Happy birthday, lunchy_munchy! (...yesterday)
Title: BIRTHDAY STORY
Summary: IN WHICH THERE ARE PRESENTS
Warnings: PRESENTS
Rating: VERY GOOD
Spoilers: IT WON'T BE A SURPRISE IF WE TELL YOU
Notes: Gen to canon-level Merlin/Arthur preslash. I wrote Part I (unbeta'd and a day late~) and magog_83 wrote Part II (which contains Percy and is therefore Awesome). This story is not actually crackfic and far less ridiculous than promised by the header (for which I am not taking the blame).
BIRTHDAY STORY
Part I - by vensre
Every year since Arthur could remember, when the heat of summer was fading from Camelot's walls and towers, the King would spread out the best of the kingdom's early harvest in celebration of Arthur's birthday and sit grim-faced at the high table as the Court ate and drank. This year it seemed even worse than years past, the frown etching deeper into his father's face as the evening wore on. When Arthur was younger he could bask in attention and eat honey cakes without thinking much about it, but now that he was grown up - he was turning twelve, after all - he tried to act more seriously, refraining from smiling while his father did. When even Lord Gorlois's outlandish stories failed to coax a smile from either of them, their guest settled for tickling Arthur until he couldn't stop laughing, while his daughter Morgana snickered behind her hands from the other side of the table.
Arthur resolved not to be disappointed if this proved to be the year his father stopped giving him the (unfailingly practical, and of course finely made) gifts he had before.
The morning after the banquet Arthur saw the swordmaster for his private practice as usual, but near the end of the session Lord Gorlois appeared at the gate beside Kay, who was waiting for his own lesson. The idea of his father's closest friend chatting to his own was so distracting that his teacher let him go early with a chastising swat to Arthur's helmet. When he had put away his equipment, Lord Gorlois waved him over with a grin.
"Good morning, Arthur. Have you had a good birthday?"
"Yes sir," Arthur said, still trying to decide if he actually had.
"Glad to hear it. There is something I'd like you to see, if you have some time free?" said Lord Gorlois, and Arthur fell into step beside him, trying to match his long strides. (He was technically supposed to be washing up to eat after the lesson, but Lord Gorlois was hardly ever at Camelot, and it was Arthur's birthday, anyway!) The path they followed took them beneath the back archway and skirted the wall, opening up to paving stones as they crossed a courtyard toward the royal stables. "When you were very small, Uther gave me care of the horse that belonged to your mother, because he missed her so much that it was hard for him. It still is," Lord Gorlois went on, turning his head to squint up at the high windows, "or he'd be down here himself, I'm sure."
Arthur fiddled with his gloves as they walked. "What happened to my mother's horse?"
"Nothing! Her Luned is healthy and as happy as a horse can be, back with us. But this year Luned's daughter Llamrei is old enough to carry some lucky horseman about, so we've brought the filly here to see if the two of you would get along."
Arthur stared at Lord Gorlois a moment, then scanned what he could see of the stableyards for unfamiliar horses, suddenly in the mood to run the rest of the distance as fast as he could. "You mean I might keep her?" Though he had favourites out of Camelot's stables, he had never had a horse that was only his.
"That was the idea." Lord Gorlois led the way to the stable's second entrance, to stop in front of a stall whose occupant turned curiously toward them.
The horse was tall and well-built, coloured a silvery grey with darker legs and pale dapples over her sides. She whickered as Lord Gorlois stepped into the stall, lightly blocking her in with a rope across the door, then he held the rope up and beckoned Arthur beneath it.
Approaching, Arthur reached out with a flat hand to let her smell, then petted the filly's velvet-soft nose, since she allowed him. He stepped closer and was combing his fingers through a trailing bit of mane when she arched her sleek neck around to get a better scent of him, nudging him playfully, and shaking her head as he laughed.
Arthur wished he had someone he could show her to right now, or that he could cheer as loud as he wanted without startling her, but he could only let the warm happiness wash through him and babble to Lord Gorlois, "Is she fast?" He couldn't quite make himself wait for the answer. "She looks it. And smart. I think she must be the best horse I've ever seen."
"She is a very fine horse," Lord Gorlois said gravely. "I hear you take good care of your dogs."
"They depend on me," Arthur said, but his attention was less on the conversation than on his horse, who was watching him too through deep, dark brown eyes.
"Take good care of Llamrei, too, and she'll take care of you. Since you seem to be satisfied with each other."
"I've never had a gift like this," Arthur said in a rush. "Not even the sword was better. I mean- What I mean is, thank you."
"You'd best thank your father, too," said Lord Gorlois with a glance over his shoulder, then winked and whispered, "since it was his idea!"
Abandoning his manners completely to excitement, Arthur ducked beneath the rope again, saying, "Be right back," with a grin at Llamrei and Lord Gorlois. He launched himself toward the door at a run, quite ready to burst into whatever council meeting or petitioner's hours or execution his father might be conducting. He had only gone a step or so out into the bright sunlight, though, when he ran flat into someone standing on the path (and bounced off, but only a little).
"Arthur?" His father, evidently not holding court at all, evidently loitering outside the stables; it saved Arthur the trouble of finding him. He threw his arms around his father, probably making a childish spectacle of himself, but he couldn't care when the gesture was rewarded with his father's started laugh, and arms folding about his shoulders in return.
Part II - by magog_83
"It must be wonderful to have a horse of your own," said Merlin wistfully, as he leaned on the stable door and looked out across the bustling yard.
Behind him, Percy finished yanking the soggy and shredded remains of someone's kerchief from Brutus's mouth and tried to find somewhere to hide it - hopefully somewhere the unfortunate owner (he had a lowering feeling that it was Sir Rhys) would never stumble upon it. As such, it took him several long moments to answer. "Oh... yes, it is very..." Brutus dribbled some wet thread on Percy's boots. Percy glared. "...very helpful."
