Fic: Devotion [G] Merlin/Arthur
Devotion
Pairing: M/A
Rating: G
Warnings: none
Summary: A knight’s eye view of the relationship between Merlin and Arthur. Set Post S3.
Notes: Originally written for abridgedgirly’s prompt at wldcatsprstr_14's Fix-it-with-Fluff fest. “Just a fluffy Arthur/Merlin fic from the Knights' POV, the knights being our lovely Gents of the Round Table. They see how close they really are, even if both Arthur and Merlin deny it.” A big oops on how long it took to actually finish it. Many thanks to altocello and iichristinll for the beta.
Gwaine
He’d known since they first met that Merlin was devoted to Arthur, though he had struggled to understand it at first. His experiences with nobles, much less royalty, had been less than stellar, and he couldn’t for the life of him comprehend why a man as friendly and kind as Merlin would serve one of the most arrogant, entitled arses he’d ever had the misfortune to meet. Sure the prince offered him aid for his injuries and spoke in his defence, but Gwaine had also seen his smug superiority. He was condescending and dismissive towards Merlin. His servant’s kindness and dedication were obvious, but Arthur just as obviously had no appreciation for it whatsoever.
Or so he had thought.
The first time he really noticed there might be something more was in the crumbling remains of a castle, newly bestowed with a knighthood of all things, seated around a dusty round table as they made plans to retake Camelot from a madwoman and her immortal army with only a handful of men. He had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that the harebrained scheme they had come up with would be their doom, but Merlin had asked for his help and there was no way he could withstand the gentle imploring look thrown his way. Merlin was going to be the death of him someday. And then, seeing the look that passed between Merlin and Arthur, the sinking feeling in his stomach turned to lead. There were still jibes and taunting, but in that moment he saw clearly that there was more underlying their words and actions. It was subtle, and fleeting, but the look, the angle of Arthur’s body, the expression on his face - Gwaine saw it all for what it was. Prince Arthur was still a royal arse and he might not deserve Merlin’s devotion, but he returned it.
In the months that followed that day, Gwaine had been at turns surprised and bitter when he watched the interaction between Arthur and Merlin. He was often startled when he noticed the little things Arthur did for Merlin -small actions and courtesies Merlin was likely unaware of because he hadn’t grown up with the knowledge of them. A cast off tunic that was not yet in the sort of condition that would warrant bestowing it upon a servant, a shared mug of warm mead on a cold night on patrol, the recognition of an opinion that shouldn’t have been voiced at council let alone acknowledged. He didn’t like that he was jealous of the warm smiles and affectionate touches Merlin gave Arthur but he could no longer fault his friend’s loyalty.
Arthur’s regard was a quiet thing, but it was real.
Elyan
He hadn’t paid much attention to Merlin at first. He might have felt badly about that, the man had come to his sister’s aid to rescue him, but he had been paying far more attention to Prince Arthur. From the start, he had noticed something between them, and knew it could only end in tears. He and Gwen had not had much contact in years, but he had thought her too sensible to dally in things beyond her station. Once he was back in Camelot, back in his childhood home and living in close quarters with Gwen again, he couldn’t help but question her about it.
“You know, out of any of the serving girls in the castle, you’re the last one I’d have thought would take up with the prince,” he teased.
Gwen scowled and gave him as less than friendly cuff to the back of the head. “I haven’t ‘taken up with him’ or anything else you’re suggesting.”
He shook his head at her. “I doubt that Prince Arthur’s the sort to go rescuing serving staff against the king’s wishes on a whim. It isn’t that I’m not grateful for all he’s done for you, but I heard he got thoroughly dressed down for it.”
“You’d be surprised. I’m not the only one he’s done it for,” Gwen snapped back.
“Really?”
She nodded. “He did the same for Merlin, and only a month after he was made Arthur’s servant. He’s a good man, Elyan.”
“Merlin? What happened to him?”
“He drank a cup of poisoned wine meant for Arthur and the king wouldn’t let anyone go to fetch the ingredients for the antidote. Arthur went anyway and saved his life.”
Elyan sat down on the bench beside his sister and stared into the fire pensively. “Who is Merlin anyway? I don’t remember him.”
“He came to the city a couple years ago to apprentice with Gaius,” Gwen said, chuckling at the memory. “He talked back to Arthur his first day in the city and ended up in the stocks.”
“So how did he become Arthur’s manservant?”
“Pushed him out of the way of a dagger. The king gave Merlin the position as a reward, but I don’t think he’s ever really understood what a privilege it is. It’s been good for them both, though. Arthur’s been... more conscientious, I suppose, since Merlin came. Merlin couldn’t care less about titles and nobility, and he pesters Arthur into being a better person.”
“What does Merlin get out of it, then, if titles and privilege don’t matter to him?”
“When Merlin’s village was attacked by raiders, Arthur came with us to help them. They’d both deny it, but the two of them would do anything for each other, anything that mattered,” Gwen said softly.
Elyan looked up at her then, hearing something odd in her tone and trying to figure out what it was. “Gwen?”
She gave him a slightly strained smile and moved bank the fire for the night. “It’s late.”
He knew he shouldn’t, but his curiosity made him press for more information. “So... what about Merlin?”
“What about Merlin?” she asked, not turning her head to look at him.
“Does he carry a torch for you as well?” he teased.
Gwen whirled around on him and said in a low and dangerous tone, “He is my friend. He has been here for me. You have not. You don’t know anything, Elyan. Things are different here than they were. If you use your eyes and ears, you’ll figure that out. Good night.”
Elyan couldn’t think of anything to say to that, but while he struggled to fall asleep he was troubled by what his sister’s words might mean.
And so, Elyan watched.
He watched Gwen and he watched Merlin and he watched Arthur. Of course, watching Gwen and Merlin were the easiest. Merlin seemed to be in the habit of coming by regularly, not just to visit Gwen, but to check on him as well. He searched for the young man’s motives, but after a few weeks he was forced to conclude that Merlin was... nice. He was one of those truly rare, genuinely nice people looking out for the happiness of others and not for his own gain. He could see why his sister liked him and took offense to Elyan suggesting there was anything between them. Merlin probably would make a better brother to Gwen than he did.
