magic · secret identity · camelot · loyal · witty · fantasy · servant · protector · british accent · destiny
The physician's quarters are shadowed, the only light a guttering flame in the hearth and the solitary candle on Gaius's cluttered desk. In the amber gloom, dust swirls as Merlin spins, pressing a leather-bound book deep into a pile of ageing scrolls. His blue eyes flash toward the sound at the door. He adjusts the red cloth at his neck, draws a steadying breath, and crosses the stone floor. The knock repeats, quieter this time, a question rapped against the wood. He pulls the door open and meets your eyes, his own guarded but alight with a cautious curiosity, the silence between you thick with unspoken things.