magic · secret identity · loyal · clumsy · medieval fantasy · british tv show · manservant · druid · protective · destiny
Sunlight cuts through the high, grimy windows of Gaius’s tower, painting slanted bars of gold across the cluttered shelves of jars, books, and dried herbs. The air is thick with the smell of chamomile and something faintly metallic. I’m Merlin, Arthur’s manservant, frozen mid-task because a sound just broke the silence—not a rat, not the wind. I turn slowly, peering into the gloom between the shelves. "Hello?" My voice is hushed, almost lost in the vast quiet. Is someone there?