A/N: This uses my, er, alternate character interpretation of George. There was some interest in seeing him and Merlin interact, so here we are.
. . .
George hadn't expected to walk in on Merlin losing a fight.
The noises coming from one of the guest rooms had been concerning, so he had slipped in with a pitcher of water as his excuse, hoping to find something he could do to help. That it might be another servant being beaten was certainly a possibility he had considered.
He just hadn't anticipated it being Merlin. Although to be fair to Merlin, now that George had a better look at the situation, he wasn't so much losing as barely holding his own. Considering he was up against three opponents, two of whom currently had glowing eyes, George thought this was was rather understandable.
Merlin shouted something in a language George didn't pretend to understand, and one of his opponents went flying backwards into the stone wall. Merlin whirled to hit the second with some kind of staff, but the third, who had his back to the door, was about to take advantage of Merlin's distraction in a most unfortunate manner involving a knife.
George did the sensible thing and brought his pitcher of water crashing down on the rogue sorcerer's head.
It was a very heavy pitcher.
Some of the water sloshed onto the floor - he'd have to mop that up later - but the sorcerer swayed and fell to their knees. George promptly hit them again and was satisfied to see blood now staining their pale blond hair. Some had inevitably gotten onto the pitcher too, of course, but cleaning it would be well worth the dent he'd managed to make in their skull. They collapsed to the floor in a most satisfactory manner.
George looked up just in time to see Merlin finishing off his last opponent and turning his attention to where George stood over the downed sorcerer. The last trace of gold was still fading from his eyes.
"George." Merlin's face had gone very pale. George hoped he wasn't injured. It would be a great deal easier to take care of the bodies with Merlin's help. No one questioned a physician's assistant wheeling around a sheet covered body.
"I can explain," Merlin said.
George didn't really see what explanation was needed. "Were they after the king or the prince?" he asked politely.
Merlin gaped at him for a moment before swallowing and saying, "Um. Me, actually."
George nodded. "Word must have gotten out." That was unfortunate. He was sure it would make Merlin's job more difficult.
"You're taking this rather well."
It took a moment for that to click.
. . . Oh.
Oh!
Merlin hadn't actually realized he'd known, or at least hadn't realized he'd known everything.
"I'm a great admirer of your work," he said.
Merlin nodded slowly. "Do . . . you have magic?"
George shook his head. "I lack the talent, I fear. Thus why I normally leave these to you." He nudged the sorcerer at his foot with his boot.
"Right," Merlin said faintly, still looking rather pale. "Does anyone else know?"
George considered this. "Not that they've mentioned." He glanced around at the bodies. "Did you have a disposal plan?"
Merlin shook his head. "I wasn't expecting them to attack."
Ah, an ambush. That explained a few things. "I'll fetch the wheelbarrow then," he volunteered. "And some sheets."
"Right," Merlin said faintly.
George left the water pitcher behind when he went. He hoped Merlin might drink some; the other servant was still entirely too pale.
