Happy Merlin Peen to you (and you and you)
Title: Kingdom Under Siege
Pairing: Arthur/Merlin as they are in the show
Rating: PG
Summary: As we know, Ealdor is under King Cendred's rule. Because of this, Merlin must take a grueling test to become a citizen of Albion. In which Merlin is an illegal alien, Uther is a xenophobe, Gaius is peripherally avuncular, and Sir Leon is asked for his opinion and finally allowed to give it.
Words: 5,400
A/N: because as longswordho said, "it is called for." Does this count as crack?
master fic post
Kingdom Under Siege
The day began as any other: pink at the horizon and a bleary feeling about the head. Merlin smashed his face a bit deeper into his lone pillow. He laid there until Gaius' firm rapping cut his dream state, and only then did he remember fully what was to come.
"I'm awake!" he hollered. As often was the case, his shouting revealed an obdurate country boy lilt that he'd struggled to disguise with the smooth vowels of Albion.
"Mind you leave time for breakfast, Merlin," Gaius said back.
Merlin groaned to himself, shoved himself off his straw-better-than-the-ground mattress, and swapped one dirty set of nightclothes for a freshly cleaned set of hipster-chic servant wear.
Proudly we haile, he muttered to himself, wetting his fingertips in his bed-basin and smoothing down his fringe with extra care. Ramparts, glorious.... Dammit, Merlin.
The sun was full over the horizon, just enough time to bring Arthur his breakfast and mentally prepare himself for the test to come. He left his room, only running back up his 3 steps twice this time to do things he'd forgotten (one: hide the magic book under the floorboard, two:shoes, Merlin! shoes! why that reprimand sounded so much like his royal highness' dulcet tenor, he did not dare to ask himself.) He snagged the 6 inch sub on the way out off of the tin plate Gaius had laid out for him, grinning out a "Wish me luck! Thanks Gaius!" and the old man just smiled fondly over his bowl of warmed oats.
"You won't be needing luck, Merlin," the physician told him, supportive to the end. "If you spent half the time you have studying for today on important things, like basic flora and fauna of the region, you'd make a fine scholar yet."
"Right," Merlin said, and turned, grasped the corrugated iron handle leading out of Gaius' suite, and steeled himself for the day ahead. He would not fail.
~ @ ~
Merlin jogged to the kitchens, slowed on the way up to Arthur's chambers because he knew, from past experience, that rushing with platters was conducive to tripping and the situations that followed. His power walking had put him in a sweaty disposition unfortunately by the time he arrived at the large door, knocked, and then opened it without waiting for an answering shout. Mornings were not the time for so much shouting, especially as Merlin's ears were just a tad bit more sensitive than the normal pair due to their x10% in size.
He found the prince was still ensconced in his layered bed dressings: light silks from the orient, cotton sheets from North Umbria, all covered by a crushed velvet throw. On top, to continue the theme of hunting lodge to match the skull above the fireplace, the heavy pelt of some beast long since slain. Under all this, the form of the prince could be made out, so far the faint stirrings of wakefulness only affecting his fingers and eyelids.
Merlin set about his normal tasks. Light the fire with a reflective flash of gold iris; no whispering there, he'd known how to do wordless magic since near birth! Although using spoken spells did help channel his power...Then shoved the many pairs of boots near the hearth back in line. And finally straightened the rug. Arthur really didn't have much in his chambers. He was a spartan man, one who used his room for the bare necessities: eating, sleeping, and the occasional retreat to give himself a pep-talk before fighting any potentially immortal black knights, and girl knights, and other knights who'd been deemed unbeatable.
"Sire," Merlin announced, and clanked the tin dishes on the picnic bench.
"Grmsp."
Merlin arranged the table as he usually did: Meats in the middle with a fork laying alongside for ease of access, a hunk of bread on the next plate with two types of cheese, and a bucket of grapes. The goblet he placed next to the bucket.
"It's a fine day," Merlin observed, and strode to the window. He yanked the red curtains aside and tied them off on their respective hooks. "The sun is out. The birds are out there being...bird-y."
"What in gods name are you chattering about, Merlin." the prince said, finally sitting upright. His expression was one of confusion. "Is it just me, or does something smell odd?"
"Ah," Merlin said. "I've taken the liberty of freshening your chambers with some sage and rosemary."
"What?"
"In the fire," Merlin explained. "I tossed them-"
"My chambers now smell like a roast leg of lamb, Merlin."
"Right. I suppose it does-"
So much for softening him up.
Merlin was extra attentive when dressing the prince, taking great care in smoothing the wrinkles from his shirt front and picking not one but four wayward threads from the royal jacket, until Arthur cuffed him lightly on the ear and said "Merlin, what am I going to do with you." The prince then put on his own boots and took his breakfast while Merlin straightened the bedding (silk, silk, cotton, velvet throw, aaand pelt. Didn't Morgana have a stole just like this?) and would have dusted the mantelpiece for lack of else to do had he not recalled just in time not to sully his red neckerchief; this was not the day to have dust around one's neck. This whole time, Arthur made an admirable attempt to both systematically cut and eat his food with his ankle strap hunting knife and politely speak around said food about crop rotations.
"You know, Merlin," Arthur said, didactic tones set to 'go'. "As you must realize after one long year of attending me, a considerable amount of time must be afforded to discuss crops. Wheat and barley make up the majority of the grains, but of course you've got the odd rye field."
"Mm," Merlin hummed.
"Now," Arthur continued. "It is not only the serfs and respective lords of the land on whom the responsibility lies. No, the king and his men must also be familiar with crop cycles, crop rotations, sowing, planting, harvesting, threshing. The responsibility is not on one but on many. In many there are one, etc. Divided we fall. I'm telling you this because in the future you may be charged with taking notations on such meetings of state, and I may send you to Geoffry of Monmouth in records."
"Ah," Merlin hedged, feeling a brief flush of pride. "Are you..."
"I'd just like to impress upon you the importance that you pass today's citizenship exam. It won't do to have an illegal alien as my manservant."
Merlin fidgeted and then settled on an overconfident grin to meet Arthur's stern look. Arthur held his gaze for a moment, and then broke it with a sigh. He stood, shoved his plates from him, and made to leave his chambers.
"Come," he ordered, but belied his bark with a hint of a smile, and an absentminded touch to Merlin's shoulder on the way out.
♣ ♣ ♣
As he'd been told, the exam consisted of fifty-five multiple choice questions, 5 fill-ins and an essay response question. This was to be done in the two hour time period, and followed by an "oral examination" that Merlin was not too keen on, seeing as it would be Arthur administering it and Merlin knew for a fact that the Prince's manner grew more brusque as lunchtime neared.
Never one to stay too long indoors, Arthur had relegated a side walkway that was open to the courtyard as their test centre. Merlin was sat on the stone wall, as Arthur leant against one of a nearby colonnade that he might better shout good-natured orders at passersby.
