she decided to get involved too.

Her own, quiet way of rebelling. Morgana was pretty good at that after all.

To her surprise she found the room empty or at least she thought it was at first, but when she looked around she found Gwen asleep, curled up on a rather uncomfortable looking bench by the dining table and when she stepped further into the room, Morgana discovered Gaius knocked out on another cot.

She proceeded carefully, so she wouldn’t wake either of them, moving only on her tiptoes as she got closer to Merlin.

The first thing that caught Morgana’s attention was the heat - Merlin seemed to be producing it better than any fire she’d ever been near. It hit her like a wall and she was still a couple feet away and it seemed to be the reason the boy looked like he’d been thrown into a lake. Everything was either covered or drenched in sweat. Merlin himself, his clothes, the blanket that covered him, the pillow beneath his head - even his hair was dripping with it.

Clearly no one had wiped him with a cloth in a while. Instead of waking up one of her subjects like a decent Lady would have, Morgana took a seat next to the cot, placed the bowl of water by her feet in her lap and began dabbing away at Merlin’s face and neck.

It wasn’t the easiest of tasks as he kept squirming, seemingly unable to hold still, but Morgana still relished in the small sighs and the way the boy's face would soften whenever the cool rag touched him, even if it was only for a fleeting moment.

She’d always had a secret passion for the work of a physician and when she’d been younger and of less use for Uther, she’d spent many of her afternoons here under the pre-tense of needing another sleeping draft, only to end up sitting and watching Gaius as he hung herbs over the stove to dry them, mixed various liquids into vials and pots, checked on his many plants that he had growing by the window sill and welcomed patients to treat them.

Morgana had soaked it all in, memorized the names of the plants and herbs and what purpose they served, internalized the stages of mixing a potion and which would be given to cure whatever illness one had. She’d never been allowed to help - Gaius had always warned of the consequences even a tiny mishap could bring - and she was very aware of the fact that she, a noble woman, could never become a physician, but it still felt nice to be educated on a topic only few knew as much about as her.

It gave her a value other than being beautiful, the daughter of a noble man and the king's ward.

Morgana stilled her movements when Merlin suddenly broke out into a fit. Loudly panting he threw himself from one side to another, his trembling hands reaching out for something that wasn’t there.

As his efforts went unrewarded, he seemed to grow frustrated, his whole body shaking with the effort of moving so much. Just as Morgana got up, one hand on each of his shoulders so she could force him to lie down again, Merlin spoke.

His voice was strained and it took her a moment to understand what he was trying to say, but he wouldn’t stop, even as he was pressed to the makeshift bed.

“Arthur- Arthur be careful-”

He was having a nightmare, Morgana figured, carefully letting her hand glide along Merlin’s shoulder as she brought the other up to his face to cradle it. Ignoring the scorching heat his skin brought to hers she let her fingers trail along the boy's high cheekbone in an attempt to soothe him.

“No, no, no- Stop, Jericho! Stop!” Merlin was yelling now at the top of his struggling lungs, full of fear and pain. “I- Jericho!”

His pleas pierced the air like a blade, startling Gwen and Gaius awake. Neither of them were conscious enough to see Morgana flinch at the mention of her servants name or the way her face fell in horror.

Of course Merlin was just dreaming, that was all… but Morgana knew better than anyone that sometimes dreams- They could be more. It was highly improbable that this applied to Merlin, but if there was even the sliver of a chance… She couldn’t even finish the sentence in her mind, fear overtaking her to the point she wasn’t sure if she was holding on to Merlin for his sake or hers.

Gwen was at her side first, rubbing the sleep off her face to make space for a concerned frown that was meant both her and Merlin.

“My Lady, what are you doing here? What-” She was interrupted by another agonizing whine and Gwen's eyes flickered to Merlin. “What’s happened to him?”

“I-I don’t know, he just- he’s dreaming and-” Morgana stuttered, her trembling fingers digging deeper into Merlin’s shoulder to anchor herself. “I don’t know what to do!”

“Let me see…” Gaius joined, hovering over his protegee from the other side of the cot as he first put a hand to Merlin’s forehead, but quickly withdrew it when he began muttering in a language neither Gwen nor Morgana had ever heard before. For a moment the physician froze, then he straightened and asked, “Could you get me some fresh water? We’ll need to keep him cool if he should make it through the day.”

Gwen shot up and Morgana followed suit.

She didn’t have to - she was a Lady after all and did not have to take requests like this - but quite frankly, she was glad for a distraction.

Anything that would keep her from hearing Jericho and Arthur's names uttered with such desperation was good enough.



*



Jericho hadn’t slept a wink.

She’d been too eaten up with guilt and worked up to even close her eyes and even if she hadn’t been there was still the threat of a man nearby, able to do whatever he could think of if she let herself be vulnerable. And after yet another one of Arthur’s speeches about his rank and her obedience, which she apparently owed him, Jericho really hadn’t wanted to test him.

So, tried and ridden with exhaustion and pain, Jericho thought the crying was only a trick of her imagination.

It was faint, coming from somewhere between the trees that surrounded them and it might as well have been an animal. Then Arthur turned his head, looking the same direction the wailing came from and Jericho could’ve hit her head against the nearest oak.

Of course she had to be out with one of the few men in the land that would actually be chivalrous enough to go check out where and whom the crying came from instead of just continuing with the much more pressing matter at hand (saving Merlin’s life). And they were so close too…

“Sire, I don’t think-” Jericho cut herself off, already staring at the backside of Arthur's horse as he steered it into the right direction.

He’d gotten off, leading it through the narrowing trees. Jericho did the same, making sure to stay a couple steps behind - not really by choice though. The condition of her body had deteriorated drastically as she was now able to feel the exhaustion her heart brought to her. It was like the energy was being sucked out of her limbs so it could continue beating at its rapid pace, her arms heavy as led and her legs slow as she practically had to drag them along the mossy ground, kicking up dirt with every step.

It had been easier to conceal while she’d been riding on the horse, but now it was only a matter of time until Arthur would notice. And Jericho wasn’t really able to predict what his reactions would be. She just hoped she could make herself of some use before that moment would come.

“Hello? Are you alright?” Arthur had already reached the clearing ahead, obviously talking to whoever it was that had dared to air out their feelings while they were on a search for an antidote that would save Jericho’s brother.

Maybe that played into the immediate dislike Jericho felt towards them. She hadn’t even seen the person yet, still several feet away from even breaching the tree line, but she already wanted to roll her eyes at them and tell them to go pack it up and cry somewhere out of Arthur’s earshot. S

he didn’t get the chance to do that, unfortunately, as something scaly and deformed looking shot out of a bush near her, hissing and sputtering as it headed not for Jericho, but the clearing.

Instinctively Jericho pulled the sword from her belt and leapt forward, forgetting that she wasn’t really capable of big stunts and promptly landing on her face, betrayed by her numb legs and the metal in her hand that suddenly seemed to weigh a ton and a half.

“Arthur!” Jericho screamed his name as a warning as she grappled to get back on her feet.

Dirt clung to her chin and her knees were sore, small rocks and pointy sticks digging into them. As Arthur shouted for the person in the clearing to stay back, Jericho bit through the pain and stumbled forward, keeping herself up with flailing arms and a lot of shallow, fast breaths.

The frustration over having a hard time doing something as basic as walking had her grit her teeth, but she had no other option than collapsing against a nearby tree just as Arthur rolled under the beast - a Cockatrice - to gain the upper hand again. His eyes were blown wide, but his movements were steady and controlled.

He seemed to have things under control, but… Jericho had wanted to make herself useful, hadn't she?

Summoning strength she didn’t know she had left in her weary bones Jericho lifted her sword to about the height of her shoulder, pulling it back and- Her arm nearly gave in, quivering under the weight, but with an angry shout Jericho swung it through the air, releasing it at just the right moment.

The blade rotated once, twice before it hit its target.

With a long, aggravating howl the Cockatrice collapsed, Morgana’s sword stuck right through its skull, blood running down on it, filling the Latin inscription dark red.

Two pairs of eyes landed on Jericho, watching her as her arms fell to her side, muscles burning and tightening as they tried to recover. She was well aware she was being observed, but purposely avoided their gaze, shaking out her hand with a small grin on her face.

Surely Arthur must be devastated, having been robbed of the honour of killing a beast like that and on top of that it had happened in front of a person he’d intended to save. Served him right for his bratty behaviour the day before.

The expected scolding never came though as Arthur had turned back to the hurt girl he’d found on the log, but she got up, backing away from him with one hand raised while the other clutched on to the bloody scratches on her shoulder.

“It’s alright, we’re not going to hurt you.” Arthur promised, his voice sickly sweet. He ignored the gagging noises that came from the edge of the clearing and asked, “Who did that to you?”

“My master.”

Jericho looked up, examining the girl cowering to Arthur.

Her wide, blue eyes were the first thing she noticed. They were stunning, sure, but unnatural too. It wasn’t a shade Jericho had ever seen on anyone before, nearly turquoise like the gems on the necklace Morgana had given her. The girl didn’t look very remarkable otherwise - skinny, average height with straight, chestnut hair.

Still, Jericho couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off about her. Her fearful demeanour didn’t sit right with her, the way she shook seemed played, her laboured breaths fake.

“I ran away from him, then I got lost. Please don’t leave me!” The girl cried, her previous fear of Arthur magically vanished as she threw herself at him, hands fisting into his tunic and body pressing against his.

Arthur was so taken aback he didn’t step away or reciprocate her embrace. He just stood there awkwardly, his arms limp at his side.

That was when the girl threw a glance at Jericho and frowned, like full on confused. It was like her whole face had changed with the bewilderment displayed on it, making her look like a whole different person. And for those few seconds she was not a scared girl, but someone else…

Jericho frowned back at her, wondering what her gut was trying to tell her. Not to trust her, that was clear, but-

Arthur cleared his throat and the girl snapped back into her act. She managed to conjure actual tears as she looked up at the Prince, who’d finally taken a step back, one hand politely placed on the girl’s shoulder.

“I won’t, but there’s something I have to do first.”

“We.” Jericho coughed, pushing herself off the stem she’d leaned against, forcing her not to waver.

Arthur turned to her, his eyes running her up and down and his brows knitted. Jericho didn’t know what she looked like, but she doubted her act was good enough to hide how miserable she was doing.

But before Arthur could say anything, the girl asked, “What is your name?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Jericho hissed.

Her steps were heavy as she stomped over to the dead Cockatrice, pointedly ignoring Arthur’s outraged stare. It took more force and attempts than Jericho would’ve liked it too, but eventually she’d managed to heave the sword from the creature's skull and stored it back into her belt. Blood seeped into the expensive fabric of her breeches, but Jericho didn’t have enough fucks left to give.

“I apologize for her… rudeness.” Arthur said, shifting so he was facing a cave mouth of a cave Jericho hadn’t previously noticed, which meant she must be somewhere near the brink of death as usually she’d have no trouble spotting an assortment of large, dark rocks in broad daylight. “But I assure you she will not trouble you either."

“Or maybe I will.” Jericho shrugged, driving the tip of the sword into the ground so she had something to lean on. In her mind she liked to think that her stance looked relaxed, rather than weak.

Dark spots bloomed all over her field of vision, blurring it just enough so she didn’t see Arthur until he was standing right in front of her. He grabbed the collar of her tunic, forcing her to stand up straight.

“What the actual fuck is wrong with you?” He growled, low enough for the girl not to overhear them.

“I just don’t think we should trust her. What if she’s lying? She could be!” Jericho muttered, her mouth awfully dry and slow, slurring her words. Her legs didn’t seem up to the task of carrying her legs anymore and gave in, so Jericho was only held up by the hold Arthur still had on her. “Let’s just go in that cave, get the flower or the stem or the leaf or- Whatever it is we're here for and then leave!”

Jericho expected pretty much anything. Arthur disagrees, telling her to shut up, arguing. Anything. Just something that linked to what she’d said. But of course he had to go into a whole different direction.

“What is wrong with you?” Arthur asked again, without anger this time.

“Nothing! Now let’s get the flower!”

“Jericho, you are shaking- You can’t even stand on your own!” As if to prove his point, he released his grip on the tunic, causing Jericho to slump in like a sack of potatoes. Hadn’t he reached out in time to get a hold of her arm she would’ve fallen. “Did the Cockatrice harm you?”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Jericho laughed, not even sure what was coming out of her mouth anymore as it became increasingly harder to think.

The constant, rapid boom of her heart was deafening. She could feel it in her throat and hear it in her ears. It seemed to block out everything else as if to remind her “Hey, if you don’t do something about this soon, I’ll just stop functioning altogether!" Groaning Jericho dragged a hand across her face, wiping away sweat and dust from her fall earlier.

“Jericho-”

“What flower are you looking for?” The bright voice came from right next to Jericho, startling her so badly she jerked away from Arthur, who seemed to have been surprised as well, because he’d lingered his hold, and Jericho tumbled to the ground.

She tried to catch herself, but her body just went limp, leaving her limbs spread and her eyes half-lidded. All she could see was the sky, incapable of lifting or even turning her head slightly. It was dusk now, the world tinged in a soft orange glow, and Jericho doubted Arthur would be able to stick to his promise that they’d be back in Camelot by night.

“I know these parts well. Maybe I could help you.”

“We…” Arthur looked at Jericho for a moment longer, then he turned back to the girl. “The Mortaeus flower.”

“Oh, I know where those are!” Jericho was sure the giggle had a malicious undertone in it. That girl was planning something, but-

She couldn’t even get her mouth to open, much less voice a warning to Arthur.

“Follow me!”



*



Jericho wasn’t sure how long she’d laid on the ground, but the sky had turned from orange, to red, to a faint purple and the first stars could be spotted, glimmering and dancing between the few clouds that there were.

She’d gone through a range of emotions, which she - like it or not - had to face, since being unable to move didn’t give her much options for distraction.

First up had been disbelief (Sure Arthur didn’t like her much, but was he really stupid enough to just wander off with a complete stranger and just forget about her?), followed by anger (Arthur should be happy he had her! Who’d killed the Cockatrice? Who had warned him of the dangers of this girl?), which was then replaced with indifference (Honestly, if Arthur wanted to pretend he was smarter than her and walk into his death by blindly trusting the girl, then he should. Why should Jericho care about it? After all, she had warned him!)... But of course then fear had to settle in, gnawing away at her stomach, twisting her guts so tightly they had to have started knotting into a mess that would be impossible to ever be undone again (Because if Arthur died, then so would Merlin.)

And eventually, the feelings made way for the all consuming pain as the stabbing, sharp shooting, that had jolted through her chest and core ever since Merlin had drank from that goblet, intensified. It had her curl in on herself. Her arm had gone numb entirely and Jericho was pretty sure she couldn’t feel her toes anymore.

The only thing she could really do was wait, grind her teeth to keep in the screams that threatened to break from her throat and think about her brother.

How was he doing?

She didn’t want to admit it to herself, but if she was doing this badly, not much time could be left, right? Or maybe the part of Merlin’s magic that resided in her was clawing its way out, desperately trying to get back to its source so it could strengthen Merlin, buy him and Arthur some more time.

Jericho really hoped that that was what it was. She would happily die here, alone and far away from home, if it meant Merlin would survive.

At some point she started hallucinating. She had to be hallucinating or gone insane in some other way, because there was a glowing, blue orb.

Even through closed eyes she’d seen it thanks to its brightness and when Jericho had pried her eyes open a tiny bit, it had been right in front of her face. She didn’t feel any aversion towards it though, not even the tiniest bit of fear. Not even when it inched closer, down towards her chest.

Blinking Jericho made sure this wasn’t a dream - she might’ve passed out a while ago - but the glowing ball stayed, coming closer and closer and-

It disappeared into her chest, right where her heart was.

“Uhm…” Jericho croaked, a frown building between her brows. She waited for more pain, but instead it vanished altogether, leaving her feeling normal. “Oh… oh!”

She shot up, marvelling at the fact she could do that again. Testingly Jericho stood up, stretching her arms and legs, which worked just fine. There was no trace of fatigue left in her body, leaving it overflowing with energy. The only thing that had stayed was the fast thump of her heart, but even that didn’t cause any strikes of hurt.

Realisation hit her the same time as she ran off towards the cave mouth.

Merlin, somehow, must’ve done this. She recognised the warm, electric surge of it, that now ran through her limbs when it was usually only reserved for her heart. She pushed the anxiety over that this action might’ve cost her brother even more of his fleeting strength, and instead squinted as she entered the cave.

Her attention was drawn to a similar blue ball floating in front of her, hovering over a gaping cliff - a cliff that Arthur was currently hanging on to, surrounded by very ugly, very big spiders. They edged closer as the Prince struggled to hang on to whatever uneven parts of the wall he could find.

“Arthur!” Jericho yelled, hoping she wouldn’t startle him and he’d fall and break his neck. Not because of that, but because there were two flowers just a couple feet above and he could definitely reach.

That was if the spiders could be held off long enough.

Luckily Arthur was trained for surprises during heated situations like these, turning his head slowly, making sure the shift wouldn’t throw him off balance. Confusion was edged into his smooth features when he spotted Jericho standing at the ruins of what once must’ve been a bridge.

“How-” He wanted to ask, but was very rudely interrupted.

“So, where’s your girl?” Jericho’s voice was dripping with irony as she crouched down, gathering small rocks.

Arthur’s annoyed groan echoed off the walls, “As it turned out she was a witch or some other kind of sorceress… made the bridge collapse when I was on it.”

“Hm, if only someone could have warned you that such a thing would happen!” Jericho had a handful of stones when she crawled to the edge of the abyss.

“If memory serves right, you mentioned something about not trusting her, not that she’d use magic to try and kill me.” Arthur’s breath was laboured, his voice coming closer as he continued his climb.

“My bad, I’ll be more precise next time. Now, do you see that flower up there?”

“Yes, that’s what I’m going for. Or trying to. These damn spiders-” Arthur went quiet as something flew past him with a whirr, hitting the spider closest to him and he watched it drop into the dark below. “I guess those won’t be a problem any longer.”

Jericho laughed, hurtling the next rock at a spider near the flower, sending it to its friend. She had to squint to see properly, but the spiders weren’t moving very fast, making them easy targets.

Finally, all those times she’d sat on the roof with Merlin when they’d been kids and thrown sticks and dried up pieces of break at the village drunk during his spontaneous naps in front of their door were paying off.

“Got them!”

Without the risk of being bitten and crawled on, Arthur had been much faster to reach the flowers. After picking and storing it in a pouch that hung from his belt, there was only a short distance to the bridge, which Jericho helped him with, bending over the edge and offering a hand to the prince.

Uncharacteristically cooperative, Arthur actually took it, appreciating some of his weight being lifted for him after all the trouble the past day had brought.

“Oh gods, why are you so heavy?” Jericho gasped, giving it her all as she pulled and pulled, Arthur’s head having already made over the ledge. “Why are you even wearing your whole armour?”

“Excuse me?!” Arthur’s arm swung over the edge and he propped himself up on it. “The armour is for protection! Which I clearly needed with all the deadly creatures that crawl around here.”

“Surely the chainmail would have done it too. Ah-” Jericho had still been pulling with all her strength when Arthur finally made it up all the way and the sudden lack of heaviness made her topple over.

Panting they both lay there, catching their breath. They still had to get back to Camelot, fast too, but at least the most troublesome part of their task seemed to be behind them.

To celebrate that, Arthur didn’t even chastise his servant for her words and instead offered her a hand and helped her get up.

Quietly they hurried back to their horses. The blue light had guided them out of the cave before disappearing into thin air - along with it that burst of strength Jericho had gotten from the one that had entered her chest. By the time she was back in the saddle, she already felt the first sting surge through her chest again and her forehead was covered in sweat again.

If Arthur had noticed anything about her abrupt recovery and the even abrupter downfall of said recovery then he didn’t let her know about it, too focused on racing back home.



*



Jericho remembered Morgana’s words, her warning about what Uther might do once they returned to Camelot, and tried to pass them on to Arthur, but he wouldn’t hear it.

He insisted that his father wouldn’t do anything to them, not for doing the right thing. Jericho huffed sharply.

“So making Merlin drink the poison was the right thing?” Her words were slurring again, her tongue feeling too heavy to move properly.

Her condition was nearly back to how it had been before the magic blue orb and that might’ve been the only reason Arthur didn’t do more to reprimand her than sending an angry glare her way. And he rode on, once more ignoring Jericho’s advice, even though she’d proven herself right once before that day.

She wanted to scream at him, rip him from his horse and slap some sense into the brat… if only she didn’t feel like she’d soon fall off her own horse if she even dared to move a muscle. Just out of sight of the drawbridge, Jericho stopped her horse and Arthur did the same, his hands twitching with irritation.

“What now?” He barked.

“You took both flowers, right?”

“Yes, but what-”

“Give me one, you take the other.”

“You can’t order me-” Arthur began, but cut himself off with a sigh as he fished one flower out of the pouch. He leaned over, laying it into Jericho’s open palm which was lazily placed on her lap. She could barely get her fingers to close around it. “What are you going to do?”

“The smart thing.” Jericho lied boldly.

She had absolutely no idea what she’d do. There was no way she’d make it all the way up to Gaius’ chambers or any other part of the castle where she’d find a person to take the flower to the physician - hell, she doubted she’d even be able to stand on her own. But she was convinced there was a better plan than just walking into Camelot alongside Arthur and taking the risk of being stopped by guards or knights, who’d take them to the dungeons or Uther.

“Fine.” Arthur huffed. He set off again, riding towards the drawbridge.

Jericho followed slowly, waiting at a distance and watching. As she’d expected, Arthur didn’t get far. The two guards stationed by the gate crossed their spears and soon after they escorted the Prince inside. The way they held his arms made it pretty obvious that Arthur wasn’t going with them voluntarily.

That was Jericho’s window, her shot at making it inside unnoticed.

Urging her horse to pick up speed, she galloped through the now unwatched gate, through the lower town and all the way up to the castle. It was quiet and dark, but Jericho didn’t need any light to know where she needed to go. While her foggy brain hadn’t been able to come up with a great plan, her heart had made up for it, leading her to the backside of the castle until she stopped her horse under a specific row of windows.

A wave of relief flooded through her when she saw the one on the third floor standing wide open.

Still, her idea might not work. It was the middle of the night, she might be asleep, but it was worth a try. It was really kind of the only chance she’d get…

Jericho took as deep a breath as she could and as loud as possible she screamed, “Morgana!”

Her lungs burned and she was barely able to keep her head tilted back into her neck, but there was no sound from the room her mistress resided in. She had to try again. Shouting sounded from a distance.

“Morgana!”

A rustle from above. The voices came closer, accompanied by the heavy drum of boots against cobble stone. Jericho knew they were coming for her. Uther must’ve somehow figured she’d been with Arthur-

“Jericho!” Morgana’s head stuck out of the window, her delicate face bright with excitement. That was until she took a closer look at her servant, looking half-alive the way she sat hunched over, eyes lidded and glistening with sweat. “Jericho-”

“I have the flower!” Jericho held her hand a little higher. “I’ll place it on the window sill down here. Please, bring it to Gaius and…”

She swayed dangerously, just so managing to lean forward against the neck of the horse so she wouldn’t fall off. The sill was right in front of her and she clumsily dumped the flower on it. Above her she could hear Morgana gasp.

“What about you?”

“I’ll be fine.”

When Morgana arrived at the spot Jericho had previously been in, there wasn’t a trace of her to be found. Traces of other people were all around though. The prints of big boots in the dust that covered the ground.

For a moment the Lady considered making a detour to the throne room to yell at the king, but then she collected herself. It wasn’t what Jericho had asked her to do and saving Merlin's life was much more important than fighting a losing battle against Uther.

So, defiantly raising her chin, which might’ve been impressive if anyone had been around to see it, Morgana took the flower and hurried back to the physician’s chambers.



*



Jericho came back to consciousness in a cell.

She wasn’t alone. The voices were blurry at first, but soon she was able to assign them to her two favourite people in the entire world - Arthur and Uther.

They were fighting, both shouting and snarling back and fourth, but Jericho was too busy with her own questions to really listen to them.

Because did her getting well enough to wake up mean that Merlin was doing better too? Had Morgana gotten the flower? Or had the guards found it before her and destroyed it? What had happened to the one Arthur had had? Had he been able to give it to someone that would take it to Gaius? Would Merlin be okay again?

Well, she was still feeling like shit, aching all over in fact, but she was still alive, so Merlin was too.

“You can’t leave her here! She needs to see Gaius!” Arthur’s tone was so cutting it pulled Jericho back to reality.

He had to be somewhere close, but Jericho didn’t have the strength to even open her eyes properly.

“She was with you, wasn’t she? That means she deserves to be down here. Being sick isn’t an excuse.” Uther responded with that calm coldness he’d condemned Merlin to drink from the goblet.

“But she didn’t know you’d forbidden me to go! She just wanted to save her brother.” Arthur lied, his voice getting thinner with each sentence. “Father, please, she doesn’t deserve to die.”

“Neither did your servant, but that’s how things go sometimes. It’s time you learn that, Arthur.”

Ah, so at least he admitted it.

“Father-”

The door to their cell crashed shut and the echo of the king's steps got lost in the distance. Even in her dazed state Jericho could hear the disappointment in Arthur’s silence and she couldn’t help but feel a little bad for him. The argument between him and his father had something familiar to it.

Not that Jericho knew much about fathers, but… Well, parents weren’t all that different, no matter their gender.

She wasn’t sure how to cheer Arthur up though, so she went with the next best thing: Distraction, which went hand in hand with a question she’d wanted to ask ever since Merlin had brought that godforsaken cup to his lips.

“Why did you hold me back?”

“For fucks sake!” Arthur yelped, shuffling back against the wall, before crawling forward to where Jericho lay in the middle of the cell, one hand hovering over her shoulder. “You’re alive!”

“Of course I am.” She muttered, her lips quirking upwards ever so slightly. “Now answer my question.”

“What question?”

“Why did you hold me back?” Jericho asked again. “You could’ve let me take the cup from Merlin and I could’ve drank the poison. Then he’d be fine and… Why didn’t you let me do that, Arthur?”

Arthur flinched at the distraught tone in her voice, which cut deep into his heart. Even though he didn’t like Jericho particularly well, hearing her so upset hurt in a way and the guilt set in a moment later, making him give in and lay his hand on her shoulder in a gentle attempt to calm her.

“Merlin would be fine right now…” Jericho whispered as the first tear dripped down her cheek.

Arthur didn’t think she even noticed she’d started crying as she seemed to slip back into unconsciousness, so he took the liberty of wiping her cheek.

“I couldn’t… I should have, I know. And- No, I’m not sorry I held you back.” Arthur half expected Jericho to rip her eyes open and glare at him, maybe even call him an arse and when she didn’t do either of those things, he felt strangely upset. It must mean that whatever was wrong with her, really must have her at the brink of death. “I couldn’t let you drink it because Merlin… He gave me this- this look and I knew that if I wouldn’t have stepped in I would’ve never heard the end of it… Also I would’ve had to go on this rescue mission with him and I assume you’re familiar with his survival skills. There would’ve been three dead bodies by sunrise. And… you didn’t see the mortified expression on Morgana’s face when you leapt forward-”

Arthur had become painfully aware of how still Jericho had gone, the shallow rise and fall of her chest having stopped completely. Shock incapacitated him momentarily as he stared down at her, searching for a sign of movement in vain.

“Jericho?”

He shook her with increasing force, but all that did was make her head lull around slackly.

“Jericho?!”

Arthur took her by the shoulders and pulled her up, dragging her to the nearest wall to lean her again. Her chin dropped to her chest, strands of dark hair falling over her face like curtains. Arthur pressed two fingers to her neck, but they were shaking so badly he didn’t know if she no longer had a pulse or if he just couldn’t find it.

He knew better than to call for help. The entire staff in this castle was loyal to his father and his father only, his word was law and no title Arthur carried would change anything about that.

“Jericho, come on… Wake up. Breathe. Anything-” Arthur said, not caring about the pathetic pleading tone his voice had assumed. “I know you’re horribly adverse to listening to me, but just this once will you make an exception?!”

Maybe she had heard him or maybe Arthur had some gods given healing power he hadn’t previously been informed about, but right after he’d finished talking Jericho did start breathing again.

They were short, flimsy sips of air at first, but soon they turned into full, deep breaths that had Arthur crumple in alleviation.

She didn’t wake up, but that was alright as long as she was alive.



*



Morgana sat by Merlin’s side even after he’d woken up, breathing, healthy and very exhausted.

She smiled and waved, claiming it was no big deal when Gwen told the boy that Morgana had been the one to bring the flower to Gaius just at the right time. She just couldn't be fully happy - even though she tried to be - as long as she had that image of Jericho stuck in her mind. How sick she’d looked, white as a sheet and barely able to hold herself up…

Of course Merlin had asked for his sister soon after waking, which had the others sharing sheepish glances, which then made Merlin very suspicious and Gaius had to explain to him that Jericho and Arthur had been arrested after returning with the antidote. The boy had nearly lost his mind and he’d tried to crawl out of his cot, nearly landing on the hard, cold floor hadn’t it been for Morgana reacting quickly and grasping his torso mid air.

“I’ll see what I can do.” She’d promised him once she’d helped him settle back in, an optimistic smile on her face.

So, Morgana marched into Uther's study in the early morning hours, catching him just before he dove into his paperwork. The king greeted his ward with a smile and a cheerful “good morning”, which led to believe that she would have a good chance to change his mind over his son and servants' punishment.

Uther could be harsh… downright cruel at times, but Morgana had learned what to say and do, which buttons to push, to work the man. More than once she’d bent him to her will - though most of the time what she wanted were dresses or jewels, not the release of prisoners, but she just had to believe in herself and the rest would work itself out.

“Your Majesty, I was wondering,” Morgana said with a playful satiny undertone to her voice after the initial greetings had been passed back and forth, “if it might be possible that Arthur’s sentence was a little harsh.”

“Morgana…” Uther sighed, giving her that look that he always gave her when he thought she just didn’t understand his actions… that she was too soft and emotional to truly grasp what the decisions of a king meant.

“I am not questioning you, Sire! I do think Arthur was wrong by disobeying you and he deserves to be reprimanded, but…” Morgana circled the desk Uther was sitting at until she was standing right next to him and when he looked up at her, she gifted him with a sweet smile.

She had gotten eerily good at hiding the fact that she wanted to do the exact opposite of what she was doing now - agreeing with him. She rarely actually did.

“Arthur is young and naive at times, but in his mind, he was just doing the right thing. I think teaching him your ways instead of locking him up would serve him much more for the future.”

Silently Uther gazed up at his ward, a small, fond smile tugging at his lips and he laid his hand over Morgana’s. She held her breath, waiting… And Uther nodded.

“How very wise of you Morgana. Tell the guards to let him go and then send him up to me.”

“What about the servant? I do really require her services…”

“Her too. Surely she’s learned her lesson.”

It was hard not to skip out of the room and instead take long, dignified strides.



*



“Merlin!” Jericho screamed as she burst through the door, ignoring her still wobbly legs as she sprinted through the physician’s quarters right towards the bench her brother was sitting on and eating breakfast.

Merlin turned - looking much healthier already, his cheeks a rosy pink - and a fat grin spread over his face when he saw his sister rapidly approaching. Just in time he managed to jump to his feet before she clashed into him, ripping both of them off their feet and onto the floor. Neither of them cared much about the hard fall, too busy laughing and embracing as the horror of the past days washed away.

“You’re alive!”

“So are you!” Merlin scooted back a bit so he could look at Jericho properly, his eyes darkening ever so slightly when he saw the remnants of exhaustion on her face. “I heard you weren’t doing so great either.”

“Eh, it was nothing.” Jericho waved her hand through the air as she sat up, pulling Merlin with her, so they were seated across from each other, both crossing their legs and leaning towards each other.

“Didn’t look like it was nothing when Morgana nearly broke out into tears when I’d just mentioned you.”

“Ah, that…” Jericho cringed at the twinge of guilt blossoming in her chest at the thought that she’d caused Morgana any even remotely negative feelings. “Well, I’m fine now. How about that?”

“Amazing.” Merlin chuckled, pulling her in for another short hug. As he pressed her close he whispered, “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me for something like that, you dimwit!” Jericho scolded as she pushed him off again and she shook her head in disapproval. “If you want to thank me for something, then it should be for me putting up with Arthur for two days straight.”

“Uff, how was that?” Merlin could already imagine and he wasn’t sure if Jericho reliving those memories was a good idea as it might lead to the destruction of their chambers.

But to his surprise, Jericho managed a somewhat convincing neutral expression when she answered, “He was an annoying, controlling and nerve grating cock, but he did stick to his promise of making you survive, so what can I really complain about?”

“Huh, I think that’s the most positive thing I’ve heard you say about him.”

“Funny.”

As the floor got too uncomfortable, the twins finally got up and sat on the bench. Jericho filled herself a bowl of soup as well, not bothering to admit to how starved she was as her stomach did that for her, growling loudly as she shoved the first spoon of lukewarm broth in her mouth.

“He said some nice stuff about you, actually.”

“Oh?”

Jericho barked a laugh at how fast her brother had quirked up, wiggling her brow as Merlin’s ears turned bright red.

“It was something along the lines of ‘you’re a shit servant, but you're nice and entertaining, so he deems you worth risking his own life to save yours’... Kind of reminds me of someone.”

Her eyes narrowed, some resentment swinging in her voice. Sure, it was great Merlin was doing well again, but that didn’t mean he could get away unscathed for nearly dying!

“Yeah… about that-”

“No, Merlin, let me make this really easy to understand, so even you’ll get it.”

“Hey!”

Jericho ignored his outraged pouting and laid her hand on his shoulder. It was both reassuring to feel his warm skin again, see the rise and fall as he breathed normally and fucking scary to think that some day this might not be the case again.

“If you ever in your hopefully very long life do anything like this again, I will have to kill you with my bare hands. Is that understood?”

The choice of words was silly, yes, but Merlin still couldn’t find it in himself to hold his sister's heavy gaze. He hadn’t really thought about how his actions might affect her. And not just physically, but emotionally too.

But now it was all there, lying plainly in her gaze. All that stored up fear and dread and Merlin couldn’t take it.

“I’ll do my best, I promise.” He muttered, playing with his neckerchief.

“Good enough for me.” Jericho replied, but before she turned back to her food, she squeezed Merlin’s shoulder. “And I’m proud of you. From an outstanders perspective - one that is not your sister - what you did was very noble and brave.”

“Haha.” Merlin rolled his eyes, but when he looked back up at her, his lips had turned into that cheeky smile Jericho loved so much. “I’m proud of you too.”

“Great, now let’s forget about all of this and hope for the rest of our stay here to be peaceful and quiet.”

“Peaceful and quiet? With our track record?”

“Yes, I know, but you don’t have to jinx it!”

Chapter Text

“You know, you could help me pick the mushrooms. After all, the only reason Arthur let you go with me was because you swore up and down that this was a two person job.”

Jericho leaned back, lounging in the sunlight as she watched her brother groan and bend down to pick another mushroom hiding between thick ferns by the tree she was leaning against. She looked so relaxed, arms crossed behind her head and legs splayed out, that an answer was entirely unnecessary - no way she was going to move unless a life or death type of situation arose.

“Exactly, I see two people doing jobs. Two different jobs that is.” Jericho stifled a yawn, her lips quirking into a smug grin when she heard Merlin huff in disbelief

“And what job is it that you are doing, if I may ask?”

“You may.” Jericho teased further, not needing to open her eyes to know what kind of look Merlin was sending her way. Lazily she patted the bow that lay next to her and then the quiver strapped to her hip. “I’m here for your protection. So if anything dangerous comes your way just scream.”

“I thank you for your service.” Merlin mouthed sarcastically before moving on to another spot on the other side of the clearing.

They weren’t far from Camelot, maybe a half hour walk, but the twins liked to think they were miles and miles away. Maybe even back in Ealdor.

You could tell by the way they moved - less constricted with the lack of eyes watching - and the relaxed looks on their faces. Merlin even dared to use his magic to help discover more of the mushrooms Gaius had asked him to get for his inventory and Jericho hummed a quiet tune that their mother used to sing to them before going to bed.

Merlin hadn’t heard it in years, yet it still had an effect on him, calming him to the point he felt his eyelids grow heavy. It was a rare moment of peace.

They hadn’t had many of those lately and obviously it couldn’t just go uninterrupted.

“Jericho!” Merlin’s panicked scream pierced the air all the way across the clearing.

“Funny, Merlin.”

Jericho assumed her brother was just pretending, trying to somehow coax her into helping him anyway, until she heard a chilling roar from the same direction Merlin’s voice had come from.

“Oh, shit!”

By the time her eyes were open, she was already on her feet, bow in hand, greeted by the view of her brother sprinting towards her with a huge, feathered beast on his heels. It clawed at him, but Merlin managed to stay just out of reach, his face distorted by fear.

“Get behind me!” Jericho’s voice was tight as she pulled an arrow from the quiver, stringing it and aiming at the beast.

It was nothing she’d ever seen before and the closest animal Jericho could compare it to would be an eagle - but usually eagles weren’t the size of a horse and they certainly didn’t walk on all fours. They didn’t even have four legs!

As advised Merlin scurried behind his sister, standing close to her so he could peer over her shoulder. His trembling hands needed something to hold on to and found their way to Jericho’s belt - she did not complain, too deep in her focus of aiming.

The beast was merely a few paces away when the arrow soared through the air with perfect aim. It hit its forehead, right in the middle, which would surely kill it, but-

“What the actual fu-” Jericho cursed as she watched the arrow uselessly bounce off, the tip shattering into tiny paces, but there was no time for shock or another attack as another scream echoed through the trees.

Simultaneously Jericho, Merlin and the beast whipped their heads around to see a man dashing toward them. He was tall, dressed in cheap clothing with thick black hair falling in his ungroomed face. The most noticeable thing about him was the sword he was wielding, raised high above his head as he charged the hostile creature, seemingly unafraid of the birdlike hissing that emanated from it.

The sword wasn’t new by any means, the blemishes it carried visible even from a distance, but clearly this man kept great care of it as there was no rust or dirt to be seen… He probably wouldn’t be happy about it shattering on impact.

“I wouldn’t-” Jericho wanted to warn him, but it was far too late.

The sword slammed down on the beast’s flank, meeting the same fate as Jericho’s arrow had just a minute ago. It burst into thousands of tiny pieces, scattering across the grass, reaching all the way to the twins' feet.

“-do that…”

For a moment everyone froze.

The man looking at the twins, fearlessness melting away to make room for some mild panic. But he seemed to have some survival skills - thank god, Jericho thought - and cut in front of the feathery creature, which reached out for him, grabbing both Merlin and Jericho by their hands and dragging them with him.

His grip wasn’t firm and his hands a little sweaty, so Jericho managed to pull away and fall back just far enough to cover her brother.

Powerful stomps shook the ground behind, but just before the sharp claws of the beast could reach any of them, the trio reached a fallen tree which they dove behind head first. It croaked and hissed, but soon the flapping of wings could be heard, announcing the creature's departure.

“Ah sure, a tree is all it takes to stop it.” Jericho rambled, pulling herself off the ground to sit down properly as she dusted pine needles and clumps of dirt off her tunic. “Good to know for the future.”

Merlin was only half-listening to her, much more drawn to the handsome stranger next to him, which he eyed with amazement. A few seconds into his staring, which was reciprocated by the man, he figured he might have to say something.

“You saved my life…”

Jericho’s head snapped around at the sound of her brother’s dreamy voice, her brows furrowing in slight disgust.

She’d recognise that tone anywhere.

Having been around Merlin all her life (including puberty and the discovery of attraction) she knew what his flirting looked like and she found it disturbing each time.

“I’m Merlin.”

“Lancelot.” The man said similarly affectionately before groaning and pressing his hand to his side.

Only then did the twins notice a bright red, rapidly growing spot on the man’s tunic. Merlin’s eyes grew wide as his hands shot forward to help press on the wound as well at which Jericho just rolled her eyes - clearly this Lancelot had things covered. Or maybe not.

The guy passed out a moment later, looking good even when slumped over and in pain.

“We have to get him back to Camelot! Gaius can help him!” Merlin declared, hurrying to get to his feet and get a hold of Lancelot's shoulders, so he could pick him up.

“Yes, yes…”

Jericho sighed and got up as well, getting her hands on Lancelot's ankles as Merlin clearly wasn’t strong enough to carry him by himself. She looked the guy up and down once more while they walked, a grin appearing on her lips.

“You know, he’s much more your type than Arthur.”

Merlin let out an exasperated groan, his head rolling back into his neck.

It had been weeks - if not months even - since that one time Merlin had looked at Arthur for a little too long, but his annoying sister just wouldn’t let this go. And it was becoming increasingly frustrating.

“First of all, I am not in love with Arthur and never was. No matter what you think you saw between us.”

“Saw? I think you mean ‘see’. Every goddamn day I have to watch you make love-eyes at-”

“Second,” Merlin continued as if Jericho wasn’t even there, his gaze dropping to Lancelot’s face, which was kind of smushed against his chest. “I don’t even know this guy. He might… Maybe he is my type, but who knows? It could turn out he’s a complete and utter arse.”

“He did just save your life, according to you.” Jericho said pointedly.

“No way you’re pissed about that.”

“M’ not!” Jericho shook her head, but her narrowed eyes betrayed her even if she was trying hard to look anywhere but Merlin. “I did shoot an arrow too and he didn’t really do anything other than ruin a perfectly good sword. Just saying!”

Merlin laughed, unsure if he should join in on the banter or let it be and focus on getting the unconscious Lancelot back to Gaius before he’d bleed out.

“Well, maybe you should stop saying things altogether then. How about that?”



*



Even though Gaius had reassured Merlin that Lancelot’s wounds were only superficial and that he’d be fine again, the young man barely dared to leave his side.

Lancelot had been put into the bed in the twin’s room so he could get the rest he needed and apparently he’d really needed it because by the time the sun began to set he still hadn’t woken up. Jericho made a comment about how now both, Merlin and her, would have to sleep on the floor, but Merlin had just given her a very stoic look and declared that that would be alright if it meant Lancelot would recover faster.

“And when will funny Merlin recover?” Jericho asked as she walked to answer the door as someone had been forcefully knocking on it just a minute ago.

“What?” Merlin tilted his head in question, still no smile in sight.

“Never mind…” Jericho mumbled and opened the door, her face falling when she saw who stood on the other side.

“Finally.” The head maid snapped, her hard stare boring right into Jericho.

