Five Universes That Never Happened to Merlin

The One Where They're Brothers

As Hunith made her plea for aid for her stricken village, and stared up at Uther, hands clasped—the king shifted on the throne and gave her a close look.

"Gaius? I can't shake the feeling that I've seen that woman before. Does she seem familiar to you?" He frowned. "It's at the tip of my memory…"

Gaius shot a prayer to the Old Gods. As usual, it went unanswered.

Three hours later.

"Combined with testimony from the midwife, that's fairly damming proof. Plus, I think he has my grandmother's eyes," Uther said.

Gaius pleaded, "Couldn't we just forget all about this? No one knows except us—and Hunith, I suppose."

Uther scowled. "Perhaps, but the truth was a little too easy to find. And I can't have bastards with possible stakes on the throne running loose. I'll have to exile him—do you think France is far enough away?"

Gaius felt a headache building. This was exactly what he'd been afraid of. Uther was a hard man who gave what little affection he had stintingly…and if he reserved all of his small heart for family, well, that didn't mean he'd deign to consider a half-peasant bastard as such. "But think of all the times he's saved Arthur. You know how much they mean to each other. And you're well aware that a king should not have only one heir."

Uther's face froze into a mask of stone. "I won't have him threaten Arthur's position!"

"That's not what I meant!" Gaius hurriedly back-peddled. "It's only that people keep trying to assassinate Arthur because they know he's an only child, and assume that your kingdom can't last past your death without him. Perhaps having a brother would take some of the pressure off of him."

Uther sank back, nodding his head. "True. And he could make a useful decoy. I could send him into dangerous situations were a royal touch is needed, or perhaps even trade him to another kingdom as a hostage."

Gaius felt another piece of his faith in Uther die a slow and screaming death.

Arthur, meanwhile, was stumbling down the corridor, in shock from what he'd just heard. Merlin? Half-brother? Uther having had sex? He didn't know what to make of this. If you asked him to describe his ideal younger brother, he would list everything that Merlin wasn't, yet at the same time, if you asked who his brother was, it was Merlin's face that sprang to mind.

Brothers. What were they going to do now? Regardless of what Uther decided, he was never going to be able to ask Merlin to wash his underwear again.

And that settled the dilemma in his mind. He would tell Merlin the truth, not just because he had the right to know that his fate was currently being decided, but also because he'd never be able to act naturally around Merlin and he'd probably give it away by mistake.

A brother. Huh. With that settled, Arthur could start to admit to himself that he'd really always wanted one.

Yet Hunith must have told Merlin first. Arthur found him sitting on his bed, wailing into his pillow.

"Oh, why me? How could I have ever thought that I wanted a father? Some things are worse than nothing! And what if prat-ishness runs in the family? What if I've secretly been a prat all this time, and didn't know it? What if my children will look like Arthur?"

Putting younger brothers in the stocks was probably outside the bounds of societal norms, Arthur decided. But putting them in headlocks was an old and time-honored tradition.

The One Where Merlin is a Fairy

Hunith had her face buried in her hands, and was weeping profusely. "Please, I beg of you, punish only me! Not my son!"

Merlin, personally, thought she'd been quite right to whack that King Oberon over the head with a frying pan when he got a little too forceful with his droit du seigneur. And it wasn't her fault his inebriated fairy head was a little too soft. Titania had been unable to hide her glee at getting rid of her royal husband, not that this was stopping her from enforcing the ancient laws, the hypocrite.

He figured he'd better pack quickly.

Much later, behind the locked doors of Camelot's finest guest room, Merlin's mother told him, "Remember, there is still a way for you to escape my fate. If you can make him fall in love with you, then the sacrifice of the heart of a prince will open the gates of Avalon. Although…if only there was another way…" her conscience overcame her, and she buried her face in her hands.

Merlin gently patted her on the back, while silently making his own plans. He wasn't so sure he wanted to go back to Avalon…compared to Camelot, it was a very silly place. Immortality lost a bit of its glimmer when you realized you would all of it as a servant. Besides, he couldn't possibly leave his mother alone. (Not when Uther was eyeing her in a way that made him wonder if he was going to need another frying pan.)

It shouldn't be too much trouble to string this 'courtship' of Arthur out until his mother started to accept life here wasn't so bad.