"Sir Leon," Arthur nodded, as the knight with the face of a lion cub slowed his gait and stopped beside them.
"Sire." Sir Leon clutched briefly at his sword hilt and dipped straight at the waist in salute. He looked askance at Merlin who was shifting one leg under him on the stone and fiddling with a pen. "If I might inquire as to any wishes you might have..."
"How good of you, Sir Leon," Arthur clapped the man on the back. "I happen to be administering an exam at the moment. Perhaps you could prove of service."
"An exam?" Sir Leon prompted. Merlin looked down and away. Gwen was traversing the courtyard, nearly to the anachronistic regal iron statue of a horse and rider. In her arms she clutched the largest bouquet of purple blooms Merlin had ever seen.
"Yes," Arthur's voice came. Merlin looked back. "Merlin here stumbled here from Cendred's Kingdom, which had escaped my notice until recent events. I had the pleasure of meeting his mother and found that, not only did his town lie a half day's ride from the border, but Merlin did not even realize what risks he'd taken crossing as he had: by himself, with no papers."
"Half the border guards cannot read," Merlin pointed out. "AND I didn't sneak over, as you seem to be implying, I was sent by my mother to Gaius who is a citizen of Camelot..."
"Silence, Merlin," Arthur said. "Merlin had only a vague reason to be in Camelot, and like many fortune-seekers had a shoddy story of a job awaiting him here."
Sir Leon was hiding his smile admirably. Merlin had always liked Sir Leon.
"And you know how things stand on those without proper documentation," Arthur said. "I've not the time to train another manservant, I've expended enough energy attempting to teach this one how to clean my chambers to very minimal success - Merlin leave off grinning, you look like a girl - so making him a citizen is what we'll do. Isn't that right, Merlin?"
"Yes, sire."
"Well, whatever I can do to help," Sir Leon offered, hands spread in front of him in a gesture of one offering one's services to those who don't need them. "I could stand by and watch that he doesn't cheat?"
"Oi!" Merlin said.
"Merlin, this is a knight you're addressing," Arthur said sharply, laughing.
"Yes, sire," Merlin said.
"Right then, Sir Leon administer the written portion of the test, and then it will be for both of us to hear his oral examination."
"Yes, mi'lord," Sir Leon said. He took the roll of scrolls and placed them before Merlin. He looked Merlin up and down seriously and said: "As Knight and citizen of Camelot, I wish you the best of luck. No cheating now. Begin."
And just like that, Merlin's bid for his future had begun. The parchment spread crost the rocks, weighed down by the ink pot on one end and his ankle at the other, Merlin quickly scanned the questions. They were at varying levels of difficulty, and he saw at least ten that he knew right off. His pulse slowed minimally.
Among which were:
3 Name the Pendragons, in order of lineage.
16 What is the meaning of the name Pendragon?
17 Describe the Pendragon crest.
23 To whom falls the duty of mucking out the royal stables.
To which Merlin scribbled on each line, respectively:
A long list that he was proud to remember quite clearly which concluded in...Breather, Ether, Aurelius, Uther, Arthur; "head dragon"; a golden dragon on a red backdrop; me whomever is ordered to do so - there doesn't seem to be any rhyme or reason to it, to be honest
Merlin looked up to see that Gwen had stopped to speak with a seamstress. She accepted a bundle of fabric and Merlin watched as she then looked up to her mistress' open window.
"Gwen," Morgana hollered down in an unladylike fashion that would only be allowed the king's ward. "Are those flowers for me?"
"Of course, mi'lady," Gwen said. Morgana's laughter rippled down and she left the window. The bustling of the courtyard drowned out the sound. How could Merlin not wish to belong to this?
He returned to number 9 (To whom does one report thievery, murder, or battery? Is this the same for small crimes?) which he was unsure of but could probably answer in vague enough terms for his answer to be deemed at least partially acceptable. He usually just took care of such issues himself, so was not familiar with the protocol.
Arthur was still stood benevolently against his limestone column, all washed gold with sun, directing a man unloading a crate of cider to then be taken to the kitchens. Merlin hoped to partake in that cider later, promised himself, on second thought, that if he could pass this test and remain in Camelot he would drink an entire jug of that cider to himself. Well, perhaps a small goblet, 'two sheets to the wind' as Gaius had said, but oh how he would savor it!
There came a clacking of boot heels on the cobbled walk and Merlin did not look up, tried not to twitch, because it was the king making his imperious way towards them, and it was all Merlin could do not to spill ink or his secret. Of course he stood when Arthur said "Father." and he bowed his head, but he did not look the king in the face, for anything could be taken for treason when the right mood was about the place and it was best not to tempt his luck. He sat when Uther ignored him, and continued scratching away at the written portion of the exam.
"This will not be tolerated," the king said without preamble. Almost petulant. The leather of one constantly donned glove scritched into the form of a fist.
"Father," Arthur said. "We're working to the best of our abilities to ensure that traffic at the borders of North Umbria and Mercia is kept to the bare minimum, as per your request, but it's rather difficult to stop crossings altogether."
"And why is that?" the King asked. Merlin snuck a glance at this point, long enough to take in the King's annoyed visage and Arthur, ever the diplomat, posture intended to soothe. He turned back to the page in front of him, and considered the next question: How is one to address visiting nobility. List in order of rank and land.
"There is much that we depend upon from neighboring lands," Arthur reminded his father. Merlin thought of Arthur's imported sheets. "And there are many to whom Camelot offers promise of work where they would find themselves otherwise destitute."
"This is so," Uther conceded. "But the more undocumented workers that cross onto our lands, the more reason we have to fear revolt or, worse, sors'ry. We are a kingdom under siege, slowly being infiltrated."
Merlin was already on question 25, quicker than he'd expected, but, well, Gaius had near slid him a cheat sheet to study from, so it was no wonder the answers were coming easily. These were things he'd needed to learn anyhow. Questions like "Why does Arthur keep all the keys?" had finally been explained (however unhelpful: "he is the crown prince").
"They take the jobs of others, and give little in return," Uther said, repeating a long-discussed argument.
"That is one opinion," Arthur allowed. Did he sound terse? "But they do much of the work others would care not to. This one, for example," here he made a sweeping gesture to encompass all of Merlin. "He does my laundry, is the only one I make muck out the stables-"
That answers that, Merlin thought and amended his previous answer with an ink blot and sprinkling of powder, filling no. 23 this time with ME : /. Sir Leon was quietly listening in on the two nobles and paid Merlin's cheat no mind. Really, this test was most enlightening.
"This is not a time for joking, Arthur. You know full well that when I gave you this manservant I afforded him one of the highest positions a servant could desire."
"True, father. In any case, making the border crossing more stringent will not solve the root problem, it will only serve to temporarily curb the immigration onto our lands. If you would only speak to Lord Bayard and King Ce-"
"Enough for now, Arthur. These discussions are for few to hear."
The king left moments later, and Merlin nearly upset his papers when he stood to pay the requisite respects.