It was a good deal more difficult to find an opportunity to watch Gwen and Arthur together. He had no good excuse to be in the castle, and the prince was rarely in the lower town for any reason beyond seeing to the city guards on patrol. He saw them greet each other in the street once on a crowded market day, but he didn’t see anything more to it than a friendly acknowledgement of someone who was more than a nameless servant in the castle. Elyan knew Gwen had feelings for Arthur, but he didn’t see anything indicating they were returned, though it had been a very brief encounter in a very public space.
He wondered and worried a great deal more than he should have, but that only became apparent when he finally got the chance to see Merlin and Arthur together, without Gwen’s presence.
“Come on, Arthur. You’re being ridiculous,” Merlin said in exasperation, dragging the prince into the smithy.
“Merlin, I said this was unnecessary. We can find a way to get it off,” Prince Arthur hissed irritably.
Elyan looked at the pair in surprise, taking in Merlin’s look of frustration and Arthur’s rather battered looking armour, before bowing his head slightly at the prince. “Sire. Merlin. What can I do for you?”
“Nothing,” Arthur said, turning to leave, but Merlin caught his arm.
“Quit being so damn stubborn. What are you going to do? Wear your armour for the rest of your life?”
“You are the one who is too incompetent to get it off.”
“Only because you and Leon got too enthusiastic trying to kill each other and he dented your helmet so badly it won’t come off your fat head.”
“Stocks, Merlin, for a week.”
“Fine then, leave it on. You can explain it to the king at the banquet tonight. I’m certain he’ll find the story amusing. He does love to hear about you losing your temper and challenging people for no good reason.”
“Merlin!”
“I’m off to the stocks, then,” Merlin said carelessly, then turned to Elyan. “I shouldn’t have brought him here. Sorry about that. I just figured you’d be more discreet than the royal armourer would be and not tell Uther about it.”
Merlin winked at him, then smiled cheerfully at Arthur and walked towards the door. Before he even got close, the prince sighed heavily and slumped down onto a stool by the workbench. “Get back here, Merlin.”
“I thought I was supposed to go to the stocks.”
Arthur’s scowl was obstructed by the distorted metal of the helmet, but it was so petulant it was all Elyan could do not to burst out laughing.
“That does nothing to keep this from my father. If you aren’t at dinner to attend me, he’ll want to know why.”
“He’ll also want to know why you still have all your amour on.”
“Oh, shut it,” Arthur snapped and turned to face Elyan. “My helmet seems to have become too dented to remove. Would you be able to assist me?”
Elyan nodded and desperately tried not to smile, but it was difficult given the manic grin Merlin was sending him. “Of course, sire. Let me have a look.”
It took some time, the helmet really was badly dented and surely very uncomfortable, but eventually he managed to bend the metal enough to remove it without having to resort to cutting it off. Merlin hovered at his side, trying to be helpful, though if Elyan were being entirely honest he was mostly in the way. The entire time he was working, the two bickered with each other, but underlying the harsh words was something else.
Gwen’s words started to make sense to him as he listened to them trade jibes and insults in increasingly fond tones. When he was successful in removing the helmet, Elyan stood back while Merlin brushed gentle fingers over a bloodied patch of hair. There was a lump beginning to swell and it was surely quite tender, but Arthur didn’t say a word of criticism as Merlin examined it.
“That must have been uncomfortable with the helmet on,” Merlin said, his voice no longer teasing.
“How bad is it?” Arthur asked, his brow furrowing.
Merlin fiddled with the hair a bit, pursing his lips. “Your hair should hide it once we clean you up. I don’t think he’ll notice.”
Arthur nodded, then turned his attention back to Elyan. “Thank you for the help. If you... I... I’d appreciate it if you kept this to yourself.”
Elyan nodded. “Of course.”
“Good,” Arthur said and moved quickly to the door. “Come on, Merlin. I have a banquet to get ready for tonight, and the bath won’t fill itself.”
Merlin rolled his eyes, grabbed the battered helmet and followed the prince back towards the castle.
Elyan sat down on the recently vacated stool, staring after the pair and feeling foolish. It was very clear to him now that Gwen was not the one either of them were carrying a torch for.
Months later he saw a man he scarcely knew, a friend of Merlin’s, watch the pair together and come to the same realization. When their eyes met across the table, Elyan offered Gwaine a sympathetic glance.
Leon
He had lived at the garrison at Camelot for years, and being only a couple years older than Prince Arthur had thought he knew the man quite well. Since he had come to court to train, his father had encouraged him to become close with the prince, though their similar age and skill level meant they were more often close rivals than close friends. Arthur was driven to prove himself the best to his father, the other knights, noblemen and women at court, and anyone else he knew might be judging him, which was everyone. Arthur didn’t open himself up to friendship. He was too competitive to relax enough to be truly friendly.
Leon understood this. Uther was a demanding king and even more demanding father. In the first few years of his training, Uther had regularly come to watch drills and sparring. Words of praise were rare and often after a visit Arthur would be remain on the field long after the rest of them were dismissed. Once he had overheard a harsh dressing down while tucked away in the corner of the armoury personally tending to his armour after a long and brutal sparring session. The angry words Uther spat at his son were undeserved, and Leon wished he could ease some of the hurt they must have caused, but there was no way of doing so without revealing his presence.
He did watch Arthur more closely afterwards, and he started noticing the signs that followed a confrontation between the prince and the king. Arthur spoke less, criticized those around him more and trained with a ferocity normally reserved for tournaments and actual combat.
And then Merlin arrived.
The change wasn’t immediate, but there was no question as to its origin. The prince had been in a continuous foul mood during the first few weeks of Merlin’s service followed by the debacle over Knight Valiant at the tournament and then... then Leon noticed things changing. Arthur’s tempers began to lose their edge. He began to dismiss the opinions and suggestions of others less readily. Disagreements with the king seemed to hurt him less and he began to choose his battles more carefully. He even stopped being so critical of the castle servants, all except Merlin.