It was so full of displeasure and plain boredom it nearly sent the girl a step back and the neatly folded dress that hung over the maids arm actually did make her do so - the sight could’ve been right out of one of Jericho’s nightmares.

“How- how can I help you?” Jericho cleared her throat, willing her voice to stay somewhat stable.

Technically the question was completely redundant, it was more than obvious what was about to be asked of her, but she clung on to that tiny, unrealistic hope that this was about something completely different.

Maybe that dress was one of Morgana’s that Jericho hadn’t laundered properly or accidentally ripped a hole into and now the head maid was here to scold her for it.

“You’ll be servicing the Prince tonight on order of the King.” The maid shoved the dress at Jericho’s chest, shattering her delusions in the blink of an eye. If she noticed the girl’s face fall, she didn’t seem to care all that much as she went on, “They just returned from a long trip, so you better be extra pleasant and attentive.”

“Yes, madam.”

Jericho cringed at the tone of her own voice - how submissive it sounded and how she automatically lowered her head. But there was no use fighting this, was there?

The consequences if she’d refuse by not showing up would be grave as the order came from Uther directly and honestly… Jericho wasn’t really eager to find out what range of punishments he could think of. Who knows, maybe she’d have to ‘service’ him next.

And at least this only affected her.

No involvement of Merlin or Gwen or anyone else she’d remotely begun to like. So, yeah… It wasn’t worth the trouble.

Without much fuss the head maid turned and marched off, leaving Jericho standing there lost in the open door, the dress pressed to her chest.

It wasn’t the same one as last time and she wasn’t eager to figure out what they’d picked for her this time. It felt lighter like there was even less fabric involved on this one, but that might just be Jericho’s paranoid brain. Just in time she caught herself digging her fingers into the gown, forcing them to relax again before they could start ripping it to pieces like she so desperately wanted to.

“Who was it?”

Jericho flinched, instinctively moving the dress behind her back as she turned to Merlin, who was leaning against the doorframe of their chambers. He didn’t look suspicious, his focus clearly elsewhere as he didn’t notice the fleeting look of distress on Jericho’s face.

“Just the head maid.”

Merlin pulled a face, letting on that he too wasn’t a big fan of the cruel woman. Jericho managed a small smile.

“She came to inform us that Arthur’s still not back from his trip, so there won’t be any need for you to wait on him tonight.”

“Oh, so…” Merlin perked up as he glanced over his shoulder to where Lancelot still lay passed out. “That means-”

“Yes, that means you can spend the night fretting over your wounded lover, who so valiantly defended you again-”

“My gods, can’t you be normal? Just once?”

Jericho snorted, “No, that would be boring.”

As Merlin disappeared back to stare at an unconscious man, Jericho backed out of the still open front door, kicking it shut with her foot so she could get away from her brother as quickly as possible. Because under no circumstance would she ever want him to know about the king’s plans to have her get shagged by his son.

Jericho had somewhat of an idea of how Merlin would react thanks to past experience and it was nothing she’d ever want to see again.

Sure, deep down in her selfish heart she’d like to have someone protect her and make it all go away, but the rational side of her brain knew that for one, Merlin would commit acts that would have Camelot build him a pyre bigger than any other pyre before it and that for another, she was much more fit to deal with the emotional aftermath.

Pushing down feelings for years on end was kind of her thing, while Merlin was much more prone to getting eaten by them, having them consume him as he wasn’t able to just forget they existed.

Jericho snuck through the castle like she was on some secret mission. It was ridiculous, but she just couldn’t shake the feeling that if someone saw her, they’d know what was going on immediately and Jericho had heard enough men call her a whore to last her a lifetime.

She made it to Morgana’s room unscathed, pushing the door open silently without knocking.

With Arthur and Uther just having returned, Jericho assumed that the Lady was with them, probably having dinner or listening to them recount stories of whatever task they’d been away to full fill. Well, she’d figured wrong.

Morgana was sitting on the window still across her bed, her elegant frame drenched in the saturated orange light of the sunset. Her face glowed entirely golden and not for the first time Jericho found herself stop, stare and marvel as her mind trailed to tales of gods and other humanoid mythical creatures that she’d been told when she’d been a child.

The moment lasted for the beat, Morgana turned, alerted by the noise, and the shimmer made way for harsh shadow to fall across her features. She looked breath-taking nonetheless. Breath-takingly upset.

“Who-”

Morgana broke off once she saw it was her servant, who’d just so rudely entered, and not some guard or knight or, god forbid, Arthur. The irritation turned to confusion as her lips pulled into a small smile.

“What are you doing here?”

“I- Apologies, my Lady, I didn’t think you’d be here...” Jericho stammered, already backing up again, one hand reaching for the doorhandle.

Morgana frowned playfully and waved a hand, gesturing for Jericho to stay. Her voice was laced with amusement when she asked, “And what was it you wanted to do in my chambers hadn’t I been here?”

Morgana expected a smirk or a laugh, even a joking comment in return, but Jericho stayed dead serious and as if that wasn’t alarming enough, the corners of her mouth kept twitching downwards as she forced herself to keep a somewhat neutral face. Immediately the Lady straightened, assuming a more earnest position as well as she waited for an answer Jericho was struggling to give her.

“I-” Jericho took a stuttering breath and pulled a bundle of fabric from behind her back. “I needed to change.”

“Okay…” Morgana nodded slowly.

Something about the way Jericho shuffled her feet, biting her bottom lip while her eyes wandered anywhere but to Morgana, told her that she shouldn't ask questions… but she had so many.

Why here? Why not change in her own room? What was it Jericho even had to change for?

There was nothing special going on that would require anything more distinguished than the tunic and trousers Jericho currently had on… Morgana snapped back into reality.

To the hollow eyes of her servant, waiting for her to say something.

“Uhm, go ahead.”

Morgana gestured towards the changing screen, chewing on her lip as she watched Jericho disappear behind it, but she had half a mind not to get up and follow, demanding she tell her what was going on. But she really, really wanted to, the urge growing with every sharp breath and whispered swear word from behind the screen.

To distract herself, Morgana got up and wandered through her room, touching whatever was in reach, eyes catching on every small distraction; the fresh flowers Gwen had brought with her this morning, the book waiting for her on her nightstand, the hair brush that lay on the desk.

Morgana picked it up, seating herself on the upholstered chair and began brushing her own hair.

It was unnecessary, there was no event she still had to attend to before going to bed and Gwen had already removed all knots after dinner, but she still did it as it calmed her enough for her mind to stop shouting at her at full volume.

Her breath still caught audibly when Jericho stepped back into the room wearing a dress that even Morgana wouldn’t have dared to put on.

Deep blue fabric clashing with a tight, floral embroidered bodice that synched Jericho’s waist so narrowly it looked almost painful and when the young woman turned to examine herself in the mirror of the desk Morgana sat at, she revealed that the back was cut out, the fabric only continuing right below the dip of her back.

Morgana held her breath, taking her in fully, unknowingly widening her eyes in admiration. She shouldn’t be staring so obviously or enjoy the way the colour matched Jericho’s eyes and how it allowed her to get a good look at her muscular arms and back, but-

Guilt surged through her like the blade of a freshly sharpened knife once she managed to tear her gaze away from Jericho’s body and bring it back to her face, which was tight, barely able to contain the emotions raging beneath. There were small hints though, ones Morgana had learned to understand over the past weeks through determination and a lot of observation.

The tight jaw and twitching muscles could be two things - either Jericho was angry or she was trying not to cry - but paired with the glaze veiling her eyes and her continuous tugging at the neckline, Morgana figured that it was the latter.

“Jericho-” Morgana rose from the chair, blocking the young woman from seeing her mirror image. “Why- What-”

She desperately hoped that her unfinished questions would be understood anyway and that Jericho would give her some reason for this that wasn’t as scary as the ones she’d come up with on her own. But Jericho’s face crumpled when Morgana said her name and she barely managed to pull herself together again.

It was the same expression she’d had on the night after the tournament, when she’d stormed into Morgana’s room in a similarly revealing dress.

Even though it was late and she’d been occupied otherwise before Jericho’s unexpected visit, Morgana could connect the few dots there were. Whatever had happened that night would be repeated today, only this time Morgana got to see Jericho before and not after… which was probably good? Maybe?

“Jericho, where are you going?” Feeling a little more in the picture, she managed to formulate a full question as she took a step towards her servant.

Jericho, who’d been staring at the floor, snapped her gaze back up to meet Morgana’s, the silent plea in it sending the Lady reeling back a foot.

“I can’t… I don’t think I’m allowed to tell.” Jericho muttered, her eyes already lowering again. Subconsciously she began fiddling with the dress again, but she never seemed to be able pull it up high enough for her liking. “The order comes from way up and… it-it’s something I don’t think they would be happy to hear me talk openly about.”

Gods, Morgana clenched her teeth at the uptight tone of Jericho’s voice and how carefully she chose her words, though she tried her best not to show it. The last thing she wanted was for her to think Morgana was angry with her.

“They?” She asked instead, mentally going through a list of people in a high enough position to intimidate a woman as headstrong and fierce as Jericho. “Is it Arthur?”

Jericho shook her head quickly, but the corners of her mouth twitched downwards, which probably meant that Arthur was probably involved in this somehow, but he wasn’t the main focus of her worry.

“A knight?”

Another head shake.

“Is it…” Morgana had kept the worst, yet most plausible option for least, needing to swallow before finishing the question. “Uther?”

Jericho stayed quiet, her shoulders pulling up defensively and Morgana found herself balling her hands into fists, an unfamiliar rage bubbling up inside her.

It made her one to punch something, which was surprising to say the least, but Morgana wasn’t a violent person - never had been - so she channelled the urge into something else. Something that would actually help the situation.

“My Lady?”

Jericho’s eyes went wide when she noticed Morgana approach with her arms spread out, making it very clear what she intended on doing.

“May I?”

Considering her answer, Jericho stood still, the smallest hint of a smile making an appearance when Morgana did the same - which somehow seemed to be the reason Jericho nodded, letting herself be hugged by her.

“I get that you can’t tell me what is going on, but… if anything happens to you, please come to me.” Morgana rested her chin on Jericho’s shoulder, feeling how her breath slowly calmed. “And I do not care if you are hurt or just uncomfortable, I just want to know… I-”

She leaned back just far enough to be able to crane her neck and get a good look at the taller woman’s face. There were still hints of distress, but overall she looked less distraught than she had just a minute ago.

“I want to be there for you, Jericho.”

She didn’t get to see a reaction as Jericho pulled her in again, only a shaky breath to Morgana’s ear telling her that her words had done something with her.

They hugged for a minute or two longer - it was hard to tell as the moment seemed to last forever and not long enough at the same time - before Jericho pulled back accompanied by a deep breath. Understanding Morgana nodded, retreating back to her bed where she sat down, nervously fiddling with her turquoise necklace as she watched Jericho slip out the door.



*



Arthur was practically foaming out the mouth- no, that wouldn’t have been very prince-like of him, - however, he was fuming.

He’d been pacing for quite a while when that expected knock came and the door opened, revealing the sound of someone shuffling into the room. He expected it to be Merlin (because who else would be coming to his room at this hour?) and felt embarrassed at how his anger wavered as relief took a more prominent space in his chest.

Merlin, the observant and relentless fuck, would surely ask him what was going on with him and then Arthur could pretend that he didn’t want to talk about it, but Merlin would keep asking and asking until Arthur would have to give in and he could vent about his father’s most recent differing opinion and how much it ate away at Arthur that he couldn’t do anything about that and was forced to sit back and-

He was really fooled for a second, convinced that the blue eyes he was staring into were Merlin's.

That was until the tunnel vision lessened, which allowed the Prince to note the waves of dark brown hair that framed the too tan face and the too full lips.

With a frustrated grunt Arthur went back to pacing.

“Again?”

Jericho walked past him, over to the mess on the table that had once been dinner and began staking plates and cups onto their designated tray, and muttered, “It’s not like I like it either”, but Arthur was already back in thought, not grasping the biting comment.

So that was Arthur’s night ruined.

A village attacked by some powerful creature, a tense journey with his father which had ended in one big discussion and now he wasn’t even getting tended to by his servant, but said servant's sister, who seemed to hate him for some inexplicable reason.

There was no way Arthur would just strike up a conversation with her about Uther and his sometimes questionable views, she’d-

He paused, sending a careful glance to Jericho.

She was so focused on her task that she did not notice him, allowing Arthur to take a closer look at her face. She didn’t seem… irritated, no scowl or aggravated expression on it like there usually was whenever she found herself in Arthur’s presence. There was some tightness in her jaw, but Arthur found it a risk worth taking.

He really just needed someone to talk to - Jericho wouldn’t even have to say anything.

“Do you, uhm-” Arthur sat down on his bed, averting his gaze just at the right moment to miss the way Jericho recoiled at the sound of his voice. “Do you think - hypothetically - that if a village got attacked by a non-human force, taking several lives and destroying a couple houses in the process, that the king of the country this village resides in should help by sending reinforcements and resources to help rebuild the damages?”

Arthur wanted to smack his head against the bedpost.

Even he himself hadn’t really understood what he was trying to bring across. Had that even been English?

He felt his cheeks turn red under the humiliation.

It was an issue Arthur had, his fucking inability to just start talking to someone and sounding confident at the same time, especially if he didn’t know them well. He’d learned how to do it with important visitors and nobles, but that was so much different from having an actual conversation as it was just throwing out the right, empty phrases at the right time and no one would suspect that Arthur was actually struggling not to break out into a nervous sweat.

Luckily Jericho didn’t seem to notice either, turning around with a frown.

“You are asking me for my opinion? About a political matter?”

Encouraged by the lack of hostility, Arthur pulled his lips into a sheepish smile.

“A hypothetical political matter.”

“Sure…” Jericho hummed as she moved across the room and out of Arthur’s view, but he could hear her draw the curtains of his many windows shut. After a while, in which Arthur had thought he wasn’t going to get a response at all, she spoke again, “I do think there should be some sort of help the village could get. As someone who’s grown up in one, I don’t think the rulers actually get how little of their help can actually be a very big relief for their people. In this… hypothetical case you described, a few strong men with some knowledge about carpentry would be enough to speed up the process of rebuilding immensely.”

“Hah, I knew it!” Arthur jumped up with the joy of being right, momentarily forgetting his good manners, but then he sunk down on the bed again as reality settled back in.

Sure, he’d been right, but that wouldn’t change Uther’s opinion or the village having to fix their damages by themselves. Jericho’s agreement might be somewhat valued by Arthur, but his father would never consider listening to a servant's opinion. How endlessly frustrating.

“You seem to have been thinking about this a lot. And not very hypothetically either.” Jericho said from wherever she was currently.

Arthur tried finding her by turning every which way, but it was a fruitless endeavour.

“I have been.”

“Why?”

Arthur took a long breath. Finally, a question.

He could deal with that and this time he wouldn’t even pretend to not like it as he had a feeling that, unlike her brother, Jericho wouldn’t be repeating herself.

“My father and I got into… a dispute.”

Arthur nearly smiled over finding a word that was the perfectly right amount neutral for him to use in this context. He was the Prince, but going around bad mouthing the king would get him into trouble just like it did anyone else.

“Over what I just described to you. That was why we’ve been away today and that’s also why I’m already back in my room, having dinner by myself and not with Morgana and him.”

“Hm, makes sense. Knowing what the right thing to do would be, but not being able to do it must be frustrating.”

The answer came a little too quickly and the understanding swinging in it confused Arthur.

Frowning he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he folded his hands. He wasn’t exactly sure what it was that made Jericho get his feelings so quickly - maybe it was that empathy Merlin kept going on and on about - but it made him want to tell her more. If he shared what he felt, the servant might be able to make more sense of it and help Arthur unravel the mess that was his current state of mind.

Because as of right now, he’d wouldn’t be able to get even a wink of sleep if he just went to bed with his mind still running at full speed.

“So you don’t think I’m too soft and that I should think of the good of the entire kingdom and not just a single ‘unimportant’ piece of it?” Arthur repeated the words his father had said to him when they’d reached the gates of Camelot.

“No, I don’t. A good kingdom includes all parts of it doing well, no matter how small.” Jericho sounded so reassuring it had Arthur just sit there quietly as he began to understand why Merlin valued his sister’s advice so much, when it had priorly bothered the hell out of him.

It seemed to be “let me ask Jericho this” or “oh, I have to talk to my sister about this first” day in and day out. Arthur had been ready to tear out his hair whenever he heard the name, unable to fathom what kind of power Jericho’s words had over Merlin or why he’d look so much more confident after talking to her, but now…

Belatedly Arthur realised that he’d stopped picking on the calluses that covered part of his palms and that his legs were perfectly still, instead of bouncing up and down.

“If you stick to this way of thinking until you become king, some of your subjects might even like you and consider you a good king.”

Briefly, lectures of his father flashed through Arthur’s mind - how a good king did not have to be liked, but feared - but he shook those words off quickly. It might be naive of him, but Arthur really wanted to be a liked king. One who’d earn their respect with kind actions, not violence.

“Does that mean people don’t think my father is a good king?”

Jericho might not have been aware of what treason meant or how one performed it, because she snorted, loud and unapologetic.

Slow blinking and opening his mouth without actually saying anything was all Arthur could manage.

His first instinct was to chastise her and rat her out to her father as that was one did when witnessing blatant disrespect towards the king, but then again… Arthur wasn’t really on good terms with him, his anger hadn’t necessarily lessened, even if he was capable of making another facial expression than broody and constipated.

Also this was kind of the first normal conversation with Jericho that did not include them out on a rescue mission or life threatening danger. And that was precious enough for Arthur not wanting to fuck it up by being the rule stickler he was raised to be.

“Your father is a king and I think if I add any adjectives to that statement, I will be flogged.”

“Yeah, I think so too.” Arthur mused, finding himself smiling much more broadly than he thought he was even capable of that night. Then he cleared his throat and said, “On another note, why did one of the guards tell me that he saw Merlin and you drag an unconscious man into the castle today?”

“Oh, that!” Jericho chuckled as her footsteps echoed through the room. “Merlin and I ran into a bit of a situation while mushroom picking and this man, Lancelot, got involved and was wounded. He broke his sword too.”

“A man with a sword got wounded and you two got out unharmed?” Playful doubt laced Arthur’s words.

“I believe my pride was harmed when Merlin declared that Lancelot had saved his life without even thinking of mentioning me, even though I had his back while we ran, but other than that, yes, we were fine.”

Arthur couldn’t believe he actually joined her laughter, but decided not to question it.

Everything about this situation would be frowned upon by any proper noble starting with the fact that Jericho was a woman, going over to their topic of conversation and ending with the fact that they spoke like friends and not master and servant, but he really didn’t have it in him to care.

“And what happened to the unconscious Lancelot? That was his name, right?”

“Yeah, he’s currently recovering in Merlin’s room. Hopefully he’ll have enough beauty sleep tomorrow so we can find out some more information about him.”

It rubbed Arthur the wrong way. What it was he didn’t know, but all of a sudden that itching underneath his skin was back and his left leg awoke from its slumber, bouncing up and down.

“Is he handsome?”

The question had slipped before Arthur could stop it, even the hand he slapped over his mouth couldn’t reverse that he’d actually asked it out loud.

Jericho reacted appropriately, finally stepping back out into the room where Arthur could see her, face scrunched in worry as she asked a very concerned,

“Sire?”

He needed a way out of this, quickly, and that way out came in the form of the first proper look he took at the servant. Or rather the dress she had on.

“What the hell are you wearing?!” He exclaimed, jumping to his feet without thinking.

In no way had he anticipated Jericho to take a step back, eyes wide and round, but it made Arthur stop right away, though he couldn’t stop looking at her. He was in no way an expert in dresses or the fashion women were into these days, but even he knew this was… not a normal thing to wear. Much too revealing, too tight around the waist and chest-

And as far as Arthur could tell this was neither the type of dress someone of her social standing could afford nor anything Jericho would ever put on.

Did it bother him that she walked around dressed like a man most of the time? Yes.

But did the fearful look she was currently regarding him bother him more? Definitely.

It was gone in an instant, masked with that same tense look she’d had on when first entering the room, but it was only now Arthur began to notice the other things, the signs her body gave him.

Jericho looked utterly uncomfortable. Her arms hung stiffly at her side, which - Arthur couldn’t help but notice - were lined with lean, yet defined muscles, her legs were spread apart a little as if she was considering breaking out into a sprint and her shoulders were pulled up so high they almost touched her ears.

It reminded Arthur of a spooked cat, somewhere between fight or flight. His next action would define which it would be.

The problem was, Arthur had no idea what was going on or what a smart move would be, so he… went with his gut. Jericho still hadn’t said a word, she just stood and stared.

“You really can’t walk around like that or you’ll get sick. It might be spring, but it’s still cold at night.” He said in a stern voice, mildly resembling the one his nurse had used on him when he’d been a naughty child.

In a few strides he was over by his closet, ripping the doors open and looking for a tunic small enough so it wouldn’t drown her. Once he’d found one, blue like the dress she was wearing and about the right size, he turned around and tried to hand it to her, but Jericho just gaped at him in bewilderment.

Only after Arthur waved the piece of clothing in front of her face a couple times did she snatch it out of his hand.

“Put that on.” He said, feeling a slight pinch in his chest when he watched her reluctantly look at the tunic, then him and then back at the tunic. “Don’t worry, I won’t miss it. I grew out of it a couple years ago.”

After a second of hesitation, Jericho did as instructed, pulling the tunic over her head so quickly that for a moment she wasn’t more than a blurb of blue.

The change was instantaneous, her posture slacking off into something more relaxed and her face was brighter when it re-emerged. An awkward moment passed where they just stood there, neither really knowing what to say until Jericho cleared her throat, her eyes hovering somewhere between Arthur and the door behind him.

“I suppose I should thank-”

“Don’t.” Arthur said quickly, raising one hand. “That would make a thing out of this and I really don’t want it to be a thing. Just… You’re free to go, I don’t require your services any longer.”

The distrustful glint in Jericho’s eyes dulled, making way for something Arthur wasn’t really able to name - relief, was the closest word to describe it - and she dashed towards the door.

“Wait!”

Jericho turned, ducking when she saw Arthur hurrying after her. Another skittish reaction that made the Prince wonder what in the world could be going on with her.

It was a whole new side, completely different from the ones he’d seen so far - the stubborn, mean one he got most of the time, the funny and caring one when she was with Merlin and then the sad, serious one, which had only come forth after they’d thought they’d failed to save Merlin and they had been thrown into the dungeon - and Arthur could make as little sense of this one as of those others.

It was late though and he was too tired to go poking around, justifying this frightful Jericho standing before him with the reasoning that something else must’ve happened earlier and this was how she’d been all day. Maybe whatever mysterious encounter her and Merlin had had in the forest.

“What-”

“I can’t let you walk through the castle on your own. Not dressed like” - Arthur gestured at her loosely - “that.”

“Of course you can! What do you think will happen?”

“You know…”

Acts Arthur did not even want to imagine.

Jericho regarded him pensively, flicking her eyes up and down, then she said, “I can fend for myself perfectly fine.”

“Oh yes? Are you trained in defending yourself? Do you have years of practice in it?” Arthur asked harshly. He was really, really tired.

“As a matter of fact I am and I do. Now, could you drop the pretentious act of chivalry and let me leave?” Jericho crossed her arms over her chest and this might’ve been because Arthur had seen her bare arms mere moments before, but she looked much broader than he remembered.

He thought about it, weighing his need for sleep versus his moral codex and eventually - after a long time apparently as Jericho rolled her eyes and yawned as she waited - shook his head.

“No, I’ll escort you and there’s no room for discussion.”

Arthur didn’t leave the girl much of a choice, stepping past her and pushing the door open, so all that was left for her to do was catch up. He could feel her unyielding stare from the side, burning into him with such ferocity the Prince did consider turning around just so he could escape it.

But who would Arthur be if he let himself be intimidated by a woman like that?

The halls were quiet as they always were once the royal family returned to their own quarters. Guards were the only living beings moving around and Arthur thought it wise to avoid them, because if he’d be seen walking around with a female servant, dressed the way she was (even with Arthur’s tunic covering the worst of it), there would surely be reason for rumours.

“You are awfully well trained, you know that?” Jericho asked about half-way to their destination.

Her voice was firm and direct, nothing like the usual, devotional tone Arthur was being spoken to by people lesser than him, which included basically everyone. Weeks of enduring Merlin’s insolence had gotten him more used to it, but Arthur still turned his head, eyes pinched into slits.

“What? Like a dog?”

“Your words, not mine.” Jericho raised her hands defensively, a humorous glimmer in her eyes when she looked over at Arthur. “But in essence, yes.”

Arthur’s mouth dropped into a perfect ‘o’ shape. She’d casually called him a dog. Him.

The Prince of Camelot, future king, a man better than her in every way possible.

And she’d done it with a goddamn smirk on her face, unafraid of consequence. 

Arthur couldn’t even find the right words to spit back at her as she just continued talking as if this was the most normal thing to say to someone. A conversation between equals.

“But I guess it’s not your fault. That’s how you nobles are raised, isn’t it? You are born into this role you have no way of escaping and you get drilled into it, never being shown a different way to live…” Jericho trailed off, her smile changing so it looked less mocking and more… pitiful. “Isn’t that kind of sad? I mean, you must’ve wished for a different life at least once. Like just being a knight, without the burden of a crown or maybe you’d really like to craft weapons, instead of wielding them.”

Arthur would’ve told her off, sentenced her to a week in the stocks or dragged her to the dungeons right there and then so she could cool off for the night, if only she hadn’t been so spot on in her assumptions.

It left him staring at Jericho in a daze, incapable of producing a single sound.

He did like being the Prince, shouldering a burden only few were even able to fathom the weight it held, but… Yes, there were moments when he imagined a simpler life.

One that did not include the hard choices he had to make, the hundreds of pairs of eyes that seemed to be looking at him at all times and his father’s seemingly impossible standards.

They’d reached the bridge that led to the physician’s chamber and Arthur only realised when Jericho clapped her hands uncharacteristically cheery.

“Alright, I think this is as far as your honourable protection is needed.”

If he hadn’t known better, Arthur would’ve mistaken the sarcasm for actual gratefulness.

Uncomfortable with everything that had happened in the last five minutes, Arthur shifted his weight from one foot to the other, waiting for something. For his mouth to kick in and finally condemn the girl to one of the many punishments that were swirling in the back or his mind or…

“Fine, I’ll get back then.” He said, voice thin.

“Yeah, do that!” Jericho smiled and waved as Arthur turned, waiting for his steps to fade into the distance.

She wasn’t planning on returning to her room, where Merlin and a strange man were currently sleeping in. Not the way she was dressed or with the hundreds of thoughts keeping her mind prisoner. And she was nauseous - had been ever since stepping foot into Arthur’s room.

So why not give herself an actual reason to throw up? Surely there must be a ton of taverns in this city.



*



“Ever since I’ve been a child I’ve dreamed of coming here. It’s my life's ambition to join the knights of Camelot.”

Awe struck, Merlin listened to a freshly awakened Lancelot, who sat at the shabby dining table, while Merlin leaned against one of the many desks covered in Gaius’ tinctures and mixtures.

He’d witnessed the man in a conscious state for about fifteen minutes in total, but his mind was already dead set on helping him. But honestly, how could he not?

With those kind, brown eyes staring up at him full of innocence and ambition, there wasn’t much of a choice. Anyone else would’ve felt the same for sure.

Lancelot just seemed to be one of those people who… deserved to be supported because what he wanted to achieve was noble and from a good place.

“I know what you’re thinking. I… I expect too much.” Lancelot continued, a pink hue making an appearance on his cheeks as his voice took on a self-conscious tone that had Merlin shake his head instinctively. “After all, who am I? They have their pick of the best and bravest in the land…”

His eyes faltered to the ground and he began fiddling with the hem of his tunic. It was clear how much he wanted this, because even now that determination managed to break through the uncertainty, hope shining brightly in Lancelot’s eyes.

“Lancelot.” Merlin said calmly, a smile cracking across his lips.

“Yes?”

Merlin nearly squealed at the way he was being looked at, so full of genuine curiosity. Lancelot’s gaze reminded him of a puppy’s, round and trusting, like he would actually believe what Merlin would say, no matter his social standing.

“They are going to love you.”

“They are?” Lancelot perked up, all doubt washed away and he was back to beaming joyfully.

“Of course, I-”

The door was slammed open with a bang, rattling some of the surrounding pots and glasses and a very disheveled Jericho staggered into the room.

Merlin and Lancelot snapped around, eyes widening at the sight.

She looked horrendous, which was the nicest way to describe her, because- If she told Merlin she’d been run over by a carriage, he’d believe her.

Her hair was all over the place, messy and unkempt, matching the rest of her face. Dark circles pooled under her eyes, which had a strange glaze in them, and her face was stained with dirt or blood or vomit or all three.

She also wasn’t wearing any of the clothes she’d had on when Merlin had last seen her as they’d been replaced with a very well fitting, dark tunic and a pair of beige trousers that were way to big for her, but didn’t slide down because they were tied in place with a rope that definitely wasn’t meant to serve the purpose of fashion accessory.

And then there was the purpling bruise on Jericho’s cheekbones and the bloody ripped up knuckles, prominently featured as Jericho had to hold on to the doorframe to keep herself from falling.

Lancelot, who’d never seen a woman look so sloppy unless she'd just been attacked or in some other distress, jumped to his feet, while Merlin took his seat at the table with a deep sigh.

“Who did this to you?!” Lancelot asked, frantically looking for something sharp enough to replace his sword, but was stopped by Jericho waving her hand through the air with a breathy laugh.

“Fun night at the tavern?”

Merlin’s voice was a mix of exasperation and amusement and his smile was a little strained as he watched his sister get a grip and come inside, kicking the door shut behind her.

Jericho laughed again, swaying dangerously on her feet as she tried to cross the room. Lancelot, who was standing between them, his gaze flickering between the twins in concerned confusion, served as a stabilizer as Jericho grabbed his arm and held on to it like a cane.

“The best!” She turned to Lancelot, the way she grinned at him insinuating that she hadn’t completely sobered up yet. “And to answer your question: ale. That’s what did this to me.”

“Ah…”

Lancelot didn’t seem to know what else to say and led the young woman over to the table instead, hands hovering at her side, ready to catch her, as he watched her climb onto the bench next to Merlin.

“How did you even get anything? You don’t have any money-” Merlin broke off when Jericho suggestively wiggled her brow, gesturing towards her butchered face.

“Don’t you know, little brother, I have other assets.”

“Okay, that’s enough. You need to shut up.” Merlin said, firmly pushing his sister’s hands down into her lap so he could go to work on her face and knuckles.

He didn’t even have to ask Lancelot to get him water and a rag as he showed up at Merlin’s side, placing both things on the table, before going off to search for some slave or cream that would help the bruises. With another deep sigh, Merlin dipped the rag in the bowl of water before gently starting to dab it across the bruise on Jericho’s cheekbone first.

It was bad, some of the skin had popped open, leaving the edges crusted with dried up blood.

A familiar knot built in his stomach, accompanied by a stinging sensation in his chest.

“Do I even dare ask what happened?”

“Nothing. I think…” Jericho closed her eyes, so Merlin wouldn’t have to worry about poking them by accident. “Honestly, I’d tell you if I could remember.”

“Okay, then tell me why you thought it wise to go and drink in excess on a random weekday.”

“Uhm… I just felt like it. I guess.” Jericho shrugged.

Merlin tried not to flick her injured cheek in frustration. He knew her answer was bullshit. Jericho didn’t just feel like drinking.

She never felt like doing anything. Not without a reason.

“Sure and you also felt like starting a brawl?”

Merlin lifted Jericho’s bruised hand to the table, giving it the same treatment as her cheek. If it hurt, she didn’t show it, sitting motionlessly with a hazy smile on her face.

“I’m pretty sure I didn’t start it… and hey, judging by the lack of torn clothes and actual injuries, I seem to have done pretty well for myself.”

Merlin, upon seeing the approval seeking expression in Jericho’s eyes, decided to store away his dislike for unnecessary violence and drunken shenanigans for once and reciprocated her grin as he gave her shoulder a gentle pat.

“Good job, you arse.”

“M’ not, but thanks.”

Lancelot, who’d stood next to them for quite a while, just observing the siblings in their natural habitat, awoke from his stunned silence to hand Merlin a small glass labelled as ‘arnica’. It drew Jericho’s attention back to him, her grin widening even more.

“And so… What is your deal, Lancelot?” Playfully puffing out her chest like she was imitating him, Jericho tugged on his sleeve. “And why are you so tall? My head is hurting and looking up like this makes it worse.”

“Oh god, she's still hammered.” Merlin muttered to himself before turning to Lancelot, who now went into a crouching position, giving him an apologetic look. “I am so sorry!”

Lancelot, ever so generous, shook his head and mouthed ‘don’t worry about it’, and then got back to Jericho to retell what he and Merlin had just spoken about, growing more insecure each time Jericho’s brows drew together closer. She was quiet for a moment, her foggy brain needing a bit longer for the information to get through, but when it finally did, she huffed.

“A knight? But those are so boring!”

“What?!” Lancelot exclaimed, nearly toppling over. “No they’re not! Knights are righteous and brave and-”

“Total sticks in the mud. Seriously, Lance- It’s okay if I call you Lance, right? Anyway, being a knight is like… a total waste of talent. And you’d be serving under a codex? And the crown! And do you know whose head the crown is currently on?”

Jericho took a break in her rant, waiting for someone to answer her question, but Merlin and Lancelot were too busy exchanging weary glances.

She sighed deeply and yelled, “Uther fucking Pendragon! Do you really want to serve such a selfish, tyrannical, choleric piece of-”

Merlin’s hand silenced the rest of that insult.

He did not think Lancelot would be the type of guy to run to Uther over the words of a drunk woman, but… he didn’t really want to risk his sister’s life like that.

To do further damage control, Merlin said, “I’m sorry, I swear she’s not like this usually!”

“Don’t apologize.” Lancelot’s dazed expression was exchanged for a mischievous smile, a faint blush appearing at the base of his neck. “I think she’s rather funny. There’s nothing wrong about that.”

“Yeah, still, she’s got to sober up and I have to go talk to Arthur.”

Merlin stood up to get a cup of water, hearing shuffling behind him. But it wasn’t Jericho, wanting to cause more chaos like Merlin expected, but Lancelot, wide eyed and open mouthed.

“You know Arthur?”

The amazement was palpable in the man’s voice and the way he’d said Arthur’s name had been filled with such admiration it made Merlin smile. Poor guy.

He really had no idea what a brat Arthur was.

Well, depending on the Prince’s mood and willingness to behave, Lancelot would never have to find out.

“Oh, yes… I do.”



*



Merlin could not stop beaming when training didn’t go well.

Or rather the part where another noble was tested to become a knight and failed miserably. The frustrated disappointment on Arthur’s face was a sweet bonus.

Convincing him to take a look at Lancelot and his skills would be one of the easiest things Merlin had ever done in his life.

But he didn’t go for it immediately, waiting for Arthur to decompress first, give his issues a voice like he always did to calm down and then - then Merlin snapped his trap shut.

“Well, I think I might be able to help.”

They were walking through the streets on their way from the training grounds back to the castle and the streets were busy, allowing Merlin to talk somewhat freely as no one would be listening in on their conversation. It was also why he mustered up a cocky grin which stayed firmly in place, even if Arthur looked at him like he’d just suggested they knight him right there and then.

Because apparently that was how Arthur had understood it.

“You, Merlin?”

Arthur’s hand came up to rest between Merlin’s shoulder blades, urging him forwards. He was always touching his servant in some way, shape or form, though Merlin never paid it much thought, assuming it was just part of the Prince’s need to manhandle people.

“You haven’t the faintest idea of what it takes to be a knight. Courage. Fortitude. Discipline.”

Biting back a comment about how Merlin thought his restraint in magic use and the many times he’d saved Arthur’s life so far were pretty disciplined and courageous, the younger man shook his head with a chuckle. He was probably the last person who’d want to become a knight-

Ah, actually, after her drunken speech this morning that might actually be Jericho.

“No, no, no, of course I don’t, but I know someone who does.”

Arthur straightened, just a little, but Merlin noticed. But by the time he turned his head, the Prince’s features had smoothed out into that perfect mask he always wore, looking all regal and perfect.

“Yeah? Might that someone be the unconscious man you dragged into the castle yesterday?”

“What?!” Now it was Merlin’s turn to perk up, his whole body turning to Arthur. “How do you know about him?”

Arthur rolled his eyes, his hand slipping down to Merlin’s elbow, setting him straight again and dragging him forward. It stayed there, even as they continued.

“The guards told me.”

And Jericho.

But Arthur didn’t want to admit to that as he’d then have to deal with Merlin’s questions about that and he really wasn’t in the mood to talk about his sister.

All night he’d beaten himself up over not being able to say anything about the things Jericho had claimed when he’d walked her to the physician’s chambers.

“Well…” Merlin recovered swiftly, finding his usual wit without much trouble. “It is him. And he saved my life.”

“That’s blowing it for starters.”

Arthur tugged on Merlin’s elbow, pulling him to the side just in time or else he would’ve walked straight into a rather unfriendly looking old man.

“No, no, no! He’s really good! Honestly.”

Something about the enthusiasm his servant spoke with of this man bothered Arthur. And the way the Prince didn’t rejoice over the prospect of a knight that was actually worthy of his title bothered Merlin.

“That’s great, Merlin. I’m sure he’s terrific,” Arthur sounded just a little too sweet to actually mean it which made Merlin scowl at him. “but you forget the First Code of Camelot?”

“The what?”

It didn’t matter anyway. Whatever that code was, Lancelot would fulfil it or Merlin would make him do so. No way would he give up so easily.

Partially because Lancelot was a really good guy and Merlin wanted him to get what he wanted, but also because he wanted to prove Arthur wrong once. Just once he wanted to wipe that smug grin off his face.

“The First Code.” Arthur repeated slowly like Merlin was stupid. “Only those of noble blood can serve as knights. So unless your friend is a nobleman-"

“He is a nobleman, actually.” Merlin said, his voice firm and the grin his face wide.

And it only grew when Arthur’s confidence faltered along with his upper hand over the situation.

Arthur stopped as they reached the steps of the castle, releasing the hold on Merlin’s elbow.

“Is he?” He arched a brow that was supposed to be intimidating, but Merlin nodded mirthfully.

“Absolutely.”

“Very well, I’ll give Lancelot a chance. Bring him to the training grounds tomorrow and make sure he has his seal of nobility with him.”

Arthur walked up the steps to the castle too fast to see the victorious gleam on Merlin’s face or the way he punched both his fists into the air.

“Yes!” Merlin cheered before realising something. “Wait! I never told you his name!”

But Arthur was away too far and didn’t hear him and Merlin was too euphoric to run after him, much more excited to go and tell Lancelot the good news.



*



When Merlin got back home, Lancelot and Jericho were still sitting at the dining table - the only thing that had really changed was that his sister down sat with her head pressed to the wooden plate, one arm wrapped around it to protect her from the harsh sunlight and Lancelot was looking very awkward - and Gaius had returned from his house visits to come home and tend to his many remedies, cooking on the stove.

“And, did you talk to him?”

Lancelot shot to his feet as soon as he heard the door open, the nervous chewing of his bottom lip intensifying.

“Yeah, I spoke to him.”

“And?”

Merlin feigned disappointment, though he had trouble pulling through at the sight of Lancelot holding his breath, face hardening as he tried to brace himself for the worst. Even Jericho lifted her head, squinting in pain, but she wanted to know what was going on.

“He said he’d like to meet you!” Merlin declared, jumping up and down in tandem with Lancelot once the realisation had settled in.

“Yes! Thank you! Thank you!” They laughed in shared excitement, hollering a little too loudly.

A thud sounded from their right, which came from Jericho’s head sinking back against the table a little too forcefully.

“Volume!” She muttered.

“Oh, come on! This is exciting!” Merlin said as he walked over to her, shaking her shoulders. “Lancelot’s going to be a knight!”

He stopped for a second, gaze turning to Lancelot, so he didn’t see the flailing fist of his sister coming. She couldn’t land it hard as she didn’t even bother looking up or turning properly, so Merlin felt free to ignore it.

“By the way, uhm, you’re not a noble man, by any chance, are you?”

Lancelot shook his head.

“A nobleman? No… Should I be?”

His laugh died down when Merlin pulled a guilty face and Gaius turned from his pots with a serious look worthy of someone his age. It was never a good thing when the physician was serious.

“The First Code of Camelot states that only those of noble blood can serve as a knight. Uther created the knights to protect this kingdom from those who wished to destroy it. He knew he would have to trust each of his knights with his life. So he chose them from the families that had sworn allegiance to him.”

“The nobility…” Merlin scrunched his nose in mild disgust.

“Obviously Uther would make such a shit fucking rule. What a wanke-” Jericho’s muffled insult was cut off by Merlin chucking a book at her. “Hey! Don’t act like you’re not thinking it.”

“And thus”, Gaius continued like neither of them had said anything, which had become his favourite way of dealing with the twin’s nonsense. “the First Rule of Camelot was born, and ever since that day, only the sons of noble families have served as knights.”

Lancelot looked fairly gutted, his whole posture sagging, but he seemed to have accepted that becoming a knight was not his future any longer. Merlin, having learned that bending the rules was sometimes much easier than obeying them, shook his head in outrage.

“That is so unfair!”

“Fair or unfair, that’s the way it is.” Gaius said, ignoring the pointed huff from the table as he turned to their visitor. “I’m sorry, Lancelot. I truly am.”

A brief silence settled over the room, filled with Lancelot’s disappointment, Merlin’s defiance and Jericho’s groans as her headache intensified. Gaius eventually excused himself with the reason that he had to go pick some herbs, but no one was really listening to him anyway.

“Why do you want to become a knight so much?” Merlin asked after a while, unable to look at Lancelot’s depressed face for even a moment longer.

Taking a deep breath Lancelot leaned against the railings of the dwindling stairs leading to the gallery and he crossed his arms, suddenly seeming miles away and in a different time. Merlin calmed himself at the sight, wanting to give the man his full attention. Even Jericho turned her head to the side, so she could look at him properly while still having it rest on her arms.

“When I was a boy, my village was attacked by raiders from the northern plains. They were slaughtered where they stood, my father, my mother… Everyone. I alone escaped.” Lancelot took a break to swallow and steady his voice.