By the time Merlin had finished the written portion he was considerably less stressed. He'd known most of the answers, he thought, and bluffed the others; in short, he had completed the exam as he completed the quotidian. The essay took about the same amount of time, but by now he had hit his stride, and it was done seemingly in a wink. The noise and echoing of the traffic in the courtyard was but ambient noise, and nothing compared to the sound of his own even breathing and confident marks of point to parchment. All seemed well. Sir Leon took the stack of parchment and set in immediately deciphering Merlin's writing with the expediency Arthur had drilled into his knights on all things, and Merlin stretched and cracked his bony spinal column in preparation for the next and final portion. All was well, that is, until the King made a reappearance just as Arthur had pushed himself from where he leant.
Merlin instinctively froze in place, and with unnecessary volume, Arthur announced: "I hereby begin the oral portion of the examination of citizenship for Merlin of Ealdor. All those who wish to give audience may do so here."
Arthur was one to stand on ceremony, Merlin knew, so should not have been surprised. At Arthur's gesture, Merlin stood uncomfortably from his perch. One leg was asleep and the other felt unsure. At least 10 curious folk gathered nearby and stared on.
"First off," Arthur declared. "I want you to sing the anthem of Camelot."
Merlin stared.
"Don't be shy now," Arthur said, clapping him roughly on the back. Merlin looked up to the prince, as he was squeezing somehow meaningfully at Merlin's pointy shoulder blade, and saw that the prince's gaze was turned at his father a few steps away, rather than Merlin. The two men were looking at one another calmly, and Merlin saw that this was the moment to prove something, if not for himself, for Arthur, and that much more was at stake here than his belonging to this land.
And so he stepped forward, with the confidence of Sir Ian McKellan or possibly Juliane Moore in times to come, a confidence he didn't necessarily feel but which was quite a good idea to affect for the following performance:
Oh, say can you see, by the dawn's early light,
What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleaming?
Whose broad knights and bright stars, through the perilous fight,
O'er the ramparts we watched, were so gallantly streaming?
And the dragons' gold glare, arrows bursting through air,
Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there.
O say, does that Pendragon banner yet wave!
At this point, Merlin opened one eye for a peek and then closed it at the sight of a formidable crowd. Swelling his chest with well-needed breath, he gave this last line his all:
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave?
He'd done it! He's managed the high F#! Merlin offered a shaky grin to the disproportionately small smattering of applause, and also the smattering of tomato at Merlin's foot.
"Restrict your fruit pelting to the stocks," Arthur barked to the crowd as a whole. Merlin flushed a little at this, and Arthur turned, casting a brief look to his father who looked displeased, and said, "Now, the tongue twisters."
"Pardon?" Merlin asked. Arthur pointed two fingers at Merlin as if they were seeing eye to eye, or attempting to communicate silently while hunting. Merlin eyed him warily.
"Now Merlin," Arthur continued. "I want you to repeat after me. And then say this five times fast, without messing up." Merlin began to nod, but Arthur repeated "Without messing up." and shot a meaningful glance in the direction of his father, who looked on with stormy resolution.
Merlin nodded.
"She sells sea shells by the sea shore." Arthur intoned meaningfully. Merlin watched his lips shape the consonants and subsequent vowels, noting how Arthur so effortlessly pronounced the "ɔr" at the end of shore where Merlin's country mouth would roll a rich R. He had to fit in, though. He saw that he had to look and sound as much as a Camelotian as possible for Arthur's sake.
He said it. It was hard, but he said it. Again. Again. Again. Again.
"Well done," Arthur said. "Next: Thirty sly thick thugs sought thirty slightly thin slugs." He said this with a straight face, and Sir Leon repeated the phrase when Arthur motioned him to do so. "Next: Thirty sly thick thugs sought thirty slightly thin slugs."
This one was a bit harder. Arthur and Sir Leon made the very common number, Merlin's "thairty", into something nonsensical. "Thuh-tee" Merlin copied under his breath. "Thehh-tee." Not to mention this conjured to mind Gaius' leech tank.
He tried this phrase aloud, but tripped up at 'thugs' and lisped at 'slightly'. He tried once more but spat on both 'thin' and 'slugs'.
"Mental affliction indeed," Uther remarked from his place at Arthur's elbow, and smiled darkly. With that, he swept away to a mix of bowing and tittering of the crowd.
"Again, Merlin," Arthur commanded, and the people quieted once more.
V.v.V
Two hours and counting. The crowd had dispersed. Sir Leon had been sent for ham, returned, and then sat with them while the prince continued drilling Merlin mercilessly. Arthur had long since finished actually reading from the vellum he held in his left hand, and was now gesturing with his right at physical or abstract ideas.
"What's that called?"
"What sire?" Merlin squinted once more into the courtyard, up to the towers.
"Up there," Arthur said, leaning out over the wall on which Merlin had sat again, pointed up to the sky with two fingers.
"A pennant?" Merlin tried.
"No, not that, that rock thing over there." Arthur said.
"A gargoyle."
"Correct," Arthur said, and made a motion as if he were actually marking something off on his paper.
"And the name of the royal steeds?"
"Hengroen-" Merlin began, sure of this question.
"No, too easy," Arthur effaced this question with a wave in Merlin's direction. "Names of the royal hounds!"
"Daisy, Marti-"
"Nevermind that," he said again. "Now, who do you find more beautiful? The Lady Morgana, the Lady Vivian, or-"
"Arthur, are you just making questions up now?" Merlin asked, finally voicing what Sir Leon had surely noticed as well.
"You wish, Merlin," Arthur countered. "How many guards stand watch over the dragon's keep!?"
"Two. One big, one small," Merlin said, victoriously. "They play at dice!"
"That was a trick question," the prince told him. He squinted over the scroll at Merlin, flicking his attention to the entirety of the warlock's bitty frame not once, but twice, in interest. "How did you know that?"
"I- ah-"
It was then that the guard burst from a near archway. If they hadn't all dressed alike and shouted in similar fashions, Merlin might just know their names by now.
"My lord!" the knight shouted.
"Wha' tis it?" Arthur demanded, wheeling on him seriously.
"Hyenas! On the pride lands!"
"Hy-EEnas?" Arthur's tone brooked no humor. In fact, he suddenly sounded more like his father than he ever had. "I'm not even sure if I know what they are. Are they beasts?"
"Yes, mi'lord. Creatures similar to wolves."
Sir Leon and Arthur rose to their full heights, shoulders suddenly broad as suggested in the song, imposing. Merlin was inappropriately pleased at the interruption.
Arthur rushed out, yelling 'To arms!' and his knights leapt from archways and from behind peasants, a veritable infestation of small ants or tiny tin soldiers who appeared near indestructible in the afternoon light.
Merlin followed suit, not tripping once because, despite appearances, he was well-suited and sure footed when it came to battle.