Prince Arthur was still aloof and in control, but he seemed less desperate to prove himself. There were times when that anger and ferocity returned. Leon had even been responsible for it once when he had held back during training for a jousting tournament. He knew the memory still chafed at Arthur, and any time the prince thought he was giving less than his best the ensuing challenge would leave him aching and bruised for days.
It was on a hunting trip that he fully realized just how different Arthur was around Merlin. They had strayed further into the forest than they had intended in pursuit of a stag with a magnificent rack, and darkness had fallen quickly. It was a cold autumn night, but their cooking fire dispelled most of the chill as they sat around telling stories and passing a skin of wine around. While the rest of them relaxed, Merlin was busy refilling water skins, gathering firewood, and tending to the meat they had spitted over the fire. After returning to the fireside from checking on the horses, Arthur shifted down the log he was seated on and patted the spot beside him.
“Sit down, Merlin. You’re making me tired just watching you.”
“But I-”
“Sit. I would have thought you’d be tired after a busy day of chasing animals away,” Arthur teased.
Merlin scowled, but sat down beside Arthur. “I don’t see why you bring me along on these trips. All you do is complain about how I scare all the game away.”
“I like having you around. You’re entertaining. Besides, I’m convinced you aren’t trying. No one can be that bad at hunting.”
“No one could care less about hunting than I do. I don’t see how spending the night freezing in the woods is anyone’s idea of a good time.”
“I despair of you, Merlin,” Arthur said with a heavy sigh, and tossed a woollen blanket at Merlin.
Merlin let out an indignant squawk, but pulled the blanket around his shoulders and leaned in closer to the fire. The others started talking again and ignored their prince and his servant, but Leon continued watching them out of the corner of his eye. Arthur was more relaxed than he had ever been and even in the dim light he could see the smile that played on the prince’s lips, friendlier than any smile ever directed at the knights. The tense restraint Arthur normally carried was gone and he seemed... content. Merlin was sitting close enough that their knees bumped occasionally and despite his grumbling, there was a look of contentment on his face as well.
As Leon turned his attention back to the others, he wondered if any of them had noticed the changes in their prince.
Percival
At first he wasn’t sure what to make of Prince Arthur. Lancelot had told him all he knew about the man, and about his brief time in Camelot. His praise was effusive, but there was a lingering sadness that hung like a cloud over his stories. Percival wasn’t sure how much he could like a man who also made his friend so sad, nor the woman for that matter. He was sure Guinevere was beautiful and lovely, but he wondered if she could possibly be worth the heartache Lancelot felt. Then again, his friend had said he left so that she wouldn’t be forced to choose between them, which was a stupid thing to do. Lancelot was too noble for his own good sometimes. Well, a lot of the time actually.
There were no mixed feelings when he met Merlin. Lancelot had spoken of him often as well, and there was always a smile on his face when he did. Percival could see why. Merlin was kind and friendly, and while Prince Arthur appeared grateful for his help and welcomed him, it was Merlin who makes him feel like he belonged in the ragtag group of strangers that assembled in the ancient castle.
When Camelot was retaken and he found himself welcomed more officially into the knighthood of the kingdom, he got the chance to know the people Lancelot has spoken of better. He saw for himself that Gwen was beautiful and kind, though he didn’t think her affections for the prince were as great as Lancelot believed. Nor were the affections of the prince for her.
Percival was sometimes surprised at how well he could blend into the background, despite his imposing size. He has learned how to be quiet, to listen and observe, and he saw many things. He saw the way Merlin devoted himself to Arthur and he saw the subtle ways Arthur acknowledged it. He saw the way they teased each other and the occasional incidental touches that were more frequent when they forgot he was around. He saw the way Merlin stepped forward to protect Arthur without a thought towards his own safety and the worry in Arthur’s eyes at the thought Merlin might be hurt. He saw two men who were so familiar with each other that they anticipated the other’s movements, even when Merlin tripped over his own feet and was saved from falling by Arthur’s quickly outstretched arm.
In the end, it was the way the two interacted with each other that let him know he made the right decision in staying in Camelot. It let him know that Arthur would be a great king. A king worth fighting for. And when he saw the way Merlin’s eyes glowed, when he saw the way he used his secret to protect them all, including Arthur, without them knowing, he promised himself he would do all that he could to protect what they had when the secret came to light.
Lancelot
He’s spent years pining for Guinevere. He’s also spent years missing the easy friendship he found with Merlin. He’s spent years living day to day, never sure of where his next meal is coming from, never sure of where he’ll sleep the night. He’s spent years hating it.
Returning to Camelot, being welcomed for himself and not the imaginary son of a noble he pretended to be, is more than he could have wished for during those long days of wandering and uncertainty. He is happy to have friends at his side and purpose in his life, even if the return is somewhat bittersweet. He still feels longing and regret whenever he sees Gwen, but keeps himself at a distance, as he had promised before, but it’s harder now that he sees her every day.
Still, he had expected there to be a far greater closeness between Arthur and Guinevere, which he hasn’t seen. If anything, they seem more distant than when he last saw them. Overlaying this confusion, he sees how much closer Merlin has become with the prince, and it stings him in a way he doesn’t fully understand. Merlin has always been dedicated to Arthur, but there is an ease between them, a breaking down of barriers, that has left them friends more than master and servant. He’s glad for Merlin. His friend deserves more respect than he ever gets, but the close friendship he had expected to share with Merlin isn’t there in the way he had hoped.
Merlin’s secret is still one that is only shared with him, however. On the few occasions they spend time together on their own, Merlin has told him how much he wants to tell Arthur and all his worries about what will happen if and when he does. Lancelot doesn’t have any useful advice for his friend, and can only promise to keep his secret in the meantime.
They’ve been on patrol for days, riding along the borders and checking on the outlying villages. There has been much disturbance along Cenred’s border as the kingdom is lacking in leadership. Technically, Arthur could claim the rule of it for his own, but Camelot’s resources are stretched thin already. It’s going to take time to rebuild what was lost during Morgana’s brief but devastating rule, even with Merlin using magic on the sly to help. Lancelot has noticed Merlin slipping off from the group now and then and knows he’s been working magic of some form all along the border. Each day the dark circles under Merlin’s eyes deepen and he sees Arthur casting worried glances from time to time.