And after THAT first encounter, at least he didn't have to worry about the royal prat Arthur falling in love with him any time soon.

The One Where Uther is Right (Will Wonders Never Cease)

"So. My magic is completely natural, not evil in the slightest, nothing to worry about," Merlin said.

Gaius nodded enthusiastically. "Magic is a gift! An innate power, part of you. It is also your destiny."

Merlin persisted, "So the way my eyes go red whenever I cast a spell? The creepy voices in my head chanting in a harsh guttural tongue? The faint smell of sulfur around me? The hundreds of little horrible red beasties with many teeth that follow me around leaving death and destruction in their wake? All of that is perfectly natural?"

Gaius raised an eyebrow admonishingly. "You should refer to your Legion by with more respect, Merlin, not as 'horrible beasties.' They only wish to loyally serve you."

"What about the way my demonic stalkers slaughtered that chicken and left its entrails carved in mystic runes yesterday?"

"That's only because you fail to give them enough supervision. If you would only set them at proper prey, they wouldn't have to find their own entertainment."

Gaius looked very wise and grandfatherly. Merlin wasn't buying it. "So when are you going to explain what that undead zombie dragon said to me about you selling my soul to demons in exchange for magical power when I was an infant?"

"I knew I should have burned that corpse to ashes," Gaius mumbled. "I mean, it's nothing for you to worry your pretty little head about, Merlin. Dragons don't exist."

"But I already met one!"

A big-eared, leathery creature with a pointed tail popped up from behind the armchair. "Boss, we've secured the caverns under the castle, positioned agents in the water supply, uncovered the tomb of Cornelius Sigan and stripped it of all valuable relics, and posted a guard over each city gate so we will know if anyone attempts to flee. Oh, and we took the liberty of designing a new conqueror-of-the-city outfit for you." The beast held up something that was made of black leather, steel spikes, and little else. In its other hand was an ebony staff engraved with black iron, a grey orb on top that emitted a steady stream of shadow.

Merlin gaped for a moment, then shook his head. "Not going to lie…that staff is pretty epic."

Gaius smiled indulgently. "See? What did I tell you? You're going to be a great master of darkness. Now, we need to discuss how we're going to kill Arthur…"

The One Where Merlin is a Girl

Arthur didn't hit girls, but this peasant woman was quite lucky that he'd realized that she was a girl. Could have fooled him, with her hair cropped close to her head, dressed in plain brown and wearing trousers, with a frankly negligible bust.

Having her thrown in the dungeon for an assault on the prince would only make him look foolish. But he couldn't very well let it go, not after the way she'd challenged him in public. What difference did if make to this harpy if he took a few potshots as one of his own servants?

Gaius materialized from your crowd. "I'm terribly sorry, Your Highness. If you'll just let me take this young woman into my care, we'll be out of your hair in a minute. She appears to be suffering from hysteria."

A slight nervous twitch in his eye made Arthur wonder what was really going on, but if Gaius was willing to make his problem disappear, he was happy to accept. "I'll leave her in your care, physician. Can I advise checking her for blows to the head? One appears to have permanently deformed her face."

That pale skin colored red quite easily—but to his surprise, Arthur realized that it was from anger, not embarrassment.

"Come back and fight me like a man, you coward! Fancy-pants pretty boy! Dollophead!" She shouted as she was dragged off by a panting Gaius.

Arthur carefully surveyed his knights with a look that said we-will-never-mention-this -if-any-of-you-want-to-be-able-to-walk-after-sword-practice-ever-again. They returned this with "Mention? Mention What?" looks. He had them well-trained.

He rubbed the red mark on his cheek, hoping it wouldn't bruise. He did not want to have to explain to Uther, or worse Morgana, about how he'd been caught off-guard by an ill-mannered peasant girl.

Little did he know that this would be far from the last time he was slapped by Merlin.

The One Where Arthur is a Girl

Another blow to his shield sent Merlin reeling. "Whoa! Let me catch my breath!"

"No breaks during real combat, Merlin," Princess Artoria of Camelot taunted him.

To add insult to his oodles of small injuries, she wasn't out of breath at all. And judging from the way she casually stopped to brush some blond hair off her face, she didn't see him attacking as even remotely a threat. She was probably right about that.

