Chapter Text
A tournament of knights comes to Camelot. As the reigning champion, Prince Arthur has mighty expectations to uphold. As his servant, Merlin has quite the exciting first week ahead of him.
Of course Maggie wants Arthur to win. He’s her… well, they’re not friends. They can’t be, obviously, he’s a prince for goodness sake. But he’s kind to her. He calls her by name instead of just snapping his fingers in her direction like the king or visiting nobles.
The only knight she’s really worried about beating him is Sir Valiant. He keeps giving Arthur these evil glares, and within the day he’s arisen to the most aggressive, most talked-about challenger.
Well into the night, she’s up and pacing the castle. She gets too restless within these stone walls, even six months of castle life not doing much to quell her fourteen years’ experience of living in the wilderness. Her mind is used to worrying, used to constant noise and always being at attention. The castle is too quiet, like a calm before a storm.
A short way into her walk-about, she bumps into Merlin. He’s a bit wild-eyed and looks to be on a mission, so she knows he’s up to nothing good.
“Merlin, what in the world are you doing up so late?” she hisses.
He looks side to side, and pulls her around a corner, voice low. “I think Valiant is using magic to win the tournament, but I have no proof yet. Will you help me?”
“Why would you think something like that?”
“One of the men he fought today is paralyzed. It’s from a snake’s venom, but he wasn’t around any snakes, except—”
“Except the ones on Valiant's shield.”
“Exactly.”
She turns the possibilities over in her mind. She doesn’t actually know Merlin that well. It’s possible he’s crazy. He may just be planting something to get Valiant disqualified because he doesn’t think Arthur can win. But the look in his eyes tells her he believes what he’s saying. And she saw that other knight earlier, he looked positively ill when he was carried off the field. “What can I do?”
“I’m going to sneak into his chambers. Stand guard at the door and alert if someone’s coming.”
She nods, and follows him to Valiant’s chambers, doing as he asks. The knights are dining with the king tonight, so there shouldn’t be any disturbances as long as Merlin is quick.
Ten minutes later though, a few of the knights emerge from the dinner, Valiant among them. Merlin still hasn’t returned from his chambers, so Maggie thinks fast.
“Sir Valiant!” she calls out loudly, praying Merlin will be able to hear and sneak out. “Congratulations on your win this morning.”
He frowns deeply. “Who are you?”
“The Lady Morgana’s maidservant, sir. We are ever so invested in the tournament.”
His whole demeanor brightens at the mention of Morgana. “Does she root for me?”
“Oh, yes. In fact, she sent me on her behalf to express her admiration. She’s looking forward to seeing you in the finale with Prince Arthur.”
“Is she now?”
The soft rattling of a door catches both of their attention. Valiant’s face falls as he looks down the hall for any disturbance.
“What was that?”
“I don’t know, sir,” Maggie lies. She hopes it was Merlin sneaking out.
“It sounded like it came from my chambers.” He looks at Maggie once, then back down the hall. He draws his sword. “Give the Lady Morgana my thanks,” he says dismissively, and pursues the noise.
Maggie follows him just to the bend in the corridor, to make sure Merlin isn’t spotted. When she sees nothing, she sighs in relief, and makes her way back to Merlin’s chambers.
There, her friend reveals the head of a snake, taken from Valiant’s shield. They’ve proved it. He’s using magic.
The next morning, Maggie is brought before the royal court as a witness to the rarity of the specimen. Her history as a traveler, along with her position as the royal mapmaker’s apprentice and guide aid for knights, allows her to attest before the court that the snake head Merlin found doesn’t appear in Camelot or any of the surrounding countryside. In fact, in all her years and travels, she has never seen anything like it before.
But in the end, her testimony means nothing without the key witness. The knight that fought Sir Valiant the previous day is discovered to be dead. This has all been for nothing.
Arthur and Merlin return to Arthur’s chambers. Arthur accuses Merlin of making a fool of him, and sacks him on the spot.
But he still needs to train. He’s got a fight to win tomorrow.
Later that evening, he calls upon Maggie.