This morning, however, Merlin has been the most energetic he’s been since leaving the city. Arthur smiles fondly at him as they turn their horses down a narrow trail and - to Lancelot’s shock - urges Merlin to take the lead. He’s not certain where they’re headed, but as they ford the river he knows they are crossing out of Camelot. Merlin urges his horse faster and Arthur chuckles. Lancelot wonders what it is he’s missing.
Their group comes out of the trees at the top of a gentle slope above a small village that looks much like any other. As they ride in, villagers begin to gather in front of their houses and soon it seems like everyone has come out to greet them. This isn’t entirely unusual in the smaller villages that don’t see patrols as often as the larger towns closer to the castle, but these people are not from Camelot. He hears several people calling to Arthur by name and the prince swings down out of the saddle and greets the group warmly. He notices Merlin is off his horse as well and glances around before he spots his friend pulling a woman into his arms and holding her close. When Arthur makes his way through the crowd of people to them, she lets go of Merlin and drags Arthur into an embrace as well. Lancelot is stunned. He’s never seen Arthur do more than clap an arm around someone’s shoulders, and he’s certainly never seen anyone so freely offer him affection.
They spend the day in the village, visiting with Merlin’s mother Hunith (who it turned out had been the woman so enthusiastically hugging Merlin and Arthur) and checking on the village’s preparations for winter. Lancelot is a bit surprised by Arthur’s knowledge of the needs and struggles of a small village outside of Camelot’s borders, but pleased to see it. He’s also pleased that they will be spending the night, thought it’s more time than they should really be taking away from their main patrol. Hunith’s home is far too small for all of them to sleep there, so Lancelot and the other knights end up bunking in the loft above the stable. There’s no need to keep a watch tonight, so they all bed down together, eager to get an uninterrupted night’s sleep.
It’s quiet in the loft when they’ve all settled, and it’s Leon who speaks first in the wakeful silence. “I’ve never seen Arthur let someone hug him like that. Actually, I can’t think of anyone who’d dare try.”
Gwaine snorts in amusement. “He’s a bit too prickly for most, but if Merlin can put up with him, is it any wonder his mother would be the same?”
Lancelot startles a bit when Percival’s voice rumbles behind him, “They’re both good for him. The prince is a difficult person to love.”
“Love?” Lancelot finds himself asking in the dark.
“Surely you’ve seen it,” Elyan says softly. “What else would you call what they have?”
“Arthur has been a different person, a better person, since Merlin arrived in Camelot. I’ve never seen him get so close to anyone,” Leon observes. “I do wish they’d stop dancing around it, though.”
“I don’t think they actually realise what it is themselves,” says Gwaine.
“No,” Percival objects, “I think they do, but they don’t acknowledge it.”
“I’m not certain Arthur knows how to go about it,” Leon adds.
Lancelot lets out a low hum of agreement. “Merlin fears losing Arthur more than anything. He won’t risk being rejected.”
“Our lives would be a good deal more pleasant if they just got over themselves. Perhaps a nudge in the right direction...” Gwaine suggests to deafening silence.
Elyan gives Gwaine a small pat on the shoulder and shakes his head. “We may see it, but it isn’t our place to push. It will happen in its own time, or not, but meddling rarely comes to any good.”
There are quiet murmurs of acknowledgement from the others and Lancelot agrees with Elyan. Part of him is still stung by how much the people he cares about most seem to love Prince Arthur, but he is reconciled when he sees the fine leader the man has become. He can’t begrudge either Guinevere or Merlin their fondness for Arthur. All the same, as he lies in the dark listening to the rest of the group drift off to sleep, he can’t help but feel hopeful. If what Arthur and Merlin share is great enough, then he may have the opportunity to resolve one of his greatest regrets.
Hunith
Prince Arthur coming to check on her, to check on the village, fills her heart. Merlin didn’t ask him to, she’s sure. Though he is loathe to admit it, she knows that Arthur cares for Merlin and, by extension, herself. She sees how close they are, so much closer than before, and she sees the way her son’s eyes linger on him in a way they didn’t before. She sees the subtle lines of tension. She sees the restraint. Even though Merlin is her beloved son, she can’t help but be somewhat amused at his expense. Especially when she notices the same tension and restraint in Arthur as well.
They sleep as they did before, foot to head, and she stifles a laugh as they tussle over the blankets. It is hard for her to see the red faced, laughing young man as anything more than a man. Away from the castle and the knights, he is not a prince. He is simply Arthur.
In the grey light of morning Merlin slips out to fill her water pails, and she has her chance to speak plainly with Arthur.
“Don’t let propriety get in the way of being happy, Arthur.”
He is not fully alert yet, and shifts to look at her with confusion. “What do you mean?”
She smiles at him fondly. “I mean, stop teasing my poor son and make yourselves happy. Anyone with eyes can see what is between you.”
“It’s not that simple,” Arthur tells her, looking away.
“It’s exactly that simple, if you want it to be. Now go on and give him a hand at the well.”
She can’t help her grin as Arthur follows her instructions and joins Merlin at the well. She can’t hear the teasing, but from her small window she can see the way Arthur’s hand brushes against Merlin’s and the startled expression on her son’s face. She also sees his blush when he comes stumbling back into the house, splashing water on the floor as he always does.
The visitors do not stay long. She makes them breakfast and tucks a small loaf of bread into Merlin’s pack while they bustle about, getting ready to leave. The knights chat amiably amongst themselves as they check their tack and saddlebags. They’re rested and eager to be on their way, but she does not look back into the house to hurry them along. When they emerge, she pats Arthur’s cheek, wishing him safe journey then pulls Merlin into a tight hug. She can see he is still blushing to the tips of his ears, and she smiles into his shoulder.
“Be happy,” she whispers.
“I am,” he tells her.
There are tears in her eyes as the horses ride out, but she is smiling as well. Every mother wants to see her child love and be loved. And though there are some things a mother is never meant to see, but she doesn’t need to. Knowing Merlin will be loved is enough.