This time, Merlin managed to get his sword up in time to block the blow. Alas, this accomplishment was rendered meaningless when she bashed the weapon clean out of his hands. She finished the movement with a rebuking slap across his ribs. "Come on, you can put up a bit more of a fight. Pretend you're a man!"

"How could I, when you're doing such a better job of that?" he snapped.

No sooner than the words had left his mouth than he regretted them. The stricken look on her face ensured that. He remembered all the whispers he'd heard behind her back: How can we be expected to accept a woman as our leader? and Disgraceful, the way she runs around in armor and plays at being a soldier and Pity the man who has to bed that iron bitch—though maybe a real man would be able to put her in her place, wink wink nudge nudge. And Merlin had also seen the way Uther treated her, seen the way he drove her to the ground with demands that she be the perfect soldier, prioritized his reputation over her safety, and never let her forget that she wasn't the son and heir he wanted.

Merlin could be sharp-tongued, but never cruel. And now he struggled with the words to make this right.

"I didn't mean—that is to say, what I meant was, I don't think people should have to be one thing or another, based on whether they're a man or a woman. I mean, you're the most amazing person I've ever met. You're a better warrior and a better leader than I'd ever be. You won the knights' respect, however grudging, because you can beat them all to the ground with a sword and because your orders are always right. And you have a fire about you, that draws people in and makes them obey you whether they want to or not. You have a destiny, and no one can stop it." Boy, did that sound stupid. "And you wouldn't be any better as a man. I like you as a woman, I think you're beautifully terrifying, I mean terrifyingly beautiful, I mean!" His voice trailed off with a squeak, and he was almost too afraid to look at her face.

But he was glad he did, because a smile streaked across her face like a meteor, rare and precious and blinding, and he wanted to save this moment his head and keep it forever.

Then she raised her sword again, and said, "Pick up your jaw and pick up your sword, Merlin. I'm not even close to done with you yet."

Bonus Round, or The One Where Everything is Backwards

Arthur carefully palmed the ball up his sleeve, his hands steady from long hours of practice, but everything else shaking. He let none of it show on his face, because he would not show fear in the face of death.

Prince Merlin yawned. "Is that really all the magic you can do? Oh, poor you."

Arthur got the feeling that he hadn't really been paying attention at all, which was irritating but quite lucky. Uther had desperately drilled his son in sleight-of-hand until his fingers almost fell off, but it would still take only one observant person to send him to the headsman.

Babies without magic were supposed to be killed at birth, soulless abominations that they were, but King Gaius had made it obvious that he had no problem reifying nature's mistake even a few decades afterwards. And killing anyone who protected the magic-less alongside them. (There were days when Arthur knew, if his father had loved his dead mother even a little less…and he almost wondered if it wouldn't have been better that way for his family, as long as he was alive they were all at risk…)

Merlin said, "I can't believe you carry a sword, like a barbarian. But I suppose borderline cripples must defend themselves somehow."

Arthur snapped, "That sword was good enough to save your life from an assassin."

Merlin raised an eyebrow. "Insolent, too. Yet it appears we're stuck with each other, thanks to my father's decree. If you're as skilled as Lady Gwen says your sister is, perhaps we'll even let you keep this job."

That thought did not fill Arthur with any enthusiasm. He wouldn't be here now, if only he'd had the nerve to refuse a royal "reward."

What had possessed Arthur to save the prince's life, even having met him beforehand and knowing full well what a small loss to the world it would be? He blamed Gwen—she was so nice, he hadn't wanted to hurt her feelings by letting her foster-brother be eviscerated by a troll. He blamed Morgana—she could see the future, so why hadn't she warned him? He blamed that cryptic dragon and its talk of destiny and double sided coins and whatnot—if he ever saw the beast again, he'd tie its tail in a knot.

How could he keep his lack of magic hidden, in front of the boy who was widely known as the most powerful sorcerer in Camelot? He was doomed. Doomed.

Merlin said, "I'll expect you to wash my laundry, clean my rooms, repair my staff, and muck out the stables by tomorrow. Oh, and don't forget to bring me breakfast."

Arthur thought, "Clotpole."