He avoided eye contact with Merlin as he could make out the faint outlines of the boy’s shocked face and Lancelot was pretty sure taking a proper look at it would make this story all the more difficult to tell. However he did make the mistake of throwing a quick glance to Jericho, whose eyes had lost the tipsy glaze and were now staring back at him, harsh and dark.

It threw Lancelot and he stammered for a second before regaining his composure.

“I vowed that day that never again would I be helpless in the face of tyranny. I made swords craft my life. Every waking hour since that day, I devoted to the art of combat, and when I was ready, I set forth for Camelot.”

Merlin couldn’t help but turn to his sister, a crooked smile on his lips and he said, “Sounds like someone I know…”

Jericho huffed, burying her face back in the crook of her elbow when Lancelot looked at her too, full of curiosity.

“How do you mean?” He asked after a short stretch of silence.

He had to wait for an answer as Jericho didn’t make a sound or give off any other signs of life other than her shoulders rising and sinking to the rhythm of her breath, so Merlin - after intensely staring at her - rolled his eyes and replied on her behalf.

“The village we come from was attacked a couple of times over the years, bandits, raiders - whoever was stupid enough to believe they could actually gain something from us -, and Jericho over here,” Merlin stepped over to his motionless sister to pat her shoulder. “could not just let that happen to us without retaliation. She collected an impressive amount of weapons; a bow, daggers, a self-made spear and even a sword - though she did have to wait half a year after stealing it from a bunch of sleeping knights in the forest before beginning to train with it as she was too short to properly wield it. And she also tried to get the rest of the village to join her in learning how to fight!”

“Yeah and we all remember how well that went.” Jericho’s voice was cutting, but if it hadn’t been for the murderous glare it was paired with she could’ve almost sounded a little hurt. “Now, would you stop telling him everything about me?”

Merlin rolled his eyes dramatically, “Oh, come on! Let me brag about my favourite sister!”

“That would be a very compelling compliment if I wasn’t the only sister you have.”

Lancelot only half-listened to their bickering, too busy sorting all the information he’d just gotten away. A little part of his world views had just been tipped off its axis, that was sure.

It all sounded so… unbelievable- Not that Lancelot didn’t believe that Jericho would do such things, he’d just never heard of such a thing before and he had to get accustomed to the idea first.

Once he turned back in, his sight coming back into focus, he blurted out the first question he could think of, “You stole a sword from a sleeping knight?”

“Yes, I did.” Jericho’s expression turned sour, clearly displeased they were still talking about this. “Amongst other things, like their gold, a helmet and a horse.”

“You what? But stealing is-”

“Wrong?” Jericho grinned pridefully, showing all her teeth. “So I’ve been told, but be honest: How wrong can it be when us commoners could sell such things and live off the earnings for a year and those knights can get the items replaced without issue once back at their castle?”

“Well…” Lancelot tried to hide the fact that he was struggling for a good answer by taking his chin between his thumb and index finger, slowly stroking over the stubble there, pretending to be stuck in meaningful thought. “It’s still stealing, which, no matter the circumstances, isn’t the right thing to do.”

Apparently that had been the wrong thing to say as Jericho’s eyes snapped to Lancelot’s, fixing him with a taxing glare.

It looked like she was about to jump at him or square up to him, but she’d barely gotten up when she gave up on the idea, groaning and pressing a hand to her forehead. Lancelot still took a step back - just to be safe.

“Good thing I’m not the one wanting to become a knight then.” She growled, head sinking back onto the table. She looked awfully exhausted all of a sudden.

“I’m sorry, I did not mean to offend.”

“Of course you didn’t.” Jericho sighed and closed her eyes.

“You should’ve asked Gaius for a hangover remedy. I’m sure he would’ve had something to help with the aftereffects of your… adventures last night.”

Lancelot seemed genuinely worried, so Jericho did her best to tone down the sarcasm in her answer, “Kind of did this to myself though, didn’t I? So it wouldn’t really be fair to waste a potion over my own stupidity.”

Solid argument. Lancelot looked around for some other topic of discussion.

“Uhm, where’s Merlin?”



*



It was about an hour later that Merlin burst through the door, a (most certainly) faked seal of nobility in hand and a beaming grin on his face as he announced, “I’ve found a solution.”

What followed was a lengthy discussion of whether or not that was a smart idea, which Merlin did, Lancelot didn’t and Jericho sustained giving an opinion about. Unless her eye roll counted.

She did, however, find Lancelot’s insistence of using the seal not the greatest of notions, not because it could get them all jailed but because it was a lie, very, very annoying. Like what was wrong with him?

All that stood between the man and his dream was one piece of paper. Giving up on everything he’d ever worked towards because the methods that got him there weren’t entirely truthful… What kind of idiot was he exactly?

She kept to herself though, watching as Merlin worked on convincing Lancelot of his plan, which the line “We’re not breaking the rules. We’re just bending them” seemed to help with a lot.

So Merlin left again and Jericho went to change out of Arthur’s tunic and the stolen pair of pants, a small smile passing over her face when she thought of the dress, which she’d discarded off in the tavern after snatching the breeches of a sleeping guard man - which was entirely to blame on him for getting drunk enough to doze away in a tavern.

By the time she was back in her regular clothes and a little more cleaned up, Gwen was taking Lancelot’s measurements.

Jericho frowned, easing down the steps as every step made her vision blur and her head protest.

“Don’t tell me you’re dragging Gwen into this!” Jericho’s displeased tone had everyone whirl around, similarly sheepish looks on their faces.

Merlin and Lancelot didn’t say much as Merlin knew he’d already reached the limit for the amount of shit he could do in one day without getting yelled at and Lancelot wasn’t keen on starting another discussion with Jericho.

Gwen - seemingly the bravest of the three - smiled at her friend in that particular way that had proved useful as it had gotten her out of a bunch of chores in the past and then walked over to Jericho, putting her hand on the young woman’s arm.

That was when she noticed the bruise on Jericho’s face, gasping loudly as her forehead creased into a worried frown and she asked, “What happened to you?!”

“Nuh-uh,” Jericho shook her dizzy head. “You’re not changing topic. Now, be honest, did they guilt you into helping them? I know Merlin has some very convincing puppy eyes and Lancelot… Well, he’s got a good back story-”

“I don’t mind, really. I think it’s a rather good idea.”

“Mhm, sure.” Jericho sighed, but already found herself falling for Gwen’s gentle words as her lips twitched upwards. “Just make sure no one knows you were involved when this all goes belly up.”

Gwen giggled at her as she walked back to Lancelot, measuring band back in hand. Jericho just so managed to get a glimpse at the change of her smile, which made it very, very obvious why Gwen ‘didn’t mind’ helping out.

It showed even more in the way the maid would move around Lancelot, how her fingers would linger on his neck or bicep just a little longer than necessary. If it bothered Merlin, he didn’t let it show.

He didn’t pull a face when Lancelot later made a comment about how lovely Gwen was and he smiled idly the next day when they were gathered to watch training and Gwen couldn’t stop staring at Lancelot as he warmed up on the side.

Jericho found herself frowning once again - seriously, she couldn’t stop frowning lately -, but decided not to question it.

Sure, her Merlin-in-love radar was rarely wrong, but maybe this time it really had been a mistake on her part.

“So, he’s going to fight Arthur? He?” Morgana pointed a doubtful finger at Lancelot, one brow raised pointedly to make clear what she thought of him without the rudeness of saying it out loud.

The Lady had insisted on coming along, ignoring the impropriety of it, when suddenly both of her maids had tried getting out of their duties at the same time, which had sparked Morgana’s interest. And everyone be damned if she was going to be the only one missing out on a spectacle like a wanna-be knight getting humbled by the Prince.

“He was very persistent about it.” Jericho hummed, sharing an equally amused mistress with her smile, but unlike Morgana, she didn’t get away with it so easily.

“Hey!” Merlin smacked the back of her head, his eyes like two daggers when Jericho turned to him. “He’s very good! You saw what he did in the forest!”

“Yeah, he broke his sword.” Jericho huffed, but decided to let the taunting aside.

At least for as long as Gwen glared at her from the side.

The ordeal lasted only for a few minutes as Arthur, being Arthur, decided to be a dick and while the knights thought his treatment of Lancelot was rather funny, the people on the side lines practically radiated with disappointment.

Morgana, unnoticed by Merlin and Gwen who were complaining about the Prince’s behaviour, leaned over to Jericho and whispered, “Maybe he should train with us sometime. You know, we could help him get better.”

Jericho snorted.

Two women helping a man with anything having to do with sword craft? That would surely bruise even the noble Lancelot’s ego.

Out of the corner of her eye she watched the man trot off to the stables, his disappointment hidden well behind a smile, but Jericho could see it nonetheless in the way his shoulders were a little too straight and his gate a little too sluggish. And she felt bad.

Jericho tried to fend the feeling off, push it back down with all the others, but it was a persistent, nagging kind of sympathy that spread through her chest and stomach like sticky liquid. It was far from painful or bothersome, but it was impossible to ignore, consuming her in a way she didn’t know how to deal with.

“Let me see what he can do.” Jericho said loud enough for everyone to hear, feeling three pairs of eyes on her as she straightened up, shoving her sleeves up to her elbows. “Maybe there’s hope for him yet.”

“What are you going to do?” Gwen asked, eyes wide.

“Oh, you know…”

Gwen didn’t know, but Merlin did, his head rolling back into his neck as he took a deep breath.

He wasn’t going to stop his sister, but he asked her, “Be nice to him, alright?”

“You know me.” Jericho was already a couple paces away, walking backwards so she could flash her brightest, least believable smile.

“That’s exactly why I’m worried!” Merlin called after her.

The last thing Jericho saw before turning around was Morgana’s amused smile and her sparkling eyes, watching her with curiosity.



*



Lancelot was outside the stables, broom in hand, swiping depressedly, when Jericho found him.

His eyes flicked up when he heard her steps and then down immediately when he recognized her.

“Are you here to tell me you were right?” He asked, unusually harsh, but the question lost its bite when Lancelot’s voice broke away at the last word.

Ignoring the little stings of guilt, Jericho walked past Lancelot to a row of neatly lined up brooms by the stable entrance. Carefully she took one, twisting and turning it as she thought of what to say.

“Uhm, no… I actually- I wanted to-” Jericho took a deep breath, embarrassed over her struggle to form a simple apology. It wasn’t something she had to do often and the humiliation it brought was surprisingly big. “I’m sorry, okay? I was acting mean towards you and I just- It has nothing to do with you. Not really.”

“Oh, I didn’t even notice-”

“Shut up, yes, you did!” Jericho said, relieved that Lancelot’s lips twitched into a smile instead of a scowl.

She leaned against the wall and Lancelot did the same across from her with the railing, pretending to still be hard at work by lazily dragging his broom from one side to the other. A silence settled in.

With the hardest part of her speech out the way, Jericho allowed herself a moment to gather her thoughts.

“I… Okay, I get that you are a good man and that you want to follow a very strict moral code and I… struggled to respect that, but I promise I’ll try harder to keep my opinions to myself in the future and be nice to you.”

“That is… kind of you.” Lancelot sounded as unsure as the smile curling his lips looked. “Maybe you could tell me what you had issues with so I could, like, avoid such topics in the future.”

“Well… I just felt frustrated that you were ready to give up on your dream, when all that stood between you and becoming a knight was a little lie. A piece of paper. Because I think you don’t realize how lucky you are that that’s all there is. I-” It was a little hiccup, one Jericho overplayed with a shake of her head. “Other people have it so much harder to get the position that you are going to get by merely committing a crime and mucking some stables.”

Lancelot looked at her intensely, which was bad enough as it was, but then Jericho realised he was doing something even worse - studying her, considering what she’d said as if trying to piece things together.

Jericho tried and failed not to look too bothered by it, shifting her weight from one foot to the other and chewing on her lower lip. When he still hadn’t said anything after a while, Jericho began removing the brushwood from the broom by viciously kicking at it, half a plan on her mind. And at least this way she had a valid reason to avoid eye contact.

“You…” Lancelot said eventually, dragging the word out as he contemplated whether or not to finish the question. “Do you want to be a knight?”

“What?! No!” Jericho answered way too quickly and way too loudly, but she doubled down. “No, I don’t. I know I was drunk when we met, but I meant what I said about knights.”

“So, then what…” Lancelot looked at her visibly confused.

Jericho groaned, felling the last of the brushwood off the stick.

“Sorry, I must sound insane… Let me rephrase that; I do not want to become a knight, but not having the option of becoming one because of my gender pisses me off.”

“Oh…”

“Yes.”

It was a while before the array of emotions hushing over Lancelot’s face had settled into… Why did he always look so confused?

“I’m sorry.”

Jericho waved her hand dismissively, before taking Lancelot’s broom and subjecting it to the same treatments as her. Once it was a naked stick, she handed it back to him and then raised her own, holding it the way one would a sword.

She arched a brow in a silent challenge, one Lancelot, surprisingly, accepted by taking a defensive stance, the makeshift weapon held around the height of his waist.

“Alright, soon-to-be Sir Lancelot, show me what you got.”

“In front of everyone?” Lancelot’s eyes flickered around, taking note of every stableboy and servant present, but when his gaze met Jericho and her vexing smirk, he chuckled. “Alright… Let’s do this.”

Jericho was the one to deliver the first blow and it required a couple more before Lancelot stopped carefully parrying them and actually counter her attacks. She could feel him grow more secure of her ability to be a worthy sparring partner with each clash of their sticks, relishing in every block and defensive strike she got to make as it meant he actually fought her like an equal.

And equal they were.

Multiple times they duelled, circled each other for a bit, exchanging friendly banter and compliments, before going at it again. And never was there any clear winner when they parted to catch their breath.

“Merlin was underselling your talent.” Lancelot said during one of their slow, tactical walks around each other, sweat dripping from his temples and strands of his long hair sticking to his forehead.

Jericho doubted she looked any better.

Allowing herself a brief moment of vulnerability, Jericho laid her head back and laughed. This was the compliment of a century and the fact that it had come from a man… She stopped laughing at once, fixing Lancelot with a grin.

“Thanks. And I have to admit that if Arthur doesn’t give you another chance, he’s an even bigger fool than the one I already think him to be.”

“I am a what?”

Jericho and Lancelot froze, broomsticks thudding to the ground at the same time as they stared first at each other, then at Arthur, who’d appeared by the steps of the stables.

Hands stemmed into his hips, the Prince looked from one to the other, an amused smile making an appearance.

“Come on, repeat yourself. I’m a what?”

Ah, amazing.

Jericho could feel Lancelot stare at her, even see him shake his head for the outer field of her vision as she crossed her arms and rid the shocked expression from her face, but she didn’t pay him any mind.

Obviously standing up to Arthur wasn’t the smartest of choices, but the way he stared right at her with that cocky smirk that basically screamed “hah, I bet you won’t do it” made her want to do it so bad she damned all consequence.

“I said,” Jericho’s voice was so stable and clear that it had Arthur’s confident demeanour waver for a second. She grinned, taking a step forward so she was as close to him as she could be without walking down the steps of the stables. “That you would be an even bigger fool than I already think you to be if you don’t give Lancelot another chance.”

“Is that so?” Arthur’s grin had grown strained, the muscles in his jaw twitching with held back anger.

“Yes.”

As they stared at each other, both waiting for the other to give in - whatever that would look like-, Lancelot shuffled forward, looking utterly uncomfortable. Still, he managed to produce a coherent sentence.

“Sire, I apologize! I’m sure she didn’t mean it like that-” He grew quiet when Arthur held up his hand, eyes never leaving those of his servant.

“Then you don’t know her well enough. You meant it exactly the way you said it. Right, Jericho?”

“Yes, Sire.”

Gritting his teeth at the lack of shame in the answer, Arthur walked up the short flight of stairs and picked up the two broom sticks. When he straightened back up again, he signalled for Lancelot to follow him back down again.

Jericho watched, leaned against the railing, as they positioned themselves a few feet apart from each other, Lancelot looking absolutely out of it when he caught one of the sticks that Arthur had thrown his way.

“Fine, if she thinks you deserve another round of humiliation today, then you’ll get it.”

“Sire-”

“And if she’s right and you beat me, then I’ll give you a fair chance to try out for the knights again. But-” Arthur added more sharply, dimming the spark of hope that had caught in Lancelot’s eyes. “should I win, Jericho will have to face the consequences for her words.”

Nervously Lancelot’s gaze moved to Jericho, his mouth opening a little when he noticed how relaxed she still looked.

Wanting to calm him (because a distracted mind was about the worst handicap during a fight), Jericho said, “Don’t worry. He says he'll punish me all the time, but nothing’s ever happened so far.”

Arthur, just like on the training grounds before, attacked when Lancelot wasn’t looking, but this time he was prepared.

Either due to this being the second time the Prince decided to go for unfair strategies or because Lancelot’s senses were already heightened thanks to his little sparring session with Jericho - it didn’t matter really.

What was important was that he fended the blow off beautifully, launching himself into another battle with a good opener. The two men fought much more powerfully, their long slashes and heavy foot work nothing like the duel between Lancelot and Jericho, which had been based on short, but lengthy sequences and fleeting movement woven into one another.

They were exhausted much quicker and Lancelot, who’d already used some of his strength, was the one to tire first, which was how he got the hilt of Arthur’s sword rammed into his stomach, having him heaving and double over.

“Congratulations, Lancelot.” The man looked up at the Prince, brows furrowed in a mixture of pain and confusion. “You just made basic training.”

Arthur said with a faint hint of a smile that vanished when he turned to Jericho.

“And you-”

“Yes?”

Jericho cocked a brow, almost eager to finally get to see what kind of punishment it was that Arthur would give her. Or if he’d even go through with it after all.

“-are coming with me.”

Jericho skipped down the stairs, waving goodbye to a beaming Lancelot as she followed Arthur back to the castle.

For once she decided that silence might be a good choice as the Prince was most definitely one odd word away from blowing up. He was looking at her though. Long, scrutinizing glances that Jericho found herself squirming under.

It wasn’t like Arthur to be so quiet, stewing in his own thoughts as he was more the type of person to process them by voicing them out loud. But, to be fair, the only person near him was his servant and she wasn’t necessarily his favourite person right now.

“It really doesn’t become for a woman to wield a sword.” Jericho turned, a little aghast at the quiet words, but before she could form a proper reaction Arthur went on. “Even less so out in public, fighting a man in broad daylight.”

“Excuse me?”

Arthur continued as if he hadn’t heard her (a lot of people were doing that lately), “I won’t punish you for it, but others might not be so forgiving. So I think it would be wise for you to refrain from picking up any sort of weapon in the future unless it’s for the purpose of sharpening or cleaning them.”

Jericho found herself stunned into silence. She felt like someone had knocked her over the head with a giant hammer and then added a couple punches once she’d been down.

It wasn’t like she was unaware of the views that society had on women and what their purpose should be - taking care of the household and producing offspring - as she’d been faced with judging glares and reprimanding comments by nearly every resident of Ealdor, men and women alike. Even Lancelot had seemed sceptical at first.

But being basically forbidden from wielding a blade purely based on her gender by Arthur, with that cutting edge to his voice and a hint of mocking amusement in his eyes… That was something entirely different. As humiliating as it was frustrating and Jericho didn’t know how to handle it. Not in a way that wouldn’t lead to an even worse punishment than the one she was going to receive anyway.

“Huh, good idea actually.” Arthur sounded unsettlingly chipper and stopped. “You will sharpen my swords to make up for the way you spoke to me. All of them.”

“Thanks, you really know how to rub it in there.” Jericho hissed as she was shoved through the entrance of the armoury.

“I thought so, yes.” Arthur chuckled and then he gestured to a wall in the back.

A wall that had about a dozen swords neatly lined up on a rack, all looking rather expensive and definitely in need of some good care put into them. Jericho spun on her heels, a disbelieving expression on her face.

“This will take me all day!”

“Indeed it will.”

“What about Morgana? She’ll need me-”

“Morgana has survived nineteen years without you, I’m sure she will make due without you for an afternoon.”

He had a point. One that Jericho would’ve liked to ignore, but a moment later she found herself shoved into a stool with a whetstone pressed into her hands. When she looked up, Arthur was staring right back at her, still with that stupid, annoying grin plastered on his lips.

“I assume you know how to sharpen a blade?”

“Obviously.”

Arthur didn’t get to see the eyeroll Jericho gave him as he’d already walked off, leaving her to her duties.

At least she’d get some time to pick the sword she’d steal tonight.



*



“I made basic training!” Lancelot screamed euphorically as he popped into the physician’s chambers, immediately face to face with an ecstatically confused Merlin.

“What- But how?”

They sat down, so Lancelot could give a proper retelling - though it turned out to be more of a re-enactment as he heavily relied on gestures and body movements to bring everything across with the same intensity as when it had happened - and Merlin sat there, open mouthed, unsure how to fit all those things into his brain.

Firstly, Jericho being nice? Unprompted, out of her own motivation? - Well, her being nice wasn’t very unusual. She was one of the kindest people Merlin knew, but… it was rare she changed her mind on her perception of someone.

Secondly, Arthur being nice? And changing his mind?

Merlin kneaded his lips between his fingers, trying to make sense of everything, until he eventually decided that it wasn’t necessary. Lancelot had gotten what he wanted and that was all that counted.

That and the bright smile on the handsome man’s face, which was awfully contagious.

“I do feel bad.”

“About what?” Merlin frowned at the sudden downcast tone in Lancelot’s voice. “If I’d beaten Arthur properly, then Jericho wouldn’t have been punished. I get that she shouldn’t have talked to the Prince that way, but… she just stood up for me.”

Merlin laughed a little, carding a hand through his messed up hair.

“You definitely don’t need to worry about that. Jericho has the tendency to not know when to shut up and Arthur takes everything very personally. It’s just a bit unfortunate you got caught in the crossfire.”

Lancelot let out a relieved breath, most of the guilt dissipating from his face and he returned to smiling and looking utterly content. Merlin sat watching him for a bit, a fuzzy warmth spreading through his chest and stomach.

It truly felt good helping someone and getting praised for it, seeing the effect his good deeds had.

“So, I guess we should spend the rest of the afternoon getting you ready for your big day tomorrow.” Merlin slapped his thighs before jumping to his feet. “The training grounds are usually empty this time a day, so there shouldn’t be anyone bothering us.”

Wearily Lancelot followed, constantly eyeing Merlin from the side. But whatever it was that bothered him, he didn’t speak about it until they were out the door.

“What about Arthur? Won’t be be… jealous if I keep his personal servant from him?”

“Jealous?! Hah!” Merlin let out a quick, loud laugh, unable to imagine anything more funny. “Nah, he’ll probably be glad to have an excuse to have a ‘proper’ servant tend to his every need.”

The conviction with which Merlin spoke was what made Lancelot relax, even laugh along with him. Part of him couldn’t understand how Arthur would prefer any other servant over Merlin - the guy was perfect!

Chapter Text

“On one side we have Morgana, ward to the King of Camelot, and on the other side, we have her challenger, Jericho, her servant!”

“Hey! Why do I get such a shitty title?” Jericho stopped in her tracks, sword sinking to her side as she turned to Gwen, her eyes narrowed in mild offence.

Morgana relaxed her stance as well, amusedly smiling as she looked over to Gwen as well. Her maidservant lowered her hands, which she’d used to cup her mouth to make her voice echo across the dark clearing better, throwing a playful glare back at Jericho.

“Should I make one up then? Jericho, future victim to Guinevere, the best maidservant in all of Camelot?”

“Sure, sounds a lot more adventurous already.”

“Please! The way I changed my voice was making it adventurous enough. You’re just picky.” Gwen rolled her doe eyes, sinking back to the moss covered ground and leaning against the remnants of a fallen tree.

“It’s called having standards.” Jericho huffed with a little less bite than there normally was to it, the corners of her mouth already twitching traitorously.

“I beg your pardon?”

They might’ve bickered on until sunrise - Jericho’s open mouth, ready with a snarky retort evidence enough - hadn’t it been for Morgana clapping once and silencing the two women.

She gave them a graceful smile and said, “As entertaining as you both are, I’d really like to use whatever fleeting time we have to do what we came here for.”

To accentuate her point, Morgana lazily slashed at Jericho, the motion so slow that the younger woman had an easy time jumping a step back, laughing and throwing her head back. Morgana giggled along, her eyes following Jericho with the intensity of a wild animal, observing its prey.

Gwen noticed, shuddering at the tension that hung in the air all of a sudden.

It was a subtle, yet gripping shift. And Gwen didn’t regret her decision to come with them at all.

She had been a bit sceptical at first. It had been a rather curious situation when she’d walked into Morgana’s chambers, expecting her mistress to be deep asleep, only to find her and Jericho fully dressed in shirts and breeches, idly chatting away.

But now that she was here she could barely contain her excitement.

The two women had already had a little warm-up session, which - Gwen got to realise now - was nothing compared to an actual duel between them.

They were acting much faster, their swords sometimes clashing so suddenly Gwen barely saw the blades as they cut through the air and the way they hopped around reminded her of a dance, rather than strategical footwork. It was, all in all, one of the most beautiful things Gwen had ever witnessed.

Once you removed all of the panting, weapon wielding and sharp comments that were fired around like arrows.

The first time she heard Jericho call one Morgana’s attacks “sloppy”, followed by a request for her to “try harder” Gwen nearly fainted, sure that even a person as good-hearted as Morgana wouldn’t let that slide without a reprimand, but when nothing happened she dared to breathe again. With time she even learned that such remarks seemed to help the two.

In this fight between them, sarcasm and mean phrases seemed to have the same effect as compliments and praise, their smiles growing with each verbal exchange. And Gwen couldn't remember the last time she’d seen Morgana beam this brightly and be that version of herself she only got to see glimpses of nowadays.

Gwen found herself fully at ease, until something happened.

She wasn’t sure who’d made the mistake, but Jericho fully crashed into Morgana with no way to stop them from crashing to the ground with thuds and yelps. Her first worry was that one of them might’ve accidentally impaled themselves on one of the swords, but when Gwen couldn’t see any blood, she let out a breath she’d been holding, soon after spotting their swords, both thrown aside on a trained instinct.

“Uhm…” Jericho’s panicked stutter had Gwen’s eyes snap back to the women.

They were still on the ground, their still bodies, a stark contrast to the whirl winds they had been mere seconds ago.

Gwen really didn’t understand why they didn’t just get back up and continue like they had - they were both unharmed after all - until she saw the flushed look on Jericho’s face and the wild expression on Morgana’s. They seemed trapped.

Jericho’s frame was practically shaking under her laboured breaths, her arms propped up on either side of Morgana’s head, and with each one it seemed to inch closer and closer to her, face covered with blotches of red and her eyes wide and helpless.

Morgana on the other hand was eerily still, not even the twitch of a muscle to be seen as she seemed to be pressing herself deeper into the ground, her palms pressed flat against the grass and her fingers curled around the blades. It was what made Gwen realise that Morgana was holding back, which made the moment all the more confusing.

Because what was Morgana refraining from doing?

The closest comparable thing to this was that one time Gwen had seen two dogs fight, their position very similar to the ones the two canines had ended up in. Of course the dogs hadn’t really shown any emotions, but Gwen found her friends to be just as unreadable as two animals, so she waited for something to happen. Something would have to happen, right?

A rustle from the brush surrounding them had Gwen turn just as Jericho finally pulled back, getting on her knees and a frustrated sort of look hushed over Morgana’s face so quickly that it was gone before she even got out of Gwen’s field of vision.

There was no time to question the emotion as two shadowy figures burst onto the clearing, stumbling as they came to a halt a couple paces away from the three women.

“Merlin?” Gwen exclaimed, the first to recognize the men. She rose to her feet, kicking the training sword Jericho had brought for her out of sight. “And Lancelot? What-”

Morgana and Jericho had recovered, their faces no longer clouded and instead hardened with protective anger. They came up right next to Gwen, each taking a place on either side of her, their swords back in hand, readily hovering at their hips.

When Gwen looked back to Merlin and Lancelot, they looked very confused - like they had been thrown into the forest clearing and not barged in like the place belonged to them.

“What are you doing here?” Jericho finished Gwen’s question, her tone dangerously quiet and the glare she gave Merlin had him shrink where he stood, making him look comically small next to a very sly looking Lancelot.

“Uhm-” Merlin peeped, eyes turning to Lancelot for help.

“We…” Lancelot hesitated before remembering that he was supposed to be brave and honourable and all that and he straightened up, taking a step forward to direct the angry glares away from Merlin. “We saw you three from the window, hurrying through the square and then disappear and we got worried. So we set out to find you, which… took a while. But when we saw your tracks leading to the forest, we assumed you were in danger and… Obviously you’re not.”

The soon-to-be knight still managed to look curious when his gaze found the weapons and the untidy appearance of the women clutching on to them. While he was aware of Jericho’s talent with a sword, Lancelot hadn’t known that same set of abilities applied to the king's ward as well.

But faced with Morgana’s cool, condescending fury, Lancelot thought it wise to school his expression and swallow his questions.

“Obviously not.” Morgana echoed, rolling her pretty eyes in a way that sent an intimidated shiver down his spine. “So you coming here was entirely unnecessary. You may leave again.”

Her dismissive gesture had Lancelot turn around instinctively and if it hadn’t been for Merlin gabbing him by the shoulder, he might’ve walked straight back to the castle and gone to bed.

“Wait! Wait!” Merlin said, suddenly completely unafraid of his sister's warning glare as his face began to glow under the strike of genius that had overcome him. “You were training, right?”

“Yes…” Jericho said, already sounding done with her brother’s antics.

She loved him, truly, but this was supposed to be her time off with Morgana and Gwen. Just three women, doing things no one would approve of, enjoying each other's laughter and company. And now she was in the presence of two men, which ruined that, and it hardly mattered that she’d shared her mothers womb with one of them.

“Lancelot could use some more practice. For tomorrow, you know?” Merlin explained, gesturing as he went on. “I tried to help him today, but you know… You’ve seen me train with Arthur, I’m definitely not the best fit, so maybe if you could- Would be so kind as to help him out…”

Technically it was Morgana’s decision to make as she held the highest title, but when she looked over at her maids, it was very clear that this would be a voting type of situation. Jericho groaned.

There was no use in checking what Gwen thought as her nod practically vibrated through the air and her excitement was just as palpable. Purposely not looking at her friend (because gods those soft brown eyes would convince Jericho to do anything in a heartbeat), Jericho turned to Morgana, expecting to find nothing but unwillingness.

She nearly lost it when quite the opposite expression spanned across the Lady’s face - a foxy smirk, paired with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes.

“No… Come on, you were my only hope.” She groaned, throwing all politeness out the window when she added a little push to Morgana’s shoulder.

The Lady laughed, bright and clear, grabbing the wrist of the hand that had shoved her, her thumb softly circling over the vulnerable skin. Morgana could pinpoint the exact moment Jericho melted away, her shoulders sagging and her lips curving into a reluctant smile.

“I’m sorry, but I really - and I mean really - want to see Arthur be humbled by someone.”

“Fair enough…” Jericho sighed, because after scrubbing and filing away at Arthur’s swords all afternoon, she did share the sentiment.

Their attention was drawn back to Merlin, who was basically vibrating with static excitement. He roughly shoved Lancelot towards them. Though his good spirits were dimmed a little when he took a closer look at the sword in Jericho’s hand, recognizing its golden hilt and ruby adornments.

“Oh god-” He gasped, face growing wide as a dinner plate. “Don’t tell me you stole Arthur’s sword!”

“What? Nooo… I didn’t steal it. I’m just making sure it's working properly as part of my punishment.”

Merlin opened his mouth, considering what kind of lengthy lecture would be appropriate, but then he remembered all the borderline illegal shit he’d done to Arthur and closed his mouth again. Jericho shot him a ‘yeah, that’s right’ smile before turning to Morgana, who was standing in front of Lancelot, measuring him with her perceptive gaze.

Jericho lined up next to her, making it clear whose side she’d be fighting on. Lancelot, realizing what uneven battle he’d be fighting, accepted the challenge with a gracious nod.

This might end miserably - he’d barely been able to hold off Jericho on her own and the way Morgana testingly swung her weapon through the air told him she was pretty decent too - but at least he’d get in some real training.

No offence to Merlin, really, but… After the fourth Lancelot had stopped counting how many times he’d tripped over his own feet.

Merlin, too, was glad to be not needed any longer and took a seat next to Gwen, so the two could make up their own commentary as they watched the fighting ensue. Of course they didn’t know the proper words for any of the sequences or strikes, so they’d make up their own, along with trying to figure out what were genuine mistakes and what were tricks or hidden chances for attacks.

And it was safe to say their attention was laid on Lancelot most of the time. Purely out of concern for him, obviously. Even if Jericho and Morgana’s grins said otherwise.

They were at it until the early hours of morning and the only reason anyone thought to interrupt the fun was because the first streaks of light broke through the dark, startling the group.

The fighting broke apart quickly and Merlin and Gwen were on their feet in an instant, rushing to their friends in a hurry.

“We should’ve been back hours ago!” Gwen whisper-shouted as if they were already back in the city, her eyes darting around as if guards would jump from the bushes at any moment.

Jericho was about to place a comforting hand on her shoulder, but Lancelot beat her to it, so she instead exchanged knowing smiles with Merlin and Morgana as Lancelot reassured Gwen with some comforting words and a stunning smile.

They walked back as a group, only splitting up once they reached the unguarded gates they always slipped through to get out at night. The puzzled expression on Lancelot and Merlin’s faces made it clear that they hadn’t used those before.

Gwen and Morgana went back to the Lady’s chambers, so in case anyone discovered them on the way there, they could just use the excuse of a morning stroll. The remaining three would tackle the issue of returning the weapons, which in theory had seemed like a more difficult undertaking, but ended up going surprisingly smoothly.

Nobody stopped them, nobody asked questions… They didn’t even see anyone.

“Odd.” Lancelot said as he hung Arthur’s sword back to where it belonged, glancing over his shoulders to where the twins were taking care of the other weapons. “I’ve never seen the armoury unguarded.”

Jericho shrugged as worrying about such things was totally out of her paygrade and Merlin gave half a shake of his head, not caring much more than his sister.

But Lancelot’s not-question question was answered a couple minutes later when they entered the square and were greeted by dozens of injured people, some in more critical condition than others, but all looking mortified. Some cried, others cursed and some prayed.

Guards threaded between them, handing out blankets and food and water, but they too looked out of it, shocked by the condition the villagers were in. Amidst all the chaos, Gaius stuck out like a sore thumb. If a sore thumb was a helpful, calm old man, tending to the wounded and calming panicked people with reassuring pats on the back and hummed promises.

“Gaius, what happened?” Merlin was by the physician's side first, Jericho and Lancelot scrambling to catch up.

Gaius gestured for them to follow, leading them aside a bit, so no traumatised person would overhear and get startled into another fit. He still spoke in hushed tones when he told them about a winged-beast that had attacked these commoners' homes, killing and injuring dozens.

“Winged beast?” Merlin turned around, unaware of the raised brow cast behind his back. “That sounds an awful lot like…”

Jericho made the connection first, an exhausted groan wrung from her lips as she tilted her head back to just stare at the sky for a moment. It was pretty like this, streaked by all shades of pinks and purples there were. A pained whimper and a clueless hum from Lancelot brought her back to reality.

“Of course we can’t just go mushroom picking and encounter a magical creature without it spinning into a catastrophe.”

“Oh.” Lancelot was on the same page now, face widening at the memory of his sword breaking on mere impact with the beast. “That’ll be… a problem.”

While Merlin and Jericho nodded agreeingly, mentally already sorting through their options, Gaius circled them so he was standing in front of them again. He stemmed his hands into his hips with all the authority of a disappointed mother, the stare he gave them matching that impression.

“You three will tell me exactly when and where you saw what!” Gaius gifted each of them with a stern raise of his brow. “And then you’ll explain why you didn’t tell me about it immediately!”



*



It was a Gryffin, according to one of Gaius’ many books.

And it seemed as if it was on a bender of some sorts, sending a steady stream of peasants from outlying towns to Camelot's gates each passing day.

There wasn’t much to be done about it other than help the wounded, encourage Lancelot in his training and wait.

Sure, they were itching to do something about the Gryffin - with Lancelot and Jericho, who could fight, and Merlin, with his useful magic - but Uther didn’t deem it worth sending out his knights unless the beast would become an actual threat to his city.

Though more than once Lancelot wondered aloud if he should just set off on his own, but the twins discouraged him with the argument that ‘once he’d be a knight, he could do all sorts of good that he wouldn’t be able to achieve if he threw his chances at attaining said title by disappearing for a couple days’ and there wasn’t much arguing against that.

A lot of time was also spent watching Lancelot train. Not from the side of the training field, no.

A window was Gwen’s preferred place to stand and watch and dream. Morgana and Jericho would be right there with her.

Morgana was there because watching her oldest friend fawn over a half-decent man was the most interesting thing currently on her daily schedule and Jericho only stayed around because wandering around the castle alone would put her at risk of running into Arthur and she really didn’t want that to happen.

Ever since the incident that had resulted in her sharpening swords until her fingers had been covered in blisters she’d tried to keep her distance - mostly due to the reason that she was sure she’d yell at him some more if she finally saw that prattish face again.

Because did she not convince him to give one of the most talented fighters she’d seen in a very long time another chance? Wasn’t he constantly complaining about the lack of competent knights in his ranks?

Merlin would join them sometimes and they’d all sit in the same cool alcove, stare out the window and talk, pretending like they weren’t all there to observe Gwen and her love-struck nature unfold. And sometimes they’d stop pretending and tease her until Gwen would be as red as a tomato.

“I didn’t think you’d be so gracious about this.” Jericho said one day when her and Merlin were sitting in their room, polishing Arthur’s armour together. “Like you saw Gwen show an ounce of interest in Lancelot and retreated immediately.”

Merlin shrugged, his brows pinched in focus as he was tending to an especially nasty stain on the chest plate.

“Well, I barely know him and he’s clearly interested in her too, so it’s not really my place to get all territorial, you know?”

“Hah!” Jericho shouted so loudly Merlin threw his cloth to the other side of the room for which he glared at his sister, looking very bothered. “I knew you had feelings for him.”

“Wha- No… I- Fine, but it wasn’t anything more than a crush! Some butterflies and long looks, but it was far from anything even remotely close to love.”

“Makes sense. You get very hissy and protective when you’re in love.”

“I don’t!”

“You totally do!” Jericho tossed her own cloth aside, grinning widely. “Or do you not remember the six months you’d barely let anyone get closer to Will than that invisible six foot limit you’d put up around him?”

“That was- that’s completely untrue! Sure, I might’ve been a little possessive of him, but I didn’t hiss at anyone and there definitely wasn’t a six foot limit!”

“What about Linda? The farmer's daughter?”

Merlin spluttered, at a loss for words for about ten seconds (a new record), before he crossed his arms with a pout, “Yeah, but she had it out for him and you know it! What was I supposed to do?”

“Not what you ended up doing, which was and still is ethically wrong on so many-”

The door was ripped open with such force and noise it had the twins forget all about their argument and shoot up to their feet instead, sending pieces of Arthur’s armour scattering across the floor.

Lancelot was too excited to notice the momentary panic he’d caused and he practically jumped his friends, pulling them both into a joyous embrace that had spines and rib crack at the intensity of it.

“Arthur moved my test to tomorrow instead of next week!” He said, his voice high with emotion. “All because of a murderous beast, but we’ll ignore that because I might be a knight tomorrow!”

So, by the next day, Merlin and Jericho stood by the side of the training field once again, Morgana and Gwen flanking the twin as they all leaned against a short fence, hollering very improperly as Lancelot walked up to the other knights. He looked equally nervous and confident.

During the warm-up some of the nobles came over to bid proper greetings to Morgana, all but one ignoring the three servants beside her, as they were either too snobbish to acknowledge them or too busy smiling at the fair lady to pay attention to anyone else.

“Leon!” Morgana’s smile changed into a real one when a tall, lanky knight walked over to them, his dirty blonde curls blown aside by the wind.

He came to a halt in front of their dance, bowing deeply in front of Morgana with a reverent “My Lady” and straightened up again with a polite smile. It was perhaps the most perfect execution of protocol Jericho and Merlin had seen in their time at Camelot.

“Oh gods, don’t be so stuck-up, Leon!” Morgana chastised him warmly, slipping a giggle before adding, “You used to be much more fun.”

“Yes, when I was a child, my Lady.” Leon said and when Morgana shook her head, he allowed himself a proper look at the ground surrounding her.

He gave Gwen and Merlin a knowing nod  as he was familiar with both of them, but then he turned to Jericho and his face went blank.

An awkward second passed during which Jericho thought that he could at least pretend that they’d seen each other before, nod at her too and then walk off again, but Leon just opened his mouth without producing a sound.

“I don’t believe we’ve met yet.” He said eventually, clearing his throat to make up for the silence that followed at Jericho momentarily stared at him in mild disbelief.

“Uhm, no…” And Jericho wasn’t sure why he pointed it out like that, but faced with this man’s growing insecurity, she decided that it didn’t matter and put on her most stunning smile. “I am Jericho, Merlin’s sister.”

“Well… it is a pleasure to meet you. I am Sir Leon.” The knight was smiling now, but the thing died off his lips as quick as his had come when Arthur called for him.

With another round of nods, he took his leave.

“Weird.” Jericho noted once he was out of earshot, receiving an agreeing nod from Morgana.

“Yeah, he’s so… normal, usually.”

“What a way you have with words, Merlin.” Gwen chuckled.

“What? It’s the best way to describe him! Leon is just… normal. Like the base model of a sword before you add anything that makes it… different.”

Jericho turned her head, her eyes piercing right into her brothers and she didn’t even need to tell him that he was being unnecessarily mean as he was already ducking and mumbling, “I mean that in a good way.”

Gwen shushed them as it was time for Lancelot’s test.

It went much, much better than the first time. All of his training with both Arthur and Morgana and Jericho paid off as he really fought as the Prince’s equal.

At one point he really had them going though. Arthur had managed to push him to the ground, only for Lancelot to jump up to his feet right when his opponent had put his guard down. From there on out it was an easy thing for Lancelot to win the upper-hand, forcing Arthur on his back and into submission.

And while the knights didn’t reach much to the newcomers' win - all a little too familiar with what a sore loser their Prince could be - the four people on the side lines erupted into cheers and applause.

Lancelot was knighted the same day and Arthur - for a man who’d looked like the world had ended when Lancelot’s sword had been held to his throat - sure smiled an awful lot during the ceremony. And at the feast after that was thrown in honour of Camelot’s newest knight.