Pairing: M/A
Rating: G
Warnings: none
Summary: A knight’s eye view of the relationship between Merlin and Arthur. Set Post S3.
Notes: Originally written for abridgedgirly’s prompt at wldcatsprstr_14's Fix-it-with-Fluff fest. “Just a fluffy Arthur/Merlin fic from the Knights' POV, the knights being our lovely Gents of the Round Table. They see how close they really are, even if both Arthur and Merlin deny it.” A big oops on how long it took to actually finish it. Many thanks to altocello and iichristinll for the beta.
Gwaine
He’d known since they first met that Merlin was devoted to Arthur, though he had struggled to understand it at first. His experiences with nobles, much less royalty, had been less than stellar, and he couldn’t for the life of him comprehend why a man as friendly and kind as Merlin would serve one of the most arrogant, entitled arses he’d ever had the misfortune to meet. Sure the prince offered him aid for his injuries and spoke in his defence, but Gwaine had also seen his smug superiority. He was condescending and dismissive towards Merlin. His servant’s kindness and dedication were obvious, but Arthur just as obviously had no appreciation for it whatsoever.
Or so he had thought.
The first time he really noticed there might be something more was in the crumbling remains of a castle, newly bestowed with a knighthood of all things, seated around a dusty round table as they made plans to retake Camelot from a madwoman and her immortal army with only a handful of men. He had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that the harebrained scheme they had come up with would be their doom, but Merlin had asked for his help and there was no way he could withstand the gentle imploring look thrown his way. Merlin was going to be the death of him someday. And then, seeing the look that passed between Merlin and Arthur, the sinking feeling in his stomach turned to lead. There were still jibes and taunting, but in that moment he saw clearly that there was more underlying their words and actions. It was subtle, and fleeting, but the look, the angle of Arthur’s body, the expression on his face - Gwaine saw it all for what it was. Prince Arthur was still a royal arse and he might not deserve Merlin’s devotion, but he returned it.
In the months that followed that day, Gwaine had been at turns surprised and bitter when he watched the interaction between Arthur and Merlin. He was often startled when he noticed the little things Arthur did for Merlin -small actions and courtesies Merlin was likely unaware of because he hadn’t grown up with the knowledge of them. A cast off tunic that was not yet in the sort of condition that would warrant bestowing it upon a servant, a shared mug of warm mead on a cold night on patrol, the recognition of an opinion that shouldn’t have been voiced at council let alone acknowledged. He didn’t like that he was jealous of the warm smiles and affectionate touches Merlin gave Arthur but he could no longer fault his friend’s loyalty.
Arthur’s regard was a quiet thing, but it was real.
Elyan
He hadn’t paid much attention to Merlin at first. He might have felt badly about that, the man had come to his sister’s aid to rescue him, but he had been paying far more attention to Prince Arthur. From the start, he had noticed something between them, and knew it could only end in tears. He and Gwen had not had much contact in years, but he had thought her too sensible to dally in things beyond her station. Once he was back in Camelot, back in his childhood home and living in close quarters with Gwen again, he couldn’t help but question her about it.
“You know, out of any of the serving girls in the castle, you’re the last one I’d have thought would take up with the prince,” he teased.
Gwen scowled and gave him as less than friendly cuff to the back of the head. “I haven’t ‘taken up with him’ or anything else you’re suggesting.”
He shook his head at her. “I doubt that Prince Arthur’s the sort to go rescuing serving staff against the king’s wishes on a whim. It isn’t that I’m not grateful for all he’s done for you, but I heard he got thoroughly dressed down for it.”
“You’d be surprised. I’m not the only one he’s done it for,” Gwen snapped back.
“Really?”
She nodded. “He did the same for Merlin, and only a month after he was made Arthur’s servant. He’s a good man, Elyan.”
“Merlin? What happened to him?”
“He drank a cup of poisoned wine meant for Arthur and the king wouldn’t let anyone go to fetch the ingredients for the antidote. Arthur went anyway and saved his life.”
Elyan sat down on the bench beside his sister and stared into the fire pensively. “Who is Merlin anyway? I don’t remember him.”
“He came to the city a couple years ago to apprentice with Gaius,” Gwen said, chuckling at the memory. “He talked back to Arthur his first day in the city and ended up in the stocks.”
“So how did he become Arthur’s manservant?”
“Pushed him out of the way of a dagger. The king gave Merlin the position as a reward, but I don’t think he’s ever really understood what a privilege it is. It’s been good for them both, though. Arthur’s been... more conscientious, I suppose, since Merlin came. Merlin couldn’t care less about titles and nobility, and he pesters Arthur into being a better person.”
“What does Merlin get out of it, then, if titles and privilege don’t matter to him?”
“When Merlin’s village was attacked by raiders, Arthur came with us to help them. They’d both deny it, but the two of them would do anything for each other, anything that mattered,” Gwen said softly.
Elyan looked up at her then, hearing something odd in her tone and trying to figure out what it was. “Gwen?”
She gave him a slightly strained smile and moved bank the fire for the night. “It’s late.”
He knew he shouldn’t, but his curiosity made him press for more information. “So... what about Merlin?”
“What about Merlin?” she asked, not turning her head to look at him.
“Does he carry a torch for you as well?” he teased.
Gwen whirled around on him and said in a low and dangerous tone, “He is my friend. He has been here for me. You have not. You don’t know anything, Elyan. Things are different here than they were. If you use your eyes and ears, you’ll figure that out. Good night.”
Elyan couldn’t think of anything to say to that, but while he struggled to fall asleep he was troubled by what his sister’s words might mean.
And so, Elyan watched.
He watched Gwen and he watched Merlin and he watched Arthur. Of course, watching Gwen and Merlin were the easiest. Merlin seemed to be in the habit of coming by regularly, not just to visit Gwen, but to check on him as well. He searched for the young man’s motives, but after a few weeks he was forced to conclude that Merlin was... nice. He was one of those truly rare, genuinely nice people looking out for the happiness of others and not for his own gain. He could see why his sister liked him and took offense to Elyan suggesting there was anything between them. Merlin probably would make a better brother to Gwen than he did.
