A/N: Remember those Shard stories I wrote back in Merlin Headcanons? The ones that started with Soulless and went on to Shards of Courage?
This is Merlin's side of that AU. This chapter doesn't touch on the realities previously seen, but you'll still see peeks of that world when Merlin's shard is big enough. In the ones where it isn't . . . Well, Merlin is confused a lot.
Another chapter, dealing with Arthur's returns, will (hopefully) be up tomorrow!
. . .
The First Meeting
Merlinus, son of Gaius, lived in what had once been a Roman villa. The Saxons had burned it down ten years ago, when he had just been a boy, and no one who had even seen Rome had entered it for as long as Merlinnus had been alive, but his father had told him stories from when he was a boy.
Now his father was gone, and the task of gathering herbs and mixing them fell to him. He had use for them far more often than he would like. Far too many of the children that Gaius had collected on his travels like they were rare mushrooms were sickly. Gaius had said it was because the Saxon magic that had destroyed their villages had poisoned them, and Merlinus had nodded and tried to make himself believe that whatever it was that made the sidhe lead him to good herbs instead of an early death was his politeness and not the same poison coursing through his veins.
There wasn't a child in the villa that didn't call themselves a son or a daughter of Gaius, and Merlinus was afraid that it might not be Briton or Roman blood that flowed through his veins. He'd meant to ask, but he'd never quite found his nerve, and now that Gaius was gone, he was the oldest, so there was no one who would know.
When Gwenhywfar could hunt for the others without aid, he would go, he promised himself as he made willow bark tea to the tune of Gwalchmai's coughs and Daegal's moans. He would go, and he would take his poison with him. Then Gwalchmai would be able to hunt with Gwenhwyfar again instead of trying to take care of the fading Daegal when he was so sick himself. Then Daegal would start eating without prodding. Then Nyneve would sing without gasping for breath, and Freya wouldn't bleed at the slightest provocation while she worked in her garden.
It would do them no good if he left now; starvation was not a preferable fate to illness. He had to wait, he persuaded himself. He had to.
He set the pot he'd brewed the tea in down with more force than was strictly necessary.
"Merlinus?" Modred tugged at his tunic hesitantly.
Merlinus turned to face him and knelt down so he could look him in the eye, but he was careful not to touch him. Modred and Gwenhwyfar were the only two he hadn't made sick yet. He had to keep it that way, or he'd never be able to leave and save the others. "What's happened?"
"There's a man coming soon," Modred said, lip trembling. "He's going to take you away."
Merlinus's breath caught. "Away like Gaius went away?"
Modred shook his head. "Away like Morgan went away," he said accusingly, like that was worse.
Maybe it was, in a way. He didn't blame her for leaving, was glad she was safely away from him and with a family that wanted her, but he wished sometimes that she could have taken the other well ones with her. Gaius hadn't chosen to die of lung fever (lung fever, just lung fever, he hadn't killed his father, he hadn't), but Morgan had chosen to ride away.
"I won't leave," he promised. "Not unless I have to, to protect you."
"I don't need protecting," Modred said.