It was the type of festivity that wasn’t bound to the rigid social rules Merlin and Jericho had witnessed during visits of important guests, but rather a wild, quickly escalating sort of party. One where Uther stayed for only an hour, mostly out of obligation, before retreating and letting everyone have their fun the way they wanted to have it.

It led to benches being ignored and replaced by tables, goblets to never run empty and servants to rise to the station of entertainers.

Merlin was doing a great job at that, commuting back and forth from Morgana and Gwen to Arthur and Lancelot, sometimes managing to drag his sister along.

One time Jericho went to refill the Prince and knights cup by herself, only to overhear them talk about the attractiveness of a woman. Neither of them seemed to realize that they were talking about two different ones - Arthur’s gaze laying on Morgana and Lancelot’s eyes following Gwen around like there was a magnetic pull leaving him no other choice.

Jericho let out a sigh, walking up behind them and whacking the back of Lancelot’s head with just enough force for it to be both playful and reprimanding at the same time.

“It’s rude to stare like that and I think you should be old enough to know that.” She said, her focus solely on Lancelot, even though Arthur was staring at her moon-eyed.

“And I think you should know that hitting a knight isn’t exactly polite either.”

“Come on, Lance-”

“That is Sir Lancelot now, thank you very much.”

Arthur was gaping now, mouth open and everything.

Because he’d definitely heard wrong and Jericho had definitely not laughed and playfully nudged Lancelot, who’d jokingly winked at her. But that was exactly what happened and Arthur really lost it when his no-good servant bowed to the new knight (not in earnest, but still).

“What- You-” Arthur stuttered, feeling the effects of the many cups of wine he’d consumed up to this point when Jericho turning and staring coldly made his face heat up like fire. “Why can he say that and all you do is laugh, but when I remind you of my title, you- you- do that?!” Arthur pointed at Jericho’s furrowed lips.

His perception of distance wasn’t too great anymore and his hand was pushed away right before it would’ve connected with her forehead.

“Sire,” Jericho pushed the title out with the same irritation as always. “if you haven’t figured that out while sober, I doubt you’d understand it drunk.”

Arthur bristled at the formality, taking another swig of wine and shaking his head at the same time, causing some of the red liquid to spill down his neck. It made the argument that he “wasn’t actually that drunk” laughable.

Of course neither Lancelot nor Jericho laughed into his face blankly, but Jericho did turn away briefly to regain her composure and Lancelot gave him a look with his soft brown eyes that made Arthur want to go outside, grab a shovel, dig a hole and go lie in it. Because there was one thing worse than being at the butt-end of the joke and that was being pitied.

He felt terribly dumb when he made his excuses, pretending like he had someone important to talk to when really he just went circling around the hall until eventually colliding with Merlin, who’d just wrapped up a conversation with Leon and was on his way to do whatever servants did.

Arthur didn’t bother apologising, just barked something about Merlin having to watch where he was going and then sagged against the solid, cool wall and pressed his overheating cheek against it.

An amused chuckle had Arthur pry his eyes open a little and he was met with a familiar sparkling gaze, looking right back at him.

He’d almost forgotten about Merlin, which meant he must’ve been really, really drunk. His servant was leaned against the same wall, close enough for Arthur to notice the hint of dust, freshly cut herbs and parchment that Merlin always smelled of. He closed his eyes again and took a deep breath.

“Not a word.”

“I haven’t said anything.” Merlin’s excitedly high pitch let on that it wouldn’t stay like that for long. He really couldn’t shut up for longer than a minute or so.

“Merlin.”

“What?”

“Y’r sister’s annoying.”

Merlin laughed softly and Arthur believed he could feel his breath hush across his face, warm and sweet. Subconsciously he leaned in, pressing himself further against the wall. Without its support he’d be on the ground, the alcohol and exhaustion really catching up with him now.

“Tell me something I don’t know. What has she done this time?”

“Eh…” Arthur waved his hand, but it might as well have been a muscle spasm. “Nothin’”

There was no way he could properly air his grievances about Jericho without elaborating and elaboration would include too many occasions of them interacting that Merlin wasn’t aware of and… Arthur was really tired.

“Wow, you must be out of it if you can’t even get yourself to complain. That is your favourite pastime, isn’t it?”

“Huh.” Arthur was somewhere between annoyed and amused.

“What? No insult? No snarky remark?” Merlin teased and if Arthur had bothered to open his eyes, he would’ve seen that the adoring smile on his face didn’t match his tone at all. “You must’ve had a lot of wine then.”

“Merlin!”

“There you go.”

Arthur let out a deep sigh as he attempted to slap Merlin - any part of him really - but the strength left his arm just as his hand connected with the servant's hip.

The whole motion had caused him to shift off centre. He began sliding forward, his shoulder scraping along the stone wall and the only thing Arthur could think of to save himself was anchor his fingers in Merlin’s tunic and hope that the boy had enough core strength in him not to crash to the floor under Arthur’s weight.

Luckily Merlin reacted quickly, his hands finding their way under Arthur’s arms and holding on to his elbows as he stabilized the Prince, laughing and shaking his head.

For someone so clumsy Merlin brought Arthur back to his feet very swiftly, leaning him against the wall - properly this time, with his back and shoulders lined up neatly - but still held on to his arms for good measure.

“I think it’s time for you to retire to your chambers.”

“But everyone’s still h’re.” Arthur looked up, looking like a sad child rather than the proud Prince he was. “‘N there’s so much wine left.”

Merlin pressed a hand to his mouth to hold in another giggle.

He’d seen Arthur tipsy before, a little drunk even, but this was a whole different level of delirium. How high were the chances he wouldn’t even remember this interaction tomorrow?

Arthur hummed something unintelligible, his head dropping against Merlin’s arm. The young man first thought it was a poor attempt at a headbutt, but when Arthur didn’t move and low, slow snores broke through the noise, he realised that his master had just fallen asleep.

Right there, slumped against Merlin, somewhat in his arms…

Ignoring the embarrassingly fast beat of his heart, Merlin let out a sigh of his own as he considered his options. While he could hold Arthur on his feet on his own, there was no way he’d be able to get him to his chambers by himself.

Just leaving him here and hoping he’d come to himself before the festivities ended would be cruel (and Merlin wasn’t as bad of a servant as Arthur always liked to claim).

But he didn’t have to search for an answer to his prince-sized problem as Leon came trotting over just a couple minutes later.

He didn’t ask questions, instead flashing a small smile to Merlin before slinging one of Arthur’s arms over his shoulders, waiting for Merlin to do the same. Together they heaved Arthur to his chambers.

Merlin expected Leon to leave as soon as they’d put the Prince to bed, but to his endless surprise the knight walked to the hearth and began working on lighting a fire. Puzzled Merlin stood and stared.

He’d been aware that Leon was a good man - especially when comparing him to the rest of Camelot’s forces - but this exceeded all expectations Merlin had in him. At some point he got his mouth to close again and started tugging Arthur’s boots off and getting him ready for bed.

“Merlin, I…” Leon set the flint aside, his eyes trained on the flames. “I overheard a conversation between Uther and Morgana. After Lancelot’s knighting ceremony.”

“Oh?” Merlin frowned, but he didn’t turn around.

Something about Leon’s careful tone had him on alert. Clearly this wasn’t a topic Leon felt appropriate to discuss with him, yet he found it important enough to do so anyway, which meant it couldn’t be anything good.

“The King thought it weird that Lancelot showed up from out of nowhere and he sent a servant to Geoffrey, so he could take a look at his seal of nobility.”

Now Merlin turned, smiling in a way that was supposed to look confident and say ‘there’s nothing to worry about’, but Leon looked at him with unwavering seriousness. He didn’t buy it, so Merlin dropped the smile.

“I don’t want to imply anything. It is not my place. I just thought you should know.”

Leon got up, wiping his ash coated fingers on his trousers. They were blotted by wine and food stains anyway. His walk to the door was slow and before he opened the door he looked back once more, taking in Merlin, who was nervously wringing his tunic between his hands, one foot bouncing up and down.

“I like Lancelot, even if I haven’t spent much time with him personally. He’s a great fighter and we really need a man like him.”

“I know…” Merlin whispered as the door fell into his lock, Leon’s steps fading in the distance.

He finished his duties, though it took him much longer with his mind scattered all over the place and his body reminding him that it was late and he wanted to rest too.

And then there was his magic, coursing beneath his skin like waves that grew bigger and bigger, announcing that there was a storm coming. It was trying to help.

Merlin felt his magic awake from its forced slumber each time he was in distress, physically or emotionally. Kind of like a pet that didn’t understand what was going on but it could sniff the anxiety and in its unknowing way wanted to protect him. Merlin hated it.

Because it could actually help and protect him.

His magic could solve about every single one of his problems if he’d let it. But he couldn’t.

In certain situations he could use it, when he could be absolutely sure no one would see him. Those moments were rare and this wasn’t one of them. He’d already fucked around with it too much to get Lancelot a chance at becoming a knight.

A rational solution would have to do, should Uther actually find out that the seal and Lancelot’s identity was a fraud.

Yes, something could be done about it.

And that was exactly why Merlin found himself back at the feast, looking for his sister, whom he found curled up in a corner with Gwen, Lancelot and Morgana. They were all holding goblets and by the sounds of carefree laughter and shouting they’d all had a couple of refills.

Disappointment had Merlin’s stomach drop.

Jericho was many things. Intelligent, witty, strong and cunning. She was none of those when she was drunk.

“Merlin!”

She’d seen him, beckoning him over with such a bright, electric smile that Merlin couldn’t help but reciprocate it as he made his way over. Jericho didn’t waste a second, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him against her side.

“Where have you been?” She wasn’t slurring her speech yet. That was something.

“Helped Arthur get to bed.”

“Ah, bed.”

Gwen smiled fondly like she was speaking of a long lost lover and then she spun, losing her balance the moment her feet shifted. She would’ve fallen if it wasn’t for Lancelot catching her by wrapping an arm around her waist. He held her easily, his arm remaining where it was even after tipping her back onto her feet.

Merlin briefly thought of how he’d held Arthur very similarly not too long ago. He shook his head.

“I want to be in bed.” Gwen said, her eyes never leaving Lancelot's face and she nearly choked on her own laughter when the knight turned a bright red, quickly averting his gaze and turning his head a whole different direction.

Gwen seized the opportunity and (with surprising grace) hopped away, towards the exit. She wasn’t very fast though, leaving Lancelot the chance to say, “I’ll bring her home.”

He looked at both Jericho and Morgana, silently asking for their permission. Or trust. When they both gave him solemn nods he took off, charging after Gwen, who giggled and sped up when she noticed him following.

“That’s going to end with her knees scraped and him carrying her home.” Jericho prophesied, taking another sip of wine.

“I think that’s what she’s going for.”

“Smart girl.”

Merlin hadn’t seen it before, but now that it was just them and Lancelot’s distracting presence was no longer an issue, he noticed just how close Jericho and Morgana were standing.

They both leaned against the same pillar, Morgana’s bare shoulder grazing Jericho’s arm with each breath she took and Jericho’s foot kept tapping against Morgana’s heel. Neither of them really seemed to be aware of their closeness, too engulfed in their comfortable chatter and lingering gazes that would always be cast when the other wasn’t looking.

His sister’s feelings for the King’s ward weren’t unknown to Merlin, even though he’d avoided outright asking her about it.

Jericho tended to get awfully defensive whenever Merlin had accused her of having feelings for someone, digging her heels into the ground and denying everything. He had no idea why she would do that as Merlin had always made it very clear that he was happy for her, but… Yeah, she had her weird qualities just like he did.

“I’m going to bed as well. Unless you two need something…”

“Nah, ‘m gonna escort the Lady to her chambers.”

For someone drunk enough to sway while standing on her own two feet Jericho was still insisting on using those big, polite words she’d learned - the ones she only used when talking with or about Morgana.

Morgana rolled her eyes, laying a steading hand on Jericho’s shoulder. She was the most sober out of all of them (except for Merlin, who hadn’t had a single drop of wine) and was well able to walk, talk and think without issue.

“I’ll make sure she’s safe and asleep in the next couple of hours. You go.”

“Thank you!” Merlin said.

He gave Jericho a quick hug and Morgana a grateful smile before making his way through the still very awake and loud crowd.

Once he looked back, right when he’d reached the huge double doors, and smiled as he watched Morgana gently pull Jericho the other way, talking to her as they made their exit as well.

It might be silly, but Merlin put the same trust in her to keep his sister safe as Morgana and Jericho had placed in Lancelot when allowing him to take Gwen home by himself.



*



Geoffrey was an old man, but hell it did not affect his researching skills.

Lancelot had barely downed that rotten smelling potion Gaius had prepared for him to counter his hangover when guards stormed the chambers and put him in chains to drag him away. The only explanation they gave for their early intrusion was “kings orders”, which Merlin’s eyes widened at.

He’d thought he’d have more time, that they could work out a solution in the morning, but he’d failed to account for Geoffrey’s reading speed.

They wouldn’t let him go in with Lancelot, slamming the doors to the throne room shut before Merlin could even utter the word “wait”, leaving him to pace and cast a spell. A small one that served no other purpose than to get Jericho to come look for him.

Overprotective as she was, she always came running when she felt that tug of Merlin’s magic to check if he’d been arrested or not. It didn’t take more than a couple of minutes for Jericho to arrive, led by the invisible string of magic that helped pinpoint where her brother was.

“What are you doing?!” She whisper-shouted as she dragged Merlin out of the sight of the guards stationed in front of the throne room and into the safety of a nearby alcove.

For someone who’d downed about a gallon of ale and wine the night before Jericho looked astonishingly well rested.

“They found out about Lancelot.”

Jericho glanced back at the guards and the closed doors, one corner of her mouth twitching. It was the only glimpse of what emotions must’ve been coursing through her and by the time she looked back at Merlin, she’d smoothed her face into a calm, unreadable mask.

“That’s not good.”

“No, it’s not!” Merlin squealed, hating how upset he sounded compared to his sister. “We have to do something! You have to do something!”

“Me?”

Nodding vigorously Merlin placed his hands on Jericho’s shoulders, gripping them firmly. He looked desperate, almost scared and belatedly it dawned on Jericho that the only punishments Merlin had seen get handed out by Uther had been sentencings to the stake.

Yes, only one of them had ended up with an actual burned body, but the sentiment was the same.

“You are the one who comes up with the plans.” Merlin said, forcing his voice to stay low so nobody would overhear them. He still checked to make sure no one was near. “I have my magic and I used it and see where it got us?”

“Merlin, Lancelot will be fine. They won’t execute him over a faked seal-”

“Still, I fucked it up and I’d love to fix it, but…” Merlin’s voice broke away, his eyes swimming in tears. “I can’t. I’ll just make it worse… I- Jericho, please fix it.”

Jericho’s stomach lurched at how small Merlin sounded, the guilt that pained him.

For a moment it wasn’t her grown brother standing in front of her, but the little boy she’d grown up with, the one she’d sworn to protect and make sure that no harm would ever come to.

She swallowed the lump that formed at the base of her throat, pushing down her own helplessness and replacing it with a reassuring smile. She really hoped it was a smile.

It wasn’t really a question whether or not she would be able to help Lancelot. Not when Merlin was looking at her like she was the only hope he had left. Jericho would just have to find a way.

“Okay, okay, I’ll figure something out.” She smoothed a hand through Merlin’s thick hair. He leaned in, letting himself shed a desperate tear and Jericho pretended like it didn’t break her heart to see him like this. “Just… It’s not your fault okay?”

The protest was written all across Merlin’s face, but he didn’t get to voice it as the double doors were ripped open.

There was barely a chance to even catch a glimpse of Lancelot as he was dragged off by guards, the direction they walked was the one leading to the dungeons. Merlin’s heart sank, but he hung on to the tiny, bright sliver of relief because at least he wasn’t facing capital punishment.

Two knights followed, one of them was Leon.

He looked back briefly, as if he’d known that Merlin would be standing there, and Leon shot him a sympathetic look before continuing to follow his duty.

Arthur was last and he spotted the twins immediately, stopping in his tracks. Some veiled emotion flashed across his face and he seemed to struggle with the decision of coming over or pretending he hadn’t seen them and walking off.

Merlin took the opportunity to wipe his face, but Jericho was faster, thumbing the stray tears away with a gentle smile. Her demeanour changed drastically when steps came towards them - the sound of Arthur’s conscience getting the better of him - and Merlin couldn’t help but scowl at the Prince too.

It wasn’t fair, he knew that. Arthur probably didn’t have much of a say in the Lancelot debacle and if Merlin wasn’t completely mistaken, they’d actually started to get along - Arthur valuing the qualities his new knight brought to the table -, but Merlin couldn’t resist.

He needed to be mad at someone other than himself or else he’d burst out crying again.

“I, uhm-” Arthur cleared his throat, shifting on his feet as he struggled for the right words.

“What’s going to happen to him?” Merlin asked bluntly.

He didn’t really care that his lack of surprise over Lancelot’s arrest or questioning what reasons there were for it were kind of telling. He just wanted to know that Lancelot would be fine and that Uther had bestowed him with a punishment that they could work with.

“There’s no definite answer to that yet. The King has taken Lancelot’s statement and he’ll be in the dungeons until a decision is made.”

Merlin looked at Jericho, waiting for her input, but she merely stood there, biting her lip so hard it turned white under the strain of holding back whatever insult laid on the tip of her tongue. It probably wasn’t just an insult either, but her opinion, too, which Jericho had learned was often not valued by men. Especially men like Arthur.

Merlin would’ve loved to hear it though, sure that it would back up his own.

“But, you can’t-” Arthur’s face hardened at Merlin’s pleading tone and he turned his eyes up, focusing at some point above his servant’s head. Merlin didn’t let that stop him. “He’s a good knight, Arthur. You know he is! You can’t just… just throw him away like that!”

Unlike Merlin had hoped, the Prince stubbornly stared ahead, but the slightest struggle hushed across his face. Uther’s voice sounded from the throne room, having Merlin glance that direction briefly and when he broke from the distraction, Arthur had his arms crossed and his face back under control.

“I’m not throwing him away, Merlin. He’s committed a crime, knowingly, and I can’t just overlook that. There has to be a punishment.”

Merlin nearly laughed. That wasn’t Arthur talking.

Arthur spoke with passion and conviction. It didn’t matter what the topic was - how small or insignificant it seemed - there would always be at least a sliver of care in the way Arthur treated it.

But now he sounded like he was rattling off a speech. Written by someone else, nothing he actually believed in and it caused a chill to spread over Merlin’s arms like the warm spring sun had ceased shining from one moment to the next.

“You don’t mean that!” Merlin tried again, his voice cracking just the slightest bit.

Jericho laid a hand on the small of his back. If it was to calm him or to make him shut up Merlin didn’t know. He just kept staring at his master, waiting for even the smallest change on his sculpted face that would tell him he’d reached him.

His heart squeezed uncomfortably tight when it didn’t. Arthur kept staring at him like he was a stranger, not the friend Merlin had believed he’d slowly started becoming, and then he shook his head.

“I have other matters to attend to.”

About ready to take off his boot and chuck it at the prat’s head, Merlin gritted his teeth, leaning into the hand on his back.

“I’m sure Gaius has a ton of work to do. You should help him out for the day.”

Merlin’s breath caught at the back of his throat. He’d been ready for anything - a hard day’s work, having to grovel in silence over Arthur’s stubbornness or maybe even the chance to argue some more - but not to be sent away.

What? He disagreed with a choice (rightfully so) and Arthur’s way of dealing with it was to get rid of him until- Until when? Huh?

In search of answers Merlin tried to catch Arthur’s eyes, digging deep into them until he’d found some sense, something that would explain his actions, but the Prince had turned, presenting Merlin with his back and tightly wound shoulders.

“Jericho will be taking over for you.”

There was no need for Merlin to turn to figure out how his sister felt about this. He could sense the shift, how she tensed and bristled even without saying a word. He checked anyway, eyes widening when she looked even madder than he’d expected.

Jericho’s eyes had narrowed into two angry slits that practically clawed into Arthur’s back and her mouth was a thinly pinched line. She ground her teeth, her jaw constantly working as if she was saying the things she wanted to say internally to relieve her of the pressure they had on her. And then she noticed Merlin looking and it was like someone had dragged a wet sponge across her face, wiping it off and replacing it with another much more friendly one.

She smiled nearly effortlessly and gave him a wink as she bent closer to his ear.

“I’ll think of something. You go and take the day off.” She whispered before giving Merlin a soft squeeze.

“Jericho!”

Almost playfully she rolled her eyes and strolled after Arthur, leaving Merlin behind with an uneasy stomach and a lot of time on his hands.



*



Arthur wasn’t looking forward to the rest of the day. Not when he could feel Jericho staring daggers at his back all the way back to his chambers. It was hard to bear, making his hands clench and unclench into fists as he did not know what else to do with them, but…

He would take Jericho’s anger over Merlin’s disappointment any day.

Something about the way his servant looked at him, so… sad and hopeful at the same time, had Arthur struggle to keep himself in check. It made it hard to breathe properly, to say things in that cold, harsh manner he’d been taught. Hell, he’d defended Lancelot in there, because Merlin was right - Arthur did need the knight, desperately…

But once Uther Pendragon made a decision there was no changing it. No well placed argument or smart point would. And Arthur had learned that at a young age.

“You know, if you have something to say, just say it.”

Arthur was getting dressed behind the changing screen while Jericho laid out his armour, so he could get ready for training. She hadn’t made a single sound and hadn’t so much as looked at him, but the silence she veiled herself in was deafening.

It made it hard for Arthur to think about anything but his cowardice.

He’d sent Merlin off because he couldn’t face him. He’d given up on Lancelot. He’d failed to stand up to his fathers injustice.

But the silence persisted and somehow the girl had even managed to mute the rest of the world. There was no calming rattle of chainmail or the occasional clatter of metal on metal. Maybe she wasn’t even doing the task Arthur had assigned to her, which would be something. Then he could be mad at her instead of himself for a moment.

Of course that wasn’t the case.

His armour had been laid out in perfect order on his bed and he didn’t even need to say anything as Jericho came over with the first piece of it as soon as Arthur stepped out into the room.

“Are you not talking to me because you have nothing to say or because you are worried about repercussions?” Arthur tried again.

He got no other answer than a quick glare that told him it was the latter. Quietly he nodded and watched as Jericho went to retrieve the next piece. She really worked fast and efficient.

“Well, there won’t be any. So, say what you want.”

Just say something, Arthur thought before the mess of his mind caught up with him again. He needed one of those accusations his brain hailed at him to be said out loud, by someone that wasn’t him. That was the only way he could reason with them, make his own actions make sense.

“Break him out.”

“What?” Arthur startled, everything went quiet.

Jericho looked at him with that neutral expression, like she hadn’t just suggested committing a crime to the crown prince of Camelot. Then she shrugged, continuing to fasten Arthur’s belt a little too tightly.

“I could tell you you’re an arse and a coward, say that you lack a backbone and judgement or…” She casually strolled to the bed and picked up the chest plate. Then she walked back to Arthur to clip it into place. “I could give you the solution to your issues. Make this whole process go a little faster.”

Her honesty and implicitness knocked the air out of Arthur’s lungs and he could do nothing but stare at her. She still wasn’t looking at him though, her entire focus lay on the armour and whatever was going on inside that tick skull of hers.

“You… you’re saying that like it’s a fact. That I’ll break out Lancelot.”

“Well, you do need him, don’t you?” Jericho circled around Arthur, buckling the chest plate, oblivious to his dazed state. “I mean, seriously, what kind of knights do you surround yourself with, Arthur? I know you have slim pickings with that whole first code, but… My gods, Leon might be the only competent one out there.”

“I-”

“So, I’m just saying, if Lancelot got the chance to do something, a good deed, so great that it would out-shadow anything a man of noble blood has ever done under your service, then the King might not have another choice than to keep him around.”

Jericho really took that prompt to “speak freely” and ran with it. But she had a point. Arthur couldn’t quite grasp it yet, but it was dangling right there, right in front of him and it looked tempting.

Lancelot had proven himself over and over again as one of the greats - one that might one day be able to match him in skill - and Arthur had a hard time letting him go like that. Just because he’d been born in a lower rank, deemed unworthy by nothing other than the law.

So, he entertained Jericho’s idea.

“And what deed would be great enough to force my father’s hand?”

“Hm…” Jericho hummed in faked thoughtfulness as she returned with the last piece of armour, a mischievous smile tugging on her lips. Arthur nearly joined it. “Isn’t there a great feathery beast running around terrorizing the villages of Camelot? You’d be killing two birds with one stone.”

Arthur nodded slowly. He hadn’t thought of that… but Jericho had and he wasn’t sure whether to be interested or suspicious about it.

“Lancelot has fended it off once and I’m sure if he got another chance, he could best it.”

“Wait, when did he-”

“The day we met him. That’s what wounded him.”

Great, not Arthur actually had to think about her suggestion like it was an actual possibility. Because take away the treason, I-am-the-son-of-the-King and stupidity part and… it actually sounded like a good idea. He’d get his perfect knight and he could look Merlin in the eyes again.

“I won’t be surprised if you don’t do it.” Jericho drew Arthur’s attention back to her. She gave him perfectly arranged armour a firm pat, stepped back and finally looked at him, her eyes impervious. “But think about it at least.”

“Sure, but-”

Screams pierced the air like a dagger, cutting and redistributing the tensions into a whole different one.

In perfect synchronicity Jericho and Arthur ran to the window, seeing maids and servants run across the square below like a heap of ants, all trying to escape the Gryffin.

Arthur’s eyes bugged. It was right there. In his city, terrorizing his people and-

“Here.” He hadn’t noticed Jericho had moved until she shoved his sword at him, but he took it.

The second his gloved fingers closed around the steel handle he was ripped from the shock and overcome by a cool, collected calm. All other problems were forgotten about.

“Stay here!” He shouted to Jericho as he marched to the door. “Don’t leave this room until it is safe again!”

Jericho stood by the window, counting back from twenty and the moment she reached zero she bolted out the room and through the now turmoil ridden halls. She had to dodge about twenty maids, three lords and five knights before she reached the physician’s chambers.

Relief flooded her when she found Merlin standing by the window, just like she had been minutes before, and not down in the square somewhere, trying to help and exposed to danger. Her brother seemed to share the sentiment, rushing to her side.

His mouth was already open, but Jericho cut him off.

“We need to figure out how to kill a Gryffin.”



*



Merlin mastered the spell just as the last rays of sunlight disappeared and nightfall wrapped the world in its dark safety. Jericho’s plan had been motivation enough, even if it wasn’t a sure thing yet.

Arthur might not listen, but on the off chance that he would, Merlin wanted to be prepared. And either way, he’d have to be ready at some point.

The Gryffin had been fended off, not killed and Uther seemed to be hell bent on hunting the beast down sooner rather than later. At least that was what Morgana had told Jericho when she’d left Merlin alone for half an hour to bring her mistress dinner.

Morgana had looked at her a little longer then, undoubtedly taking note of her servants' shifty behaviour. Jericho hadn’t been able to help it, not when her mind was racing a mile a minute, running through all the different scenarios.

Because if Lancelot would be set free, then he’d be the one to slay the Gryffin, which required magic - Merlin’s magic - and how the hell would they go about hiding that? They couldn’t, really. So how would he react? Good, hopefully.

But if Arthur was the coward Jericho had indirectly called him, then he’d be the one Merlin would have to support, but Arthur couldn’t find out that Merlin had magic. He’d…

So, it would be left to Jericho. She’d be riding out with her brother to slay the thing. Not a big deal, but if she got injured, how would she explain that? A bruised cheek had gotten her odd looks and questions for days. Gwen had asked her if it hurt every five minutes, Morgana had barely believed Jericho when she’d sworn up and down that it had been an accident and multiple servants had assumed she’d done something to anger Arthur. So what kind of a reaction would a claw mark elicit?

“So we just… wait here?”

Merlin turned to his sister, the doubt audible in his voice. He could barely stand still where they were positioned at the side of the castle, hidden in the shadows with a perfect view to the entrance.

“If he comes, he comes.”

“Wise words as always.”

“Listen, I say we give it an hour and if he doesn’t show up, I do it.” Jericho held up the sword she’d been spinning by her side.

“An hour?! That’s-”

“What are you two doing here?”

A shadowy figure stepped in front of them and after a little bit of squinting, the twins recognised it to be Lancelot.

Excited that he’d actually showed up, they patted his shoulder and Merlin grabbed him by the wrist, pulling him along to the armoury. Their first stop.

“What is going on?” Lancelot asked, looking about as confused as someone who’d just been hit over the head with a mace.

Merlin pulled a random chainmail over his head and Jericho handed him a lance. They exchanged gleeful grins as they shoved Lancelot back out of the armoury and towards the stables.

“Guys, I’m serious, can someone explain what is going on?”

“We’re going to watch you defeat the Gryffin.” Jericho shrugged, then went inside and re-emerged with an already saddled horse. It had a black coat, which blended perfectly with the night. “Sir Lancelot isn’t finished yet.”

Merlin let out a chuckle as he helped Lancelot get in the saddle. In the meantime Jericho fetched the second horse that they’d prepared during their spare time and climbed in its saddle, her brother taking the narrow spot behind her. Lancelot stared at them, open mouthed and speechless.

Yes, he’d intended to go out and defeat the Gryffin, but he had not expected that they’d been waiting for him to do so. Like they’d known it would happen. Planned it.

And then Jericho confirmed that that was exactly what was going on.

“What? Did you think Arthur left your cell door open on purpose?”

“How did you know that that was what happened?”

The woman laughed as they rode out the arch and into the lower town. Some people were still out, tending to their nightly duties, but no one stopped them. Lancelot’s eyes hung on the black smith's house and he wondered if Gwen might still be awake…

“Lucky guess. I had a talk with him today.”

“Hm…” Lancelot squinted as they passed the gates and the moon became their only source of light.

“Did Arthur say when he and his knights would ride out?” Merlin asked.

“Not for another couple hours.”

“He’s giving you time. Smart.” Jericho said drily, as if admitting to that was painful for her.

A snarl sounded from the woods ahead. They accelerated, letting the Gryffin’s hisses and growls guide them. It was hard to pinpoint its location until it was right there, standing about half a court yard across from them on the trampled road.

Lancelot looked to his friends, who’d halted their horse closely behind him. Merlin’s head peeked over Jericho’s shoulder and their matching smiles encouraged him to lower his lance into an attacking position. He gave them a nod, his heart racing.

“Hey, Lance?” Jericho called to him.

“Yes?”

“Whatever happens… keep an open mind.”

Lancelot nodded, his mind already facing the challenge ahead. He’d make sense of her words later.

Merlin stretched out his hand as Lancelot kicked his horse's flank, sending into a gallop right towards the Gryffin, who charged towards him now. He muttered the spell once and nothing happened. He swore under his breath. It had worked earlier.

Jericho didn’t turn or say anything about his failure, she just grabbed his remaining hand, squeezing it tightly in silent encouragement. Merlin tried again, his eyes trained on the lance as he let his magic flow freely underneath his skin.

From toe to fingertip in that way he’d been repressing for weeks and months and years. He allowed it to unfold however it pleased, feeling its power and electric tingle as he repeated the spell, louder and steadier.

He knew it worked before Lancelot’s weapon burst into a blue flame, a victorious scream ripping from his chest and he thrust his hands into the air, not letting go of Jericho’s as he did so. She cheered with him when the lance met the Gryffin’s chest, killing it upon impact. It just flopped to the side, limp and lifeless, yet majestic nonetheless.

Lancelot rounded it, meeting the twins half way, a wide, proud smile splitting his sweat covered face in half. And he laughed, “I understand why you’d want me to keep an open mind.”

“What?” Jericho blinked her eyes innocently.

Merlin bent around her to get a proper look at Lancelot, a sheepish smile accompanying his words, “We don’t know what you mean?”

Laughter shook Lancelot’s whole body, relief mixing with the sheer impossibility of the night, and he threw his head back into his neck. He remained like that until the fit had ebbed off. The twins were grinning at him wide and bright as they took his lack of anger and fear as a good sign.

That wasn’t the reaction of a man who’d rat them out and get one or both of them burned on the pyre.

“Which one of you is it?”

Merlin slowly raised his hand, his grin turning soft at the adoration that flickered in Lancelot's eyes like a slow flame. His stomach lurched accordingly.

“Of course it's you.” Lancelot said.

With nothing more to do here - the corpse could be collected by a more equipped team later - they rode back to the castle, a euphoric silence settling over them. Well, that was until Lancelot had to open his mouth.

“I can’t claim this victory.”

Two heads snapped his way and two pairs of wide eyes stared at him in disbelief.

“What?!” Merlin exclaimed.

“You can’t be serious-” Jericho huffed, already having a guess as to what Lancelot was going on about.

“I didn’t slay the Gryffin. Or I couldn’t have, not without Merlin. It would be wrong to claim otherwise… another lie.”

“But Lancelot-” He shook his head, ending Merlin’s protest before it had even really begun.

And he didn’t look sad or angry, but contempt with his decision. After all he was following that unnervingly strict moral code of his, so what could really be done about it?

“Lance, you idiot!” Jericho’s sharp voice rang through the forest so loudly it had both men flinch in their saddles. “You’ll claim this victory. Or else-”

“But-”

“No! Don’t you get it? We set this up for you. So you could stay a knight.” Jericho’s eyes were wild, her body turned towards Lancelot as far as sitting on a horse allowed her to. “I could have slain it too with Merlin’s help, but we twisted things so it would be you. Because you can be a knight. Because Camelot needs you. And Arthur needs you. And yes, it might be a lie and a little dishonest, but the only reason we lie and cheat is because an unfair system is in place. So is it really that wrong?”

“Well-”

“You can stick to all the knightly values and live by them for the rest of your life. Just this once, to even get to the reason to uphold them, would you make an exception? Isn’t achieving your dream worth one night of dishonesty?”

There were many moments in his life where Merlin was proud of his sister and this was one of them. Maybe the proudest he’d ever been.

Because her speech hadn’t just moved him, but Lancelot too as he considered her words, turning them over once or twice, and eventually he nodded. Once and very lightly, but he’d nodded.

They passed through the gates again, but this time there was no one wandering the streets. All lights inside the houses had been extinguished. Hopefully Uther would still be awake.

Quietly they returned their horses and weapons and when they reached the steps of the castle Arthur and Leon were waiting at the top. And it was definitely a coincidence that it was them waiting for Lancelot, to arrest him for escaping his cell.

Lancelot looked a little panicked at first, but when Merlin winked at him, he told Arthur about his slaying of the Gryffin and Arthur pretended to be completely shocked by the information - though it wasn’t only his talent in acting making it believable, but it was thanks to him being actually surprised that Lancelot had managed to kill the monster.

But under these circumstances, well, they had no other choice than to bring him to Uther and tell him about the news as well.

The twins had to wait outside once more, pacing and sharing nervous glances from time to time. It seemed like an eternity passed and then another. What could possibly take this long?

Surely reinstating someone’s knighthood for a heroic deed would be a quick discussion. Or maybe they were already planning the next feast in Lancelot’s honour.

Though, when the huge doors finally gave way for the two knights and the Prince, none of them looked as though any sort of festivities would be held in the near future.

Leon looked the most normal, with his guarded expression and bottomless eyes, only his sagged shoulders letting on to his disappointment. Lancelot on the other hand… he looked close to breaking out into tears, his head hanging so low it was mostly hidden behind the curtain of his chestnut hair.

And Arthur… Merlin wasn’t sure he’d even seen him so angry, barely hanging on to his control, fist balled up as if he wanted to punch something.

“No…” Merlin let out a gasp and he hurried to Lancelot’s side, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Tell me this is a joke. Like the one I played on you.”

It seemed so long ago now, though it had barely been a week.

Lancelot could barely look him in the eyes, the sorrow in them heart-breaking, and he shook his head. Jericho shifted behind them.

“The King said that my deed was good, but not good enough. He forgives me for breaking out of the dungeons, but that it's… It’s not enough.”

On its own Merlin’s gaze slid to Arthur, but just like earlier that day, the Prince refused to look at him. At least this time Merlin wasn’t even sure if Arthur realised he was there, his chin jutted up and jaw tight as he stared out the window. He seemed to be working though his own inner turmoil.

“That’s- It’s-”

Lancelot huffed a dry chuckle, his fingers coming up to wrap around Merlin’s wrist, trying to comfort him. Merlin shook his head.

“We tried and it didn’t work. Let’s not dwell on it.” Ever the noble prick he was, Lancelot smiled like it was alright and not the most unfair thing in the world. “All I can do is thank you, you’ve done so much for me. Both of you.”

Lancelot’s eyes shifted to Jericho standing behind Merlin, but she winced like his gaze had hurt her.

“Don’t.”

“I-” Lancelot went quiet and he took a deep breath. “It’s late. Let’s get to bed.”

It seemed to be the only sensible option left. Leon was the first to say his goodbyes, quietly and solemnly, Merlin and Lancelot followed after Arthur had assured Merlin that he would not be needed for the rest of the night.

Jericho stayed behind with the excuse of needing to check on Morgana. Nobody questioned her, not out loud.

But Arthur, knowing Morgana would definitely be asleep by this hour, followed her quietly, waiting each time she turned a corner or walked down a stair so she wouldn’t notice. At some point he wasn’t sure where they were going as he’d never been in this part of the castle and he’d only ever seen servants disappear in this direction.

Eventually he ended up in a long corridor, a dead end, meaning Jericho had appeared in one of the many doors that lined the walls. Probably the one that stood wide open. This was stupid.

Why was he following her? Seeking her out?

At best he was looking for a fight, something to rile him up enough to forget about every disappointment that had occurred today, but at worst he actually enjoyed-

Arthur couldn’t even finish the thought in his head, his legs already carrying him through the door. It took his eyes a while to adjust to the darkness. The room had no windows and the only light source came from a single candle standing right by the stove.

Ah, he was in the kitchens then.

Jericho sat on a counter top, uncomfortably bent as the cabinet overhead was just a little too low for her to fit underneath without curving her back unhealthily. In her hand she held a carafe, which she took eager gulps from.

She didn’t scramble to her feet when Arthur entered nor did she look very surprised. She just set the carafe down in her lap, giving him a, maybe, welcoming nod, waiting for him to say or do something.

As Arthur got closer he picked up the bittersweet notes of wine, which must’ve been what Jericho’s carafe must’ve been filled with. He nearly groaned.

Couldn’t she for once be doing something Arthur didn’t instinctively feel the need to chastise her for?

He didn’t though. Not tonight, not with his father’s injustice sitting at the back of his mind and the sudden exhaustion that took over his body.

So he sat down on the table across, pulling one knee up to his chest as he reached out. Wordlessly Jericho handed the wine to him.

“You-”

She shook her head and muttered, “Just shut up, please.”

And Arthur didn’t say anything about that either, because at least she’d said ‘please’ and right now that was good enough for him.

They drank in silence, settling in their mutual feeling of failure.



*



“I can’t believe he’s leaving.” Morgana mumbled, her eyes following the small figure of Lancelot, who was down in the courtyard, a travel bag slung over his shoulder and currently hugging Merlin goodbye.

Jericho, who stood at the window next to her, gave off a low hum. Then she shook her head for about the tenth time that morning.

“Well, he’s meant for bigger things than Camelot can offer him… currently.”

“So you think he’ll come back?” Morgana glanced over, a small smile building on her lips at the hopeful glint that appeared in Jericho’s eyes at the question.

Down in the square Lancelot had let go of Merlin and was now standing with Gwen, who’d brought out a horse for him - courtesy of Uther, the most generous man in all five kingdoms. They talked, standing close, both seemingly unable to look anywhere than the others' eyes.

“He has to. I mean, just look at Gwen…”

“Poor soul.” Morgana agreed, actually sounding sorry for her friend.

She’d already sent for another maid to fetch a breakfast large enough for three people that included all of Gwen’s favourites, which was basically just an array of all the berries one could think of. It wouldn’t make the heart ache go away, but it might help soothe the pain for a little while.

And if worst came to worst, Morgana would finally be able to do that chivalrous thing of handing a handkerchief to a crying lady.

The two women held their breath at the same time, going on their tiptoes as if it would grant them a better view at the lovers below as Lancelot drew Gwen in for a hug. Even with the height difference and a window in between, it was like they were standing right next to them, feeling the tension that the embrace carried.

“Do you think they’ll kiss?”

Jericho stuttered at the outright question and when she caught herself again, she let out a small chuckle.

“Oh no, Lancelot would never kiss a woman he’s not actively courting. He’s far too noble for that.”

She didn’t catch on to the less than subtle side-eye Morgana was observing her with or the way the Lady’s face etched with dismay, much too busy savouring the spectacle outside.

“Yes, I guess some people are.”

Even the edge to Morgana’s voice couldn’t peak Jericho’s interest. She let out a deep breath.

They hadn’t talked about it.

That moment during their nightly training, when they’d laid on the soft forest ground, Jericho on top of her, both breathing heavily and… Morgana had basically been able to feel Jericho’s lips on hers, so sure that that was what would happen next.

But then it hadn’t come, that kiss she’d felt herself long for more than anything ever before.

And sure, it could’ve been blamed on the intruders, but Morgana knew for a fact that Jericho had pulled away before the first crack of footsteps had broken their loaded silence.

She’d waited for her servant to say something. For days every time Jericho had turned to her, opened her pretty mouth, Morgana had expected for her to finally say it, admit that something had happened that night, but then it never came.

And she’d begun wondering if she’d been mistaken and that this was all some made up fantasy that presided in Morgana’s head and there only...

No, that couldn’t be it.

Morgana wasn’t stupid, the contrary actually. Especially when it came to romantics. It was like she had a sixth sense for attraction and affection and Jericho…

She was confusing to be fair, but Morgana was pretty sure she’d figured her out by now. The few touches she got, the constant usage of her title, the way she’d avert her gaze whenever Morgana undressed… It was all just nerves. Maybe she was afraid she’d embarrass herself by turning bright red or mistakenly saying something wrong, but she was definitely attracted to Morgana.

It showed in the lingering glances, the protectiveness she showed whenever a man would get too close to her and those smiles Morgana hadn’t seen anyone else receive but her.

Technically Morgana could throw all caution out the window and kiss her right there and then, but-

Well, she was a Lady after all, wasn’t she? She’d be the one to be kissed, not the other way around.