It was a good deal more difficult to find an opportunity to watch Gwen and Arthur together. He had no good excuse to be in the castle, and the prince was rarely in the lower town for any reason beyond seeing to the city guards on patrol. He saw them greet each other in the street once on a crowded market day, but he didn’t see anything more to it than a friendly acknowledgement of someone who was more than a nameless servant in the castle. Elyan knew Gwen had feelings for Arthur, but he didn’t see anything indicating they were returned, though it had been a very brief encounter in a very public space.
He wondered and worried a great deal more than he should have, but that only became apparent when he finally got the chance to see Merlin and Arthur together, without Gwen’s presence.
“Come on, Arthur. You’re being ridiculous,” Merlin said in exasperation, dragging the prince into the smithy.
“Merlin, I said this was unnecessary. We can find a way to get it off,” Prince Arthur hissed irritably.
Elyan looked at the pair in surprise, taking in Merlin’s look of frustration and Arthur’s rather battered looking armour, before bowing his head slightly at the prince. “Sire. Merlin. What can I do for you?”
“Nothing,” Arthur said, turning to leave, but Merlin caught his arm.
“Quit being so damn stubborn. What are you going to do? Wear your armour for the rest of your life?”
“You are the one who is too incompetent to get it off.”
“Only because you and Leon got too enthusiastic trying to kill each other and he dented your helmet so badly it won’t come off your fat head.”
“Stocks, Merlin, for a week.”
“Fine then, leave it on. You can explain it to the king at the banquet tonight. I’m certain he’ll find the story amusing. He does love to hear about you losing your temper and challenging people for no good reason.”
“Merlin!”
“I’m off to the stocks, then,” Merlin said carelessly, then turned to Elyan. “I shouldn’t have brought him here. Sorry about that. I just figured you’d be more discreet than the royal armourer would be and not tell Uther about it.”
Merlin winked at him, then smiled cheerfully at Arthur and walked towards the door. Before he even got close, the prince sighed heavily and slumped down onto a stool by the workbench. “Get back here, Merlin.”
“I thought I was supposed to go to the stocks.”
Arthur’s scowl was obstructed by the distorted metal of the helmet, but it was so petulant it was all Elyan could do not to burst out laughing.
“That does nothing to keep this from my father. If you aren’t at dinner to attend me, he’ll want to know why.”
“He’ll also want to know why you still have all your amour on.”
“Oh, shut it,” Arthur snapped and turned to face Elyan. “My helmet seems to have become too dented to remove. Would you be able to assist me?”
Elyan nodded and desperately tried not to smile, but it was difficult given the manic grin Merlin was sending him. “Of course, sire. Let me have a look.”
It took some time, the helmet really was badly dented and surely very uncomfortable, but eventually he managed to bend the metal enough to remove it without having to resort to cutting it off. Merlin hovered at his side, trying to be helpful, though if Elyan were being entirely honest he was mostly in the way. The entire time he was working, the two bickered with each other, but underlying the harsh words was something else.
Gwen’s words started to make sense to him as he listened to them trade jibes and insults in increasingly fond tones. When he was successful in removing the helmet, Elyan stood back while Merlin brushed gentle fingers over a bloodied patch of hair. There was a lump beginning to swell and it was surely quite tender, but Arthur didn’t say a word of criticism as Merlin examined it.
“That must have been uncomfortable with the helmet on,” Merlin said, his voice no longer teasing.
“How bad is it?” Arthur asked, his brow furrowing.
Merlin fiddled with the hair a bit, pursing his lips. “Your hair should hide it once we clean you up. I don’t think he’ll notice.”
Arthur nodded, then turned his attention back to Elyan. “Thank you for the help. If you... I... I’d appreciate it if you kept this to yourself.”
Elyan nodded. “Of course.”
“Good,” Arthur said and moved quickly to the door. “Come on, Merlin. I have a banquet to get ready for tonight, and the bath won’t fill itself.”
Merlin rolled his eyes, grabbed the battered helmet and followed the prince back towards the castle.
Elyan sat down on the recently vacated stool, staring after the pair and feeling foolish. It was very clear to him now that Gwen was not the one either of them were carrying a torch for.
Months later he saw a man he scarcely knew, a friend of Merlin’s, watch the pair together and come to the same realization. When their eyes met across the table, Elyan offered Gwaine a sympathetic glance.
Leon
He had lived at the garrison at Camelot for years, and being only a couple years older than Prince Arthur had thought he knew the man quite well. Since he had come to court to train, his father had encouraged him to become close with the prince, though their similar age and skill level meant they were more often close rivals than close friends. Arthur was driven to prove himself the best to his father, the other knights, noblemen and women at court, and anyone else he knew might be judging him, which was everyone. Arthur didn’t open himself up to friendship. He was too competitive to relax enough to be truly friendly.
Leon understood this. Uther was a demanding king and even more demanding father. In the first few years of his training, Uther had regularly come to watch drills and sparring. Words of praise were rare and often after a visit Arthur would be remain on the field long after the rest of them were dismissed. Once he had overheard a harsh dressing down while tucked away in the corner of the armoury personally tending to his armour after a long and brutal sparring session. The angry words Uther spat at his son were undeserved, and Leon wished he could ease some of the hurt they must have caused, but there was no way of doing so without revealing his presence.
He did watch Arthur more closely afterwards, and he started noticing the signs that followed a confrontation between the prince and the king. Arthur spoke less, criticized those around him more and trained with a ferocity normally reserved for tournaments and actual combat.
And then Merlin arrived.
The change wasn’t immediate, but there was no question as to its origin. The prince had been in a continuous foul mood during the first few weeks of Merlin’s service followed by the debacle over Knight Valiant at the tournament and then... then Leon noticed things changing. Arthur’s tempers began to lose their edge. He began to dismiss the opinions and suggestions of others less readily. Disagreements with the king seemed to hurt him less and he began to choose his battles more carefully. He even stopped being so critical of the castle servants, all except Merlin.
