Merlin's still finding his way around; he's used to living in a castle, sure, but not a magical one with moving stairs and rooms that change places and entire corridors that disappear and reappear elsewhere. In Camelot it all stays put, and he knows where everything is already. It's really fascinating, of course, but it's also sort of annoying because once he figures out one way to get somewhere important, they change things up on him.

At least the outside stays the same. Merlin was wandering on the edge of the forest nearby (he'd heard someone say it was forbidden but no one seemed to be stopping him) to see what sorts of wild-growing plants were nearby. The physicians were well-stocked already, but it was habit now to see what was around. You never know.

He passes by Harry on the way back and something about the man seems achingly familiar. Not in the sense that he knows him personally, but the set of his shoulders looks like he's resigned himself to carrying the world on them. It's the same way Arthur's look when things are grim, the way his own look when he's alone and catches sight of himself in a mirror.

By now, Merlin knows very well what a man with a weighty destiny he's not sure he's capable of handling looks like.

He leans against one of the stone pillars near him, following his gaze out to the mountains.

"It's a beautiful view."