And if that meant she’d have to wait a bit longer to feel those chewed up lips on hers, then so be it. Morgana could help speed up things with a couple of fun games…

Once Lancelot had ridden off into the distance, Jericho began setting everything up for breakfast. The maid came and delivered two fully loaded plates, which Jericho immediately took from her with a bright smile.

Just in time as they were ready, Gwen burst through the door, face covered in tears. As soon as the door fell shut, the first heavy sob broke free and her big, sad eyes found her friends.

“Aw, come here.” Jericho opened her arms, not even swaying in the slightest when Gwen’s body collided against her as the woman threw herself at her friend, burying her face in her shoulder. A wet spot quickly grew on Jericho’s dark tunic. “Poor thing…”

Morgana joined them, caressing Gwen’s back with one hand as the other brushed through her thick curly.

She hummed, “My dear, let it all out.”

“Th-thanks.” Gwen managed between sobs and she looked up to give them a weary smile.

The door creaked again, opening just enough for a head to be stuck though.

“Got room for another?” Merlin’s voice was quiet, quivering under the thin control he had over it.

“Merlin!” Jericho said with a small smile.

She looked over at Morgana, a quiet and quite unnecessary plea as the Lady was already beckoning Merlin inside.

“Of course.”

Chapter Text

“And who are we picking flowers for again?”

Merlin knew, he just wanted to hear it again. He was glad Jericho was too busy stalking around the meadow, searching for only the prettiest and bloomiest of all flowers to rip out the ground, for her to notice the growing smirk on her brother’s face.

There was no way of stopping it though.

The iron clad focus on Jericho’s face, the way her nose scrunched whenever she encountered a plant not worth her while and how she’d smile to herself when she’d discover one that was, was just too adorable for Merlin not to react to. It was definitely a rare sight.

“Morgana.” Jericho said eventually, accompanied by a guttural sigh.

She’d known it was a mistake to ask Merlin to come along - the endless teasing had been palpable from the first second on - but she’d thought she’d be a good sister.

And with all the chores Merlin had to fulfil for Arthur and the running around Jericho had to do, there hadn’t been much time left for them to spend together. She’d missed him, even when they ate dinner together every night and slept in the same room.

“And you’re sure the only reason you’re getting flowers for Morgana is because of her nightmares?” Merlin crouched down to watch a stream of ants crawling along his foot, taking more interest in the leaf pieces and crumbs they carried than the wonderfully intact daisy next to them.

“Yes!” Jericho answered a little too quickly, uprooting innocent buttercup harsher than necessary. “And the answer won’t change, no matter how many times you ask. I just want to do something nice for her.”

“Sure…”

“Merlin!”

He decided to leave the ants alone and instead pursue a more pressing matter: annoying the fuck out of his sister.

Years of practice and persistence allowed Merlin to achieve this goal in under two minutes. All he had to do was follow her around, always stand a bit too close and mimic her movements, all while comparing her to her least favourite person.

“You sound like Arthur.”

“Merlin!”

“Almost, but instead of just shouting it, you got to really pronounce the first three letters-”

Jericho whirled around, the growing bouquet in her hand directed at her brother’s chest like it was a dangerous blade - though, Merlin didn’t doubt that Jericho would somehow be able to gravely injure him with a bunch of greenery.

“If you don’t shut up right now, then I’ll deliver these to Arthur and tell him they’re from you.”

The threat had Merlin take a step back, bring himself into a safe distance, and raise his hands. His eyes widened into that soft, pleading look he knew Jericho had a hard time resisting. She groaned, the puppy eyes coming in full effect right away.

The flowers were lowered and Merlin dared to put his hands down again.

“Do you think I’ve got enough?” Jericho turned the bunch in her hands.

For someone who’d carefully picked each and every single one of those flowers, she sure looked unhappy with them, pursing her lips like they’d suddenly turned into the ugliest thing she’d ever seen. Her overthinking nature, which only came to shine when it came to gift giving.

Merlin rolled his eyes, then put a hand between Jericho’s shoulder blades, so he had an easier time steering her off the meadow and back towards the castle walls.

“You’ve got more than enough. They look beautiful. Morgana will love them.” He rattled the affirmations down like a check list, instantly feeling Jericho’s shoulders relax under his fingers. “All that’s left to do now is to give them to her.”

Apparently Merlin really wanted to make sure Jericho would stick to his advice as he accompanied her all the way up to Morgana’s chambers, his grip only relenting when they were standing right in front of the door. He half expected her to huff and puff for his interest in her relationship to Morgana, but when he released her, she turned around with an insecure look, chewing her lip - a nervous tick Merlin found himself exhibiting all the time.

“And you’re sure she’ll like them?”

“She’ll love them.”

Merlin’s heart surged as Jericho opened the door, sending a weary smile his way before stepping through.

The first thing Jericho noticed were Morgana and Gwen, standing around the table, talking about something in hushed whispers. Which led Jericho to discover what that something was - a bouquet, triple the size of the one she was holding.

It was adorned with all kinds of colours, all kinds of flowers; roses, lilies, peonies, tulips - were those even in seasons? - and so many more that Jericho couldn’t name. She was pretty sure half of them didn’t even grow in the castle's gardens.

So they weren’t from Gwen, who was tasked to gather a couple each week to decorate Morgana’s room with.

No, of course they couldn’t be from her, if they were, the two women wouldn’t be giggling like schoolgirls, who’d just spotted a pretty boy. Jericho hid her own, now horribly sad looking bouquet behind her back and marched to the windows.

“Who sent those?” She asked and opened one. “Horribly stuffy in here, isn’t it?”

It wasn’t, it generally never was.

Gwen was meticulous in her ventilation schedule, always keeping a perfect balance between keeping the air fresh and the temperature at a comfortable warmth and today was no exception. Everything smelled of Morgana’s favourite perfume, honey and roses, the low fire crackling in the hearth and breakfast.

But Jericho didn’t really want to let in fresh air. The open window was there for her to chuck the bundle of flowers through, her chest tightening as she watched them swoosh towards the square. What had she been thinking?

Flushed and embarrassed she stayed put, back turned towards her friends as she waited for the blush to disappear again. Her hands itched, so she balled them into tight fists, nails digging into soft palms.

“We don’t know.” Morgana said simply as she turned.

“We suspect Arthur.” Gwen added, squealing excitedly, but reshaping lips into a sly grin when her mistress shot her a glare.

“No, we hope they are not from Arthur, because if they are, I’d have to throw them away.”

At least one bright spot, Jericho thought. She could definitely take care of the flowers should they have been gifted by the Prince, now being an expert at catapulting them out of windows.

“Morgana hopes they’re from a tall dark stranger.”

“Gwen!” Morgana whipped around, but her maid had already sprung out of reach, beaming brightly and innocently. The Lady shook her head, her attention back on Jericho as she muttered, “Tall and dark hair would do it too.”

And Jericho must’ve been dreaming or making things up, because Morgana held eye contact with her, a glint of something indistinguishable flashing through them. It had Jericho hold her breath and she felt physically incapable of looking away.

If it was a hint she was supposed to pick up on, she didn’t.

After a couple seconds Morgana’s staring turned into frowning and she went on to distribute her maids tasks for the day.

Gwen was selected to spend her time by Morgana’s side, assisting her with whatever might come up, and Jericho was left with chores, which she was totally alright with. It would allow her to avoid Merlin as she’d either be in Morgana’s chambers, scrubbing floors and windows, or move around the castle, which - thanks to her dysfunctional heart - would be easy to navigate as she could always kind of feel where he was or wasn’t.

So if she suspected him near the laundry room, she’d go off to Gaius’ to get Morgana’s sleeping draft for the night and if Merlin moved, she’d go and pick up the washed clothing.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to see her brother, but she knew for a fact that if she ran into him, Merlin would ask about the flowers and then she’d have to lie to save herself from further humiliation, but Merlin would know that she was lying because-

She’d just avoid him until dinner. Maybe she could get her facial expressions under control until then.


She didn’t, turning bright red when Merlin confronted her once night had come and they were laying in their beds - Merlin on the actual bed and Jericho on the floor, blanket wrapped around her to shield her from the cool stone underneath. Hopefully the dark would keep Merlin from seeing the colouring of her cheeks, even if he was peering down at her like a hawk.

“She liked them… I’m pretty sure she did.”

“Liar.”

“What?” Jericho half-sat up, propping herself up on her elbow.

“Liar.”

“Yes, I got that, but why do you think I’m lying?”

“Hm, let me think…” Merlin took his chin between thumb and index finger, pretending to ponder, before he feigned a surprised expression. “Maybe because I found your bouquet down in the courtyard? Trampled by by-passers and horses. And I’m pretty sure that even if Morgana for some reason wouldn’t have appreciated them, she definitely wouldn’t have thrown them out the window, which leaves only one suspect…”

Jericho swallowed a groan, not ready to admit defeat just yet.

“Those weren’t mine.”

“Lying, again.”

“M’ not.”

“You totally are. I watched you pick them, so obviously I’d recognize them-”

Jericho snatched one of Merlin’s pillows from under his head, then hit him over the face with it. Then once more, just for good measure. And to give herself some more time to return to her normal complexion.

Steps shuffled by outside - Gaius’ one and only request for them to quiet down before he’d barge in and lecture them - so the twins settled down, Merlin whispering a promise of revenge come morning. Jericho just grinned and shook her head since she woke up before him every day without fail and she’d have an easy time avoiding him.

“Jericho… Are you like- I mean, you just spend a lot of time with her and the way you act around each other- I was just wondering if-” Merlin rambled on even though there was no need for him to.

Jericho knew what he was so clumsily trying to ask her. A pit opened in her stomach, sucking in whatever joy she felt. Her heart tightened and not in the way it usually did when she thought of Morgana.

“I’m not.” She sounded awfully unconvincing and she had to clear her throat, which had gone bone dry.

“Not what?”

Groaning Jericho rolled onto her back, pretending not to be aware of Merlin’s watchful eyes.

“Not in love with her.”

“Then how did you know that that was what I was going to ask?” Merlin smiled, feeling awfully smart until his sister shrugged in the most non-interested way there was.

“Because I assumed that that's what you assumed. That me being nice to a pretty girl means that I’m in love with her.”

It came out just a little too sharp for Merlin not to notice. Jericho rolled over all the way, finding the grey wall much nicer to look at than whatever emotion must’ve been passing over her brother’s face at that moment.

“And you’re not…” Merlin said cautiously, internally swearing at himself.

Why had he brought this up again?

He knew how she reacted whenever he brought up the topic of her love life. Not the small jokes or the brief flings, but when it came to actual love… She always went into the defensive when it came to that.

Or the offensive, depending on how persistent he was.

Tonight, he’d leave it be, as much as it bothered him.

“No, I’m not.”



*



Of course she was.

Jericho could’ve pinpointed the exact moment when she’d hopelessly and irreparably fallen for Morgana, only a few weeks after first seeing her. And then there’d been the pining and tingly sensation before that.

She’d been doomed from the start, when she’d seen her stand by the window, tall and dashing and like every fantasy of a pretty woman Jericho had ever had combined into one.

She hadn’t been able to admit it to herself before, really, too adamant on denying that such a thing could ever work.

Because - in the off chance that Morgana was into women too and somehow would deem Jericho worthy of catching her affections too (it was a ridiculous thought, she knew) - it would still be impossible for them to be together. The issues starting with their gender and ending with their differing social standings.

Or maybe it was the other way around, Jericho couldn’t tell what would anger Uther more, her gender or her being a peasant.

She tried not to dwell on that topic too much because, again, it was ridiculous to even hope Morgana would ever reciprocate her love.

Imagining her holding Jericho’s hand for any other reason than a platonic desire had her shiver with shame and guilt and in no world would she ever not feel that way. Morgana was deserving of so much more, a better person than the one Jericho was and the one she pretended to be altogether.

She’d done too many horrible things, been touched by too many hands for Jericho to lay her own fingers on Morgana’s pristine skin with any other intention than friendliness or she’d ruin her too.

She wasn’t worth enough. Wasn’t pretty enough. Wasn’t pure enough.

And then there was Merlin, who’d been made her priority from the moment she could think and before that too probably. There was no way Jericho could get away with protecting him the way she always had and be properly in love with someone at the same time.

Sure, there wasn’t much she could do about the way her heart jumped whenever Morgana entered a room or how her whole body seemed to burst into flames whenever the Lady so much as looked at her, but she could ignore it. Shove it down with everything else.

Though it was a bit hard at the moment, with Morgana lying unconsciously in her bed - which she’d been doing for nearly a day now - and no one really knowing what was going on with her.

Gaius had checked on her multiple times in an hourly rhythm to check if the Lady's state had improved or worsened. But Morgana’s condition remained unchanged.

No matter how many times Uther paced up and down the room.

No matter how often Arthur stuck his head through the door to ask if she’d woken up.

And no matter how many soft words Gwen spoke to her.

Jericho just sat there by her bed side, one hand resting on the bed next to Morgana’s, middle and index finger gently resting on the Lady’s pulse point to make sure there still was one - it was a functional kind of touch, which might’ve been the only reason the King let her stay.

It was why she’d had so much time to think about her feelings. Wasted time, really.

She should’ve been up and doing something, searching for a remedy or see if Merlin needed any help looking through his spell book for a cure. But she just couldn’t get herself to stand up, much less walk out the door. Each time her gaze passed over Morgana’s still frame she felt paralysed anew, her body refusing any orders the still functional part of the brain tried to give it.

She could barely even hear what was going on around her, but she doubted anyone was talking to her.

Merlin came in once or twice, shadowing Gaius as he worked, and Jericho just so managed to put on a strong front, giving him small smiles and nods, which seized the second he left again.

She didn’t bother doing the same for Gwen, who’d cried in her arms when she delivered the news of Morgana’s sudden sickness and did so again the first night, curled up in Jericho’s lap.

They’d repositioned themselves onto the spacious beds, both needing to feel just a little closer to their mistress. Neither of them left that night. It stretched long and the only way Jericho even knew time passed was by Gwen’s steady breathing against her thighs on which she lay and Morgana’s pulse under her finger tips.

It was awfully slow and shallow and each time more than a second passed between the beats, Jericho would hold her breath.

When morning did come, the sun rising torturously slowly, drenching the room in its golden light, Gwen got up to tend after her duties. To pretend everything was normal, Jericho presumed.

She remained where she was, eyes fixed on Morgana’s chest, where it was covered by three thick blankets, to observe the rise and fall of it. She ignored Gaius and Uther, and didn't listen to their hushed whispers. She didn’t want to know what it was that they discussed.

Morgana was still breathing, her heart still beating - she was still alive, so why bother with anything else?

Arthur came in once as well, which got Jericho to spare him a short glance as it was a break from his peak-in-and-leave-again pattern.

Out of the corner of her eye she watched him approach the bed, but she didn’t realise he was talking to her until he’d raised his voice to a shout.

“Jericho!”

“Hm?”

Sluggishly she turned her head, expecting to be faced with the Prince’s usual anger over being ignored, but he just looked at her, eyes round and… She didn’t bother deciphering the emotions that lay in them.

“I wanted to ask if you’d like to help me out with training today.”

Arthur looked uncomfortable, shifting his stance every other word and his eyes seemed incapable of meeting Jericho’s, which she took as her okay to turn back to Morgana.

Her heart surged at the lack of change. Obviously there wasn't any. Jericho still hoped for some each time her gaze wasn’t on her, only to have disappointment crash over her tenfold.

“I thought it wasn’t proper for a woman to wield a sword.” Jericho said plainly, just wanting to get over with this quickly. There was no way she’d leave Morgana (unless Merlin would put himself into some grave danger) and angering Arthur always proved to be the most effective way to get rid of him. “And I think your knights would agree with that.”

Arthur took a deep breath, audibly letting it escape through clenched teeth. She was upset, clearly not in her right mind, he reminded himself as his hand automatically balled into a fist.

“It’s my private training. I need someone to spar with.”

“What about Merlin? Or did you give him too many chores again and have only realised now?”

It’s okay, Arthur thought, you can make her polish your sword collection once Morgana wakes up.

He’d give this one more try before he’d give up- No, not give up. There wasn’t really anything to give up on as this hadn’t been his idea in the first place. By asking Jericho to train with him he was merely doing a favour.

“You know Merlin’s shit when it comes to anything involving combat. And many other things…” Arthur muttered that last part, but it still got him a glare.

“Borrow a squire from one of your knights then. Or take Leon, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.” Jericho said with an air of finality, so dismissive that Arthur completely forgot that he technically could just ignore it.

“Fine, you’re impossible.” He huffed, pushing himself off the bedpost and towards the open door.

“Thanks.”


The moment the door shut, Merlin slipped off the wall, hurrying to Arthur’s side, who’d set off down the corridor in a stiff march.

Not looking at his servant, Arthur said, “Didn’t work.”

“I heard.” Merlin tried to keep the worry off his face.

It was nice enough that Arthur - next to his own concerns - had agreed to ask Jericho to train with him, which had been Merlin’s only idea on how to get his sister to get away for a moment, get a breath of fresh air in and maybe be able to forget about Morgana’s current situation for a while.

It had been about a fifty-fifty chance that Jericho would take the offer, but now that she hadn’t Merlin wasn’t really sure what else to do.

Maybe there wasn’t anything, but… Gods he hated to see her so unlike herself, detached and dismissive, and he wasn’t sure he ever had before.

Even through her pretend smiles and hollow words he could see how she suffered, the fear and pain buried so deep in her eyes Merlin doubted anyone but him could recognise it.

That was until he ran into Gwen later in the afternoon and she told him about the night they’d both spent in Morgana’s chambers - how Jericho had cried with her. And later at dinner, Gaius mentioned the spaced out look on Jericho’s face he’d notice each time he’d go to check on the king’s ward and her seemingly unchanging scared expression.

Ah, so she was doing it again.

That thing where she was going through a truly terrible time, an emotional turmoil so bad her defensive walls slipped in front of everyone, but him. For Merlin she still put them up, built of feigned happiness and “I’m alright”’s, just so he wouldn’t worry about her.

As if his concern was a burden on her.

Merlin had never really understood it.

Well, yes, to some degree he did because he had a similar tendency to overcompensate because he didn’t want to bother anyone with his problems. But the big difference was that where Jericho would shield him from her issues, she’d be the only person he’d actually go to.

When it got so bad Merlin couldn’t keep it in anymore, she’d be the one whose arms he was crying in and her reassurance he’d seek.

It made him feel selfish at times - that he relied on her so heavily, when she seemed to do everything in her power not to do the same to him-, but mostly he just felt frustrated. Because what did he do for her to act so stubbornly adverse to his comfort? Was he not doing a good enough job at it?

No, that couldn't be it.

Merlin had been told, by multiple sources, that his hugs were the best in all of Avalon. And that he was a good listener- That one conversation with him had solved their problems altogether. That it made them feel better.

Also, what Merlin really would've liked to know was who Jericho went to when she couldn’t take it anymore. $

Because as strong and independent as the woman was, there had to be a breaking point for her too and one would think that her twin would know what it was or who she turned to when that point was reached.

But he didn’t and it kept him up a long time that night, raking over those questions.

Multiple times he sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and then he’d stop and just sit there, listening to the noise of the too quiet room. It felt so empty without Jericho’s quiet breaths or the occasional sounds of ruffling sheets when she’d turn in her sleep.

He wondered if she was sitting just like him at that moment, all the way across the castle in Morgana’s room. He wanted to get up and check, see if there was anything he could do-

He lay back down, draping his arm over his face to block out the pestering moon light that shone through the tiny window to his right.



*



Jericho hadn’t noticed the slowing of her own pulse.

Maybe subconsciously, but right until Merlin came crashing through the door she’d just assumed her heart had taken inspiration from Morgana’s and begun matching it. She was still surveying the Lady’s condition, all five fingers lined up along her wrist.

“Jericho, your heart-” Merlin gasped, completely out of breath - a side effect of running all the way from the court yard to Morgana’s chambers. His brain didn’t seem to be getting enough oxygen either as he was incapable of forming even a single, proper sentence. “You- need to- I have to- Dying-”

Jericho frowned, her sight blurring around the edges when she turned her head for the first time in hours, her neck protesting. Only then she really seemed to grasp that it was Merlin standing before her, bug eyed and panicked, and she curved her lips into a thin smile.

“What? I don’t think I got what you were trying to say.”

“You-” Merlin took a gulp of air, pressing a hand to his chest to stop it from heaving so badly. “Your heart is not working properly. The magic is-”

A shake of Jericho’s head cut Merlin off, who let out a groan. All this running to save his idiot sister’s life and she wanted to argue? Over his field of expertise?

“But you changed it just a few days ago.”

“That was five days ago!”

Lines creased Jericho’s forehead as she tried to count back. It dawned on her that this was the third day that she sat by Morgana’s bedside as the concept of time had been starting to get lost on her.

“Oh…” Jericho’s eyes trailed back to Morgana, desperately not wanting to leave her. “But it was fine just last night…”

“Yeah, but it’s not fine now!” Merlin shouted, immediately feeling bad for it even though Jericho didn’t seem to mind. A little calmer he said, “Arthur found a man who claims he can heal Morgana. He's coming to examine her really soon, so I can’t do the magic change here and I really doubt you want them to see you like this.”

“This?” Jericho questioned, tilting her head to the side as she had no idea what her brother was referring to.

Merlin tried keeping it together and not lose his rising temper, but he couldn’t stop himself from throwing his hands up, gesturing up and down the length of Jericho’s body. “Have you not looked in a mirror?”

Stupid question, Jericho hadn’t moved in nearly three days. She cocked a brow and Merlin shook his head, rounding the bed to physically drag her out the room if she wouldn’t do so on her own.

“They’d be able to tell you're unwell right away and then there would be questions- That new physician might want to heal you and I wouldn’t be able to be alone with you for hours and then…”

Then she’d die. Great.

Finally snapping out of her stupor thanks to the anxiety ridden fear that lay on full display on Merlin’s face, Jericho took the hand he offered her, surprised by how hard it was to stand on her own two legs. She took a testing step only to have her knees buckle under her own weight and her body sag forward.

Merlin caught her just in time, keeping her steady and upright as he ushered her to the door.

Jericho’s stiff limbs cracked with every step, but she didn’t stop. Not until they were nearly out of the room and she turned her head to take one last look at Morgana.

No, not a last. Just another look. She’d see her again. Alive and well.

“She’ll be fine.” Melin said, having noticed Jericho’s hesitation.

They’d made it down a flight of stairs and instead of bringing her all the way down to the courtyard and to Gaius’ chambers, Merlin guided his sister to a vacant room at the end of the hall nearest to the stairs. There couldn’t be much time left then. Jericho had a hard time telling.

She couldn’t even feel her pulse anymore, not without pressing her fingers directly to that vulnerable spot on her neck, and she wasn’t sure if the time period where it raced and trashed like a wild animal was yet to come or if it had passed already. She’d really lived in her own world for the past couple days…

“I don’t get why it was used up so quickly…” She mumbled.

Merlin had sat her down on an empty desk without her actively noticing and was now standing before her, opening the laces at the neckline of her tunic and tugging down the too highly placed bandages that bound her chest. He hummed, already a lot calmer.

“Well, did you sleep at any point during the last two nights?”

Jericho shook her head and while Merlin didn’t say anything about it the way his eyes darkened still made her swallow hard on the lump of guilt that formed at the back of throat. She’d tried so hard not to let him see how hard Morgana’s illness was on her, yet she still failed.

“Did you eat anything? Or had anything to drink?” Merlin sounded increasingly worried.

Opting for more silence, Jericho lowered her head, which was answer enough. Merlin swore under his breath, pressing his palm against the now vacant spot of skin, right over Jericho’s heart.

Her breath stuttered when the used up magic seeped back into Merlin and she had to reach for Merlin’s tunic, anchoring herself on it as she felt like she’d pass out, dark spots dancing in front of her vision.

Voices sounded from the end of the corridor and Merlin paused, waiting for them to seize again before lifting the heel of his hand. He brought his free hand up to Jericho’s shoulder, making sure she’d stay in place.

The twins exchanged a look and Jericho nodded, so Merlin slammed his palm back down, his magic jolting into place with an agonizing, searing pain. Jericho bit the inside of her cheek, suffocating the built up scream before it could climb up her throat.

“You need to take care of your basic needs. If you don't, my magic replaces them, burning itself out sooner than it usually would.” Merlin said after a moment had passed in which Jericho had regulated her breathing again. “You know, like it does during winter.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me of winter.” Jericho stretched her weary limbs, already sounding a lot better and she smiled shortly before her eyes snapped to the door. “I should go back to Morgana.”

Merlin suppressed another groan. Had she not listened to him at all?

They slinked out of the room and down the corridor. The voices from earlier were back and Merlin was now able to identify who they belonged to; Gaius, Uther and Arthur. Jericho tensed next to him, straightening her spine.

“The physician’s probably with her.”

Gaius shot them a look when the twins reached their gathering and Uther spared them with a glance too, though his eyes mainly hung on Jericho not Merlin. And Arthur stood there, biting one of knuckles to pass time.

So, Jericho and Merlin joined in on the waiting, minutes passing by tediously unrushed. Jericho leaned against the wall as she still didn’t feel fully secure on her down two legs and hoped it would come off as a relaxed stance. Merlin hung somewhere between her and Arthur, really trying not to pace or tap his fingers or do anything that the Prince or King could view as irritating.

Eventually a rather short man descended the stairs, Jericho’s attention immediately drawn to the prominent scarring that spanned over half his face, all the way down to his neck. Her first reaction was to think that they looked rather amazing and her second was to wonder if she should acquire some too after seeing the mild disgust on Uther’s face when he looked at the man.

And Arthur didn’t look much more fond of his visage either.

He spoke, but Jericho didn’t hear much more than the words “great news” and “see for yourself” after the king had asked about a cure.

She let out a deep breath, releasing air that must’ve been sitting in there ever since Gwen had stormed into her chambers three mornings ago. Her head spun and she felt tears prick at her eyes.

Quickly she turned to leave, though she doubted anyone would’ve seen her cry as four out of the five men turned to see the King’s ward. Only Merlin followed her, calling out for her as he hurried to catch up.

He did so once they were outside where Jericho had come to a halt, hands pressed to her face and head tilted up to the late morning sky. Merlin grabbed her by the shoulders, turning her towards him, taken aback by the wet tracks that had managed to find their way down his sister’s chin.

“Jericho? Are you alright?”

“Yes- Yes!” Jericho took a deep breath, choking out a laugh and a sob. The sound was full of relief and contagious joy. She inhaled and then laughed again, louder and less constricted. “She’s fine. She’s fine… She’s okay.”

Merlin pulled Jericho’s hands away from her face, greeting her with a smile and for once she let the tears run freely, hugging her brother tightly as she let out another sob.

He was so happy for her and glad about Morgana’s recovery that he didn’t complain about the fact that now - when everything was alright again - she could show her true emotions or how this wasn’t a typical reaction for someone who was not undoubtedly in love.

After the most emotional part of her reaction was over, Merlin brought Jericho back to their chambers and he pushed her into bed without listening to her complaints. She went quiet anyway after discovering a bowl of wild strawberries that sat on the nightstand. A curious smile spread over her face as she picked one up and twisted it between her fingers, old memories warming her already overworked heart.

“Did you…?” She gave Merlin a questioning look. The way he blushed and awkwardly scratched the back of his head was answer enough. “Aw, just like when we were kids.”

“I just know that- You know... that I used to bring them to you when you weren’t feeling okay and it would… cheer you up?” Merlin stuttered as he sat down at the small table they’d crammed into the room just a couple of days ago so he’d have a place to study his magic book at. “And I thought that might still… apply?”

“It absolutely does. And thank you so much for getting them for me.” Jericho laughed and threw a handful of them into her mouth before leaning across the bed to offer some to Merlin. “But you know, Merlin, I’m fine.”

Merlin tried to hide the annoyance and hurt he felt at the lie, faking a believable smile as he waved his hand, refusing to take any of the berries. He excused it by having had a big breakfast, knowing that if he admitted to not taking any because he thought Jericho should be eating as much as possible after her unintentional three day fast she’d just chuck them at him.

They made shallow conversation about the stranger, Edwin, as Jericho stuffed herself with the strawberries and after finishing the whole bowl in a time that should be illegal, Jericho laid down to sleep.

Just a nap, as she proclaimed.


She slept through the rest of the morning and all the way into the afternoon.

Merlin sat reading his spell book, though he spent a lot of time glancing over at his sister, unable to stop thinking about her and her weird issues. Her stupid stubbornness and why she wouldn’t trust him with her true feelings.

She refused to admit she was in love with Morgana and she seemed dead set on making him believe she was the okay-est person in all of Avalon at all times.

Gods, he hated it.



*



“And she didn’t leave my bedside?”

“Not once.” Gwen confirmed as she fluffed Morgana’s pillow, gently pushing her mistress back into them once she was done. She was smiling - hadn’t been able to stop ever since Morgana had woken up. “She stayed here the entire time, watching over you, feeling your pulse, making sure you were still breathing.”

Morgana rubbed over her wrist, suddenly sure she could feel a light prickle ghost over the delicate skin. But that might just be her overly animated brain, adding texture to the events she’d apparently been part of but couldn’t remember a single thing about.

She couldn’t really believe it. Or she could, well able to imagine Jericho the way Gwen described her, as she’d always struck Morgana as a rather protective person - Morgana just hadn’t known that trait extended to her as well.

Her stomach flipped and her heart picked up a beat.

“It was rather annoying actually.”

The two women glared over to the table where Arthur was sitting, elbow propped up on his knees and his head held in his hands. Faced by their scrutiny, the Prince raised his hands in question.

“What? She could’ve helped me out instead of wasting time around here.”

“How very kind of you.” Morgana sneered as she sat up. Gwen didn’t try to stop her. “Calling a friend worrying for me a waste of time.”

“Friend?” Arthur huffed and he sat up a little straighter at the offended tone Morgana had struck. “She’s a servant. Yours as much as mine by the way.”

They stared at each other for a moment. Morgana tried to decide between taking the high road or jumping into the brewing argument.

She settled for the latter when Arthur’s lips twitched, ready to curve into a victorious smile.

“Please, you already have Merlin to chase around, there’s no need for you to do the same to Jericho. And if you’re just jealous that my twin’s more loyal to me than yours is to you, then maybe you should be a little nicer to the boy. If you know what that word even means.”

Arthur’s mouth dropped open, clearly somewhat wounded by her statement. He snapped it shut again a second later, but it was too late, Morgana was grinning at him and Gwen, who’d moved to refill the water to the many vases that stood around the room, giggled into her hand.

“I think your brain’s not as recovered as we thought it was because you sound absolutely insane.” Arthur said, rolling his eyes. He did add something though, “Also, Merlin drank poison for me not that long ago and I’m pretty sure that’s a lot more loyal than sitting by a bed for a few days.”

“We can make it a contest, if you’d like.” Morgana offered.

“And make them do what?”

“I don’t know… Also what are you still doing here?”

The question snapped Arthur out of some sort of trance as he leapt to his feet, looking a bit put on the spot. He’d only been supposed to check that Morgana was still conscious and then report to his father, but then he’d sat down and…

Yeah, he should leave before Uther came up here himself. Morgana exchanged a disbelieving chuckle with Gwen as the Prince hurried off.


“Where’s Jericho anyway?”

“I think Merlin dragged her off. Probably put her to bed and fed her.”

“Hm.”

Of course Morgana wanted the woman to be healthy, but…

She really wanted to see her.

Thank her in person.

Possibly get one of those hugs she found herself craving every now and then.

She wanted to hear her say her name or even her title would do-

“My Lady.”

Morgana startled, afraid her imagination had just assumed another level of realism and then she turned to find Jericho standing in the door, arms crossed and leaned against the fame, and she nearly had another heart attack as she wondered if she’d developed magical powers that allowed her to summon people when she thought of them.

No, that was stupid.

And she was wasting time with useless worries when she instead could just enjoy the view in front of her - Jericho smiling at her like there wasn’t a worry in the world, for once completely at ease.

“I am glad to hear you are doing well again.”

How many people had said that exact same sentence to her today? Morgana had lost count.

And why did it sound so completely different when Jericho said it? Like it was the best news that anyone had ever heard? Morgana wasn’t entirely sure, but her heart hammered against her chest like it wanted to tell her.

“As am I.” Morgana was a little put off by Jericho still standing by the door. Sure, she looked great like that, shoulder against the frame, her hips sticking out, but it also gave off the impression that she’d be leaving again soon. “Come in!”

Jericho’s smile widened ever so slightly.

“Unless you’ve had enough of this room. I’ve heard you spent quite some time in it.”

Jericho’s gaze flashed to Gwen as she slinked inside, something passing between the two women, but Morgana doubted that either of them understood what the other meant to say.

“Well, it is a very nice room after all.” Jericho commented.

She’d - to Morgana’s frustration - moved over to Gwen, both of them looking a little lost as they waited for an order, something to busy themselves with. And Morgana could think of only one thing she wanted them to do.

“That’s because I have the best servants in all of Camelot.” She opened her arms wide and while Jericho tilted her head in confusion, Gwen understood right away.

She charged at her mistress, tugging Jericho with her by the wrist, and very unceremoniously threw herself at Morgana. They both laughed as Gwen buried her face in the crook of her neck, bodies flush.

Jericho on the other hand was more timid, propped up on her forearm which barely brushed Morgana’s side, seemingly scared she’d crush the women beneath her.

It's not close enough, Morgana thought, bringing up a hand to her servant's chest.

She tired not to be too obvious as she navigated her palm to the spot her heart was, hooking her fingers over her shoulder. There was no way she could see the look on Jericho’s face - Gwen’s hair all over the place - but she felt her freeze for a moment. Morgana didn’t know she was touching her the same way Merlin was whenever he charged Jericho’s heart with magic.

All she could focus on was the wild thrumming of Jericho’s heart, the way it hammered against her chest. Her hand. As if it wanted to jump right into it.

The Lady’s throat went dry and she really, really wished she could’ve looked into Jericho’s eyes, pry right into them and figure out if that reaction was born from excitement that she was still alive or the fact that Morgana was touching her.

Eventually Jericho eased into the touch, even brushing her long, slender fingers through Morgana’s hair. Just once, but it was enough for the moment.



*



“Merlin, now!” Jericho barked as her hands closed around the handle of the axe and she found a firm grip on it.

What would a week at Camelot be without a wild sorcerer seeking revenge for Uther’s magic ban and the execution of hundreds of their own?

Not the norm, that was for sure.

What was different about the whole Edwin situation, though, was that Jericho for once did not find herself agreeing with the magic side of things.

Yes, the killing of his parents and Edwin’s permanent scarring due to Uther’s hunt for sorcerers was sad and unjust, but… He’d gone after Morgana, knew about Merlin’s magic and tried to get rid of Gaius (which wasn’t necessarily all that horrible to Jericho, but it had upset Merlin, so yeah).

Oh, she’d almost forgotten about the axe that Edwin had tried to magically throw at Merlin. It was only hovering a few inches away from her brother’s face and the only reason it hadn’t hit its target yet was because Merlin had stopped it with his own power.

He would win this fight, eventually, Edwin already struggling against the stronger magic of Merlin, but Jericho couldn’t let that happen. She couldn’t have someone die at her brother’s hands - even if it was an act of self-defence.

Taking a life wasn’t the kind of thing you could just shake off and forget about.

She’d stepped in, one exchange of looks with Merlin revealing exactly what her plan was and Merlin had nodded. On her signal Merlin dropped to the ground, releasing the hold he’d still had on the axe, leaving Jericho to haul it back at Edwin with brute force.

For a brief moment nothing happened, Jericho’s muscles straining under the fleeting magical hold Edwin still had on the weapon, but then it relented, the sorcerer slumping back and Jericho used the momentum, throwing it back with a groan.

It hit its mark dead centre, splitting Edwin's head into two with a bone chilling crack. Blood and brain matter splattered the floor, painting it in a curious pattern.

Jericho turned to Merlin, who was still pressed against the floor, eyes wide as he viewed the now limp sorcerer on the other side of the throne room. His gaze flickered to Jericho, then his own hands as he came to realise that that was what he would’ve done, had his sister not stepped in and taken over.

Merlin’s guts lurched, but before his panic could grow into an incapacitating fear, Jericho hauled him up to his feet, reminding him of the more pressing matter at hand: saving Uther’s life.

While Merlin and Gaius hurried off, Jericho stayed to take care of the mess she’d created.

There weren’t all that many cleaning supplies around and she didn’t want to leave the corpse for someone to discover while she went off to get some, so Jericho made due with what she had, ripping off parts of her pant legs and sleeves. She was on her third piece of makeshift rags - having gotten most of the brain matter off the expensive floor - when she felt the expected surge of her heart, announcing the healing of the King.

Thanks to Merlin.

Involuntarily gagging when a slimy clump of something flew onto Jericho’s cheek, caused by her vigorous sweeping, she wiped it away with a bitter smile.

That’s how things should be.

Merlin should be spared the gruesome tasks of killing and dealing with the aftermath and instead focus on curing ills and helping the people who needed him. It was what he’d been made for… His magic allowing him to perform miracles only few others were granted as well.

Jericho would make sure it would stay this way. She’d do whatever it took to keep Merlin away from death and murder as long as possible…




*



So, it took exactly a week for Merlin to take matters into his own hands and blast two Sidhe into tiny, flaming pieces with a little help of their own staff.

Jericho ogled at the disintegrating flakes that just a few seconds ago had been two somewhat human beings, but Merlin had already waded into the lake before them, his arms buried beneath the surface as he tried to find Arthur.

He looked worried, devastated even, but not over the fact that he’d just killed, no- It seemed like, to him, this was a completely normal Tuesday.

Aside from the fact that the Prince, Once and Future King of Albion, was currently somewhere at the murky bottom of some mystical lake, drowning.

“Jericho, some help would be appreciated!” He shouted over his shoulder.

“Yes!” Jericho shook off the eerie shiver that chased up and down her spine and ran to the lake. But she stopped in front right at the shore, the tips of her boots getting soaked with water. “Uhm-”

She looked down at the dark water, heart pounding in her chest and it wasn’t just due to the ache that snapped through her chest like a lightning strike each time she took a breath.

Actual fear spread through her limbs, hands shaking at her sides, at the prospect of actually getting in.

Merlin seemed to take her hesitation as her considering whether or not saving Arthur’s life was worth getting soaked in disgusting lake water for.

“Come on! I know you don’t like him, but-”

“It’s not that!” Jericho yelled back, a little hurt Merlin would even think that she’d let Arthur die for such a vain reason, just because they didn’t get along very well. Hell, she’d risk her well-being for just about anyone if Merlin was involved. “I- Uhm, I can’t swim!”

“What?” Merlin jerked his head around, arms still skimming the water. He was in deep, the small waves the wind created reaching all the way up to his chest. “But mum taught us how to!”

“She taught y-” Jericho cut herself off with a sigh.

This wasn’t the time and place to get into a discussion about their childhood and the very different parenting methods they’d grown up under.

She stepped into the lake, convincing herself that she could just stay in the shallow parts. Maybe Arthur would wash up eventually.

She swallowed a frightened yelp when the water lapped up to her knees.

“I got him!” Merlin nearly cried, dragging an unconscious Arthur up to the surface. “And he’s breathing!”

“Thank the gods.” Jericho exclaimed, mostly because the prick being alive meant that she wouldn’t have to spend the way back to the castle accompanied by a sulky Merlin and a wet corpse.

She met her brother where the water was waist-high, helping him carry Arthur out of the water and over to the horse she’d brought as she had to chase after Merlin, load him up so they could reach the Sidhe in time.

It had all been a bit of a blur, but she could safely say that she was still a little pissed that after waking up from their forced slumber (as they, too, had been blasted with a magical staff) Merlin hadn’t bothered to wake her and just run after the Prince on his own. Thank fuck for the tether, which had allowed Jericho to find him rather easily.

They heaved Arthur on the back part of the horse and after a little argument, Merlin swung himself into the saddle. He tried to hide it, but he was still out of it, rubbing circles over his chest as if he could massage the bruising right out of it.

Jericho took the reins and led the mount back to the city, which they’d hopefully reach before sun up or else they’d have to do a hell of a lot of explaining.

“Tell me if you want to ride for a bit, alright?” Merlin offered, rolling his eyes when he saw the back of his sister’s head shake.

“Don’t be silly.” Jericho gestured somewhere towards the trees they were surrounded by. “I can already see the lights of the city. Switching now would be nonsense.”

Merlin didn’t see any light or even an end to the forest, but he didn’t complain. Being the one on the horse allowed him to check on Arthur every now and then, hold a finger in front of the blonde's nose and mouth to make sure he was still breathing. And sometimes, when Merlin wasn’t sure if it was Arthur’s breath or the wind that grazed his skin, he’d lay two fingers on the side of his neck, feel for his pulse.

“We should tell Morgana that she was right.” Jericho said quietly once they actually did reach the city walls about an hour later. “I know Gaius said we should keep the nature of her dreams a secret and I know you value his advice, but-”

“No, I feel the same. Lying to her would be wrong.” Merlin agreed.

He’d been raking over this for days, really trying to see the sense of Gaius’ reasoning and his worries of what would happen if Morgana found out she might be a seer… but each time he’d see Morgana’s scared face in front of his inner eye, her shaken expression over her nightmares and his resolution crumbled.

She reminded Merlin of himself, when he’d been a child, not understanding why mum would get upset whenever he used his powers outside of their house and how the magic would confuse him too at times as it had taken him years to grasp how strong it really was. Sometimes he still felt like he didn’t fully know yet.

“Really?” Jericho turned, slowing the horse as they passed through the more secluded entrance at the side of the enormous walls. Her shoulders sagged in relief when Merlin smiled back at her. “Do we tell Gaius?”

“No, not yet. I know he means well, but I really can’t take another lecture from him.”

Jericho laughed at that and together they unloaded Arthur like a piece of luggage, carrying him back to his chambers. It was nearly morning and guard shifts must have been on rotation because they didn’t run into a single soul as they moved through the halls.

They threw the Prince on the bed with the grace of a heavy sack of potatoes, exchanging amused grins as they looked down at the man. He'd dried completely on the way home thanks to the warm summer air. 

“Deal with him tomorrow?” Merlin asked.

“You mean today? It’s not long until sunrise.” Jericho remarked, already on her way to the door. “Let’s go to Morgana now though.”

“Now? I’m sure she’s asleep.” Jericho shook her head, her light-hearted smile being tinged by something grim.

It had been a while since Morgana had slept through the night.