Prince Arthur was still aloof and in control, but he seemed less desperate to prove himself. There were times when that anger and ferocity returned. Leon had even been responsible for it once when he had held back during training for a jousting tournament. He knew the memory still chafed at Arthur, and any time the prince thought he was giving less than his best the ensuing challenge would leave him aching and bruised for days.
It was on a hunting trip that he fully realized just how different Arthur was around Merlin. They had strayed further into the forest than they had intended in pursuit of a stag with a magnificent rack, and darkness had fallen quickly. It was a cold autumn night, but their cooking fire dispelled most of the chill as they sat around telling stories and passing a skin of wine around. While the rest of them relaxed, Merlin was busy refilling water skins, gathering firewood, and tending to the meat they had spitted over the fire. After returning to the fireside from checking on the horses, Arthur shifted down the log he was seated on and patted the spot beside him.
“Sit down, Merlin. You’re making me tired just watching you.”
“But I-”
“Sit. I would have thought you’d be tired after a busy day of chasing animals away,” Arthur teased.
Merlin scowled, but sat down beside Arthur. “I don’t see why you bring me along on these trips. All you do is complain about how I scare all the game away.”
“I like having you around. You’re entertaining. Besides, I’m convinced you aren’t trying. No one can be that bad at hunting.”
“No one could care less about hunting than I do. I don’t see how spending the night freezing in the woods is anyone’s idea of a good time.”
“I despair of you, Merlin,” Arthur said with a heavy sigh, and tossed a woollen blanket at Merlin.
Merlin let out an indignant squawk, but pulled the blanket around his shoulders and leaned in closer to the fire. The others started talking again and ignored their prince and his servant, but Leon continued watching them out of the corner of his eye. Arthur was more relaxed than he had ever been and even in the dim light he could see the smile that played on the prince’s lips, friendlier than any smile ever directed at the knights. The tense restraint Arthur normally carried was gone and he seemed... content. Merlin was sitting close enough that their knees bumped occasionally and despite his grumbling, there was a look of contentment on his face as well.
As Leon turned his attention back to the others, he wondered if any of them had noticed the changes in their prince.
Percival
At first he wasn’t sure what to make of Prince Arthur. Lancelot had told him all he knew about the man, and about his brief time in Camelot. His praise was effusive, but there was a lingering sadness that hung like a cloud over his stories. Percival wasn’t sure how much he could like a man who also made his friend so sad, nor the woman for that matter. He was sure Guinevere was beautiful and lovely, but he wondered if she could possibly be worth the heartache Lancelot felt. Then again, his friend had said he left so that she wouldn’t be forced to choose between them, which was a stupid thing to do. Lancelot was too noble for his own good sometimes. Well, a lot of the time actually.
There were no mixed feelings when he met Merlin. Lancelot had spoken of him often as well, and there was always a smile on his face when he did. Percival could see why. Merlin was kind and friendly, and while Prince Arthur appeared grateful for his help and welcomed him, it was Merlin who makes him feel like he belonged in the ragtag group of strangers that assembled in the ancient castle.
When Camelot was retaken and he found himself welcomed more officially into the knighthood of the kingdom, he got the chance to know the people Lancelot has spoken of better. He saw for himself that Gwen was beautiful and kind, though he didn’t think her affections for the prince were as great as Lancelot believed. Nor were the affections of the prince for her.
Percival was sometimes surprised at how well he could blend into the background, despite his imposing size. He has learned how to be quiet, to listen and observe, and he saw many things. He saw the way Merlin devoted himself to Arthur and he saw the subtle ways Arthur acknowledged it. He saw the way they teased each other and the occasional incidental touches that were more frequent when they forgot he was around. He saw the way Merlin stepped forward to protect Arthur without a thought towards his own safety and the worry in Arthur’s eyes at the thought Merlin might be hurt. He saw two men who were so familiar with each other that they anticipated the other’s movements, even when Merlin tripped over his own feet and was saved from falling by Arthur’s quickly outstretched arm.
In the end, it was the way the two interacted with each other that let him know he made the right decision in staying in Camelot. It let him know that Arthur would be a great king. A king worth fighting for. And when he saw the way Merlin’s eyes glowed, when he saw the way he used his secret to protect them all, including Arthur, without them knowing, he promised himself he would do all that he could to protect what they had when the secret came to light.
Lancelot
He’s spent years pining for Guinevere. He’s also spent years missing the easy friendship he found with Merlin. He’s spent years living day to day, never sure of where his next meal is coming from, never sure of where he’ll sleep the night. He’s spent years hating it.
Returning to Camelot, being welcomed for himself and not the imaginary son of a noble he pretended to be, is more than he could have wished for during those long days of wandering and uncertainty. He is happy to have friends at his side and purpose in his life, even if the return is somewhat bittersweet. He still feels longing and regret whenever he sees Gwen, but keeps himself at a distance, as he had promised before, but it’s harder now that he sees her every day.
Still, he had expected there to be a far greater closeness between Arthur and Guinevere, which he hasn’t seen. If anything, they seem more distant than when he last saw them. Overlaying this confusion, he sees how much closer Merlin has become with the prince, and it stings him in a way he doesn’t fully understand. Merlin has always been dedicated to Arthur, but there is an ease between them, a breaking down of barriers, that has left them friends more than master and servant. He’s glad for Merlin. His friend deserves more respect than he ever gets, but the close friendship he had expected to share with Merlin isn’t there in the way he had hoped.
Merlin’s secret is still one that is only shared with him, however. On the few occasions they spend time together on their own, Merlin has told him how much he wants to tell Arthur and all his worries about what will happen if and when he does. Lancelot doesn’t have any useful advice for his friend, and can only promise to keep his secret in the meantime.
They’ve been on patrol for days, riding along the borders and checking on the outlying villages. There has been much disturbance along Cenred’s border as the kingdom is lacking in leadership. Technically, Arthur could claim the rule of it for his own, but Camelot’s resources are stretched thin already. It’s going to take time to rebuild what was lost during Morgana’s brief but devastating rule, even with Merlin using magic on the sly to help. Lancelot has noticed Merlin slipping off from the group now and then and knows he’s been working magic of some form all along the border. Each day the dark circles under Merlin’s eyes deepen and he sees Arthur casting worried glances from time to time.