♥ ♥ ♥
The host of knights on horseback stampeded into the fields and towards the farm where the beasts had last been sighted. Half a candle mark and they were there, nearing the small farmstead.
"There are three!" Sir Pellinore called back. "Gangly and fleet, said the farmer. Sharp teeth and claws like forest cats."
"They are no match for our steel," Arthur assured them all, a figurehead in his saddle in the heat. Merlin's steed trampled a rabbit and stumbled lightly over a felled branch as they entered the high growth from the forest path.
The knights scattered at Arthur's command and swept the field.
Merlin took a moment to consider how, in pledging himself to Arthur and the land, he was quite possibly committing himself to a life of hunting down animals, whether in actual hunting for sport or under the guise of ridding the land from evil and dangerous beasties. Ah well, it had been too late the moment he had crossed the border, at the moment of decision that at the time he had not recognized for the liminal space that it was.
"There is no turning back," he told himself, sweaty flanks of Cyrrn all aripple beneath him, the environs with its wheat stalks and butterflies in high resolution neath the noonday sun. "For Camelot."
He galloped out, in case his lord might need a helping hand.
- - - -
It was there, in the rubble and sudden quiet of the half-fallen barn, that Merlin finished his test. Grain dust was settling, the chaff built up in his boots and scattered liberally on Arthur's golden hair, more white in this particular shaft of sunlight, acrost his shoulders and cheek. Arthur brushed at this impatiently, and lifted Merlin to his feet with sure grip on small bicep. There were three knights, relatively unscathed, clearing rubble from the freak cave-in of the roof, and Merlin watched as one picked up a crushed hyena by an ear for closer inspection. He experienced an unhappy parallel.
"I've never seen their like," Arthur said, shoving at another dead beast with the toe of his boot. "They were all sly and quick of foot. Let's hope more do not return to terrorize the people."
"Right," Merlin said. His head was all abuzz with excess magic hoping to surge out, temporarily difficult to control. Embarrassing.
"Are you alright?" Arthur asked him. His rare moment of actual concern, usually covered by quick chiding.
"All in a day's work," Merlin tried. Arthur huffed a laugh.
"Sir Leon! Sir Pellinore!" the prince cried. "Tell the others that we're to ride out immediately."
Three silhouette o'knights stood momentarily in the doorway, then seemed eaten by the back lighting of day when they left to carry out Arthur's orders. Merlin stood near the wall where he'd been picked up, and looked in confusion at the animal carcass near him. The wound was splayed and gushing, and he thought he might be sick.
"Oh and Sir Leon!" Arthur shouted again. Merlin's sensitive ears rang.
"Yes, Sire?" Sir Leon reappeared and smiled once at Merlin before looking back to his lord.
"Would you say Merlin has fulfilled the prerequisites to be awarded citizenship of Camelot?"
The knight looked long and hard at Merlin, as if considering, and then said gravely, "I have never met a more worthy applicant."
"That will be all, Sir Leon," Arthur said. Damn if the flush wasn't making a resurgance.
"Now, Merlin," Arthur continued, nearby and sudden. Merlin jumped. But Arthur kept on. "Once again, our lives are threatened, and once again, you just lie there and let us men do all the work."
Merlin spared him a carefully insulted expression.
"Loath as I am to admit, however, you have your uses. Filthy armor not withstanding, and despite the fact that you answered 8 out of 55 questions incorrectly on the written section of your citizenship exam - one of which being "Where does one heat the bath water?", might I add - I was pleased to find your essay was succinct, if sloppy, showing a surprising comprehension of the vassal-lord system. Top marks for the better part of the oral save your sometimes appallingly obvious bumpkin accent."
In the dappled light of the barn, air too close and warm to inhale comfortably, Merlin felt the small and guttural stirrings of hope. The carcass smelled sweetly so that Merlin wasn't sure whether to smile at Arthur or just gag politely into his now-dusty neckerchief.
"What I'm trying to say, Merlin." He looked up at the prince's grasp at his shoulder. Arthur's expression vacillated between serious, mock serious, back to serious. As to his own facial mask, Merlin settled on self-consciously serious, and looked anywhere but Arthur's eyes. The hand left his shoulder after a(n m)pregnant pause, and Arthur drew his sword. A glint off the blade was enough to temporarily blind him, so Merlin knew that at least he had done his duty in shining the damn thing.
When he spoke, Arthur's voice was weighed heavy with honor and resolution, like so many Pendragon banners and family crests and tapestries which hung the regal halls of the castle:
"Do you, Merlin of Ealdor, accept and vow to live by the laws of Camelot?"
"I do." Merlin lied.
"To protect the Crown to the best of your ability?"
Merlin had differing opinions dependent on which crown, but he said "I do" anyways. Arthur smiled kindly, and there was the hand again, briefly, like a promise in return.
"And do you swear your love to Uther Pendragon, King of Camelot?"
Merlin started. "Now hang on a second!"
"That's FEALTY MERLIN" Arthur bit out in an undertone.
"Oh, right," Merlin backtracked. "Yeah, I suppose I love him."
Arthur cast him a withering look that bespoke more impatience than usual, despite the fact that Merlin had quite obviously just had a hand in saving the day.
"And do you willingly denounce citizenship to all other realms, by which-" Merlin boggled at this, and not because of the dead hyena which was, by the way, rapidly accumulating maggots. "What is it now, Merlin?"
"I have to...give up my citizenship in King Cendred's kingdom?"
Arthur looked at him like he was completely daft. "Well yes, I'd say you do. We can't have you paying allegiance to two kings now, can we?"
Although Merlin had never considered it, he knew it was so. King Uther was, after all, a man who lived his life by those statures set in Machiavelli's The Prince, although it was not yet in circulation. Not having read the book, and of course not blessed with the second sight, one could only assume he had come to these conclusions himself. Uther was, in short, the 'real deal.'
"Just do it, Merlin," Arthur said.
"Alright, alright," Merlin conceded. "I suppose you won't be able to stop me whenever I want to visit my mother; you like her too much."
Arthur did not dignify this with a response, instead shoving Merlin to one knee without warning.
"As crown prince of Camelot," he said. "I, Arthur Pendragon, pronounce you citizen of Camelot from this day hence. May you prosper."
The sword to the shoulder this time, and an ungloved hand carding through Merlin's hair.
"Let's get out of here, Merlin," the prince murmured. "You smell disgusting."
"Wha-"
"You're now completely sworn in and mine to command," Arthur pointed out manhandling Merlin up once again. "Get that carcass out of here. We'll need it to show your King."
He looked to the slain beast at his feet, looked to Arthur's expectant face before him, and accepted both. Shrugged.
"For Camelot, I suppose," he said.
"There's the spirit, Merlin," Arthur said, and clapped him too hard on the shoulder, and again on the back, then stalked ahead. He stopped in the doorway however, and waited for Merlin to hoist the beast over a shoulder. His face could not be seen, as he was but a gold-limned vision in the exit. Merlin looked on distracted while Arthur allowed, as if to himself, "There just might be hope for you yet."