Merlin hid behind his sister as she knocked on the Lady’s door and stayed put when they were beckoned inside by her tired voice. Only once Morgana’s face softened into an exhausted smile did he dare to step forward, surprised that there wasn’t any other reaction to his presence than a nod. If you could even call it that.

Morgana looked wrecked, like she hadn’t slept at all, dark half moons circling below her eyes and she didn’t even bother getting out of bed as the twins approached her. And then it dawned on her, what their early visit must mean and she frantically scrambled to get on her feet, but stopped when Jericho laid a hand on her shoulder.

“Arthur’s fine.” She said as if she’d read Morgana’s mind, her lips curving upwards a tiny bit when the Lady took a deep breath and eased back into her pillows. “Well… he wasn’t, but we got to him just in time.”

Turning the words over in her mind and observing the meaningful glances the servants exchanged, Morgana widened her eyes as she reached a conclusion. For a moment she stared at her white blankets, gaze unfocused and emotions feeling through it in such rapid succession that neither Merlin nor Jericho could really figure out what was going on inside her tired head.

“So… My dreams came true?” Finally Morgana looked up at them again, lips quivering and eyes filled with unshed tears, dread basically radiating off them.

Merlin and Jericho - being the unfailing helpers and comforters they were - both lunged to the side of the bed, falling to their knees next to it, forgetting all about the pain and weariness their bodies were ridden with.

Jericho’s hand slid from Morgana’s shoulder down to her hand, cupping it and Merlin brought his own up to the mattress, just in case the Lady would need someone else to hold on to as well.

“Yes, but that’s okay.” Merlin said, but immediately shut up as Morgana’s face fell, crumpling up in devastation.

“How can it be?” She nearly screamed, before remembering that guards could walk past the door any moment and that this really wasn’t the type of situation she wanted to explain to them or worse - Uther. She continued in a lower tone, her voice bled the overwhelming emotions that clouded her mind, “I- I don’t know what it even is! Why do my dreams become reality? And how should I live with it? Who should I tell? If- If the King finds out- Anyone really, would suspect me for sorcery… magic.”

Oh gods, Merlin’s heart cramped up, his stomach knotting at the sound of her panicked voice as he could relate to her all too well. And even though he didn’t know Morgana all that well yet, she had only ever shown him kindness, which was enough to spike his already high empathy levels.

He didn’t want her to be afraid like this. The same way he was.

He knew how hard a life like his was - always hiding, always afraid someone would find out - and he wished he could’ve told Morgana just how much he understood her and tell her that she wasn’t alone… But that would go far beyond what he and Jericho had come here to do.

“Morgana, take a deep breath.” Jericho applied a squeeze to Morgana’s hand.

Morgana looked at her, their eyes meeting and her anxiety seemed to lessen at the sight of her servant’s warm gaze, and together they breathed until Morgana’s chest rose steadily again.

She was still upset, clearly, but the twins felt like they could talk to her now and actually get their words to her now.

“Listen, the dream might’ve been a one time thing. A freak accident of sorts. A joke from the universe.” Jericho’s tone was light, almost joking with the way her hand gestured upwards as if the sky was right above them instead of the ceiling. “And if it wasn’t and this happens again, then that is okay too. We’ll figure it out.”

“Yes, you can come to us, should your nightmares begin to seep into real life. We will take care of them, like we did tonight.” Merlin said reassuringly and Morgana glanced at him, confusion on trust lingering in her light irises.

“Why… Do you think I might- That I might be a…” She trailed off, missing the proper word, which Merlin gladly supplied.

“A seer?”

“Yes, that!”

The twins exchanged careful glances - not careful enough. Morgana gasped.

“But then- Why aren’t you scared of me? Shouldn’t you be on your way to Uther right now? Or Arthur?”

“Morgana.” Jericho hummed, her thumb rubbing circles over the back of Morgana’s hand until the Lady stilled again, left with an utterly dumbfounded expression on her face.

She clearly waited for them to freak out, just like any normal inhabitant of Camelot would. But they didn’t, they lacked any sort of fear or disgust as they were looking at her, waiting for her to calm down again.

So far Morgana had thought them both smart individuals, but maybe Arthur was right and they lacked a little more brain than their wits and sarcastic humour let on.

“You forget,” Jericho said after a few moments had passed. “that we aren’t from Camelot. We’ve barely been here for a season and while we’ve… somewhat adjusted to the customs of this kingdom, our views on magic haven’t yet changed.”

“And they won’t.” Merlin added firmly.

That seemed to do it for Morgana, her posture sagging and the rigidness dissipating from her shoulders.

She might be a seer, a quality worth being executed for, but what the twins had just admitted to her was just as treacherous. So… She didn’t think either of them would betray her, but just in the off chance that they would, they’d all be burning at the stake together.

She felt bad immediately for even thinking such a thing. They came here for her sake.

They couldn’t have known what her reaction would be and must’ve been somewhat aware that Morgana could’ve denied everything and turned on them instead, tell Uther what they’d ‘accused’ of.

“Please, don’t hesitate to come to us, my Lady.” Jericho said, assuming that Morgana’s pinched brows were her still thinking things over and not due to her using her proper title again. “We’ll always listen to you, believe you.”

Ugh, Morgana couldn’t even be mad at her servants' polite words. Not when she was looking at her with her dark, soft eyes, batting her long lashes at her and that devoted expression she found on her face more often than not when she was in Morgana’s presence.

“Thank you. Both of you.” Morgana added quickly, remembering that Merlin was there too, leaned against his sisters’ side. It was only then how wrecked he looked, eyes drooping and limbs slack. “You should get some rest. I.. won’t ask what happened tonight, but I presume Arthur won’t cut you any slack for it tomorrow.”

“I doubt he’ll remember.” Jericho snorted and Morgana bit back a question as she wanted to know what she was smiling about so she could smile with her.



*



And they did leave, really needing some of that well deserved rest.

Somehow they managed to sneak through the physician’s chambers and up to their room without waking up Gaius - even though at this point they were doing more stumbling than actual walking and Merlin managed to knock over a cup, nearly falling into the whole table hadn’t it been for Jericho’s quick reactionary skills as she’d managed to catch him just in time.

“No-” She whisper-shouted when Merlin flopped into bed, intending to go to sleep right away.

Grabbing something from the nightstand she sat down on the edge of the mattress, dragging Merlin back onto his arse. Her brother glared at her, stifling a yawn.

“What now?”

Jericho held up a salve, one that she’d nicked from Gaius, that they used to treat the various cuts and bruises they collected on a daily basis. Understanding, but still a little pissed off she kept him from sleeping any longer, Merlin slipped out of his tunic.

He wasn’t very surprised to find a circular bruise on his chest when he looked down at himself. It was all shades of angry reds and purples that would certainly darken overnight - so it looked as bad as it hurt. He did let out a hum when he examined his chest further, noticing a blue, lightning-like patter that emanated from the bruise, stretching all the way across his chest and up to his shoulders.

The lines were dark, almost black and when Merlin testingly touched them, he found that the affected skin was raised, small welts. He couldn’t tell if it was just a swelling or actual scarring.

All Jericho could do was stare.

She didn’t produce a sound or a reaction or even a single thought of her own. Her mind was loud though, filled by a painfully familiar voice. Hunith’s.


“How could you let this happen to him? Why didn’t you protect him?”


She couldn’t hear Merlin’s small laugh. Didn’t listen when he asked for the salve. Didn’t feel it when he took it from her hand and began smearing the thick paste onto himself.


“Jericho it is your job to look after him. Why didn’t you? Why is he hurt?”


Tears welled up in Jericho’s eyes, which was what snapped her out of her trance. She might’ve failed at protecting Merlin tonight, but she wouldn’t do so again. She wouldn’t let him see her cry, make him worry, over her own fuck up.

She straightened, lifting her chin up as if her mind was a lake and she could break through its surface, free herself from the suffocating waters beneath. Blinking she took the tincture from Merlin, who huffed in protest.

“Let me.” She said, her voice much more stable than anticipated.

But she was glad for it, Merlin seemingly clueless of her fragile mental state as he leaned back into the pillow, letting her take care of his injuries.

Absent-mindedly Jericho’s eyes traced over Merlin’s body. His pale skin. Blemishless until now (apart from a small bite mark on the index finger of his left hand, which Jericho had given him when she’d been three years old and not yet aware of her biteforce).

She’d always prided herself in the lack of scars on Merlin’s body as it was thanks to her that he was spared of most of the brutal realities that came with being born in the lowest ranks of society. Or being a man, really.

She’d made sure to keep him away from the harsh punishments some village elders liked to hand out or the reprimands Merlin technically would’ve deserved for all the mischief he and Will liked to inflict in their free time. And when raiders, nobles or thieves passed through Ealdor, she’d made sure to keep Merlin inside and draw the attention to her, whatever means necessary.

And sometimes she’d look at the scars that marred her body, not finding them ugly or painful, but a blessing.

Because thank fuck they she was the one to carry them rather than Merlin.

So, seeing her brother now, doing his best not to wince in agony as she did her best to be gentle as she treated him, those horrendous marks a stark contrast to his light skin… She swallowed, hoping hers were at least twice as bad as she’d deserve it for letting him be hurt this badly. Or hurt at all.


“Why didn’t you protect him, Jericho? You owe it to him.”


Once finished with spreading the salve even to the outermost lines of the lightning lines, Jericho began to get up so Merlin could finally get his rest, but surprisingly he held her back, sitting up again and taking the container back.

“I thought you wanted your beauty-sleep?” She questioned, managing a teasing smile.

“That can wait. With a handsome face like mine I can pass up on it for once.” Merlin shrugged, busy tugging at Jericho’s tunic so she’d take it off. “Your turn.”

Jericho chuckled, starting another attempt to swing to her feet, but Merlin’s finger closed around her clothing too quickly, pulling her back down. A little irritated she said, “I can do that myself.”

“Yeah, you could. But you won’t.”

Merlin, impatient as ever, took matters into his own hands and tugged Jericho’s tunic over her head very unceremoniously and very harshly - suddenly Jericho could somewhat understand why Arthur always complained about Merlin’s capabilities when it came to his skills as a servant.

“And I know that chances that you’ll actually take care of yourself are slim to none.”

Jericho hesitated still. She had lifted her arms after being buried in fabric for a while, but even now that she was sitting there in nothing but trousers and her bandaged chest she didn’t want to let Merlin help. He should sleep. He shouldn’t have to deal with her.

“Okay, we’ve got to make an agreement here.” Merlin spoke with a weird seriousness that didn’t quite reach his eyes as those shimmered with his usual sarcasm. “If you want to continue following me around to help me fulfil my destiny, then that’s okay. But-” - Merlin said that more forcefully as Jericho opened her mouth to interrupt - “when you get hurt, you have to let me take care of you just like you take care of me.”

He had that stern look on his face, the one he’d inherited from Hunith that made Jericho comply and nod.

She angled her upper body so that it was easier for Merlin to spread the salve over her afflicted skin. The beam had hit her higher up than Merlin, the round bruise sitting right below her the dip of her collar bone.

There was no need for Jericho’s bandages to be removed, yet Merlin still tugged at them a little, the corners of his mouth twitching with dismay at the angry red marks where the bandages ended.

“You bind too tightly.” He remarked.

“Gods forbid a woman wants to move without her breasts getting in the way.” Jericho said, having regained some of her usual snark.

Merlin rolled his eyes.

It was half the reason she wrapped her chest in rags and bandages, flattening it as much as possible, instead of the undergarments women normally wore for support.

The other half was the lack of staring or rather the disappointment in men’s eyes when they discovered that there was nothing for them to stare at (of course this did not apply for the times she was forced into a dress).

“Do you…” Merlin hesitated, searching for his sister’s eyes. She frowned at him, but nodded for him to continue. “Do you like being a woman?”

Jericho snorted at the absurdity of the question. What other option did she have? There was no way to change the sex she’d been born into, so why bother wondering about whether or not it was the right one?

But Merlin kept looking at her, waiting for an answer, so Jericho thought about it. Then nodded.

“I do. I like being who I am, what I look like, when I’m alone. Or in the company of other women, like Gwen and Morgana… Then it feels perfectly alright to be a woman, comfortable even.”

“But you bind your chest, because-”

“Because when I am in the company of men, I hate it. I hate the way they look at me- The way I can see it in their eyes… What they’d like to do with me, what they imagine I’d look like if-” Jericho interrupted herself by clearing her throat. Merlin’s fingers had slowed and he looked utterly uncomfortable, unable to meet her eyes anymore. “And I hate the way they dictate what I get to do and what I don’t. Just because I am a woman. Like just because I don’t have a flat chest and a glorified stick between my legs I can’t wield a sword or put myself into danger… And my worth is defined by how much grace I carry myself with. How I express myself. How I look- How I dress…”

Jericho hadn’t realised how choked up she’d gotten until she felt Merlin’s hand on her shoulder, gently squeezing it. Quickly she blinked, nearly muttering a curse. Why was she being so emotional?

“I’m sorry.”

“No, Merlin! Gods, you are the last person who’d have to apologise.” Jericho forced a chuckle, which Merlin dignified with a small, sad smile. “You’re one of the few men in my life that I never… had to be different with for you to treat me as your equal. I can make my jokes and swear without you calling me a brute, but I can also take you flower picking without getting called out for how girlie it is. I- Thank you.”

This time it was Merlin who chuckled as he rolled the lid over the salve and put it back onto the nightstand. When he looked back at Jericho, his gaze was soft and affectionate, so she wasn’t very surprised by the hug that followed.

Still she melted into it, burying her hand in the hair at the nape of Merlin’s neck.

“You don’t have to thank me, idiot.”

“Can I tell you how proud I am of you then?”

“Sure.”

“I’m proud of you, Merlin.” Jericho pulled him a little tighter, anchoring herself. “So proud.”

“Right back at you.”



*



They’d barely slept when Gaius stormed into their chamber the next morning, saying that they had to get to Arthur and present him with the lie that they’d come up with as (for some reason) telling him the truth - that he’d been enchanted and briefly in love with a Sidhe, who’d wanted to sacrifice him for her immortality - was too complicated.

The old physician merely raised a brow at the twins' complaints and the way they groaned and whined at every movement.

Somehow they felt worse than the night before, each breath sending sharp pricks through their torsos and each stretch of their arms feeling like they’d tear apart. But they followed Gaius.

Merlin offered Jericho one of his neckerchiefs to cover up the dark lines at the base of her neck, but she declined with a disgusted look and resorted to wearing her hair open, arranging it neatly so it’d do the trick as well.

Arthur, even after being asleep for many, many hours, took his sweet time waking up, but did so eventually with a little help of Merlin, who took one end of the blanket that the Prince was rolled up in and kept ripping on it until Arthur startled awake with a surprised yell.

“What happened? Where am I?” He asked, frantically looking around until he saw Merlin, Gaius and Jericho all standing by his bedside, their faces somewhere between solemn and amused. “Can you remember anything?”

Merlin didn’t know whether he wanted the answer to be yes or no and he didn’t have the mind to figure it out as he was too busy being relieved over Arthur’s eyes being back to their natural colour, instead of that unsettling, glowy red.

“Ow, my head!” Arthur pressed a hand to his temple, barely aware of Jericho’s muffled snickering. “There was a girl… Sophia. She… I asked my father something about her, I asked him…”

And then Arthur bolted up, suddenly oblivious to his headache.

He remembered it. Almost everything. The girl, her hands on his chin, his body, soft lips against his, her demands- At some point he blanked again.

Whatever had happened last night after Merlin had come to his chambers, trying to convince him to see Uther’s reasoning behind not wanting his only son to get married so rashly, to someone with no political powers. It was bleary now, what they’d said exactly, but one thing stuck to Arthur’s mind like honey, thick and sticky, and it kept repeating in his mind like an echo, becoming louder and clearer each time.

Something he’d said to Merlin.


“I’m your friend.”

That was what Merlin had said and Arthur- Arthur had replied so harshly. So cold. He’d sounded like his father.

“No, Merlin, you’re my servant.”


“Arthur?” Merlin’s mildly worried voice ripped Arthur back into reality and had him shake his head.

He’d been right. Merlin was his servant. It was his job. So, why should he be bothered that he’d reminded the boy of it?

“What was I thinking?” The words slipped Arthur before he could bite his tongue.

His gaze darted to Merlin, but he seemed to assume that Arthur was talking about his decision to marry a girl he’d only known for a few days. A quiet sigh fell from his lips.

“Well, we did wonder.” Merlin spoke with his usual, mocking tone and a sarcastic smile spread over his lips. Then he, too, sighed. Much more theatrical though. “Especially when you eloped with her last night.”

“I did what?!” Arthur screamed.

He would never. He knew better. His father had drilled into him from a young age that if he was ever to marry, it would be for political reasons, a marriage that would benefit his kingdom and his people.

So even if he’d been in love with Sophia, he’d never… Arthur was distracted from his thoughts again, this time by the other twin.

Jericho chuckled at his outraged expression and only stopped when Arthur turned to her, eyes narrowing at her. She did still grin however, one hand pressed to her chest.

“Merlin and Jericho had to bring you back to Camelot.” Gaius said as if that was the most interesting part of the story Arthur had apparently been part of.

“I don’t recall any of this.”

“Must’ve been some blow.” Jericho mused.

“What blow?”

Merlin took over, recognising the tautness in Arthur’s voice as barely contained anger, and he’d schooled his face into something a little less mocking and more sympathetic as he explained, “Well, uhm, when we caught up with you, I couldn’t persuade you to return. You were beyond reason, so… I had to make you.”

“You managed to knock me out?”

Arthur prayed to the gods that the answer would be no. Not Merlin. Jericho maybe.

Sure, it would be embarrassing if a girl had managed to knock him out, but somehow it felt better to Arthur than if it had been his fool of a manservant, who barely managed to walk in a straight line without tripping.

His eyes unintentionally wandered to Jericho and as if she’d read the question in them, she crossed her arms and shook her head.

“Merlin did, yeah.” She added.

“With a lump of wood.” Merlin couldn’t contain his grin any longer.

Gaius, apparently the only person in the room who knew that knocking out a Prince with a lump of wood could get one charged with treason, stepped forward, placing himself in front of Merlin.

“He only did it to protect you, Sire. To bring you back safely,”

Arthur waved his hand dismissively before pressing it against his forehead and laying back down.

This might be the most humiliating thing that had happened to him in his entire life. He’d rather have Jericho call him by his name for the rest of the day while Merlin hurled his usual insults at him than have them both stand there and look at him the way they did right now. With a mixture of delight and genuine empathy.

“No one can know about this. Any of it. Is that understood?”

General nods were passed around.


Just an hour later they found themselves in the throne room, where an impatient Uther Pendragon was pacing up and down, waiting for his son the third time this week and his nerves were wearing thinner each time.

Merlin was pretty sure this would mean another trip to the stocks for him.

He wasn’t necessarily fond of the idea, not with his injuries being strenuous enough as it was. But well, he was Arthur’s servant, so this was what he’d signed up for, wasn’t it?

Jericho didn’t think so.

She pulled Arthur aside right before entering the great hall, a cool expression in her eyes that made Arthur swallow the protest on his lips right back down.

“Okay, I get you were in love or whatever and that made you kind of… less likeable than you already are, but-”

“Excuse me?!” Arthur’s eyes widened.

This was a new level of recklessness, even for Jericho. But she didn’t flinch when he squared his shoulders, trying to make himself bigger than her.

She didn’t even look impressed at the attempt, just pursed her lips and continued as if Arthur was a stubborn kid and not a Prince. She looked at him this was often. 

“But I will not have you stand by and let Uther punish Merlin with another round in the stocks because of your thoughtless actions. He's done enough for you lately and it’s time for you to take responsibility for your own idiocy.”

Arthur stood stock still, the words hitting him like a fist to the face. More memories came flooding back of him telling Merlin to make up some reason he couldn’t go on patrol, so he could spend more time with Sophia. Twice. 

How he hadn’t cared what happened to Merlin.

He did care now. A guilty twinge twisted his stomach. He tried to suffocate it with the anger he felt towards Jericho in that moment.

He might’ve succeeded hadn’t Gaius called for them, waiting by the doors the guards held open for them. Merlin stood next to his mentor, a curious look on his face as he watched the interaction between his master and sister. Without another word Arthur marched towards them, but not without catching a last glimpse of Jericho and the look she gave him, that said as much as ‘you know what you got to do’.

He did, though he tried to tell himself that he would’ve done the right thing even without Jericho’s lecture.

When his father asked about him missing patrol again, Arthur lied, confessing that he’d forgotten about it and when Merlin tried to butt in and take the blame, he pushed the loyal dummy aside and said that he’d gone on a hunting trip to forget about his feelings that Sophia’s absence had brought - none of it being Merlin’s fault.

After that Uther sent everyone out, so he could reprimand his son properly. Not that anyone really wanted to stay, the barely controlled rage that radiated off Uther making everyone shiver and shift like it was them it was directed at. Arthur knew better.

When he finally re-emerged, ready to go through the rest of the day like nothing happened, he was half-surprised to find Merlin lingering on the opposing wall, nervously playing with his own fingers. That stopped as soon as he saw Arthur and he quickly hurried to his side, following him as Arthur stiffly walked to his room.

“Thanks.” Merlin whispered, his eyes turned to the floor, ignoring the questioning glance Arthur sent his way.

“For what?”

“Well, you could’ve let me take the blame again.”

Again. The word weighed heavy on Arthur and it didn’t seem to match the simple shrug Merlin gave him. Like being pelted with fruit and rotten vegetables was just another one of his duties when it came to serving the Prince.

Arthur nearly wanted to apologise that it had happened twice now. Nearly.

But a man like Arthur didn’t say sorry to a servant. A man like Arthur didn’t say sorry to anyone. It shouldn’t even be in his nature to feel this way. It was weak-

“Wouldn’t’ve been the right thing to do.” Arthur muttered as he straightened, holding back a wince at the pain that surged through his back.

For a second he thought it had slipped anyway, before Merlin, rubbing his chest drew his attention over. The boy’s face was scrunched up and he drew a shaky breath. Then he noticed Arthur looking and quickly smoothed his features into a sly smile.

Arthur frowned, but he didn’t get the time to figure out whether he should ask what was going on or not.

“So, what duties await me today, Sire?” Merlin’s voice lilted teasingly.

“Oh, I’ve got a list.”

“A list? You’re putting that much effort into my work for you?”

“I wouldn’t have to if you could keep up with your tasks. But you’ve been awfully negligent lately and I can’t remember all the things you have to catch up on.”

Arthur believed that that would be it. There was no quick response Merlin could come up with… A whispered “prat” and Merlin speeding up his pace had him groan.

Of course he was that petty.

“Merlin!”

Arthur wanted to grab Merlin by the back of his tunic, but his servant had already taken off into a sprint, leaving the Prince with no other choice than to run after him, cursing and laughing.

“You are unbelievable!”

Chapter Text

Merlin wasn’t entirely sure how to handle a child. Even less so when it was a magical one that could speak to him telepathically. And worst of all - it was injured.

Badly, if the rapid blood loss and swindling consciousness were any indicator.

Morgana wasn’t much help either, resorting to pacing up and down in front of the half open curtain Merlin and the child were hidden behind. She’d sneak in glances every turn, the worried frown deepening each time. But eventually she seized the essentially useless walking and sat down next to the child.

Her on one side, Merlin on the other.

The only one to kind of know what she was doing was Gwen, who got the child water and a damp rag to wipe the sweat off his forehead and upper body. After that though…

“Why isn’t it talking to us?” Morgana asked after the fifth unsuccessful attempt to get the boy’s name.

Merlin simply shrugged, not really in the mood to let them know that it did speak to him via telepathy. And the child hadn’t done it since Merlin had rescued it anyway.

So, they both turned to Gwen, expectant looks on their faces. The maid quickly shrugged, being about as clueless as them. After a bit more staring, she sighed, “What? I don’t know what to do! I’ve never been around children much.”

There was a beat of silence. Morgana and Merlin both stared down at the boy, matching worry etched into their features. It didn’t look good - eyes half-lidded and an absent look in them, sweat coating every inch of the child’s skin and it just wouldn’t stop shaking!

Gwen had tried to bring it a blanket, but as soon as the warming fabric had been draped over the boy, it had pushed it down into its lap.

“Do you think the other druid they caught was the father?” Morgana asked after a while, threading her fingers through the sticky black hair on the child’s forehead. It didn’t show any hint if it liked or disliked it.

“Probably…” Merlin hummed grimly.

He had many feelings, none of them conflicting. The druids were peaceful people, sworn to a life of peace, and none of them should be threatened or treated like criminals. And if Uther really wanted to punish them for stepping within his holy city walls, he should banish them, not order for an execution.

Yet that was exactly what the king had done, had men currently run around in the square to build a pyre. Merlin had caught a glimpse of it, his stomach turning itself inside out and he’d made sure to stay away from windows ever since. It didn’t lessen the fear though.

The dread curled in his chest, hot and heavy, causing images to flash through his mind of the fire. Of how it consumed a body, viciously, but also slow. Slow enough for the victim to be alive for way too long and feel how they were consumed by the flames.

He wanted Jericho.

She would hold him and reassure him that he’d never meet such a fate, because she’d protect him with her life. And she’d be glaring at Uther for a couple days, just to make sure Merlin understood just how serious her promise was. Oh, Jericho-

“We should get Jericho!” He exclaimed so suddenly the three other people in the room flinched.

“And what would she do?” Gwen asked a little sceptically, but it was too late.

Merlin had already cast a spell - moved the curtains so subtly it might’ve been the wind - so it could only be a matter of minutes before she’d barge in.

“Yes, Merlin, I do not wish to come across as rude, but… Jericho doesn’t really seem like the kind of person to be great with children.”

“Why not?” Merlin was mildly curious as to what traits his sister could’ve exhibited that would make the women think she’d be unfit to take care of a child.

Mostly he didn’t care. Jericho could kick the child (obviously, she wouldn’t) as long as she’d get here soon Merlin wouldn’t be mad at her (maybe a little bit).

“She’s just a bit…” Gwen looked at Morgana, hoping she’d have the fitting word ready.

“Scary.”

“Scary?” Merlin tilted his head to the side. “Like you think she’s scary? You are scared of my sister?”

“We don’t!” Gwen said quickly, her voice slipping an octave higher.

Morgana cleared her throat as she clearly would have to take over the explaining. “Jericho just has a… presence and we have noticed that some people find it quite unsettling. Like two days ago I saw her talk to Arthur and I swear I saw him shiver. Or yesterday one of the stable boys didn’t help me get into my saddle properly and she stared at him for a second before he came running over to apologise…”

Hm, that added up. Merlin had noticed many times over the span of their lives that if Jericho wanted something, she usually got it. But so far he’d assumed it was thanks to her smooth talking abilities, which she only used on those occasions, and men’s greed as they liked to assume that giving in to Jericho’s wishes would get her attention.

“Huh…” He hummed eventually, intending to ask more questions as he would’ve loved to know if there were any more observed instances of Arthur being anything other than the perfect Prince he always pretended to be in front of Merlin.

But then voices wafted up through the open windows, carrying the words “build faster” and “execution tonight” and Merlin curled himself up a little tighter into the corner.



*



Jericho stood by the window, staring at the piles and piles of dry wood with hatred.

A druid. They were going to burn a fucking druid.

And they were still looking for his son. A goddamn child.

She was seething, clenching her teeth and picking on her own skin to have something to occupy her restless hands with. Her mind had wandered to Merlin a while ago, hoping he was far away from any windows facing the square. He wouldn’t even have to hear about this.

Maybe Jericho could get to him in time, send him herb picking so he’d be away for the execution. That way Jericho could have a clear mind while she’d be on the tower on which she’d placed the crossbow an hour ago. It had been a swift decision once she’d seen the pyre - or the stick that would eventually be transformed into one.

She’d do the same as she’d done with Valiant and end that man’s suffering before it could even really begin. The thought to sneak down into the dungeons or jump into the flames to save him had crossed her mind more than once and it had pained Jericho to dismiss them as quickly as they’d come.

But she couldn’t be so careless, not when she had Merlin to look after.

He was just as at risk of being discovered for his sorcery and if that moment ever came, Jericho still had to be around to protect him.

“Are you even listening to me?”

Jericho snapped from her inner turmoil and glanced over her shoulder to find Arthur approaching. He looked rather mad, but after spending half an afternoon with him, she was pretty sure his foul mood wasn’t only due to her lack of attention.

The anger in his eyes intensified when he came to a stop next to her, arms crossed in front of his chest and gaze directed the same way as Jericho’s.

“I was.” Jericho didn’t even try to sound convincing, trailing off mid sentence as another bundle of wood was stacked onto the already massive pile.

“Sure, mind telling me what I just told you to do then?”

“Tsk, you never tell me to do anything. You always ask.”

Arthur tilted his head so he was able to watch both the square and Jericho at the same time. He tried to keep an unimpressed demeanour as he recalled all of their interactions and realised that she was right. He did… ask. Not order.

"Technicality. Now do as I told you to.”

“Wrong again. You asked me to repeat what you asked me to do.” Barely able to contain the grin Arthur’s groan caused, Jericho leaned against the window frame.

“For fucks sake, Jericho! Just admit you weren’t listening to me!”

“But I was.”

A crowd had gathered around the forming pyre. Most of them had come from the lower town, evident by their clothing and stained faces and their huge smiles. Uther didn’t allow them so close to the castle unless there was a public showing of murder or punishment, so for them, this was a special occasion. Jericho nearly judged them before remembering that they didn’t know any better.

“Then what did I ask of you?” Arthur sounded strained, but not enough so for Jericho to relent her stubborn teasing.

“Do you remember?” She returned the question, having to disguise the laughter that bubbled at the back of her throat with a cough when she saw Arthur’s eyes widen with barely contained shock.

“I-” He didn’t, but Arthur couldn’t admit to that. “I told you to clean my boots.”

“Already did that.” The smugness basically radiated off Jericho as Arthur’s silence declared her the winner of this spat.

But the joy vanished quickly when a guard knocked on the door, informing them that Uther demanded his son to come see him immediately. There was a stiffness to the way Arthur nodded at Jericho for her to follow and it lasted the way to the council room.

It might as well have been called a march the way the Prince’s steps fell so heavily they reverbed off the walls.

The atmosphere in the council chambers was off. Suffocating and warm as if a hundred people were inside breathing the same for hours when in actuality it was only Uther. Alone he sat at the head of the long oak table, chin resting on his neatly folded hands.

By the looks of it, it was going to be a private discussion and Jericho stopped before the open doors with the intention to stay outside, but Arthur turned promptly, commanding her to follow with another stiff nod. So Jericho followed, assuming a spot near one of the massive pillars that mapped out the walls of the room, making sure to stay in the shadows as she watched Arthur approach his father with caution.

Oblivious to anything but his own agenda, Uther immediately dove into the matter of things, detailing to Arthur how and when and why the Druid had been caught. His face darkened each time any words associated with magic fell - even when it came to the child the druid had had with him.

Arthur had already been aware of most of it as he’d already been informed about the capture of the sorcerer by a messenger when Jericho had served him breakfast. Still, he nodded along as a thoughtful expression crossed his face. Jericho could watch it grow, her interest sparking and momentarily dulling the rage she felt from listening to Uther Pendragon drone on for what must’ve been a solid ten minutes at that point.

Clearly Arthur was working up the courage to say something, Jericho just didn’t know what. Was this his normal face when speaking to the King or something else?

“The druid only came here to collect supplies. He didn’t harm anyone… Is it really necessary to execute him?” Arthur said calmly, keeping his voice steady with years of taught diplomacy, but right after he’d finished the question, he closed his mouth.

He braced himself, crossing his arms over his chest. Jericho recognized the way Arthur tightened his jaw, how he held his breath and tensed, his whole body going straight as a pole as his muscles stiffened - it was the same posture she assumed whenever expecting to be punched.

A heartbeat passed in which she frowned, not understanding what it was that made Arthur expect a blow and then her gaze met Uther Pendragons’ furious eyes, fixated on his son, and she understood. Subconsciously she took a step forward, even though she never would’ve made it in time.

But the King didn’t hit Arthur. He might as well have, his words not being any less harsh than a fist.

“Absolutely necessary. Those who use magic can not be tolerated and you of all people should know that.” Utter disappointment played across Uther’s wrinkled features, the scar on his forehead twitching as he frowned at his son.

Arthur… he didn’t flinch or step back, but he looked smaller, younger too.

But he hadn’t given up yet, holding his father’s gaze as he said, “The druids are a peaceful people.”

At this, Uther’s hand balled into a fist and he raised it just high enough for Arthur to see. It was supposed to scare him, Jericho assumed, because when the Prince didn’t move a muscle, the fist rose another couple inches. Uther’s face twisted, making him look every bit the tyrant he was.

Again, Jericho’s feet acted before she could command them to stay put and before she really knew what she was doing, she was out of the shadows of the pillar. She didn't regret her actions as the sudden movement caught the King's attention and got him to lower his hand again. It seemed as if he hadn’t even noticed that Jericho had been there the entire time.

He didn’t react shocked, like he wasn’t ashamed that someone had nearly seen him hit his own child, but he did blink, irritated, before turning back to Arthur, smoothing his features back into something unreadable.

“Given the chance they would return magic to the kingdom. They preach peace, yet they conspire against me.” Uther said as if nothing had happened, crossing his arms behind his back. “We cannot appear weak.”

Jericho’s heart was beating hard in her chest, which could’ve been due to two reasons. One being that the King had looked at her, which was always uncomfortably upsetting, and another being Arthur, who took his lucky get away as another chance to open his mouth and disagree with his father.

“Showing mercy can be a sign of strength.”

Was it a smart thing to do or to say? Not really, not to Uther.

Was Jericho positively and overwhelmingly surprised that the prick she always thought to be just as avid of a hater of magic as his godsforsaken father was actually speaking out on behalf of a magic user? Absolutely.

She even found herself admiring Arthur for it, a confused and pleased frown tugging at her brows as she stared at the back of his head.

And then she remembered that she wasn’t supposed to do that and her awareness was drawn back to Uther and his barely controlled need to physically reprimand Arthur. He managed somehow, his eyes meeting Jericho’s once more, which Arthur didn’t notice.

They didn’t look at each other for more than a second, but she believed to have seen something flash up in them - an idea or something of the sorts - and it unsettled her so deeply she stepped back, pressing her side against the pillar tightly. Maybe it could swallow her and spit her back out once the King was gone.

“Have I taught you nothing Arthur?!” The hiss echoed through the room like an icy gust of wind. Arthur stuttered something, but Uther didn’t allow him to articulate himself properly. “Now, find the boy. Search every inch of this city if you must.”

There was no room for arguing or even breathing really. The air had turned sour and while it had felt metaphorically suffocating when they’d come in, Jericho now felt like she couldn’t suck it in any longer. Not without having it poison her lungs and leave her coughing drily.

Arthur nodded once and turned around, his face hard as stone when he walked towards the door. Jericho meant to follow, but she only made it to the doors. Arthur had just walked through them when two things happened that left Jericho to freeze and clutch her chest.

She felt Merlin’s magic surge, tighten her heart and send a wave of panic through her veins, and Uther called for her, beckoning her back inside.

Her breath caught at the back of her throat and she didn’t know… She wanted to run, get to wherever Merlin was and make sure he was okay. On any other day she might’ve been able to tell herself that he was.

He used magic all the time here in Camelot any even after several months no one had figured out he was a sorcerer. And Arthur wasn’t with him. And Uther was here too and-

It didn’t work today. Not with the images of a pyre fresh on her mind. Not with the knowledge that in a few hours a druid would be burned and the thought that Merlin might join him, had anyone seen him. Not with the well-imbedded and somewhat irrational fear of her brother’s discovery that always slinked around Jericho like a shadow, now spiking through her like thorny vines, enrapturing her mind and chest and stomach.

But she couldn’t run.

Uther had called for her and if she didn’t go back in there right now, he’d follow her. Or Arthur would. And she’d lead them right to Merlin, who’d done gods know what.

Paralyzed by her inner conflict, Jericho looked at Arthur for an answer, who’d stopped at the sound of his father’s voice. The mild confusion washed off his face when he saw Jericho hesitating and it was replaced with urgency as he hurried back to her side, practically shoving her back into the throne room.

“Go!” He whispered, hand slipping off her shoulder.

“But-” Jericho wanted to protest, but the doors shut in her face.

Terrified, she turned around, more over the theories over her brother’s current predicaments than hers, but Uther still pulled his lips into a small grin when she faced him. She felt her pulse in her throat and her palms turned sweaty under the Kings’ watchful eyes.

He closed in, hand sweeping over the table as he walked along it to reach the end where the servant stood. It all happened too slow, like someone had turned time upside down just to spite Jericho. She needed to get this over with and get to Merlin.

“Your nights with Arthur, do you enjoy them? Servicing him?” The King’s voice had dropped into a low hum, a sharp contrast to the way he’d spoken with Arthur.

His face had changed too, no traces for rage to be found on it, replaced by a smug kind of smile.

“I can’t say I do, Sire.” Jericho answered honestly, too distracted by the king openly admitting to basically protruding her for his son’s pleasure to think of a lie, even a simple one.

The King nodded, slow and thoughtfully. His hand came up to his chin, his eyes ran over Jericho once, then again. He frowned, clearly displeased by her appearance.

“That is no way to dress for a woman.”

It took Jericho a lot of self-control not to lay her head back and groan or scream about what a waste of time this was, that she had other places to be. But she didn’t say that and she didn’t say anything else either. Disagreement would have her punished and agreement would make her look like a fool.

The King smacked his lips and made a throwaway gesture as if he too had realised that that wasn’t the biggest issue at hand right now.

“You’ll be servicing Arthur tonight.” Uther said simply, pretending he didn’t see the way Jericho’s mouth opened to protest.

She didn’t have time for that! She had to check on Merlin, possibly get him out of trouble, then go and shoot a druid to relieve him of a much slower and more painful death and Morgana would probably ask for her too at some point. How should she-

“He is too distracted… His mind is scattered and I need him focused.” Uther smiled at Jericho, expecting her to do the same like this was some sort of messed up joke they were both part of.

Jericho couldn’t even get the corners of her mouth to move, much less pretend that she was anything but mad. And what was that logic? Arthur doesn’t agree with him, ergo Arthur is just distracted, ergo he needs to fuck someone? How-

“My Lord,” Jericho chose each word carefully, knowing just how thin the ice was she was moving on. “I know it is a great honour to service the Prince and be with him in such a way, but-”

Apparently she hadn’t known just how thin the ice was. The slap came unexpected and hard, delivered to her left cheek. It sent Jericho backwards and she nearly lost her footing, just so managing to regain her balance before she could’ve humiliated herself further by crashing onto the ground.

She still felt it, the pang of embarrassment that probably flushed her cheeks a deeper red than the actual impact of Uther's hand.

“Do not speak out of turn.” The King still sounded calm, merely a little impatient in the way one would be when talking to a misbehaving child. He watched as Jericho pressed a hand to her pulsing cheek and shook his head. “You are dismissed.”

The expectation that Jericho would follow his orders lay in the silence as she left, just as much as the threat of what would happen if she didn’t. Still she made sure to keep her head high and her steps measured until she was out of the council room.



*



Merlin, in his unrest, had begun pacing the room.

Where was she? It took Jericho much longer than usual to hurry to his side and when she eventually did burst into the room, sending Morgana and Gwen into frenzied panic, Merlin was in the corner all the way in the back.

She didn’t see him right away, but she did spot the child as no one had managed to draw the curtains shut quickly enough. The door was thrown closed with a loud bang.

Merlin meant to say something, ‘hello’ or ‘here I am’, but never got around to it because his sister had crossed to the room in five big steps - which seemed impossible, but somehow she did it effortlessly - and was by the curtained section, her eyes growing wider by the second.

“Merlin!” She shouted and from his place, Merlin could see the child flinch and curl itself up tighter. “What the hell- How did you manage to t-”

Oh!

Merlin realised what Jericho thought had happened. That the spell he’d cast had transformed him into a child and that the boy cowering in Morgana’s arms was Merlin. He almost laughed at how absurd that was (they didn’t even look alike), but then he caught another glimpse of Jericho’s worry-ridden face and the sound died at the back of his throat.

“Jericho, I’m here!”

She turned instinctively at the sound of Merlin’s voice, relief and anger flashing through her dark eyes, her flushed face losing some of its tension. With another impressive five steps she ran towards Merlin, her arms practically flying around his shoulders and she pulled him into a bone-crushing hug. A heavy sigh brushed along his ear.

It hadn’t crossed Merlin’s mind before, that him doing magic on a day like this might spike her anxiety levels increasingly higher than any other day, but he felt too relieved to have her by his side to say anything about it. And he didn’t forget about Morgana’s and Gwen’s presence, who’d definitely start asking questions if they behaved oddly.

They already looked a little confused when the twins parted from their too-long hug. Merlin gave them a sheepish smile.

Jericho’s eyes found their way to the injured boy again and Merlin could practically see her piece things together. After a second or two she sighed again, sounding more exhausted and irritated this time, then she stored those emotions away.

“So, we’re harbouring a druid boy?” She said abnormally composed, like this was the most trivial matter she’d tended to all day. Just another Wednesday.

Morgana gave her a small, but thankful smile, as did Gwen. Merlin would’ve too, had he not already been staring at the back of her head.

The boy’s eyes widened when Jericho knelt down in front of him, taking stock of his state. Her nose scrunched when she saw the roughly bandaged stomach, blood already seeping through the white fabric.

“We need to take better care of that and he’ll need food and medicine.” She muttered, her fingers brushing a sweaty lock of hair from the child's face. “What’s his name?”

“Uhm, it hasn’t told us…” Merlin suddenly felt very stupid for not having found out yet and even stupider when Jericho scowled at him.

“It?! Merlin, please tell me you haven’t been calling the boy ‘it’ so far!”

“Actually, uhm… We all have.” Morgana confessed, looking surprised when she got to feel the power of Jericho’s scowl as well.

Then she turned her eyes down and Jericho’s face softened as she laid a hand on the Lady’s shoulder. “Well, it’s okay. We just… Merlin, can you get some supplies from Gaius? So I can rebandage him?”

“Sure! What should I get? And where is it?” Merlin had said the wrong thing again, he figured when Jericho stared at him in disbelief.

“How am I supposed to know? You’re his apprentice!”

“Yeah, but you know how little time I have to actually learn from him when I have to spend all my time running after Arthur-” Jericho winced, not really wanting to hear the Prince’s name at the moment.