This morning, however, Merlin has been the most energetic he’s been since leaving the city. Arthur smiles fondly at him as they turn their horses down a narrow trail and - to Lancelot’s shock - urges Merlin to take the lead. He’s not certain where they’re headed, but as they ford the river he knows they are crossing out of Camelot. Merlin urges his horse faster and Arthur chuckles. Lancelot wonders what it is he’s missing.
Their group comes out of the trees at the top of a gentle slope above a small village that looks much like any other. As they ride in, villagers begin to gather in front of their houses and soon it seems like everyone has come out to greet them. This isn’t entirely unusual in the smaller villages that don’t see patrols as often as the larger towns closer to the castle, but these people are not from Camelot. He hears several people calling to Arthur by name and the prince swings down out of the saddle and greets the group warmly. He notices Merlin is off his horse as well and glances around before he spots his friend pulling a woman into his arms and holding her close. When Arthur makes his way through the crowd of people to them, she lets go of Merlin and drags Arthur into an embrace as well. Lancelot is stunned. He’s never seen Arthur do more than clap an arm around someone’s shoulders, and he’s certainly never seen anyone so freely offer him affection.
They spend the day in the village, visiting with Merlin’s mother Hunith (who it turned out had been the woman so enthusiastically hugging Merlin and Arthur) and checking on the village’s preparations for winter. Lancelot is a bit surprised by Arthur’s knowledge of the needs and struggles of a small village outside of Camelot’s borders, but pleased to see it. He’s also pleased that they will be spending the night, thought it’s more time than they should really be taking away from their main patrol. Hunith’s home is far too small for all of them to sleep there, so Lancelot and the other knights end up bunking in the loft above the stable. There’s no need to keep a watch tonight, so they all bed down together, eager to get an uninterrupted night’s sleep.
It’s quiet in the loft when they’ve all settled, and it’s Leon who speaks first in the wakeful silence. “I’ve never seen Arthur let someone hug him like that. Actually, I can’t think of anyone who’d dare try.”
Gwaine snorts in amusement. “He’s a bit too prickly for most, but if Merlin can put up with him, is it any wonder his mother would be the same?”
Lancelot startles a bit when Percival’s voice rumbles behind him, “They’re both good for him. The prince is a difficult person to love.”
“Love?” Lancelot finds himself asking in the dark.
“Surely you’ve seen it,” Elyan says softly. “What else would you call what they have?”
“Arthur has been a different person, a better person, since Merlin arrived in Camelot. I’ve never seen him get so close to anyone,” Leon observes. “I do wish they’d stop dancing around it, though.”
“I don’t think they actually realise what it is themselves,” says Gwaine.
“No,” Percival objects, “I think they do, but they don’t acknowledge it.”
“I’m not certain Arthur knows how to go about it,” Leon adds.
Lancelot lets out a low hum of agreement. “Merlin fears losing Arthur more than anything. He won’t risk being rejected.”
“Our lives would be a good deal more pleasant if they just got over themselves. Perhaps a nudge in the right direction...” Gwaine suggests to deafening silence.
Elyan gives Gwaine a small pat on the shoulder and shakes his head. “We may see it, but it isn’t our place to push. It will happen in its own time, or not, but meddling rarely comes to any good.”
There are quiet murmurs of acknowledgement from the others and Lancelot agrees with Elyan. Part of him is still stung by how much the people he cares about most seem to love Prince Arthur, but he is reconciled when he sees the fine leader the man has become. He can’t begrudge either Guinevere or Merlin their fondness for Arthur. All the same, as he lies in the dark listening to the rest of the group drift off to sleep, he can’t help but feel hopeful. If what Arthur and Merlin share is great enough, then he may have the opportunity to resolve one of his greatest regrets.
Hunith
Prince Arthur coming to check on her, to check on the village, fills her heart. Merlin didn’t ask him to, she’s sure. Though he is loathe to admit it, she knows that Arthur cares for Merlin and, by extension, herself. She sees how close they are, so much closer than before, and she sees the way her son’s eyes linger on him in a way they didn’t before. She sees the subtle lines of tension. She sees the restraint. Even though Merlin is her beloved son, she can’t help but be somewhat amused at his expense. Especially when she notices the same tension and restraint in Arthur as well.
They sleep as they did before, foot to head, and she stifles a laugh as they tussle over the blankets. It is hard for her to see the red faced, laughing young man as anything more than a man. Away from the castle and the knights, he is not a prince. He is simply Arthur.
In the grey light of morning Merlin slips out to fill her water pails, and she has her chance to speak plainly with Arthur.
“Don’t let propriety get in the way of being happy, Arthur.”
He is not fully alert yet, and shifts to look at her with confusion. “What do you mean?”
She smiles at him fondly. “I mean, stop teasing my poor son and make yourselves happy. Anyone with eyes can see what is between you.”
“It’s not that simple,” Arthur tells her, looking away.
“It’s exactly that simple, if you want it to be. Now go on and give him a hand at the well.”
She can’t help her grin as Arthur follows her instructions and joins Merlin at the well. She can’t hear the teasing, but from her small window she can see the way Arthur’s hand brushes against Merlin’s and the startled expression on her son’s face. She also sees his blush when he comes stumbling back into the house, splashing water on the floor as he always does.
The visitors do not stay long. She makes them breakfast and tucks a small loaf of bread into Merlin’s pack while they bustle about, getting ready to leave. The knights chat amiably amongst themselves as they check their tack and saddlebags. They’re rested and eager to be on their way, but she does not look back into the house to hurry them along. When they emerge, she pats Arthur’s cheek, wishing him safe journey then pulls Merlin into a tight hug. She can see he is still blushing to the tips of his ears, and she smiles into his shoulder.
“Be happy,” she whispers.
“I am,” he tells her.
There are tears in her eyes as the horses ride out, but she is smiling as well. Every mother wants to see her child love and be loved. And though there are some things a mother is never meant to see, but she doesn’t need to. Knowing Merlin will be loved is enough.