“You should take my place in the tournament tomorrow,” Arthur jokes between swings.
Maggie blocks him easily. “No way. I’m not sparring with a man who has venomous snakes in his magic shield.”
“So you believe him, then? Merlin?”
“Of course.”
Arthur slows down, stills his sword and points it towards the ground. He takes a deep breath. “Was I being too harsh on him today? Sacking him?”
Maggie mirrors him and steps back. This is rare for Arthur, deliberately asking for her opinion. It must be serious. “Do you want the honest answer or the one that will make you feel better about yourself?”
A punched-out laugh forces its way out of his chest. “Six months in Camelot, you’re finally learning! But no, this time I do want the honest answer.”
“Yes, you were too harsh.”
He frowns. “He made me look a fool.”
“You don’t need anyone’s help to look a fool.”
“Oi!” He springs for another strike, but Maggie parries again, and their practice continues.
When Arthur decides he’s done for the night, they rest on the stone steps for a moment to catch their breath. Luckily he remembered to spring for snacks, nuts and berries, for afterward. Nights like these can sometimes get long, and a little snack never goes to waste.
It reminds her of six months ago, that time she nearly ran away from Camelot and he went looking for her. The first time they became… well, she couldn’t call them friends. They’re not that. But the first time she thought of him as more than a prince. Like a person who cared, who was worth caring about. Now, she passes a berry his way once again—this time he’s aware, of course—and he chomps it. She tosses another one, he catches it in his hand, and tosses it back. She slices it in half mid-air with her knife, catches one half in her mouth and balances the other half on her nose. She leaves it there for a few seconds before tilting her head and catching it in her mouth finally.
“How do you do that?” He says with a hint of awe in his voice.
“I was bored a lot as a child,” she admits. “Not much to do in the woods but play with sticks and make up tricks with berries.”
“Must be nice,” he mumbles, gaze distant.
She’s sure she wasn’t meant to hear him. He’s looking up at the stars in a longing sort of way that makes her sad.
“It was,” she admits aloud. It’s a rare thing for Arthur to be as vulnerable as he’s been today. She should repay him in kind, especially since it’s so clear he needs a distraction from whatever awaits him in the tournament tomorrow.
His head jerks toward her, a befuddled expression on his face. “Was it?”
“I mean, the castle’s nice enough,” she says, “but it’s… too much, sometimes. Before, I was free. No one waiting up, needing to know where I am every second of every day, no duties to anyone but myself. When I was hungry, I ate, when I was tired, I slept. Now I have people who actually care where I am, whether I live or die… it’s a bit smothering. Sometimes I wish I’d never come here.”
“To go somewhere your reputation doesn’t precede you?” Arthur sighs longingly and bites into a berry, thoughts distant.
She notices the jealousy in his voice. “You could go, you know.”
“What?”
“The world is always out there, if you wanted it. You could always go, change your name, live among the peasantry.”
He laughs like she’s just said something hilarious.
“I’d go with you.”
He raises his eyebrows. “Would you?”
“I would. We could go live on a farm, you’d tend the fields and I’d order you around.”
He laughs again, harder this time. Then he shakes his head. “I would disappoint my father. I would leave Camelot without an heir. It’s impossible.”
“I know. I’m disappointing my father right now. It’s not easy, even when they’re not there to see you disappointing them.”
He watches her warily. She’s never talked about her father before.
“Can I tell you a secret?”
“You’re permitted.”
She shifts, turning to rest her back on the stone railing behind her. “My father hated your father. That’s why we moved around so much, why I grew up in the wilderness. He always warned me about Camelot, never to go there, because it was run by barbarians. And to never, ever, be involved with nobles.” She chuckles. “And look at me now. Having an idle chat with my friend the prince.”
Maggie flinches, realizing what she’s said. She’s called the prince of Camelot her friend. He’s going to berate her, or toss her in the stocks to teach her a lesson, or—
But he laughs, genuinely. “You certainly have changed here, that’s for sure.” Then he falls silent, thinking. He picks at a crack in the stone by his boots, and glances up at her with a strange, earnest sort of look on his face. “What happened to him? Your father?”