Pairing: Arthur/Merlin as they are in the show
Rating: PG
Summary: As we know, Ealdor is under King Cendred's rule. Because of this, Merlin must take a grueling test to become a citizen of Albion. In which Merlin is an illegal alien, Uther is a xenophobe, Gaius is peripherally avuncular, and Sir Leon is asked for his opinion and finally allowed to give it.
Words: 5,400
A/N: because as longswordho said, "it is called for." Does this count as crack?
master fic post
Kingdom Under Siege
The day began as any other: pink at the horizon and a bleary feeling about the head. Merlin smashed his face a bit deeper into his lone pillow. He laid there until Gaius' firm rapping cut his dream state, and only then did he remember fully what was to come.
"I'm awake!" he hollered. As often was the case, his shouting revealed an obdurate country boy lilt that he'd struggled to disguise with the smooth vowels of Albion.
"Mind you leave time for breakfast, Merlin," Gaius said back.
Merlin groaned to himself, shoved himself off his straw-better-than-the-ground mattress, and swapped one dirty set of nightclothes for a freshly cleaned set of hipster-chic servant wear.
Proudly we haile, he muttered to himself, wetting his fingertips in his bed-basin and smoothing down his fringe with extra care. Ramparts, glorious.... Dammit, Merlin.
The sun was full over the horizon, just enough time to bring Arthur his breakfast and mentally prepare himself for the test to come. He left his room, only running back up his 3 steps twice this time to do things he'd forgotten (one: hide the magic book under the floorboard, two:shoes, Merlin! shoes! why that reprimand sounded so much like his royal highness' dulcet tenor, he did not dare to ask himself.) He snagged the 6 inch sub on the way out off of the tin plate Gaius had laid out for him, grinning out a "Wish me luck! Thanks Gaius!" and the old man just smiled fondly over his bowl of warmed oats.
"You won't be needing luck, Merlin," the physician told him, supportive to the end. "If you spent half the time you have studying for today on important things, like basic flora and fauna of the region, you'd make a fine scholar yet."
"Right," Merlin said, and turned, grasped the corrugated iron handle leading out of Gaius' suite, and steeled himself for the day ahead. He would not fail.
~ @ ~
Merlin jogged to the kitchens, slowed on the way up to Arthur's chambers because he knew, from past experience, that rushing with platters was conducive to tripping and the situations that followed. His power walking had put him in a sweaty disposition unfortunately by the time he arrived at the large door, knocked, and then opened it without waiting for an answering shout. Mornings were not the time for so much shouting, especially as Merlin's ears were just a tad bit more sensitive than the normal pair due to their x10% in size.
He found the prince was still ensconced in his layered bed dressings: light silks from the orient, cotton sheets from North Umbria, all covered by a crushed velvet throw. On top, to continue the theme of hunting lodge to match the skull above the fireplace, the heavy pelt of some beast long since slain. Under all this, the form of the prince could be made out, so far the faint stirrings of wakefulness only affecting his fingers and eyelids.
Merlin set about his normal tasks. Light the fire with a reflective flash of gold iris; no whispering there, he'd known how to do wordless magic since near birth! Although using spoken spells did help channel his power...Then shoved the many pairs of boots near the hearth back in line. And finally straightened the rug. Arthur really didn't have much in his chambers. He was a spartan man, one who used his room for the bare necessities: eating, sleeping, and the occasional retreat to give himself a pep-talk before fighting any potentially immortal black knights, and girl knights, and other knights who'd been deemed unbeatable.
"Sire," Merlin announced, and clanked the tin dishes on the picnic bench.
"Grmsp."
Merlin arranged the table as he usually did: Meats in the middle with a fork laying alongside for ease of access, a hunk of bread on the next plate with two types of cheese, and a bucket of grapes. The goblet he placed next to the bucket.
"It's a fine day," Merlin observed, and strode to the window. He yanked the red curtains aside and tied them off on their respective hooks. "The sun is out. The birds are out there being...bird-y."
"What in gods name are you chattering about, Merlin." the prince said, finally sitting upright. His expression was one of confusion. "Is it just me, or does something smell odd?"
"Ah," Merlin said. "I've taken the liberty of freshening your chambers with some sage and rosemary."
"What?"
"In the fire," Merlin explained. "I tossed them-"
"My chambers now smell like a roast leg of lamb, Merlin."
"Right. I suppose it does-"
So much for softening him up.
Merlin was extra attentive when dressing the prince, taking great care in smoothing the wrinkles from his shirt front and picking not one but four wayward threads from the royal jacket, until Arthur cuffed him lightly on the ear and said "Merlin, what am I going to do with you." The prince then put on his own boots and took his breakfast while Merlin straightened the bedding (silk, silk, cotton, velvet throw, aaand pelt. Didn't Morgana have a stole just like this?) and would have dusted the mantelpiece for lack of else to do had he not recalled just in time not to sully his red neckerchief; this was not the day to have dust around one's neck. This whole time, Arthur made an admirable attempt to both systematically cut and eat his food with his ankle strap hunting knife and politely speak around said food about crop rotations.
"You know, Merlin," Arthur said, didactic tones set to 'go'. "As you must realize after one long year of attending me, a considerable amount of time must be afforded to discuss crops. Wheat and barley make up the majority of the grains, but of course you've got the odd rye field."
"Mm," Merlin hummed.
"Now," Arthur continued. "It is not only the serfs and respective lords of the land on whom the responsibility lies. No, the king and his men must also be familiar with crop cycles, crop rotations, sowing, planting, harvesting, threshing. The responsibility is not on one but on many. In many there are one, etc. Divided we fall. I'm telling you this because in the future you may be charged with taking notations on such meetings of state, and I may send you to Geoffry of Monmouth in records."
"Ah," Merlin hedged, feeling a brief flush of pride. "Are you..."
"I'd just like to impress upon you the importance that you pass today's citizenship exam. It won't do to have an illegal alien as my manservant."
Merlin fidgeted and then settled on an overconfident grin to meet Arthur's stern look. Arthur held his gaze for a moment, and then broke it with a sigh. He stood, shoved his plates from him, and made to leave his chambers.
"Come," he ordered, but belied his bark with a hint of a smile, and an absentminded touch to Merlin's shoulder on the way out.
♣ ♣ ♣
As he'd been told, the exam consisted of fifty-five multiple choice questions, 5 fill-ins and an essay response question. This was to be done in the two hour time period, and followed by an "oral examination" that Merlin was not too keen on, seeing as it would be Arthur administering it and Merlin knew for a fact that the Prince's manner grew more brusque as lunchtime neared.
Never one to stay too long indoors, Arthur had relegated a side walkway that was open to the courtyard as their test centre. Merlin was sat on the stone wall, as Arthur leant against one of a nearby colonnade that he might better shout good-natured orders at passersby.
"Sir Leon," Arthur nodded, as the knight with the face of a lion cub slowed his gait and stopped beside them.