She muttered a “deal with it later” and turned to the boy before her. He was awfully pale, practically glowing with sweat and he seemed on the edge of slipping into unconsciousness. Yet he stared right up at Jericho with his huge, blue eyes, rarely blinking.

Carefully Jericho laid a hand over his and it was huge in comparison. She let it rest there and curved her lips into a careful smile. When the boy didn’t flinch or recoil for her, she spoke in soft, comforting tones.

“Hello. I didn’t properly introduce myself to you yet, which is very rude of me. I’m Jericho, Merlin’s big sister.” The boy gave a slight reaction at the last part, a flick of his eyes towards Merlin, but his eyes went hazy and he returned his gaze to Jericho, struggling to keep them open much longer. “I know this must be scary for you, but I promise no harm will come to you, okay? I’ll make sure of it.”

And for the first time since Merlin had rushed the boy here, he actually answered the question. Not verbally, that probably would’ve been too strenuous for him, but he nodded slightly and his fingers curled around Jericho’s, looking tiny in comparison. Encouragingly Jericho’s smile widened.

“Good, that’s great. You should rest for a bit. Are you comfortable enough or would you like me to get you another pillow?”

The boy shook his head, but he didn’t let go of Jericho just yet. The others wouldn't have been able to tell, but he was tugging on her hand with whatever strength he had left and Jericho understood the request wordlessly.

With all the gentleness in the world she scooped the boy up into her arms, making sure she didn’t hurt him further, and shuffled around so she leaned against the wall next to Morgana, the child put to rest on her chest. He shifted a bit, getting himself comfortable, and then leaned his head against her shoulder, face buried in the crook of Jericho’s neck.

Within seconds his breath became even.

It was only then that Jericho dared to take a deep breath of her own and look at the others. She’d expected them to have gone about doing other things, but no, they were all standing right where they were when Jericho had started talking to the boy. The only difference were the matching shocked expressions they all sported so perfectly one could’ve assumed they’d practiced together in front of a mirror.

This - the way Jericho had handled a child so amazingly, getting it to trust her enough to fall asleep on her after the briefest of conversations - was the furthest from what Morgana and Gwen had thought would happen and more than even Merlin had expected. Quite frankly, it was the most bizarre sight.

“Would you stop staring?” Jericho hissed after a while, bringing a hand up to cup the back of the boy’s head, so she could absorb some of the vibration in her chest when she spoke.

“Sorry, it’s just…” Gwen said quietly, a sheepish smile appearing on her face. She found the sight horribly adorable and she found it hard to stay quiet and not squeal.

“We didn’t think you’d be so…” Morgana trailed off, having to press a hand over her heart or it might’ve jumped out of her chest.

Merlin, being the only one that could still think straight (even if he, too, had to admit that his sister was being awfully sweet at the moment), rolled his eyes and gestured from Morgana to Gwen. “They thought you’d scare it.”

“What? Why would I scare a child?” Jericho frowned and then huffed. “And stop calling him an ‘it’, Merlin! He’s not a pet!”

Merlin raised his hands in an apologetic way, before sighing.

One by one, their eyes found their way back to the wound on the boy's side, which was on full display now that he was laying flat on top of Jericho. Something had to be done about it or he would bleed out. It might get infected and then… Well, then they’d have to confess to Gaius and no one wanted to confess hiding a druid boy to Gaius.

Every single one of them, yes, even Gwen, had received that raised eyebrow from him before and no one was especially keen to receive another one in the near future.

“I might be able to help get the supplies we need to treat his injury.” Morgana admitted after a stretch of silence, her voice uncharacteristically small. She was fidgeting with the hem of her sleeves. “I could go with Merlin, but we’d have to wait until after the… the execution.” - she whispered the word under her breath - “Everyone will be distracted then and I can leave my chambers without anyone noticing.”

A hand appeared in Morgana’s field of vision, gently taking hers and giving it a squeeze. When she looked up, the Lady was greeted by Jericho’s deep blue eyes, which were filled with genuine thankfulness. Morgana accomplished a small smile.

It was decided. They all got to feel a bit good about themselves, exchange confident looks and little pleasantries.

“The execution will take place right before sun down!”

The voice startled them out of the moment and in an instant Morgana, Gwen and Merlin were by the window to watch a man in colourful clothes galavanting across the square as he repeated his message.

Tenseness spread through the room like a net, tangling everyone in its clingy ropes and forcing them closer together. Gwen clung to Merlin’s arm like it was her saving grace, oblivious to the slight tremor that shook Merlin’s body as if it was the coldest winter and not the middle of summer.

As they stared out the window, disgusted by the mob that gathered outside, Morgana took a step back. Her eyes wandered to the sleeping boy in Jericho’s arms and then the woman those arms belonged too. Swallowing became hard for Jericho, Morgana’s fearful eyes burning into her and-

She wanted to take it all away. Fix everything that tinged the Lady’s beautiful features with sadness and pain. She didn’t say any of that when Morgana sat back down next to her, closer this time - their shoulders touching with each breath-, because it would’ve been a bunch of empty promises.

The only thing Jericho could do was kill a man and make sure the child stayed hidden, away from danger and the people that wanted to hurt him.

And somehow that seemed to be enough to cheer up Morgana, the corners of her eyes crinkling in that adorable way that took Jericho’s breath as the Lady gave her a smile, her hand stroking over the back of the boy’s head. And just when Jericho felt like she could smile back, Morgana’s brows furrowed and her hand came up to brush over her cheekbone, the touch lighter than a feather.

Morgana had leaned in, her breath ghosting across Jericho’s face and she held her breath, the hairs at the nape of her neck standing up instantly.

“What’s that?”

“What’s what?”

“That…” Another tender touch, just the thumb this time, the other fingers resting curled up against Jericho’s cheek. “It looks like a bruise…”

Eyes darting to Merlin to see if he’d overheard, Jericho opened her mouth, readying herself with an excuse. Her brother was in some hushed conversation with Gwen, so Jericho allowed herself half a second to think. She’d been with Arthur most days and surely there’d be some plausible explanation for a bruise.

“How big is it?” She let out a small laugh, just to defuse the tension.

“Not… big at all. It’s barely swelling… a little red.” Morgana looked at her for a moment longer, searching for something in Jericho’s eyes as if she didn’t quite believe her… Then her gaze flickered back to the boy.

“Huh, I didn’t think it would show at all.” Jericho said, keeping up the light tone. “I tried to help Arthur get in his armour for training, but he couldn’t hold still and… Well, metal and skin don’t necessarily go together great.”

The boy stirred, not fully waking up, but he muttered something and snaked his arms around Jericho’s neck. A barely audible ‘aww’ came from her right, which got Jericho to genuinely grin. She raised a brow, turning back to Morgana.

“So you thought I’d be bad with children?” Too much amusement laced Jericho’s voice for it to be an accusation, but Morgana still winced at just how wrong she’d been.

“Well, I-”

“Don’t worry, I get it.” Jericho chuckled, absentmindedly carding a hand through the boy’s hair. “I know I don’t appear like the type of person that knows how to even hold a child correctly, let alone take care of one.”

“Enlighten me then. Why are you so good at it?”

Ah, Jericho hadn’t thought that one through, had she?

Quickly she bit her lip, not having a fitting lie or half-truth come to mind this time, but she didn’t have to. Merlin had detached himself from the window and appeared by the curtain, something urgent in the way he crouched down to be on eye level with his sister.

“We should keep up appearances, make sure Arthur doesn’t come looking for us.” Jericho was about to agree and get up, but Merlin had already gotten back on his feet and stalked off towards the door. “Let’s go!”

“He’s why…” Jericho sighed, carefully entangling herself from the sleeping child.

She placed him on the furs that someone had laid out for him and ran her eyes over his thin frame one last time, making sure he was asleep and breathing. When she looked up, she found Morgana already looking at her. The deep affection in her gaze had Jericho’s heart stutter, stop and then restart twice as fast as it had been before.

“We’ll be back as soon as possible.” The promise was made to both Morgana and Gwen before Jericho followed Merlin, who nearly took off in a jog once they were out in the cool halls.

It became easier to think right away, the clear, non-unemotionally charged air filling Jericho’s lungs and easing her heart back into its usual, steady rhythm. Merlin on the other hand only got worse, his voice shaking as he recounted everything Jericho had missed out on.

“I swear, I wasn’t looking for it- him! I just got back from collecting the herbs Gaius needed, when I heard him call for help and I couldn’t- Gods, it was awful! He looked so… scared. So I got him and brought him to Morgana, because I couldn’t think of anyone else who’d take us in without immediately running to Uther- The kid can talk to me in his mind by the way! And he keeps calling me this weird name!” Finally, Merlin made a break long enough for him to take a breath - Jericho had worried he’d start turning blue any second. “Weirdest thing, like his voice, is just… in my mind. But I guess that’s got something to do with him being a druid and while we’re on the topic of druids already - What are we going to do with the other one?”

At that Jericho paused, slowing her steps. They hadn’t encountered anyone yet, but that could change any moment.

Looking at Merlin had become impossible, so she focused her eyes on the grey stone beneath her feet. Merlin, an expert in reading and correctly interpreting his sister’s silences even better than her words, nodded slowly, which Jericho saw from the corner of her eye. She tightened her jaw, hoping that the guilt that welled up inside her didn’t show on her face.

But obviously Merlin didn’t even need to see any physical change in her to know what she was feeling thanks to that weird twin intuition.

“I think you’re doing the right thing.” He said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Jericho shook off the hand he tried to place on her shoulder. Merlin meant well, she knew that, but at the moment his touch felt like the weight of a boulder, that would press her down into the ground and not allow her to come up again. Her mind was heavy enough as it was.

“I’m going to take a man’s life, Merlin.”

“You’re saving him from an unnecessarily painful death. His life was taken the moment Uther learnt of his existence.” Merlin spared Jericho a small smile when she glanced over at him, surprised by the comfort. He let a moment of silence pass for her to process his words. “Just… make sure you do it safely. From a place where they won’t be able to see you or catch you, okay?”

“That’s taken care of.” They rounded a corner, pausing their conversation as they passed a maid dusting a couple ancient paintings that hung on the wall. She gave them a polite smile and blushed slightly when they both nodded back at her. “I found this abandoned tower, which must’ve been built years ago and forgotten about during a remodel. The only way to get up there are stairs on the outside, but those are mostly gone, so even if someone figured out where the bolt was shot from, I doubt they’ll suspect it.”

“And if it is as inaccessible as you make it out to be, then how’ll you get up there?” Merlin kept his tone light, hoping to distract them both from the fact that they were talking about a very serious topic. He even threw in a grin for authenticity.

“I’ll jump.”

“Of course you will.” Merlin huffed.

“Hey, don’t sound so doubtful!” Jericho was grinning too now, more strained than her brother, but she pushed his shoulder before he could notice. “I’ve made it before when I put the crossbow up there. It’s actually not that hard if you get a good grip on the remaining steps.”

“Yeah? And how high’s the drop if you don’t manage to get a ‘good grip’?”

“A couple feet… but there’s a roof to break the fall and in case the roof doesn’t do it, the royal balcony right below will.”

“Jericho!” The smile faded off Merlin’s face at the image of Jericho’s body rolling around on the roofs of Camelot’s castle, bones broken and body limp.

Jericho laughed and tussled Merlin’s hair, which he promptly put a stop to by slapping her hand away and trying to fix his messy black locks. A genuine smile appeared on her face then, as she reached out to wipe a strand out of Merlin’s face, the gesture filled with tenderness.

“I’m joking, Merlin! There’s no need to worry about me.” The leveling stare Merlin sent her way had Jericho swallow another smile. “You focus on getting the supplies we need and not getting caught, alright?”

“Alright…”

They walked past a window, both becoming very aware of the orange tone the sun had taken on. While Merlin sagged under the idea of what that meant, Jericho took one last deep breath, straightening out her shoulders and then pulling her brother into a hug. It was much less frantic than the one, but it lasted longer as the twins tried to anchor themselves on the security of the other.

“See you after?”

After I killed a man, Jericho kept that part to herself, applying a squeeze to Merlin’s hand. He reciprocated it.



*



Gods, Jericho had thought killing would get easier over time.

It had in some ways. She tended to throw up less after and force her mind to drift off into sleep even if she could still picture the faces of the people whose lives she’d taken.

Her limbs would shake less, too, her hands would steady much faster and the urge to bury herself in the ground and never return had lessened into a week-long pang of shame in her chest. But this wouldn’t be one of those times, would it?

Not with the boy's face fresh in her mind, his eyes staring up at her with so much trust… And now she’d go ahead and murder one of his own. Possibly his father.

What Merlin had said made sense and it did help her keep the crossbow steadily propped up on the half-wall that surrounded the top of the turret, but she just couldn’t stop the boy from popping into her mind. She didn’t let it stop her though.

How many times had she done similar things with Merlin stuck to the inside of her mind like gum?

The turret was positioned perfectly, somewhere behind the balcony Uther usually resided on whenever his favourite pastime played out in the square and yet far back enough for him not to see her up there should he turn around before she’d be able to duck.

It had to have served some defensive purpose back in its glory days. A watch tower, probably, as it was too small for more than two people to stand up here at once, but was built high enough for Jericho to see all the way to the lower town.

Her fingers twitched around the trigger when a surprise guest was brought out before the druid - a maid, whose only crime was being a decent human being. She’d brought the druid some water, which apparently classified her as an enemy of the King and her punishment was ten strikes to the hand with what looked to be a thin, wooden rod.

Selfishly Jericho was glad that her screams were barely audible from where she was. She still had to force her eyes on the pyre - her goal - so the tip of the bolt wouldn’t continuously point at the guard that beat the maid.

Applause announced the end of the ordeal and silence the arrival of the druid. He was bound to the stake with his head held high. Somebody - or multiple people - had beaten him so badly even Jericho could see just how bloody and bruised he was. Around him torches were lit and Uther gave his speech, which Jericho allowed herself to block out.

She had to reposition herself slightly as a wind had picked up. Then she focused on her breathing, the beat of her heart and the tips of her fingers. She held the crossbow correctly, having observed some of the knights training sessions. No incriminating bruising this time.

It seemed to take forever - Uther droned on and on, the druid said something too - and then the torches were finally lowered against the brittle wood that surrounded the druid’s feet. Still, Jericho waited, letting the flames catch on. Maybe the child would do something. Maybe someone else would step in.

But nothing happened and then the first scream broke through the solemn silence and Jericho pulled the trigger. Three seconds passed during which the bolt soared through the air with a slight curve. It only looked like it was too far to the right, but, as Jericho had correctly calculated, by the time it reached the square it hit its target flawlessly.

Jericho dropped to her knees, just so able to peek over the rounded walls and watch the chaos ensue. It was almost comical, seeing the fine citizens of Camelot run around like a heap of ants, all the while Uther screamed “Who was it? Who was it?”. And then Jericho saw the limp body of the druid, blood streaming from the bolt that stuck in his temple and fire slowly consuming his corpse.

Her stomach turned and it took her all her willpower to not give into the urge to throw up and instead swallow the bile that rose in her throat. Technically it shouldn’t be too hard to get back off the tower. She’d done it before - successfully and without injury.

But… Well, the first time she’d jumped off the remaining pieces of what once had been a rounded flight of stairs, she hadn’t had to do it under the pressure of feeling like guards would show up at any moment - her eyes constantly from one side of the parapet beneath her to the other. Her sight hadn’t been so blurry either.

It wasn’t a far distance. Maybe five feet in length and three feet in height, so that wasn’t the issue. The landing however-

“Fuck-” Jericho bit down on her lip so hard she tasted blood, but that was the least of her worries when a sharp, pulsing pain shot through her right leg like lightnigh itself had struck the damn thing.

“Get him!” Uther’s voice had reached new levels of loud, so Jericho could hear his commands so clearly he might as well have been standing right next to her.

It got her moving.

Panting and swearing through the pain Jericho scrambled back up to her feet, limping along the parapet to get to the door at the end of it. Once she’d passed through it and turned a couple of corners she could slow down and catch her breath. It was a different kind of guilt that accompanied her every move this time.

When she’d killed Viliars at least she’d been able to tell herself that it was somewhat justified - he’d done bad things - but the druid… What a waste of a life.

Jericho embraced the blinding hot throbbing in her leg as her punishment. Even if what she’d done had been the right thing, she still deserved to suffer for it.

She made it down a floor, hobbling down the stairs on one leg, before collapsing in an alcove. Whatever sparse sunlight still shone through the windows behind her was barely enough for her to properly examine her injury. But she did manage to determine that it wasn’t her leg, but her ankle that caused the pain. It was swelling and she could practically watch the skin around the bones darker by the minute. Great.

“Hey, stop!”

At the sound of a deep voice Jericho pulled down the pant leg and positioned herself to look as casual as possible while sitting on the floor in the most random place in the castle. Soon the frame of Leon appeared, dressed in full armour and sword in hand. He was panting and slowed down from a full sprint when he spotted Jericho.

“Can’t really stop when I wasn’t going anywhere, Sir.” Jericho mused.

She wanted to get up, her skin crawling over the simple fact that a man was towering over her, but she didn’t trust herself enough to risk standing on her injured foot without giving it away. But Leon seemed to have noticed that something was wrong as he crouched down in front of Jericho, brows furrowed and looking very, very serious.

“I am sorry, I thought you were… You haven’t seen an armed man run past by any chance, have you?”

“No, I haven’t.” Jericho held back a snort.

Of course they’d be sure the shooter was a man. Why had she even bothered running? Gods, she probably could’ve taken the crossbow with her and waltzed around with it and still nobody would’ve suspected her.

An unexpected twinge, that felt an awful lot like needles, in her ankle and the beaten face of the druid flashing through her mind had Jericho wince and press her eyes shut. She tried to play it off as a cough, but her hand instinctively reaching for her foot made the effort entirely unnecessary. An alarmed Leon hovering before her when Jericho opened her eyes again.

He’d gotten so close that Jericho tried to scoot back, but was stopped by the rough, cool wall behind her. She hissed again.

“What is wrong? Are you hurt? Are you sure you didn’t see an armed man and he wounded and threatened you?” Leon asked the questions in such rapid succession he nearly tumbled over the words and Jericho had to blink to have them fully catch up with her brain.

“I- I’m fine, I just tripped and twisted my ankle.” Jericho’s cheeks turned bright red under the humiliation of having to play the ouch-it-hurts-I-can’t-walk card, but it seemed to be the best course of action.

Leon was a knight, which basically made him the perfect candidate to fall for such a simple lie. Merlin always said that men were weak for a chance to play the hero - the guy who got the honour of helping a maiden in need. To prove it, he’d once performed the exact same trick in front of Will and the guy had actually carried Merlin all the way back to their home, while constantly asking if Merlin was okay and if it hurt too much (in-between snarky comments, obviously).

“Oh, gods! Does it hurt badly?” Leon’s eyes went wide, full of concern.

Jericho would’ve loved to tell him to fuck off and that she could take care of herself, but… She had to go through with this, didn’t she? If she didn’t, there’d be questions and then she’d have to lie more and she really didn’t trust her pain-fogged brain to come up with an improvised and coherent string of made-up shit on the spot. Half-thruths, however, she could do.

“It’s not that bad. I’m sure you have more important things to do than help a servant. Like catching that armed man you asked me about?” Jericho could’ve gagged at the sickly sweet tone she faked.

She didn’t sound like herself at all. Well, it didn’t really matter. What mattered was that the knight believed her and left again so she could get back to Morgana’s chambers and check up on the kid and see if Merlin and Morgana managed to get the supplies they’d need to treat his wounds.

“I…” Leon hesitated, his eyes flicking between the ankle Jericho had given up on not holding and the corridor he was meant to be running down, conflicted by something. Probably his sense of duty to his orders and the one that made him unable to not help women in need. “Are you sure you’ll be alright?”

Forcing a charming smile, Jericho nodded, giving the knight a push that came across as playful and not an actual shove. “Go, I’ll be fine.”

And Leon actually listened, taking off with a last, worried look at her. Jericho’s posture sagged the moment his steps faded away and she allowed herself a proper, pained groan. Then she grit her teeth, squared her shoulders and pulled herself up.

She had places to be. Places like Morgana and Merlin’s side, though she only made it to the right floor before she was caught off guard again, by the head maid this time.

The woman looked flushed when she pressed another dress into Jericho’s arms, scolding her for being “hard to get a hold off” and telling her to get changed and get to the Prince’s chambers immediately. Jericho was smarter than to protest, even though her pulsing ankle had her patience and self-restraint wearing thin. Guess that would be Arthur’s problem.

With a longing look at the door at the end of the hall, Jericho trotted off into the opposite direction.



*



“You are amazing at this!”

“Merlin!” Morgana blushed under the servant’s amazed gaze as she cleaned out the cut that marred the druid boy’s side.

She glanced over her shoulder to shoot Merlin, who was currently cleaning up shards of what once had been her favourite mirror.

Morgana had never considered herself very materialistic… Well, she did like to collect beautiful things, but none of them meant much to her. Not the dresses or the jewelry or the vases that Uther showered her with. There were only a few things in her possession that she really cared about. And that mirror had been one of them.

Yet, she hadn’t found it in herself to be mad when the boy had shattered it with his magic. Not even the slightest twinge of disappointment. All she’d been concerned about had been the boy, making him feel alright again after the druid had been… shot? Burned? Morgana wasn’t sure what to call it.

He’d died, that was the important part, and the boy had cried in her arms. He hadn’t stopped until he’d exhausted himself into falling asleep. That’s when she and Merlin had left to get the needed salves and bandages to stop the gash from infecting.

“What? It’s true!” Merlin, being the charmer he was, couldn’t stop himself from complimenting her further. “I’ve been Gaius’ apprentice for months and I wouldn’t do a job even half as decent as the one you’re doing right now!”

Morgana had finished cleaning the wound and was now carefully rubbing the salve onto the skin surrounding it. She frowned at the irritated, red edges. The first signs of infection… but with enough care she might be able to stop it before it gets worse. But that would take a couple of days-

“Morgana?” She turned at the sound of Merlin’s voice, giving him a confused smile, which Merlin reciprocated widely. “You seem to care a lot about the boy.”

It sounded like a question rather, prompting Morgana to think of a justification. Because Merlin was right.

She did care about the child, the tug of her heart each time she looked at his little face or how she couldn’t stop thinking and worrying about him, making that evident enough.

“I do, but I’m not sure why… I guess, if I had to give you a reason for it, it is because he-” Morgana took a deep breath as she still wasn’t fully comfortable with what she was about to say. “He reminds me of myself in a way.”

She didn’t expect Merlin to understand, so imagine her surprise when he straightened up and walked over, crouching down beside her, nodding all the way. He didn’t look at her directly as he started unwrapping the heap of bandages they’d brought. When he spoke, he kept his voice low.

“Do you still have nightmares?”

“Yes, but they’ve gone back to normal… None of them have come true, if that is what you’re asking.”

“That’s… good.” Merlin hesitated for a moment, handing Morgana one of the bandages (as it turned out now that the fabric was all neat and untangled, they’d actually grabbed three). “It would also be… okay if you still had them.”

It felt weird, a little like an out of body experience, to hear someone speak of magic so positively. Or not like it was the worst, most disgusting thing to exist. Morgana was pretty sure she’d never met someone before, who’d shared Merlin and Jericho’s view on it - that it was not the end of the world and not something to be afraid of.

She felt her muscles relax as she began wrapping the boy's wound. Merlin held him up by the shoulders so Morgana had an easier time, his eyes sometimes drifting to hers. It looked as though he wanted to say more, but couldn’t get himself to actually open his mouth.

If Morgana hadn’t been well acquainted with the behaviour, thanks to his sister, she might’ve ordered him to tell her what he was stewing over.

“All done for now.” Morgana declared, one hand on the back of the boy’s head as they carefully lowered him back into the pillows. She didn’t know if she should worry over his lack of reaction or be glad that he continued sleeping. “But we’ll have to do this twice a day if we want to keep the infection down.”

“You really are amazing! How do you know so much about healing? If I may ask?” Merlin’s voice had gotten high with excitement and curiosity and with his wide eyes he looked a lot younger. Almost childlike.

“You may.” The words slipped before Morgana could stop them. Something about Merlin’s interest made it hard for her to resist granting him whatever he asked for. “Uhm, I- I spent a lot of time with Gaius when I was younger and I fell in love with his work. I would make up any excuse to go to his chambers and just sit there for hours, watching him work and memorising. All the potions and the remedies and the ingredients…”

The longer she spoke, the harder it became to keep the sadness out of her voice. The sudden feeling of longing hitting her like a fist to the face. She really, really missed those times where she could sneak away and exist in that bubble that waited for her in the physician’s chambers. It had been so long that she’d forgotten what the drying herbs smelled like and what the blubbering of potions on the stove sounded like. It had been like a second home to her and Morgana felt sick with the need to waste her afternoons there.

And again, Morgana underestimated Merlin’s empathy levels - which might have something to do with her growing-up around Arthur; the man seemingly had no capability of putting himself into someone else' s shoes - and was surprised when she felt his hand on her shoulder. He gave her a soft smile, looking practically identical to his sister.

“We should switch duties sometime. I’ll take over the walking around the castle and looking pretty part and you can gather herbs for Gaius.”

Merlin laughed over his own joke and Morgana joined in. It was absurd and it definitely wouldn’t work, but there had been some sincerity to Merlin’s suggestion. As if he’d actually make it happen if Morgana wished for it, which made the Lady’s heart swell, warm and fuzzy.

“I can lend you Jericho too.” Merlin added as if that would expel the unsure look on Morgana’s face. “She might not be very big on picking flowers and chasing down immobile herbs, but she’s got good eyes.”

“I thank you for your offer.” Morgana chuckled, trying not to blush over the idea of strolling through the woods with Jericho by her side. Just the two of them…

“Any time.” Merlin grinned at her, a knowing look on his face.

What he knew? Morgana couldn’t say and she didn’t get time to ponder over it as a forceful knock ripped them out of their peaceful conversation. She got up immediately, pulling the curtains shut while Merlin gathered the boy in his arms and scooted all the way into the corner.

The control glance to the mirror, to see if she looked as nonchalant as Morgana hoped she did, was a waste of time as it didn’t exist anymore. It wasn’t necessary anyway as Arthur was the one standing in front of her door.

He’d never notice something was wrong with her as he was as bad at noticing emotions as he was at understanding them. Hell, she could be crying and Arthur probably wouldn’t consider the reason for it to be anything other than her gender.

A routine search for the druid boy was what he was here for and while Morgana could practically feel Merlin tense behind the curtain, she merely took a breath and thought of a way to get rid of the Prince before he’d discover that very druid boy in her chambers of all places. Baiting him had always worked quite well, Morgana found, pointing out Arthur’s rule stickling behaviour and making it seem like something ridiculous made him retreat faster than a beaten dog, tail tucked and everything.

It was no different tonight. As soon as Morgana asked him to look behind the curtain, throwing in some suggestions about letting Uther know he was squandering his time in her room, Arthur rolled his eyes and walked back to the door. Morgana held back a laugh, about to go to her desk and brush her hair like Arthur always claimed she did, when she saw him open his mouth. With a raised brow she turned back, arms crossed over her chest.

“Have you seen Merlin? My servant-”

“I know who Merlin is!” It was Arthur, who arched a brow this time and Morgana rolled her eyes.

“So, have you seen him?”

“No, not since this morning.”

Groaning Arthur wiped a hand across his face, letting some of his annoyance show when he looked back at Morgana. “It’s like he’s hiding from me-”

Morgana cut him off with a sharp, scrutinising laugh.

“What?”

“Well, I can’t imagine why that would be.” A smile, small and sweet, curled Morgana’s lips.

“What are you- Morgana, please, I have more important things to do than listening to your riddles. If you have something to say just say it.” Arthur tried to keep a diplomatic tone, well able to imagine what his father would say if he heard him talk to her in a way other than nice and warm.

“I mean,” Morgana let the teasing lilt out of her voice this time, replacing it with a much more serious one. Arthur let out a sigh, giving into the urge to lean his head against the door frame. “that he hasn’t been here long. So while an execution and a whipping might be completely untouching for someone like you, he surely must feel afraid. Maybe he is hiding from you.”

Arthur let the words pass through his mind, deciding that he’d care about the accusatory tone for now and forget about the whole Merlin debacle (that wimp). But when he looked up, ready to defend the actions of his father, he was met with Morgana’s unimpressed gaze and he realised that she wouldn’t care for any of his excuses.

He hated when she looked at him this way.

“The whipping was a bit much… even if it was just the girl's hands.” He mumbled, directing his gaze back to the floor.

“Yes, it was!” Morgana shouted, her usually controlled temper getting the better of her. She couldn’t get herself to care or even correct herself. “And thank god someone had the heart to shoot that druid, because those burnings are appalling! Barbaric, even!”

“Wait, wait!” Arthur raised a hand, stopping Morgana from talking herself into a frenzy. A deep line appeared between his brows as they knitted tightly. “You think… You seriously think that whoever shot the druid did it out of… mercy?”

“What do you think?” Morgana huffed, the irritated glare she was fixing him with making it clear that she wouldn’t believe whatever reasoning he’d come up with.

Arthur tried anyway, “Obviously it’s someone who hates sorcerers or anything magic related. He probably hates them so much he has to kill them himself to feel- I don’t know, but it sure it’s an act of misguided kindness, Morgana.”

They stared at each other some more, neither willing to give up. Eventually Morgana did remember that they weren’t alone and that Merlin was probably sweating balls in the corner of her room and she sighed, making a throw-away gesture with her hand.

“Whatever, Arthur.”

“A pleasure as always.” Arthur bowed mockingly, one hand on the handle already. He paused. “But… if you do see Merlin or his useless sister, for that matter, could you let me know?”

“She’s not useless!” Morgana took a deep breath, schooling her face back into an expression appropriate for a Lady of her standings - sugary sweet smile and her hands folded neatly. “Should I send them to your chambers?”

“No, I’d quite like to find them myself.”

There was no need to ask why, the grim smile on Arthur’s face telling enough. He left then, leaving Morgana to roll her eyes at a closed door.

When the Lady returned to Merlin’s side, he was grimacing at the spot his master had stood like he was still there, clearly determined not to show his face anywhere near him for the rest of the day. Then he met Morgana’s eyes and they both burst out laughing.

“How do you endure being around that brat all day?” Morgana asked between gulps of air.

“Let’s just say I’ve become a master at zoning out and nodding at the right times.”



*



When Arthur returned to his chambers that night he could’ve fallen right into bed and slept for two whole days. At least.

He’d spent all day on his feet, which wasn’t entirely unusual - he trained and hunted and fought -, but doing it in full armour, chasing up stairs, crawling underneath beds and talking to anyone he encountered was new. And that last part really grated his nerves.

Why did social interaction have to be so… He couldn’t even find a proper word to express just how strenuous it was.

The clean and nicely smelling room he came back to was somewhat of a consolation. It was practically sparkling, his bed freshly made, the floors free of even the smallest grain of dust and the air was filled with the scent of lavender, food and the fire that burnt in the hearth. It was perfect-

“Oh, no…” Arthur already knew who was standing by his closet before he turned. A groan still slipped at the sight of Jericho, in a dress, looking somewhere between uncomfortable and downright scared.

“Oh, no indeed.” She said quietly and unmoving.

She was waiting for Arthur to do something - choose between dinner or changing into his night clothes first - and while the Prince really, really wanted to get into bed, his grumbling stomach wouldn’t have allowed it. So he opted for the tray of food that had been neatly placed on the table, everything arranged to his liking. And no missing dishes or torn off pieces of bread or other pastries, so Merlin really didn’t have a hand in setting this up.

Jericho followed silently, hovering somewhere just out of Arthur’s field of vision. He pretended not to be bothered by it as he ate, but after a while he glanced over his shoulder to where she stood, leaned against the window sill, an irritated sigh on his lips. She didn’t meet his gaze, keeping her eyes low and her arms folded behind her back. Like a proper servant.

Her behaviour was almost as unnerving as the sudden appearance of the ability to shut up that she never seemed to have possessed before. And Arthur almost forgot that he wasn’t in the mood for conversation (he’d had enough of that today!) until he noticed a small, purplish mark on her cheek.

His father’s work. Arthur would recognise it in a heartbeat. It was like something in him slammed shut, some invisible door perhaps, and he turned back to finishing the rest of his dinner.

He didn’t give any instructions once he’d gotten up, but Jericho didn’t seem to need them, coming up and unlatching and detaching his armour piece by piece. Wordlessly she tried to coax him closer to the table where she placed the parts by never fully returning and waiting for Arthur to take another step forward. Too weary to question her, Arthur eventually ended up where she wanted him and he realised that this was, Jericho didn’t have to keep walking from him to the table and back.

Someone knocked on the door just as Arthur began undressing behind the changing screen. He heard Jericho’s feet shuffle, but she didn’t go to answer. He sighed again.

“Come in!”

A creak and the familiar pattern of Leon’s steps announced his knight’s entrance. Arthur muttered half a greeting and quickly pulled his night shirt over his head, which Jericho had laid out for him. He tried to keep his dismay off his face, but Leon’s presence could only mean one thing: His father had ordered another search party, damning Arthur’s sleep schedule.

So imagine the Prince's surprise when he found his most trusted knight standing right in front of his servant instead, speaking in hushed tones. The expression on Leon’s face was most serious, even more earnest than his face usually was, with deep creases on his forehead and worry darkening his eyes. And Jericho kept shaking her head, a strained smile on her lips.

“Leon, what is the reason for your visit?” Arthur had a really hard time not sighing again. “It is late.”

His knight looked at him immediately, oblivious to the way Jericho tensed and glared at him warningly. Arthur noticed, a small part of him wondering how the fuck his servants always managed to get themselves into… trouble? Huge messes? Situations that gave Arthur headaches?

First, Merlin goes missing for whatever reason (for now Arthur chose to believe Morgana was right and he really was just one big girl and got scared off by the execution turned assassination) and now Jericho seemed to be in trouble with one of his knights (though it looked more like they were in cahoots over something she clearly didn’t want Arthur to know about).

“My apologies, Sire! I only wanted to check up on Jericho after she injured herself today.” Leon reported dutifully. His back was turned to Jericho, so he couldn’t see how her eyes narrowed into tiny slits and she scowled at the back of his head.

“Injured herself?” Arthur hummed, assuming Leon was talking about the tiny bruise on her cheek.

He fought off a smile. Leon had always been awfully chivalrous. But again, the Prince was in for a surprise he had not asked for. There were a lot of those going around lately.

“Yes, Sire. I found her during my pursuit of the assassin. She said she’d twisted her ankle and I failed to take care of her properly, so I wanted to make sure that she was alright now.”

Arthur nodded, his gaze wandering to Jericho and this time he couldn’t stop the corners of his lips from flicking upwards. She looked very unhappy, seething almost the way she kept opening and closing her mouth, probably wanting to complain about the way Leon spoke about her as if she wasn’t even there. But something held her back and eventually, she closed her mouth for good, busying herself by picking at the fabric of her skirts.

It was almost funny. Almost. Honestly, no amount of amusement could make Arthur stop thinking about his bed. So he turned to Jericho fully, leading Leon to look at her too.

“Well, are you alright?”

“Quite.” The word wasn’t more than a hiss and Jericho immediately went to correct herself, putting that strained smile back on and letting the skirt fall from her hands as she folded them over her stomach. “I thank you for your efforts, but I can assure you I am perfectly fine, Sir. I just had to walk it off.”

Leon nodded at that, satisfied by the answer. Arthur made some half-hearted joke about his valiant protectiveness before dismissing him. His plan was to do the same with Jericho, but once he sat down on his bed, swinging his legs onto the comfortable mattress, his brain started working. It did that sometimes, piecing together things Arthur hadn’t even consciously memorised.

Right now its focus lay on the information that Jericho had twisted her ankle earlier and now claimed it didn’t hurt anymore, but… She’d leaned against the window sill while Arthur had eaten and then she’d tried to avoid walking while getting him out of his armour. If it was Merlin, Arthur would just assume it was out of laziness, but Jericho never before complained about standing or walking (unlike her brother, who never ceased to complain).

“Get your ankle looked at by Gaius. Can’t have my servant's performance slacking off.” Arthur ignored the girl's frown, instead punching one of his pillows into the right shape.

“Sire, I said I’m-” Arthur raised a brow and Jericho’s voice got small as her eyes sunk back to the floor. “fine.”

She dropped the arguing and Arthur finally dismissed her, telling himself that he only imagined the way her posture slouched, tension practically dissipating in front of his eyes.



*



Merlin wasn’t in Morgana’s chamber when Jericho got there and though she desperately wanted to see her brother, she was glad to get some time to change back into her normal clothes, the ones Morgana still had stashed in her closet after her last, rather embarrassing redressing.

Morgana was awake still, nervously eyeing her servant from where she sat behind the curtains. She didn’t say anything, not even when Jericho, back in a tunic and breeches, sat down next to her, offering to take the boy again. The Lady handed him over carefully, placing him exactly how Jericho had held him hours before.

He was warmer now, a little feverish, but taken care of much better than when Jericho had first seen him. They didn’t say anything for a while. Morgana leaned her head against Jericho’s shoulder, breathing so steadily that Jericho believed she’d fallen asleep. Then she readjusted her position, the fabric of her pants riding up and Morgana gasped sharply.

Belatedly Jericho grasped what had happened as Morgana had already crawled down to her swollen ankle, eyes wide when she stared back at her servant. She looked troubled - troubled over something as small as a wounded ankle.

“Sorry-” Jericho couldn’t help but apologise. In no way should she cause Morgana any worries, not because of her own incapability to land on her feet properly. And she certainly didn’t deserve her compassion.

“What happened?”

“I twisted my ankle.” The lie tasted bitter on her tongue, much heavier to get out than when Jericho had told Leon the exact same thing. Because she didn’t want to admit the truth either… not now. “It was stupid, I should’ve watched where I was going- My Lady, it barely hurts. Just-”

But there was no stopping Morgana, who’d already gotten up to rummage through a pile of something Jericho couldn’t make out in the dark. Once she returned, Morgana kneeled down next to Jericho’s feet, her concern hidden behind a wall of stern concentration.

“But it still hurts?” It wasn’t a question really, but Morgana still waited, brow arched in a way that was usually reserved for Arthur and similarly arrogant knights. Defeated, Jericho nodded. “Then hold still and let me take care of it.”

And she did, her hands spreading salve and wrapping bandages so swiftly, one could’ve assumed that this was exactly what Morgana had been trained for all her life. Jericho didn’t ask her about it. The Lady had been kind enough not to question her about her third visit to her chambers, dressed in an exquisite gown and looking rather distressed, so Jericho would give her the same courtesy.

“The salve should help with the pain and speed the healing process along.” Morgana said as she scooted back up to Jericho.

She didn’t say another word as she unscrewed the lid once more, picking a small portion of it onto her finger and when it hovered by Jericho’s face and the woman flinched back, Morgana’s features twisted into something sad.

Why won’t you let me help? She didn’t ask outright, but Jericho read the question off her face effortlessly, her stomach twisting as she went to correct herself by jutting her chin, allowing the Lady access to the bruise on her cheek.

Jericho didn’t deserve her care, yet she did not dare move a muscle as Morgana’s finger swiped across her skin, distracting herself by watching the tightness slowly evaporate from her pale face and be replaced by something else. It wasn’t necessarily a relaxed expression, but Jericho couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was. But she tried anyway, not realising how close they got, both women leaning closer slowly, Morgana’s other fingers coming up to cup Jericho’s face.

“I know you… you have this stubborn idea planted in that thick skull of yours that makes you think you can handle everything by yourself, but” Morgana let her gaze drop from Jericho’s eyes to some place lower, only for a second, before flicking them back up, her blue eyes burning with an intensity that had Jericho hold her breath. “I don’t think you know how much I want to be there for you. I’ve told you before and- and I’ll keep telling you until you understand that I’m being truthful.”

The air had grown thick. And once again it wasn’t due to a lack of window opening, but rather the emotions that floated through the small space between them.

Somewhere they met, Morgana’s honest need to be let in and Jericho’s unwillingness to let her do exactly that, and it all came together to form an almost electrical tension between them. Jericho forgot herself for a moment, her eyes taking control over themself and drifting down to Morgana’s full lips. She could feel the Lady’s sweet breath on her own and-

She stopped herself just in time, her head already slightly tilted to the side and the longing to kiss Morgana was washed away by a wave of nausea over her own greed. How could she- Gods, she was disgusting.

Morgana, attuned to Jericho’s every move, practically flinched back. Jericho hoped it had been because she’d realised, too, just how close they’d gotten and not that she’d nearly been kissed by her fucked up servant. Whatever it was - whatever had flashed across her pristine features in that moment - got Morgana to sit back onto her heels, one hand braced against the wall.

She looked at Jericho for a moment longer, waiting, and when Jericho only stared at her, too horrified by herself to stammer out another apology, she got up.

“I should get to bed.” It came out flat and cold, a harsh contrast to the way Morgana usually spoke to her.

“Is it alright if I stay? I would like to…” Jericho helplessly gestured towards the sleeping boy, still cradled tightly against her chest.

“Of course.” Morgana drew the curtains shut, the sounds of her getting ready for bed seizing soon after.

Jericho leaned her head back against the wall, feeling horrible for way too many reasons, which she did not have the energy to properly dissect. So she let the images flash through her mind - the druid’s face, Merlin’s scared eyes, the disappointment with which Morgana had regarded her with, the boy, Arthur’s look when he’d spotted the bruise on her cheek, Uther’s hand flying towards her face - as she listened to Morgana’s breath even out.

It all became very rhythmic, tuned to the beat of the throbbing pain in her ankle. Her stewing wasn’t broken until late into the night, when the boy lifted his head and a pair of light eyes, even lighter than Morgana’s, peered up at her through the darkness. They’d lost their haziness, barely glossed over now, and Jericho curved her lips into a small, but relieved smile.

“Hey, how do you feel?” Jericho kept her voice a low hum, not wanting to intimidate him or wake up Morgana.

The boy stifled a yawn, rubbing one of his eyes and Jericho had to do everything in her power not to melt into a puddle. She just- It still amazed her just how much this boy looked like Merlin - when they’d been younger, obviously.

She figured that was what had made her connect with him so quickly. That odd familiarity she felt towards him, another magical child to protect and care for. It was what she excelled at.