She shrugs. “I… don’t know. He went out for an errand one day, and never returned. I try not to think of it.”
“Did you ever look for him?”
“Every day for nine years, before I decided to make my way to Camelot.”
He swallows hard. “I’m sorry.”
“No need, I barely remember him now. I have better memories of you, Morgana, and Gwen than I do of him now, anyway.”
He hums in response, not knowing what to say.
She lays back and tucks her hands under her head, looking up at the stars. “I do hope you win tomorrow.”
“Do you?”
“Yes. I would rather you didn’t die horribly.”
“Would you mourn me?” he asks half-jokingly.
She swallows hard. She’s only known him for six months, but she can’t really imagine a world without Arthur in it. If he died tomorrow… it shouldn’t matter. Everything else that’s happened in her life should make it not matter. A stupid prince shouldn’t mean anything to her. Six months ago, it wouldn’t have mattered at all if he lived or died. He wouldn’t have cared for her then, either, and still probably doesn’t. But he’s shown her genuine kindness, in so many ways she never expected. Morgana, for all her virtue, tries her best to provide comforts both material and emotional, but it often feels misguided. She fundamentally doesn’t understand Maggie, or the life she’s lived so far. She tries too hard to make Maggie feel normal, like a normal serving girl, normal palace girl, but it only serves to make her feel even more out of place. Gwen is soft and gentle with her, too much so. She jumps when Maggie enters a room, and hides her discomfort behind a forced smile. She tries her best to train Maggie in the ways of servant women, but fears her like a wild dog when she doesn’t measure up and gets frustrated. She keeps telling Maggie how much easier it would be if she would just submit, make herself smaller; don’t linger around corners or walk too softly, don’t speak too honestly, don’t judge people as if they’re all animals sniffing out your blood. Don’t be who you are. Don’t be an animal. Well, Maggie’s already too small. She’s been a wild, growling thing all her life, and they may be able to dress her in servants’ clothes and teach her how to carry meals and hang dresses, but they can’t take the first fourteen years of her life and pretend they never happened. With Arthur, it’s different. He pulls her out of Morgana and Gwen’s make-believe world and fights with her, lets her return to the forest and join his hunts, and all the things she’s been told to hide in Camelot instead become her strengths, her source of pride. That thing that’s inside her that the Druids were so afraid of, the savage beast that frightens Gwen and confuses Morgana, isn’t shameful to him. She’s never been seen like this before. Of course, he still hasn’t seen her magic, but that’s only half of her. He’s seen the important bits, and didn’t shove her away or try to make her small. If he died tomorrow, she would have nothing. She would go back to being a creeping little thing to be feared and squashed, hidden and muzzled. Things would go back to normal. She lived that way for as long as she can remember, but she doesn’t want it anymore. She can see a future now, where the pain she’s suffered isn’t for nothing. Where she can be both a girl and a beast, and it wouldn’t be too terrible a fate to be both.
He leans back on his elbows, the movement breaking her out of her own head. She realizes he’s actually waiting for a response.
“No,” she lies with a smirk.
They laugh, and Arthur decides it’s time for him to turn in for the night. He’s got a big day tomorrow, after all.
“My sword needs sharpening,” he mumbles, glancing wistfully up the castle walls to where he knows Merlin’s window is.
“Leave it to me.” She holds her hand out.
“Do you even know how to—”
“I’ve been using the same knife since I was four years old, I know how to use a whetstone.”
He puts the handle in her small hand, but doesn’t let go. “And you’ll find me tomorrow morning, to return it? Because I’ll need someone to put my armor on as well, I’ve no idea where George went off to—”
“I’ll be there,” she promises.
He nods hesitantly, and leaves her to her chores.
“Do you ever sleep?” he asks her the next morning, when he sees all her good work. It seems that’s the only thanks she’s going to get from him.
“Don’t need to,” she lies. He doesn’t need to know that she couldn’t have slept last night even if she’d wanted to, too worried about Valiant and his snakes. “We need you to look your best. The looking part is all that really matters anyway,” she jokes.
Arthur doesn’t respond, face still fallen.