"Sire." Sir Leon clutched briefly at his sword hilt and dipped straight at the waist in salute. He looked askance at Merlin who was shifting one leg under him on the stone and fiddling with a pen. "If I might inquire as to any wishes you might have..."
"How good of you, Sir Leon," Arthur clapped the man on the back. "I happen to be administering an exam at the moment. Perhaps you could prove of service."
"An exam?" Sir Leon prompted. Merlin looked down and away. Gwen was traversing the courtyard, nearly to the anachronistic regal iron statue of a horse and rider. In her arms she clutched the largest bouquet of purple blooms Merlin had ever seen.
"Yes," Arthur's voice came. Merlin looked back. "Merlin here stumbled here from Cendred's Kingdom, which had escaped my notice until recent events. I had the pleasure of meeting his mother and found that, not only did his town lie a half day's ride from the border, but Merlin did not even realize what risks he'd taken crossing as he had: by himself, with no papers."
"Half the border guards cannot read," Merlin pointed out. "AND I didn't sneak over, as you seem to be implying, I was sent by my mother to Gaius who is a citizen of Camelot..."
"Silence, Merlin," Arthur said. "Merlin had only a vague reason to be in Camelot, and like many fortune-seekers had a shoddy story of a job awaiting him here."
Sir Leon was hiding his smile admirably. Merlin had always liked Sir Leon.
"And you know how things stand on those without proper documentation," Arthur said. "I've not the time to train another manservant, I've expended enough energy attempting to teach this one how to clean my chambers to very minimal success - Merlin leave off grinning, you look like a girl - so making him a citizen is what we'll do. Isn't that right, Merlin?"
"Yes, sire."
"Well, whatever I can do to help," Sir Leon offered, hands spread in front of him in a gesture of one offering one's services to those who don't need them. "I could stand by and watch that he doesn't cheat?"
"Oi!" Merlin said.
"Merlin, this is a knight you're addressing," Arthur said sharply, laughing.
"Yes, sire," Merlin said.
"Right then, Sir Leon administer the written portion of the test, and then it will be for both of us to hear his oral examination."
"Yes, mi'lord," Sir Leon said. He took the roll of scrolls and placed them before Merlin. He looked Merlin up and down seriously and said: "As Knight and citizen of Camelot, I wish you the best of luck. No cheating now. Begin."
And just like that, Merlin's bid for his future had begun. The parchment spread crost the rocks, weighed down by the ink pot on one end and his ankle at the other, Merlin quickly scanned the questions. They were at varying levels of difficulty, and he saw at least ten that he knew right off. His pulse slowed minimally.
Among which were:
3 Name the Pendragons, in order of lineage.
16 What is the meaning of the name Pendragon?
17 Describe the Pendragon crest.
23 To whom falls the duty of mucking out the royal stables.
To which Merlin scribbled on each line, respectively:
A long list that he was proud to remember quite clearly which concluded in...Breather, Ether, Aurelius, Uther, Arthur; "head dragon"; a golden dragon on a red backdrop; me whomever is ordered to do so - there doesn't seem to be any rhyme or reason to it, to be honest
Merlin looked up to see that Gwen had stopped to speak with a seamstress. She accepted a bundle of fabric and Merlin watched as she then looked up to her mistress' open window.
"Gwen," Morgana hollered down in an unladylike fashion that would only be allowed the king's ward. "Are those flowers for me?"
"Of course, mi'lady," Gwen said. Morgana's laughter rippled down and she left the window. The bustling of the courtyard drowned out the sound. How could Merlin not wish to belong to this?
He returned to number 9 (To whom does one report thievery, murder, or battery? Is this the same for small crimes?) which he was unsure of but could probably answer in vague enough terms for his answer to be deemed at least partially acceptable. He usually just took care of such issues himself, so was not familiar with the protocol.
Arthur was still stood benevolently against his limestone column, all washed gold with sun, directing a man unloading a crate of cider to then be taken to the kitchens. Merlin hoped to partake in that cider later, promised himself, on second thought, that if he could pass this test and remain in Camelot he would drink an entire jug of that cider to himself. Well, perhaps a small goblet, 'two sheets to the wind' as Gaius had said, but oh how he would savor it!
There came a clacking of boot heels on the cobbled walk and Merlin did not look up, tried not to twitch, because it was the king making his imperious way towards them, and it was all Merlin could do not to spill ink or his secret. Of course he stood when Arthur said "Father." and he bowed his head, but he did not look the king in the face, for anything could be taken for treason when the right mood was about the place and it was best not to tempt his luck. He sat when Uther ignored him, and continued scratching away at the written portion of the exam.
"This will not be tolerated," the king said without preamble. Almost petulant. The leather of one constantly donned glove scritched into the form of a fist.
"Father," Arthur said. "We're working to the best of our abilities to ensure that traffic at the borders of North Umbria and Mercia is kept to the bare minimum, as per your request, but it's rather difficult to stop crossings altogether."
"And why is that?" the King asked. Merlin snuck a glance at this point, long enough to take in the King's annoyed visage and Arthur, ever the diplomat, posture intended to soothe. He turned back to the page in front of him, and considered the next question: How is one to address visiting nobility. List in order of rank and land.
"There is much that we depend upon from neighboring lands," Arthur reminded his father. Merlin thought of Arthur's imported sheets. "And there are many to whom Camelot offers promise of work where they would find themselves otherwise destitute."
"This is so," Uther conceded. "But the more undocumented workers that cross onto our lands, the more reason we have to fear revolt or, worse, sors'ry. We are a kingdom under siege, slowly being infiltrated."
Merlin was already on question 25, quicker than he'd expected, but, well, Gaius had near slid him a cheat sheet to study from, so it was no wonder the answers were coming easily. These were things he'd needed to learn anyhow. Questions like "Why does Arthur keep all the keys?" had finally been explained (however unhelpful: "he is the crown prince").
"They take the jobs of others, and give little in return," Uther said, repeating a long-discussed argument.
"That is one opinion," Arthur allowed. Did he sound terse? "But they do much of the work others would care not to. This one, for example," here he made a sweeping gesture to encompass all of Merlin. "He does my laundry, is the only one I make muck out the stables-"
That answers that, Merlin thought and amended his previous answer with an ink blot and sprinkling of powder, filling no. 23 this time with ME : /. Sir Leon was quietly listening in on the two nobles and paid Merlin's cheat no mind. Really, this test was most enlightening.
"This is not a time for joking, Arthur. You know full well that when I gave you this manservant I afforded him one of the highest positions a servant could desire."
"True, father. In any case, making the border crossing more stringent will not solve the root problem, it will only serve to temporarily curb the immigration onto our lands. If you would only speak to Lord Bayard and King Ce-"
"Enough for now, Arthur. These discussions are for few to hear."
The king left moments later, and Merlin nearly upset his papers when he stood to pay the requisite respects.