The boy shrugged eventually, struggling as he tried to sit up. Quickly Jericho grabbed him under his arms and helped, amusedly grinning as she watched him cross his legs and wiggle around so he wouldn’t slide off her.

“So, a little better then? If you can sit on your own?”

This time she got a nod, which made her curious. At first she’d assumed his habit of non-verbal communication stemmed from being scared to death and in a tremendous amount of pain, but now she wondered if it could be something else.
Was he mute? Or did he not know how to speak because he could communicate telepathically? Or did he simply not care to say things out loud, if nodding and shrugging did the job?

“Mh… Do you feel good enough to talk?” She says it in a teasing tone, the one that used to get Merlin to speak to her again after a fight - mostly to insult her some more which would lead to both of them breaking out into a fit of laughter over how stupid it was that they’d been fighting in the first place.

Jericho smiled fondly at the memory.

The boy just stared at her for a moment, but then his lips quirked and he tilted his head to the side ever so slightly. This time his shrug came off as a challenge. Tickling him was Jericho’s first idea, but she remembered his injury just in time.

“Can you even talk? I mean, no shame if you don’t, but I thought a child of your age would have learned it by now.”

An offended eyebrow raised told Jericho that her bait had worked, the boy’s mouth falling open, but before the first word could tumble out he caught himself, snapping it back shut like a turtle.

“Ah, so you can’t. What a shame!” Jericho had to really focus on her facial movements, because her lips kept trying to break out into a grin. “I wanted to know your name, but I guess, I’ll just have to make one up then…”

Defiantly, the boy crossed his arms, turning his head all the way to the side and closing his eyes. Finally Jericho could relax her muscles and let herself smile at the very adorable display of childish stubbornness.

“How about Finnley?”

The boy didn’t give any reaction other than wrinkling his nose.

“Howard?”

His head ticked towards her the slightest bit.

“James the Third?”

Deep lines creased his forehead as his brows pulled together tightly, one eye opened a slit and he glared at her.

“Oh, I know! Arthur!”

“Okay, that’s enough!” The boy chimed in, his voice shrill, and he grabbed Jericho’s tunic as if that could physically stop her from making more of her silly suggestion. “My name is Mordred!”

Jericho tried to stifle her laughter by covering her mouth with her hand, but she couldn’t stop her body from shaking and had to wrap an arm around the boy so he wouldn’t tumble off her. Even through closed eyes she could feel him glaring down at her and when she finally got herself to calm down and look at him again, she nearly broke out into another fit. He just looked so cute, all mad and flustered.

“Okay, Mordred, I’m glad you can talk.” Another sharp look that had Jericho’s heart squeezed tightly and her chest filled with warmth. “Could you tell me if you want anything? Are you hungry or cold or warm or in need of anything that I might be able to provide for you?”

He shook his head at first, but then he began to actually think about it, “They took care of my leg… Merlin and the Lady. The other one- Gwen, she brought me food and water. And they all kept piling pillows and blankets on me!”

Jericho had noticed that it was a very soft corner they were currently in. To agree with Mordred, she grabbed a small pillow from beside her and hit him over the head with it. Though, graze probably would’ve been the more fitting word for it.

Mordred still gasped like she’d just slain his entire bloodline. Which she might’ve done.

Jericho pushed that thought away as quickly as it had come up, but stayed silent afterward, the smile on her lips suddenly heavy and strained.

“I would like to go outside.”

An impossible request to meet, yet Jericho nearly agreed because of the sad longing in Mordred’s voice. He sounded resigned as if he knew his wish was stupid, but tears even had the time to gather in his eyes, he found his head cradled between two big hands, slender fingers rubbing over his cheeks in circles. It was comforting in a way Mordred hadn’t experienced in a long time and he instantly felt himself lean into the motion.

“I promise we’ll get you out of here soon, but you have to be patient, okay? If anyone catches you…” Jericho didn’t need to finish the sentence.

Mordred’s eyes darkened as he thought of the execution. Or assassination. No one was really clear on what to call it yet.

Morgana stirred, the ruffling of her sheets causing both Jericho and Mordred to flinch and adjust their volume again. The boy’s eyes lingered on the drawn curtains a little longer and when he turned back to Jericho there was a spark of curiosity in his bright eyes.

“She’s nice to you.” He stated simply.

Jericho narrowed her eyes unintentionally and asked, “How do you know? I thought you were asleep?”

“I’m really good at pretending.”

“Of course you are.” Jericho puffed out a breath through her nose. Some pillows had to be relocated behind her back and she took the break to consider whether or not she could get away with it if she just started talking about something completely different, but the intently staring boy on her chest told her that she wouldn’t. “Yes, she is.”

“Why? I thought nobles were… arses.”

“Are druids allowed to swear?”

“I’m not technically a druid yet, so it’s a bit of a grey area-”

“Mordred!”

“What? I just want to know why the noble is being nice to you!”

And then Mordred whipped out the secret method that was puppy eyes and Jericho felt her resolve resolve into thin air. She sighed deeply, years of dealing with Merlin and now this little shit making her sound ten years older than she actually was.

Showing little sympathy, Mordred lay a hand on her head, patting her twice. But he didn’t budge, still waiting for an answer. A good and honest one.

“Morgana is just a good person. She’s kind to everyone she meets, unless they prove themselves unworthy of her affections and I think you’re very lucky you ended up with her. She’ll make sure you’re safe, just like Merlin and I will.”

Seemingly satisfied, Mordred yawned again and sprawled himself out over Jericho’s chest, his head resting on her shoulder. Jericho took that as her sign to draw a blanket over them and get to sleep. But she’d barely closed her eyes, when Mordred asked another one of his eerily intrusive questions.

“But you don’t think you’re worth her affections?”

“Jesus Christ, kid! How much of our conversation did you listen to?” Jericho blinked down at him, fighting for some kind of composure, but it slipped once she saw the broad grin on Mordred's face. She felt her neck heat up.

“Who’s that?”

“Who?”

“Jesus Christ?”

“Some made up character from a book my mother used to read to us, but that’s not-” Jericho bit back an exasperated sigh, gently laying her hands on either side of Mordred’s face, the way he leaned into the touch nearly melting her heart away. If it hadn’t been for that mischievous grin- “... that’s not the point right now. You should really go to sleep.”

A weak attempt at being sensible, but Jericho had grown tired too. Her lids felt heavy as rocks and her brain sluggish. It would only be a matter of time - or rather a certain amount of questions - until she’d slip up and answer the wrong one truthfully. Mordred seemed to be aware of that.

“To answer your question-”

“Mordred!”

“I was awake for most of it.”

“Mordred!”

“That was a lie. I was awake the whole time. Then I fell asleep for a while and now I’m awake again.”

“Merlin!”

There was a short pause during which they both just stared at each other. Mordred looked stunned for a few seconds, then he blinked and that smirk was back. Jericho wanted to tear her hair out or do some of that pretend-sleeping herself. Maybe he’d back off then.

“Did you just call me your brother’s name?” Mordred asked, excited over something.

“Yes…” Jericho sighed.

“Because…?” Mordred drew the word long, hopefully waiting for an answer, but Jericho leaned back and closed her eyes. It took him a moment to realise what it was she was doing, but then he heard the first, certainly fake snore and his eyes went wide. “HEY!”

“Ouch!” Jericho rubbed the stinging spot on her forehead. “Did you just flick me? Also, be quiet. We don’t want to wake up Morgana.”

“No, you don’t want to wake up Morgana because you have some weird complexes-”

“Okay, enough. You-” Jericho gathered both of Mordred’s hands in one of her own, holding them still so he couldn't attack her again. He giggled, but ended up yawning, long and heavily. “Okay, if I answer some of your questions, will you promise to go to sleep and bother me with the rest another day?”

“Hmm…” Mordred pretended to think about the offer, putting on a serious expression that reminded of the council men during one of their meetings. But then he yawned again and this time the kid had to blink a couple of times before shaking the haziness that clouded his eyes. “Fine. But don’t think about lying. I might be a child, but I am not stupid!”

“Oh, you definitely aren’t. Not in the intellectual sense at least.” Jericho waited for a moment, holding Mordred’s hands a little tighter, but when he didn’t catch on to the insult she continued. “No, I don’t think I’m worth Morgana’s affection, but she is nice to me because I am selfish and enjoy it, so I don’t tell her about all the shit things I’ve done. And no, I will not be taking questions on that. Jesus Christ is actually a half-god, son of that weird god those even weirder Christians worship. And I called you Merlin because you are just as annoying as him and you look a lot like he did when he was your age and to be completely honest with you, it freaks me out. Like a lot.”

“Jesus Christ…” Mordred mumbled, a little less exhausted and a little more overwhelmed than Jericho before.

“Exactly. Now, for the love of everything, go to sleep!”

He actually listened, no doubt already forming his questions for tomorrow, but Jericho hardly cared as long as he kept his head on her shoulder and his breathing even. And it took her far less time to fall asleep, too, than it usually would have. Something about having Mordred’s small body lying on top of hers took her years back to her childhood, to her and Merlin curled around each other on the floor, using the other for comfort.

She’d always drifted off into sleep quickly when he was by her side.


Morgana waited for a couple minutes, counting their breaths to make sure they were really even and asleep, before she crawled out of bed.

When they’d thought she’d only turned in her sleep, Morgana had actually woken up… and maybe listened in on their conversation. She hadn’t been able to help it.

Morgana had never heard anything like it! They talked so intimately, like they’d known each other for years and not just a day - that Jericho had even gotten the boy to talk counted as a miracle on its own. They joked and bickered and…

Gods, Morgana’s eyes welled up with tears all over again when she thought of the last part. How feigned the lightness in Jericho’s voice had sounded as she talked about herself like she was nothing. The consolation came quickly.

Morgana slipped through the curtains, her heart swelling and accelerating at the sight of Jericho and Mordred all snuggled up and deep asleep. The crazy idea Morgana had had didn’t seem so crazy anymore or like an idea at all and before she could think about it too much, she laid next to them.

Not to be too intrusive, she grabbed her own blanket and pillow, but she turned their way, eyes sliding slowly across Jericho’s features. They were a bit mushy in the dark, but even so Morgana could decipher the alert expression on them as if she’d be fully awake and ready to fight if given a reason.

So Morgana made sure to be extra careful when she took her hand, which had fallen off Mordred and now lay beside her, palm facing upwards. Gently she interlaced their fingers, her thumb drawing circles into the calloused skin until her eyes became too heavy to keep open.



*



“And where have you been?”

So many places, Merlin thought, I had to take care of a druid child, talk to a dragon, who advised me not to help said druid child, in fact, I’m pretty sure he expects me to kill the child, additionally, I’m running on three hours of sleep and stupidly confessed everything to Gaius, so I had to listen to a lecture and a half before getting here.

He said none of that to Arthur and instead placed his breakfast on the table that the Prince was sitting at, shooting him a lopsided smirk. Arthur rolled his eyes, shovelling a spoon full of porridge into his mouth.

“One and a half days.” Arthur said, still chewing.

Merlin pulled a face at the sound it produced, swallowing a comment about manners - because he really didn’t have ground to stand on - and crossed his arms to hide the way his hands shook from lack of sleep and proper nutrition. Maybe he could steal some pastry off Arthur’s plate.

“One and a half days of what?” Merlin asked eventually, when the Prince was still staring at him, expectantly.

“One and a half days of you missing. So enlighten me, Merlin, what have you been up to?”

“Err…”

Yeah, Merlin hadn’t thought of a lie. Not a believable one anyway. Between his moral dilemmas and prophetic problems there had been no room for scheming. And anyway, Merlin was rarely the one who had to come up with solutions for his magical side hustles - Jericho always took care of that.

But he hadn’t seen her in a while, which was also constantly bothering him, a little voice in the back of his head chiming in every couple minutes and reminding him that he should go to her.

“Morgana speculated that you might’ve been hiding, ‘cause you got scared.” Arthur continued, badly concealed amusement over Merlin’s speechlessness flickering across his face, but he just so managed to keep the corners of his mouth from twitching upwards. “I’d find that highly amusing, since your sister managed to show up yesterday and serve me dinner, but you… You seem to be a bigger coward than a woman! Got anything to say in your defence?”

Merlin didn’t, stuck on the part where he claimed Jericho took over Merlin’s duties the night before. It wasn't unusual for her to step in sometimes, but normally those times only applied to behind the scene work, like polishing Arthur’s armour or mucking out the stables. Jericho absolutely refused to spend any more time around the Prince than necessary and Arthur seemed to be okay with that as he rarely ordered her to do things for him personally… So why would she-

“Merlin?”

“I’m surprised you're out of bed already.” Merlin knew it was a weak come-back, Arthur’s raised brow, telling him as much, but he was too tired to come up with anything else. So, he doubled down, forcing a teasing smile, “I’m just saying, you’re a deep sleeper and it always takes me forever to get you out of bed.”

Arthur rolled his eyes again (he did that a lot around Merlin) and plopped a piece of bread into his mouth. Then his gaze drifted to the window, a distant look to him, and Merlin took his chance and took another chunk of the loaf.

“Well, normally my father doesn’t send guards to wake up at the crack of dawn so I can go druid hunting.”

Merlin’s stomach twisted. Oh yeah, he’d almost forgotten about that.

“That’s not going well then?” It had been an innocent enough question, no sarcasm behind it, yet Arthur still fixed him with such a ferocious glare that it sent Merlin a couple steps back and looking for something to do. The bed.

Merlin folded the blanket nicely, fluffed the pillows just the way Arthur liked them and tugged the sheets back into place. He was finished just as Arthur got up and Merlin got him dressed and ready. The prince demanded his leather west - the one he usually wore for hunting - and Merlin broke out into a cold sweat.

Was that how Arthur looked at the search for the boy? A hunt? But instead of an animal, it was a magical child, which Arthur didn’t seem to be able to tell the difference between…

“Will you be needing me today?” Merlin asked as he held the door open for Arthur, following him as the Prince made his way to the square where his knights were waiting.

“Well, it would be nice if you could at least show up with dinner tonight. But of course, you have my fullest understanding, if such a small task should not fit into your busy, and most important schedule.” Arthur’s voice was dripping with sarcasm and when Merlin dared to flash him a grin, he punched his manservants shoulder - not as hard as he would with his knights, but harder than he’d ever hit Merlin before.

In response, Merlin nearly tipped over, not having expected such force, and Arthur quickly snaked an arm around his waist to keep him upright. The touch was gone within a second, but Merlin still felt the tips of his ears burn.

“Wimp.” Arthur huffed the word under his breath.

“Apologies, Sire, I didn’t quite understand what you said. Would you mind repeating that?” Merlin asked in that feigned polite tone that always got Arthur to crack up.

It was no different this time. Arthur tried to turn, flee towards the stairs, but the grin splitting across his face could not be hidden from Merlin, who sported a similar one.

“Wimp!” Arthur called after him, already jumping down the first few steps.

Merlin didn’t reply, knowing that if anyone overheard him yelling at Arthur for being an arse, he’d be hanged before noon. He smiled to himself as he walked to Morgana’s chambers.

Once he got there, he let himself in, slipping into the room nearly soundlessly. Merlin had expected to see someone right away - Gwen or Morgana or Jericho - but no, not a single person in sight, no matter how hard he craned his neck, scanning every inch of the room.

Okay, maybe Gwen and Morgana were out to keep up appearances, but Jericho still had to be here with the boy. He could feel his magic shift and trash towards the direction of the curtained-off section. It was probably for the best that they’d be alone for a bit (hopefully the child was still asleep), so Merlin could tell his sister about the dragon’s warning.

Quietly he slinked over, pulling the curtains back carefully in order not to wake anyone behind it and then he nearly destroyed all his efforts when he saw exactly who or rather how many people were concealed by the fabric. Just in time Merlin managed to muffle the scream that escaped him by slapping a hand across his mouth.

On the floor, amidst a heap of blankets, furs and pillows, lay Morgana and Jericho, tightly pressed against one another. Merlin blinked, the thought that maybe this was private and he shouldn’t be staring pushed aside as his curiosity took over.

He looked closer, taking stock of the way Morgana had tucked herself against Jericho and the way his sister’s nose was buried in Morgana’s dark hair and how their intertwined hands rested on Jericho’s chest. And then Merlin got another reason to scream as his gaze trailed lower and he suddenly found himself staring back at a pair of bright, round and very open pair of eyes.

Startled, he screamed into his hands once more, only to have the boy smirk back at him from where he sat, draped across the two women, looking more than comfortable.

Good morning, Emrys.

This time Merlin caught himself just in time not to flinch as the child’s voice sounded through his head. He gave him a tight-lipped smile.

Good morning. You seem to be doing better.

I am, thanks to you and Lady Morgana. You have my sincerest and deepest thankfulness for that.

The boy looked at Merlin with such wide, astonished eyes that it had Merlin frown. That and how… reverently he spoke to him. Nobody had ever treated him this way and he wasn’t quite sure how to handle it or how to place exactly what it was that lay behind the boy’s devotion to him. So, Merlin blamed the oddness of their interaction on the feverish glaze that coated his skin and sat down instead, making sure to leave an appropriate amount of space between him and Morgana.

Why do you keep calling me Emrys?

It’s your name.

Yeah, that was what the dragon had said. Merlin remembered now that it was brought up again. How much there was, supposedly, written about him. He wondered if the boy had read some of that stuff. He was about to ask, when the boy swayed, having to blink so his eyes would stay open. The immediate worry that washed over him frustrated Merlin.

Because how was he supposed to not care about this child? Why shouldn’t he protect him when he’d done nothing wrong? He had magic, just like Merlin, and looking at him… Merlin was reminded of himself, how he truly felt walking around Camelot all day, every day, harbouring this big secret, scared someone would find out.

He needed his sister’s advice. Now.

Do you think they’ll wake up any time soon?

The boy shrugged, bending a little closer to Jericho’s head and studied her with almost comical intensity. He even held a finger to her nose to check her breathing before turning back to Merlin and shaking his head.

Alright, then this will have to do.

Merlin picked up a small, roundish pillow, cringing at the feeling of the velvet fabric, and threw it at his sister’s head. She jerked up before the pillow even had the time to properly roll off her, nearly throwing the boy off her, but he held on to her shoulders just in time and slid into her lap.

Morgana, woken by the commotion, wasn’t so eager to wake up and merely rolled onto her back, peering at Merlin through barely open eyes. She didn’t complain about their proximity, so Merlin stayed put, grinning at a confused looking Jericho.

“Rise and shine, dear sister.”

“Ugh, Merlin, what the fu-” Jericho’s brittle voice broke away entirely when she saw the child, who shouldn’t be sworn in front of, and Morgana, still close by.

Her eyes went wide for a moment, her lips whitening with how tightly she pressed them together and then she looked back at Merlin, to that grin on his face, and some part of her relaxed enough for her to open her mouth again without swearing.

“Don’t call me that, you know I hate it.”

“I do.” The corners of his mouth turned up so far it became painful and Jericho rolled her eyes. “So, I assume you all slept well?”

“Fantasically.” Morgana propped herself up against a pillow, lazily threading her fingers through her frizzy hair.

She was smiling and looked over at Jericho, who was looking at the kid, clearly waiting for him to say something. When he didn’t, she stabbed a finger into his uninjured side, forcing him to gasp a laugh. Once recovered, the boy shot her a glare, saying something without words that Jericho seemed to understand, because she rolled her eyes at the child.

“Oh, don’t tell me you’re shy again!” She said, poking the boy’s pouty cheek.

“Again? Was he ever not?” Merlin asked, expecting an answer, but all he got was an exasperated sigh from Jericho and Morgana averting her gaze.

After a beat of awkward silence, they got to planning, all agreeing that they had to get the boy back to the druids. Merlin half-hoped that would satisfy the dragon too. Sure, he was still somewhat protecting the boy, but what harm could he do once he was out of Camelot?

He was still a little on edge, the lack of one on one time with Jericho really grating his nerves, but then he settled in, the boy in his lap as they both watched Jericho getting Morgana ready for the day, and Merlin got distracted for a while. Watching his sister move around the room, exactly knowing where she was going and what she was doing, had something calming to it.

The way she’d sometimes limp had Merlin bothered for a while, but he gave her one questioning look and she shook her head, which meant as much as: later.

Gwen joined them at some point, carrying a heavy breakfast plate that Jericho quickly took from her and Morgana asked them all to join her at the table, so they could eat and plot together. Merlin nearly found himself asking to become her servant too - Arthur seemed like the rudest person alive next to the Kings’ ward.

“So there is a slight issue that we might have to take into consideration.” Gwen said, swallowing the piece of apple she’d been nibbling on. “Everyone coming in or out of the castle gates gets checked. There’s guards stationed everywhere and they are thorough, they searched me on my way here, so I’d know. Smuggling the boy out will be almost impossible.”

“There’s a secret door in the armoury.” Merlin said before anyone had the time to panic. “I can bring him out that way.”

“We.” Jericho added.

The boy, who was back in her arms, looked up at her, smiling a little when she gave him a wink and a grin.

“That’s too dangerous!” Morgana intervened, her focus solely on Merlin, though he believed to have seen her scoot a little closer to Jericho beside her. “I’ll do it.”

“We.” Jericho repeated, sounding almost offended that neither of them seemed to know that if they put themselves into danger, she’d obviously be right there with them.

Merlin and Morgana both looked at her, the way her arms wrapped tightly around the boy, coming to the realisation that there would be no room for arguing with her, and then turned back to each other.

“I’m good with secret doors.” Merlin shrugged.

“Yes, and if Uther catches you, he’ll execute you.” Morgana shot back, her voice tight. “The boy is my responsibility. Let me take him.”

“Us.”

They looked at each other for a moment longer, but the sheer intensity in Morgana’s eyes had Merlin sigh and surrender. “Well, we’ll need a key. At least let me get that for you. Both of you.”

Merlin added as soon as he felt his sisters’ stare on him. He didn’t need to look at her to know she was smiling contently. Why did she always have to be so eager to be in the middle of trouble?

“Who has it?” Gwen asked as she was beginning to feel a little left out.

“Arthur.”



*



It took three days to get those damn keys.

Merlin probably should’ve tried getting them with magic right from the get go, but no, his scared arse wanted to do it the old fashioned way - which had resulted in multiple trips to the floor for both of them, one incident where Arthur was pushed against the wall with Merlin hanging on to his belt and one trip to the stables, which Merlin got to muck out as punishment for his “even more irritating clumsiness than usual”.

At least that gave him the chance to talk to Jericho, who showed up no more than five minutes later, pitchfork in hand and silently getting to work alongside Merlin. She didn’t seem completely at ease, her eyes always darting around, her shiftiness even worse than any other day.

Clearly, being away from the boy (and Morgana) wasn’t easy for her, but Merlin was glad she was there nonetheless, the thought of telling her he was fine and sending her away evaporated the moment she laid a hand on his shoulder.

Jericho gave him that look - the one that gave Merlin the feeling of being safe, that no matter what weighed on him, he could tell her because she would understand and help him - and he caved.

The pitchfork was tossed aside as Merlin threw his arms around Jericho’s torso, so she could wrap hers around his shoulders. Merlin loved those hugs. They felt like safety, her arms caging him like a nest, keeping him from whatever it was that scared or bothered him. Merlin really needed that.

“So, how’re you?” Jericho asked after a minute of Merlin stubbornly pressing his face against her shoulder as if he could keep it there and refuse to face it all - that shitty prophecy, the annoying dragon and the sorcerer murdering king. Oh and Arthur too!

“The dragon told me not to help the kid and I can’t steal the key without… committing a crime and I’m- What if you get caught when you try to sneak the kid out?” It was much smaller word-vomit than the last one, yet this one felt heavier, more suffocating.

Jericho seemed to feel it too as her hold on Merlin tightened. Sometime while Merlin had spoken, Jericho had maneuvered them to the ground, to one of the few spots of hay that hadn’t been shat on. He crossed his legs, leaning fully into his sister, closing his eyes for a moment. He hadn’t slept well in days, the absence of the sound of another person in his room bugging him more than he liked to admit.

“You worry too much.” Jericho said eventually, moving her hands to Merlin’s arms so she could push him away just far enough for him to see the warm smile on her face. He tried to pout, but didn’t quite succeed. “You’re not alone in this, you know that, right? I might not be part of your cool prophecy, but I am part of you.”

Merlin smiled at that, small, but unbelievably relieved. Then he shook his head, his eyes lowering to the prickly, yellow strands beneath so Jericho wouldn’t see the sadness that overcame him all of a sudden.

“I know… I’ve just felt kind of alone these past days.” He made the mistake of glancing up, catching the glimpse of guilt that flashed across Jericho’s face, before she could banish it to the place she stored all her feelings at.

“I’m sorry, Merlin. I should’ve- I should’ve thought of that, but I was too occupied with the kid and Morga- I’m sorry. I fucked up.” She barely got to finish the last sentence, Merlin was already vigorously shaking his head.

“No! No, that not-” He took a deep breath, putting a firm hand on Jericho’s arm. “Of course, you had to be there for the boy. I am not blaming you, not in any way. If I’d really, really needed you, I would’ve told you.” Merlin watched as Jericho let the words settle, waited until she looked somewhat comforted. Then he gave her arm a squeeze and a small smirk curled his lips. “And I also, totally and fully, get that Morgana needed you too. As a pillow for example.”

“Merlin!”

“I mean, she looked really comfortable, all curled up against you. I’m pretty sure I saw her smiling too.”

“Merlin, come on!” Jericho shoved him, only lightly, but she sounded upset for some reason. Her lips were pursed and something shimmered in her eyes. “I’m sure it’s just her nightmares that make her seek some comfort. Or she wants to be close to the kid.”

“And that’s why she’s clinging on to you like her life depends on it?” Merlin knew there was no argument Jericho could make her as for the past three mornings, he’d walked in to find them just like he had the first time.

They never made a big deal out of it, Morgana always looked like she was up in the clouds and Jericho always scrambled to her feet, red as the morning sky even though she tried to hide it by scurrying around the room, busing herself with non-sense tasks. And this morning, Morgana had looked at Merlin, questioningly, and Merlin had just shrugged, which Morgana had mirrored and then the boy had done it too.

“Is it because you’re worried about Morgana being a noble woman? Because I don’t think she minds.” Merlin tried to be helpful, lift some of whatever heavy weight seemed to have settled on Jericho’s taut shoulders, but she shook her head.

Then nodded.

And then she shook her head again.

Groaning she said, “That’s not the most important topic right now. Let’s get back to your shit.”

“You mean our shit?”

“Haha, Merlin.” Jericho tried her hardest not to smile and eventually stopped resisting, the grin that spread over her face matching Merlin’s. “Anyway, the dragon… I’d ignore him for now. Whatever cryptic advice he’s trying to give you is clearly bullshit and unless he elaborates and tells us Mordred is a two hundred year old dark wizard, I don’t think you should listen to him.”

“Mordred?”

“That’s the boy's name.”

“He told you his name?” Merlin’s jaw dropped, surprised.

“Yeah, three or four days ago. We talk at night when Morgana’s asleep…” A fond undertone crept into her voice, which Jericho noticed and quickly got rid of by clearing her throat. “He’s actually quite the little shit. Reminds me of you a lot.”

“Thanks.”

“As for the key… Do it the illegal way. Stealing it is already a crime already, so why not go all the way?” Jericho tried to joke, but the way Merlin’s face crumpled had her turn serious in a heart beat. “I can help out. Distract Arthur so there’s no way he’ll notice you doing… crime.”

“You? Getting near Arthur? By your own, free will?” Merlin couldn’t help but chuckle. Jericho looked miserable at the idea of it. “Alright, how will we do this?”

By the time they finished mucking out the stable, the twins had come up with a fully formed plan - one that had Merlin grin like it was his birthday and Jericho sulk and scowl like she was being led to her death bed (though she claimed their plan was worse than dying).

All they had to do, really, was find Arthur, take advantage of his saviour complex and have Jericho humiliate herself in a way that would haunt her till the end of her life.

She had (finally) admitted to Merlin that she’d hurt her ankle, which had led to him coming up with the idea that she could pretend she’d  it hurt again in front of Arthur and invoke his heroic need to help her. So while the Prince was distracted, Merlin would have a very easy time magically stealing his keys from behind a pillar.

“I can’t believe I have to do this again.” Jericho grumbled as they walked through the castle. They figured they’d just walk around and eventually they’d find Arthur.

“Again?” Merlin cocked a brow.

“Yeah, right after I injured myself I ran into Leon and had to play the whole maiden-in-need-routine so he wouldn’t suspect me of being the shooter… It probably wouldn’t have been necessary. They don’t suspect the assassin to be a woman anyway.”

And somehow, not being considered for murder offended Jericho. Merlin huffed, hoping that his annoyance over his sister's weird way of thinking would overshadow the surge of panic that finding out how close she’d been to getting caught caused.

They didn’t have to walk around all that long before hearing Arthur’s voice. He was shouting at his men, clearly unhappy with their fruitless search and taking it out on them. Jericho shot Merlin a doubtful look, but he was already up the stairs they were standing by, gesturing towards the bottom of the steps.

Understanding what he wanted her to do, she draped herself on the last step, assuming a position that looked like she’d just fallen and re-twisted her ankle.

The shouting continued for a couple minutes, during which Merlin and Jericho kept glancing at each other, sometimes rolling their eyes and sometimes pulling pitiful faces on behalf of whoever had to endure Arthur’s wrath. They stopped right away when a pair of footsteps echoed down the hall, coming right towards them.

Merlin dove behind the railing, out of sight, making it a little bit easier for Jericho to pretend he wasn’t there and let out a whine. It was too quiet, not believable enough… But Jericho knew her sense of shame wouldn’t let her do any better.

Without much hesitation she lifted her leg and smashed her ankle against the edge of one of the steps. It had healed somewhat, but the pain that shot through her leg was nearly as bad as when she’d first gotten injured and this time, she didn’t hold back the scream it elicited. The sound of stomping seized for a moment, before it continued, much quicker this time.

Something between a groan and a whimper escaped Jericho’s throat and she felt her face burn. Briefly she considered getting up and fleeing - hell, they could just pick the lock of that secret door! - but Arthur appeared too quickly, his face scrunched up in worry and fleeting anger.

“Sire-” Jericho hated the sound of her voice, so small with feigned helplessness. “I- I-”

She couldn’t get herself to say that she needed his help, so she just pretended to be in too much pain to speak, even producing a few tears that slowly rolled down her cheeks. Arthur hesitated when he realised who it was that had called for him, but one more look at Jericho clutching her ankle, crying, and he was over by her side, one hand on her shoulder and the other on her knee.

She wanted to cringe away from the touch, but reminded her that she had a part to play and closed her eyes, desperately pressing out some more of those pathetic sounds.

“What happened?” Arthur asked.

“I tripped and- Ah! I think I twisted my ankle again. Ouch- Gods, it hurts!” For a moment Jericho worried she’d overdone it, Arthur would call out her lie, because he had that weird, scrunched look on his face.

It took her a second to realise that she’d seen it before - that time she’d kind of died in his arms in the dungeons - and that this was what Arthur looked like when he was worried.

“I’ll bring you to Gaius. Can you walk?”

Of course she could, Jericho wanted to say. She wanted to stand up and prove just how able she was to bite through the pain and walk off, leaving behind this horribly unsettling version of Arthur and his concern that made her skin crawl. She did get up, took one step and let herself crash onto the floor again.

“Fuck-”

Arthur was by her side right away, with his back to the stairs. Good.

This way Merlin would have a very possible shot at getting the keys without the Prince noticing. Jericho should’ve thought of that when she’d assumed her position - that Arthur would have to be facing away from her magic-using brother - and she could’ve spared herself from further embarrassment. She felt Arthur’s hands grabbing her, one of his arms coming around her waist to pull her up and begrudgingly she realised that she’d have to stall him further.

One quick glance across Arthur’s shoulder told her that Merlin, whose face just so peaked around the banister, had only just begun his work.

“Give me a second!” Jericho was breathing hard, her voice sharp enough to actually scare Arthur off, his grip relenting just enough for him to still support her, but leaving her as she was. “I might faint.”

She wouldn’t, obviously, but Arthur paled at the threat. He raised a hand, but didn’t seem to know what to do with it, so it just hovered between him and Jericho. Maybe, if Jericho actually started showing signs of light-headedness, he’d slap her, which would definitely be better than that gentleness he treated her with at the moment.

Then, Arthur lowered his hand, bringing to Jericho’s ankle and tugging back the hem of her pant leg, revealing Morgana’s neatly done bandages. He looked at them for a moment, blinked twice and then glanced back at Jericho.

“You actually let Gaius look at it?” The surprise in Arthur’s voice irritated Jericho for reasons she couldn’t place at the time.

“Obviously.” She ground out between her teeth, throwing another look behind Arthur, pleased to see a golden key float through the air. It made her dare to drop some of the shameful act. “But not because you told me to.”

“Of course not.” Arthur snorted, then shook his head. “Honestly, I don’t know which of you is more stubborn, you or Merlin.”

Jericho didn’t give him an answer, only a glare that had Arthur laugh again. She wanted to kick him. He adjusted his position, as crouching seemed to be too uncomfortable, and instead knelt, which in turn had Jericho chuckle a bit.

“What?”

“Just-” Jericho’s voice broke off as she looked at Arthur again.

Something in the way she perceived him shifted into a direction she did not particularly like, something that had dared to reveal itself a couple of times, but Jericho had been able to ignore it so far - not anymore.

So far she’d been able to look at Arthur a certain way, see him as this arrogant, spoiled brat, who did as he pleased and obeyed his father’s word, never questioning it and living by the standards that had been set for him. That’s what she saw him as and everything… nice he’d done, she’d been able to excuse with that reasoning.

Saving Merlin’s life? Done out of duty.

Advocating for Lancelot? Done because it benefitted Arthur and his knights.

Taken the rightful blame to spare Merlin of another round in the stocks? Done because Jericho reminded him that he had some honour codex to follow.

But… Jericho wanted to press her eyes shut and think of something else, but her thoughts were too loud and the fact that Arthur just might actually have a good side to him could no longer be suppressed. Because here he was, the fucking Prince of Camelot kneeling next to a fucking servant because she’d gotten hurt. Not because of a heroic action or anything worth mentioning and Arthur was still here, worried, checking that she wasn’t seriously injured.

And he'd questioned his father's decision to kill the druid, had actually tried to fight him on it-

“Nothing…” Jericho muttered, a bitter taste spreading through her mouth.

She didn’t smile at Arthur when he frowned at her sudden change of mood or give him any other sign that she was alright. She stared at the floor, stewing over her newfound revelation and trying to find a way to disprove it.

“What is wrong with you?” Arthur sighed eventually, again trying to get her to her feet and this time Jericho let him, because when she looked up the stairs, she saw Merlin’s grinny face and a thumbs up. “And I don’t mean with your leg.”

“Yeah, I got that.” Jericho huffed, hoping it would cover the sharp inhale she took when she put some weight on her impaired food. It didn’t seem like it as Arthur shifted his hold on her, so he was carrying most of her weight. “And I don’t know what to tell you, no matter how many times you ask me that question.”

“I don’t ask it that often!”

“All the time!” Jericho exclaimed, her voice echoing through the corridors. They were going to the Physician’s chambers, even though she much rather would’ve been dropped off at Morgana’s chambers. “Practically every time I do something that does not coincide with you and your ideals, you blame it on something being wrong with me!”

“Well, I’m right, because there is something seriously off about you.” Arthur’s voice had a joking undertone, but the look he regarded her with was rather stern.

They went quiet when they passed a maid - the same one Merlin and Jericho had passed a couple days ago - and Jericho really didn’t want to think about what that girl must think of her. Or why her conversations always went silent when passing her.

“I probably got smacked around the head a couple too many times as a kid.” Jericho offered as explanation as soon as they turned a corner, along with a toothy grin.

“Wouldn’t surprise me. Have you always been such a loud mouth?”

Jericho shrugged, having to think as she couldn’t remember immediately. Then she shrugged again, “Probably.”

“It’s a wonder you have made it to adulthood, then.”

“Oh, please! Where I come from, people are actually allowed to have an opinion.” Jericho said.

Arthur’s head turned to her, a look of confusion in his eyes, even though he tried to hide it. He opened his mouth, hesitating, but eventually curiosity took over and he asked, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Careful!” Jericho called just before Arthur would’ve led them straight into a massive, golden candleholder. “I suggest you keep your eyes on where we’re going or we’ll both be needing Gaius’ attention.”

The embarrassment of nearly sending them both into a big, metal object had Arthur forget all about their conversation and they spent the rest of their walk in silence. The Prince completely ignored Jericho’s protest and accompanied her all the way, pushing open the door in such a showy way that it had Jericho roll her eyes and blush when Gaius turned from his workbench, eyes widening at the sight of them.

In short, Arthur explained what had happened and demanded Gaius check out Jericho’s ankle. Again.

Gaius, who had never heard of an injury in the first place, frowned, but upon Jericho’s warning look, he merely raised a scrutinizing brow and thanked Arthur for his attentiveness and care.

The Prince smiled at the praise and then left, which meant Gaius could yell at Jericho all he wanted while treating her.




*



They had everything they needed now, which meant that all that was left to do was prepare.

It wasn’t long before sundown, so everything had to be gathered and done quickly, all while not acting suspicious, which was harder than one thought.

Gwen had to go home and get one of her dresses for Morgana to wear, Merlin went to get two horses ready and Jericho wandered to the kitchens and somehow convinced the cook to give her some food that would be fitting for a longer journey. Once they all met back in Morgana’s chambers, a solemn silence accompanied them and if someone had to speak, it was done in hushed tones.

Gwen got her mistress changed and Jericho could hear them whisper something behind the changing screen. The topic of their conversation? Assuming by the almost pleading tone of Gwen’s voice it had to be about her worry for Morgana.

Merlin interrupted her from her packing, a sword in his hands. Jericho had no idea how the hell he’d managed to sneak that up here without any questions, but something about the way Merlin looked at her - eyes narrow and lips pressed together - told her this wasn’t the time for questions. So she sheathed the sword into the matching belt Merlin had laid out on the table and didn’t protest when Merlin guided her towards a chair.

She also didn’t complain when he undid her perfectly fine braid to redo it, only glanced towards the bed where Mordred sat, swinging his legs and looking at them with mild curiosity. He’d really come out of his shell more since Morgana’s treatments had rid him of his fever and though he still didn’t speak to anyone but Jericho yet, he was moving around more freely, showing interest in books or the little trinkets Morgana had collected on shelves and drawers.

“Promise you’ll be careful.” Merlin’s voice was quiet, somber.

“I will be.” Jericho said, but hadn’t been as serious as her brother wanted her to be as promptly, he tugged a strand of her hair a little too tightly. “Ah- Merlin, I’ll be as careful as I can be. I promise.”

“And you’ll make it back?” It wasn’t actually a question. Merlin’s orders always came with a question mark at the end, but really, he wasn’t asking.

“Of course.” Jericho lied.

Really, she couldn’t predict the future and anything could happen. She certainly would lay down her life if it meant Morgana and Mordred were safe, but if she let Merlin know that, he might freak out. Or worse, whatever that would look like. He was quiet, contemplating something. The braiding stopped for a moment, but Jericho could feel Merlin’s finger running through her hair and briefly she smiled to herself.

When they were younger, Merlin used to always play with her hair when he had something big to think about and he’d always used to claim that it helped him concentrate. He hadn’t done it in ages though.

“I hate this. That I won’t be there… We don’t do these things apart. I’m supposed to-” Merlin stopped his quiet rant when he felt Jericho’s hand touch his wrist, giving it a short, but firm squeeze.

He didn’t need to check to know she was smiling that warm, comforting smile of hers. She’d inherited it from their mother.

“Listen, I know this sucks, but… I guess this is one of those things that come with this new life and maybe it’s time we get used to that.”

“Yeah,” Merlin huffed, but he didn’t sound nearly as irritated as moments before. “easy for you to say. So far you have been the only one going on dangerous adventures without me. Just wait until the tables turn and see how much you like it.”

“See, the thing is that that’ll never happen.” Jericho turned, the finished braid swinging through the air, and she grinned brightly.

“But- You just said-” Merlin wasn’t sure whether to laugh or give into the still simmering anger in his stomach.

Jericho tutted as she got up, laying a hand on Merlin’s cheek, but not in an endearing way, but that annoying, patronising older sister was. As if Merlin was years younger than her and not just an hour. She tapped his cheek once, her grin widening and then she turned to Morgana and Gwen, who’d just finished getting the Lady ready.

Mordred joined them, kicking his feet as he took his place between Jericho and Morgana. They went over the plan once more, all aware but not mentioning that calling it a plan was a stretch. Once Morgana, Jericho and Mordred were out the door it would pretty much depend on their luck, stealth and speed.

After that it was hugs and goodbye’s, Gwen hanging on to Merlin’s arms as their friends proceeded to the door. Jericho looked back once, one hand on Mordred’s back, sending the two a reassuring nod and a lopsided smile. Then the door closed and they hurried along the corridor.

It was well past midnight, no serving staff around to see them and the guards that patrolled stomped and clattered around loud enough for them to swerve around them, take different halls and routes to escape them - Morgana’s knowledge of the castle came in very handy - yet Jericho still saw the way both Morgana and Mordred tensed each time even the slightest of sounds echoed around them.

“You know, maybe a more muted colour cloak would’ve been an idea.” Jericho said, nodding towards her mistress's bright red piece of clothing. It enveloped her whole, framed her pale face beautifully, so she couldn’t even really pretend to be serious.

“Oh…” Morgana looked down self-consciously, clearly not having much experience with heists like these. The worry bled from her face when she heard Jericho chuckle into her hand and she gave her servant a playful push. “Oh, don’t be a tease! This is not the time for jokes!”

Mordred looked up at them, searching and finding each of their hands. He held on to them, smiling quietly.

The night air was quiet when they made it out of the castle, continuing their jog towards the armoury. It was all a little too quiet for Jericho’s liking, but she didn’t say anything, stemming open the door and letting Morgana and Mordred pass through before following. Then, just before the door shut, the warning bells erupted, slicing the atmosphere like a broad sword.

Morgana gasped, Mordred whined and tightened his hold on the two women and Jericho swore as she produced the key from her pocket. Her hand and fingers stayed steady as she unlocked the hidden passage, though she couldn’t say the same for her racing heart.

Jericho wouldn’t let them take Mordred and not Morgana either, she’d make sure of it. She thought it over and over again, like a mantra, as she led them through the lower town.

This was more Jericho’s field of expertise and she fell a step behind, ushering the others along.