Morgana interrupts them, and Maggie tells him she’ll meet him down at the tent.
When he does find her, there’s a pinch at the corner of his mouth that tells her he’s more nervous than he’s letting on.
“Is murder actually legal in this sport? I think I’d like to see you chop his head off.”
He looks at her quizzically. “You don’t think I should withdraw?”
“Of course not. I want to see someone put that bastard in his place.”
He almost smiles. “You seem to be the only person who actually believes I can win this. Morgana and Merlin have both asked me to withdraw since our practice last night.”
“They have a right to be worried, he’s been waiting for this moment the whole tournament. But they forget something.”
“What’s that?”
She reaches up and claps him on the shoulder, making his armor rattle. “You’re Arthur fucking Pendragon,” she says with a smile. “And you’re gonna see him coming.”
He finally smiles, genuinely relieved that someone believes in him.
The horn sounds. It’s time to go. Arthur starts walking, Maggie in step behind him, double-checking his buckles.
“Just don’t let him pin you,” she reminds him. “Stay in the middle of the field, and stay upright. And Arthur—”
“What.”
She pats him on the back. “Give him hell.”
He takes a deep breath, and steps out into the battlefield.
And give him hell, Arthur does. He takes an early lead in the fight, knocking Valiant’s helmet clean off his head within the first minute. For chivalry’s sake, he takes his own off as well, and tosses it aside.
Maggie looks around, and finds Merlin hiding around a corner near one of the field’s entrances. He meets her eyes, and nods to her. He’s got a plan.
It’s a good thing, too, because Arthur’s upper hand doesn’t last long. Valiant goes on the attack, knocking Arthur over and disarming him of his shield. Maggie cringes, and tries to holler some advice, but there’s no way he’ll be able to hear her over the roaring crowd. As soon as Arthur gets on his feet again, Valiant backs him against a wall.
“No! Don’t let him pin you!”
She thinks fast. He needs to be back in the middle of the field, not out of anyone’s sight, in case the snakes are summoned. She uses magic to conjure a wind that blows on Valiant’s shield like a sail, shoving him back so fast he almost loses his footing. Arthur’s lost his sword by now, but he doesn’t need it.
The snakes on Valiant’s shield come alive, right out in the open. The entire crowd gasps, and the foreign knight panics for a moment, but eventually he falls into a cocky grin.
“Kill him!” he commands.
The snakes drop to the ground, and pursue Arthur. Morgana calls out to him, and tosses him a sword from the king’s side. He quickly dispatches the snakes, and Valiant finally meets his end.
The crowd cheers. Their hero has won the day yet again.
Maggie meets Merlin’s eyes again, from the other side of the crowd. They both take a huge sigh of relief.
At the feast that night, Morgana approaches Maggie and Gwen.
“He claims I didn’t save him,” she complains. “He said he would have thought of something, that he didn’t need any help. Can you believe that?”
Maggie and Gwen shake their heads, chuckling. Classic Arthur.
“He’s lucky to have you,” Gwen reassures her.
“He’s lucky to have all of us,” Morgana says, turning to Maggie. “I saw what you did.”
Maggie panics, remembering the wind she summoned this morning. “What? I didn’t do anything.”
“Of course you did,” she says sweetly. “Helping him train last night. I could see it from my window. And helping him with his armor this morning.”
She exhales, relief flooding through her. “Right, of course. Well that’s… erm… I come when he calls. He’s the prince, after all.”
Later that night, Merlin approaches Maggie as well. “So, Arthur’s un-sacking me.”
“Is he now?” A smile creeps onto her face.
He makes a sour face. “I’m going to have to muck out his stables for all eternity, aren’t I?”
“Oh, but you love it.”
“I don’t.” He looks over his shoulder, where the prince is conversing with some of his knights. “He’s not so bad, though.”
She looks between her friend and the prince. She never imagined, in all her fourteen years, that she’d ever really feel at home anywhere. But somehow, here in Camelot, she’s found a place where she’s needed, relied upon, trusted… wanted.
Maybe, just maybe, she’s right where she belongs.