By the time Merlin had finished the written portion he was considerably less stressed. He'd known most of the answers, he thought, and bluffed the others; in short, he had completed the exam as he completed the quotidian. The essay took about the same amount of time, but by now he had hit his stride, and it was done seemingly in a wink. The noise and echoing of the traffic in the courtyard was but ambient noise, and nothing compared to the sound of his own even breathing and confident marks of point to parchment. All seemed well. Sir Leon took the stack of parchment and set in immediately deciphering Merlin's writing with the expediency Arthur had drilled into his knights on all things, and Merlin stretched and cracked his bony spinal column in preparation for the next and final portion. All was well, that is, until the King made a reappearance just as Arthur had pushed himself from where he leant.
Merlin instinctively froze in place, and with unnecessary volume, Arthur announced: "I hereby begin the oral portion of the examination of citizenship for Merlin of Ealdor. All those who wish to give audience may do so here."
Arthur was one to stand on ceremony, Merlin knew, so should not have been surprised. At Arthur's gesture, Merlin stood uncomfortably from his perch. One leg was asleep and the other felt unsure. At least 10 curious folk gathered nearby and stared on.
"First off," Arthur declared. "I want you to sing the anthem of Camelot."
Merlin stared.
"Don't be shy now," Arthur said, clapping him roughly on the back. Merlin looked up to the prince, as he was squeezing somehow meaningfully at Merlin's pointy shoulder blade, and saw that the prince's gaze was turned at his father a few steps away, rather than Merlin. The two men were looking at one another calmly, and Merlin saw that this was the moment to prove something, if not for himself, for Arthur, and that much more was at stake here than his belonging to this land.
And so he stepped forward, with the confidence of Sir Ian McKellan or possibly Juliane Moore in times to come, a confidence he didn't necessarily feel but which was quite a good idea to affect for the following performance:
Oh, say can you see, by the dawn's early light,
What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleaming?
Whose broad knights and bright stars, through the perilous fight,
O'er the ramparts we watched, were so gallantly streaming?
And the dragons' gold glare, arrows bursting through air,
Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there.
O say, does that Pendragon banner yet wave!
At this point, Merlin opened one eye for a peek and then closed it at the sight of a formidable crowd. Swelling his chest with well-needed breath, he gave this last line his all:
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave?
He'd done it! He's managed the high F#! Merlin offered a shaky grin to the disproportionately small smattering of applause, and also the smattering of tomato at Merlin's foot.
"Restrict your fruit pelting to the stocks," Arthur barked to the crowd as a whole. Merlin flushed a little at this, and Arthur turned, casting a brief look to his father who looked displeased, and said, "Now, the tongue twisters."
"Pardon?" Merlin asked. Arthur pointed two fingers at Merlin as if they were seeing eye to eye, or attempting to communicate silently while hunting. Merlin eyed him warily.
"Now Merlin," Arthur continued. "I want you to repeat after me. And then say this five times fast, without messing up." Merlin began to nod, but Arthur repeated "Without messing up." and shot a meaningful glance in the direction of his father, who looked on with stormy resolution.
Merlin nodded.
"She sells sea shells by the sea shore." Arthur intoned meaningfully. Merlin watched his lips shape the consonants and subsequent vowels, noting how Arthur so effortlessly pronounced the "ɔr" at the end of shore where Merlin's country mouth would roll a rich R. He had to fit in, though. He saw that he had to look and sound as much as a Camelotian as possible for Arthur's sake.
He said it. It was hard, but he said it. Again. Again. Again. Again.
"Well done," Arthur said. "Next: Thirty sly thick thugs sought thirty slightly thin slugs." He said this with a straight face, and Sir Leon repeated the phrase when Arthur motioned him to do so. "Next: Thirty sly thick thugs sought thirty slightly thin slugs."
This one was a bit harder. Arthur and Sir Leon made the very common number, Merlin's "thairty", into something nonsensical. "Thuh-tee" Merlin copied under his breath. "Thehh-tee." Not to mention this conjured to mind Gaius' leech tank.
He tried this phrase aloud, but tripped up at 'thugs' and lisped at 'slightly'. He tried once more but spat on both 'thin' and 'slugs'.
"Mental affliction indeed," Uther remarked from his place at Arthur's elbow, and smiled darkly. With that, he swept away to a mix of bowing and tittering of the crowd.
"Again, Merlin," Arthur commanded, and the people quieted once more.
V.v.V
Two hours and counting. The crowd had dispersed. Sir Leon had been sent for ham, returned, and then sat with them while the prince continued drilling Merlin mercilessly. Arthur had long since finished actually reading from the vellum he held in his left hand, and was now gesturing with his right at physical or abstract ideas.
"What's that called?"
"What sire?" Merlin squinted once more into the courtyard, up to the towers.
"Up there," Arthur said, leaning out over the wall on which Merlin had sat again, pointed up to the sky with two fingers.
"A pennant?" Merlin tried.
"No, not that, that rock thing over there." Arthur said.
"A gargoyle."
"Correct," Arthur said, and made a motion as if he were actually marking something off on his paper.
"And the name of the royal steeds?"
"Hengroen-" Merlin began, sure of this question.
"No, too easy," Arthur effaced this question with a wave in Merlin's direction. "Names of the royal hounds!"
"Daisy, Marti-"
"Nevermind that," he said again. "Now, who do you find more beautiful? The Lady Morgana, the Lady Vivian, or-"
"Arthur, are you just making questions up now?" Merlin asked, finally voicing what Sir Leon had surely noticed as well.
"You wish, Merlin," Arthur countered. "How many guards stand watch over the dragon's keep!?"
"Two. One big, one small," Merlin said, victoriously. "They play at dice!"
"That was a trick question," the prince told him. He squinted over the scroll at Merlin, flicking his attention to the entirety of the warlock's bitty frame not once, but twice, in interest. "How did you know that?"
"I- ah-"
It was then that the guard burst from a near archway. If they hadn't all dressed alike and shouted in similar fashions, Merlin might just know their names by now.
"My lord!" the knight shouted.
"Wha' tis it?" Arthur demanded, wheeling on him seriously.
"Hyenas! On the pride lands!"
"Hy-EEnas?" Arthur's tone brooked no humor. In fact, he suddenly sounded more like his father than he ever had. "I'm not even sure if I know what they are. Are they beasts?"
"Yes, mi'lord. Creatures similar to wolves."
Sir Leon and Arthur rose to their full heights, shoulders suddenly broad as suggested in the song, imposing. Merlin was inappropriately pleased at the interruption.
Arthur rushed out, yelling 'To arms!' and his knights leapt from archways and from behind peasants, a veritable infestation of small ants or tiny tin soldiers who appeared near indestructible in the afternoon light.
Merlin followed suit, not tripping once because, despite appearances, he was well-suited and sure footed when it came to battle.
♥ ♥ ♥
The host of knights on horseback stampeded into the fields and towards the farm where the beasts had last been sighted. Half a candle mark and they were there, nearing the small farmstead.
