Like a Phoenix

10: put on your war paint

Since Arthur wasn't piling as many chores on him as he did before (Merlin supposed he'd hired other people to do certain jobs in his absence, and he tried very hard to not take it personally that Arthur didn't dismiss them when he returned), Gaius had requested that Merlin work alongside him again. But this, too, was different than before. Before, he was simply a physician's apprentice. No matter how skilled Merlin became, he always worked under Gaius; he collected Gaius's herbs, taste-tested potions, cleaned his leech tank.

Now Merlin still offered to collect herbs in place of his mother— while Hunith was not a fragile woman, it still would not do to have her go out alone in a place she was not familiar with, if he could help it. But mainly Gaius's requests were for his medical opinion and a set of extra physician hands.

Actually, the first time he'd called for Merlin and asked which balm he felt would benefit the patient best, Merlin had been positively flabbergasted. He'd stammeringly reminded Gaius that he could simply heal the man magically, but Gaius immediately dismissed the idea. He said that magic healers in town made their business that way, and they were poor enough, so they should leave that work to them.

Merlin barely held back a shout of joy at the time. To think there were healers, just casually doing business in the lower town. Magic. Everywhere. For good.

His heart could've burst.

"If there are healers in town," Merlin had half-asked, half-teased, "then what use are you?"

Gaius had raised his imperious eyebrow and explained, like he was talking to a child, "People come to me to be healed if they cannot afford the immediate magical healing. It is also more risky, as these healers are only now getting back into practicing magic for healing wounds. And if it goes wrong it could go very wrong. So while it may be more painful and tedious, there is a level of security."

Merlin knew that Gaius, although maybe a little rusty, would've had enough experience to become a magical healer. And yet he didn't bother to ask why he was doing it the old fashioned way— magic may be legal now, but unlike Merlin's, Gaius's (and everyone else's) would be an exhaustible resource. It would take a toll on him that he was too old to pay.

Currently, Merlin was wandering Camelot fields, searching for wildflowers and herbs to pick that he knew either he or Gaius would need. Hunith had protested, saying that it was her job and she must pull her weight, but Merlin assured her that part of pulling his weight was making sure his mother didn't do more than was absolutely necessary. Hunith had called him a good boy and reluctantly sent him on his way.

The herbs, of course, were more plentiful in the woods, so he gravitated there. Grain fields merged into heavy foliage and towering trees. There were all kinds of plants growing past here— and all kinds of critters, too (he should know, he almost died by the hands of a few). He heard them chattering in the trees, scurrying from bush to bush, and smiled.

Merlin had a lot of time to spend in nature when he was with the druids. It was rejuvenating, to be out there then, and to be here now. His magic pulsed happily in his veins.

He stepped forward, hearing the leaves crunching beneath him, and crouched when he saw a particularly promising plant. He plucked it and placed in into his basket; just as he was about to pluck another of the same herb, a sudden shadow was cast over them. He flew his head up and—

It was Lancelot. He wore his usual knight get-up, but he looked sheepish, like he had been doing something he wasn't supposed to and Merlin had caught him.

"What are you doing here, Lance?"

Lancelot briefly glanced away and then darted his eyes right back to Merlin's. "Patrolling. Looking for threats. The usual."