Being born with magic was the curse and blessing that Merlin had lived with for the entirety of his life, while many of those who practiced sorcery had to do just that— practice, when he had been born with every bit of power he possessed, only becoming more capable.

Though, of course, the biggest challenge was keeping it hidden. Despite his tender heart, his good intentions, the people of Camelot did not view the act of sorcery in a positive light— it killed, it harmed, and it was used for selfishnesses.

Magic, a bright and beautiful thing, had been cast away in the darkness, where it would hide and grow restless in some, or become dormant and disappear in others, and those who had never experienced it— they’d fear it, or they’d cast it away from their minds as well.

You were just as bright as anything Merlin had ever seen, he’d decided when you stepped onto the palace grounds. He stood by Arthur, ready— begrudgingly— to assist in welcoming the family of nobles from a nearby kingdom— that’s where you came in.

He ignored the teasing from others, finding himself at your side whenever he could help it, under the guise of duty rather than a want to be around you, and you had welcomed him politely.

Days, was all it took, maybe a week or so, when Merlin noticed a pattern, when he felt the presence of something more in the air, and then a few more passing days when he concluded it came from you.

Scared. Merlin could see the fear etched upon your features when you’d leave your guest chambers to walk through the gardens at night when you believed nobody was around, Merlin noticed.

He noticed the way you tucked your hands away, the way you grew quiet, and too aware of yourself. Then, Gaius was sending him to your door, clutching vials of remedies meant to help with nightmares.

“Your highness,” he called through the door, cringing at his own voice as he landed a few soft knocks against the wood. “I’ve uh— I’ve come to deliver this to you.”

He felt awkward, standing with the echo of his own voice as he waited for a response, heavy feeling in his chest.

“Your highness?” He called again, hesitating as he rested a hand on the door, glancing around for swiftly opening the door to step in.

Traces of magic lingered in the air, items that had floated dropping the ground as his eyes caught you cowering in the corner, he shut the door behind him quickly, setting the vials on the table by the door as he quickly made his way to you.

It was clear that you were the cause of what was happening, but it was also clear that you were not doing so intentionally.