"There are three!" Sir Pellinore called back. "Gangly and fleet, said the farmer. Sharp teeth and claws like forest cats."
"They are no match for our steel," Arthur assured them all, a figurehead in his saddle in the heat. Merlin's steed trampled a rabbit and stumbled lightly over a felled branch as they entered the high growth from the forest path.
The knights scattered at Arthur's command and swept the field.
Merlin took a moment to consider how, in pledging himself to Arthur and the land, he was quite possibly committing himself to a life of hunting down animals, whether in actual hunting for sport or under the guise of ridding the land from evil and dangerous beasties. Ah well, it had been too late the moment he had crossed the border, at the moment of decision that at the time he had not recognized for the liminal space that it was.
"There is no turning back," he told himself, sweaty flanks of Cyrrn all aripple beneath him, the environs with its wheat stalks and butterflies in high resolution neath the noonday sun. "For Camelot."
He galloped out, in case his lord might need a helping hand.
- - - -
It was there, in the rubble and sudden quiet of the half-fallen barn, that Merlin finished his test. Grain dust was settling, the chaff built up in his boots and scattered liberally on Arthur's golden hair, more white in this particular shaft of sunlight, acrost his shoulders and cheek. Arthur brushed at this impatiently, and lifted Merlin to his feet with sure grip on small bicep. There were three knights, relatively unscathed, clearing rubble from the freak cave-in of the roof, and Merlin watched as one picked up a crushed hyena by an ear for closer inspection. He experienced an unhappy parallel.
"I've never seen their like," Arthur said, shoving at another dead beast with the toe of his boot. "They were all sly and quick of foot. Let's hope more do not return to terrorize the people."
"Right," Merlin said. His head was all abuzz with excess magic hoping to surge out, temporarily difficult to control. Embarrassing.
"Are you alright?" Arthur asked him. His rare moment of actual concern, usually covered by quick chiding.
"All in a day's work," Merlin tried. Arthur huffed a laugh.
"Sir Leon! Sir Pellinore!" the prince cried. "Tell the others that we're to ride out immediately."
Three silhouette o'knights stood momentarily in the doorway, then seemed eaten by the back lighting of day when they left to carry out Arthur's orders. Merlin stood near the wall where he'd been picked up, and looked in confusion at the animal carcass near him. The wound was splayed and gushing, and he thought he might be sick.
"Oh and Sir Leon!" Arthur shouted again. Merlin's sensitive ears rang.
"Yes, Sire?" Sir Leon reappeared and smiled once at Merlin before looking back to his lord.
"Would you say Merlin has fulfilled the prerequisites to be awarded citizenship of Camelot?"
The knight looked long and hard at Merlin, as if considering, and then said gravely, "I have never met a more worthy applicant."
"That will be all, Sir Leon," Arthur said. Damn if the flush wasn't making a resurgance.
"Now, Merlin," Arthur continued, nearby and sudden. Merlin jumped. But Arthur kept on. "Once again, our lives are threatened, and once again, you just lie there and let us men do all the work."
Merlin spared him a carefully insulted expression.
"Loath as I am to admit, however, you have your uses. Filthy armor not withstanding, and despite the fact that you answered 8 out of 55 questions incorrectly on the written section of your citizenship exam - one of which being "Where does one heat the bath water?", might I add - I was pleased to find your essay was succinct, if sloppy, showing a surprising comprehension of the vassal-lord system. Top marks for the better part of the oral save your sometimes appallingly obvious bumpkin accent."
In the dappled light of the barn, air too close and warm to inhale comfortably, Merlin felt the small and guttural stirrings of hope. The carcass smelled sweetly so that Merlin wasn't sure whether to smile at Arthur or just gag politely into his now-dusty neckerchief.
"What I'm trying to say, Merlin." He looked up at the prince's grasp at his shoulder. Arthur's expression vacillated between serious, mock serious, back to serious. As to his own facial mask, Merlin settled on self-consciously serious, and looked anywhere but Arthur's eyes. The hand left his shoulder after a(n m)pregnant pause, and Arthur drew his sword. A glint off the blade was enough to temporarily blind him, so Merlin knew that at least he had done his duty in shining the damn thing.
When he spoke, Arthur's voice was weighed heavy with honor and resolution, like so many Pendragon banners and family crests and tapestries which hung the regal halls of the castle:
"Do you, Merlin of Ealdor, accept and vow to live by the laws of Camelot?"
"I do." Merlin lied.
"To protect the Crown to the best of your ability?"
Merlin had differing opinions dependent on which crown, but he said "I do" anyways. Arthur smiled kindly, and there was the hand again, briefly, like a promise in return.
"And do you swear your love to Uther Pendragon, King of Camelot?"
Merlin started. "Now hang on a second!"
"That's FEALTY MERLIN" Arthur bit out in an undertone.
"Oh, right," Merlin backtracked. "Yeah, I suppose I love him."
Arthur cast him a withering look that bespoke more impatience than usual, despite the fact that Merlin had quite obviously just had a hand in saving the day.
"And do you willingly denounce citizenship to all other realms, by which-" Merlin boggled at this, and not because of the dead hyena which was, by the way, rapidly accumulating maggots. "What is it now, Merlin?"
"I have to...give up my citizenship in King Cendred's kingdom?"
Arthur looked at him like he was completely daft. "Well yes, I'd say you do. We can't have you paying allegiance to two kings now, can we?"
Although Merlin had never considered it, he knew it was so. King Uther was, after all, a man who lived his life by those statures set in Machiavelli's The Prince, although it was not yet in circulation. Not having read the book, and of course not blessed with the second sight, one could only assume he had come to these conclusions himself. Uther was, in short, the 'real deal.'
"Just do it, Merlin," Arthur said.
"Alright, alright," Merlin conceded. "I suppose you won't be able to stop me whenever I want to visit my mother; you like her too much."
Arthur did not dignify this with a response, instead shoving Merlin to one knee without warning.
"As crown prince of Camelot," he said. "I, Arthur Pendragon, pronounce you citizen of Camelot from this day hence. May you prosper."
The sword to the shoulder this time, and an ungloved hand carding through Merlin's hair.
"Let's get out of here, Merlin," the prince murmured. "You smell disgusting."
"Wha-"
"You're now completely sworn in and mine to command," Arthur pointed out manhandling Merlin up once again. "Get that carcass out of here. We'll need it to show your King."
He looked to the slain beast at his feet, looked to Arthur's expectant face before him, and accepted both. Shrugged.
"For Camelot, I suppose," he said.
"There's the spirit, Merlin," Arthur said, and clapped him too hard on the shoulder, and again on the back, then stalked ahead. He stopped in the doorway however, and waited for Merlin to hoist the beast over a shoulder. His face could not be seen, as he was but a gold-limned vision in the exit. Merlin looked on distracted while Arthur allowed, as if to himself, "There just might be hope for you yet."