"I mean," Merlin went on, thankfully oblivious to Percy's predicament, "It's not as though I can't find a horse to ride, when I need one. I used to ride that brown one a lot."
"Bay," Percy corrected automatically.
"No, I think it was called Elen. But I used to ride her a lot, until she threw me in the river that time and Arthur decided I shouldn't use her anymore, since I was obviously determined to kill myself." The face Merlin pulled as he spoke those last words told Percy they were almost certainly a quote from the Prince. "And now all I get to ride are horses so old, I feel like I should be carrying them." He grimaced. "And now Bob of course."
Percy could well understand the grimace. Bob wasn't exactly old, but he perhaps wasn't the dynamic steed that Merlin was hoping for either. Bob was, in his sister's words, stoic. Nothing could faze Bob: not magical creatures, not bandits, not storms or even hailstones the size of Percy's fist. Bob had nearly caught his tail on fire once, and it had only elicited a slightly perturbed blink. The Prince called Bob the perfect mount for Merlin. Merlin called Bob the Soporific Steed and had been known to actually nod off once or twice on especially long rides (not that Bob noticed, he just kept plodding onwards). Percy looked sympathetic. "Could you speak to His Highness, perhaps? At least about Bob."
Merlin blew out a long breath. "I tried, but he said Bob was a perfectly adequate mount for someone as hopeless as me, and if I insisted on requisitioning a new horse from the stables, I would have to go and find one myself."
"Well that doesn't sound so-"
"And then he took all the horses for training, except Bob, the King's horse, the lame one, and the blind one that's always facing the wrong way."
"Oh," said Percy.
"I know," said Merlin gloomily. Then he brightened. "So I've been thinking of getting my own horse."
Percy blinked. Even Brutus stopped eating (very briefly). "Are you allowed to keep your own mount?" Percy asked. If Merlin was, then that would certainly solve the problem of the Soporific Steed and Merlin arriving at the hunting campsites an hour after everyone else.
"Apparently I am. Or at least, Gaius is through virtue of his exalted physician status, but he hasn't bothered to keep his own for years, so I don't see why I shouldn't and if anyone asks I can just say it's his."
Percy could see at least three ways that could go wrong already. "Don't you think someone might notice?" he said, voicing the most obvious.
Merlin shrugged. "If they do, I can just say that Arthur gave me permission. You can do almost anything if you say that Arthur gave you permission. I once got a whole roast chicken from the kitchens, and half a tray of leftover marchpane."
Percy couldn't help thinking this rather an abuse of Merlin's position, but he couldn't bring himself to be surprised by it either. "I really think you should speak to the Prince first," he said, worriedly. "He cannot object, surely, if Gaius himself has permission, and if it will help you to attend him better."
Judging by Merlin's expression, this last hadn't been high in his priorities, but he wrinkled his nose consideringly. "But if I ask, he might say no."
That was, sadly, always a risk, but Percy doubted it. In his time at Camelot, he had not seen the Prince refuse Merlin very much, not when Merlin drooped around the castle, looking like a pale and wretched spectre of his former self whenever he did. "He might, but even that would be better than getting into trouble for it later."
Merlin looked dubious. "I suppose so."
Percy smiled, relieved that Merlin was at least considering the idea - which, he had found, was usually a sure sign he would actually do it. "Perhaps you could ask the Prince for help in finding something suitable when you do?" he added. Percy would offer himself, but one look at Brutus would tell anyone he was not the best judge of horseflesh. Not to mention that he could almost hear Isolda's voice in his head, pointing out that Merlin would most certainly strike a better bargain for his coin, if he was accompanied by the Crown Prince.
Merlin sniffed. "I doubt he will have the time. All he does lately is complain about the Mercian delegation and all the work he has to do." He gave a gusty sigh. "I think I will ask Geraint instead."
As it turned out, Prince Arthur did have the time, and Geraint found himself unexpectedly busy with a training exercise in the woods for the entire day chosen for Merlin's expedition anyway. So it was just the three of them - since Merlin had assumed Percy would be coming along, invitation or no - that set out for the great horse fair in the town two weeks later, on a bright and cold autumn morning.
"This is utterly pointless, Merlin, there's nothing wrong with Bob," the Prince said, for what had to be the fourth time that morning. Percy suspected there had been some vigorous discussion over the idea of Merlin buying his own horse, if Merlin's three day sulk and Prince Arthur's rather strained temper had been anything to go by.
Merlin ignored him, practically vibrating with excitement as they approached the entrance, where several toll men were getting hastily to their feet and sketching deep bows as their aprons jingled with coins. "Your Highness!"
"Carry on," the Prince said, tossing a coin their way as they passed through the narrow entry way into the large, roped off arena where livestock was bought and sold, the crowds moving back respectfully.
There was a lengthy pause then, as Merlin insisted on stopping so he could count out his coins again - just to check, even though he'd checked twice before they left the castle, and even though there was a growing crowd gathering to see the Prince in their midst.
"Merlin for god's sake." Prince Arthur was looking somewhat red in the face. Percy couldn't blame him, even at Court he was not used to drawing quite this much attention and he could feel his neck going red and blotchy. Merlin carefully counted out his last two coins and smiled happily, seemingly oblivious to his audience.
"All there. Right, where should we look first?"
But it became quickly apparent that having the Prince with you meant you were not expected to do anything so inconvenient as look for yourself, and they had barely gone three steps before the Keeper of the Market appeared, red faced and breathless as though he'd just run the length of the town to be there. "Your Highness!" He bowed. "You honour us with your presence. May I be of assistance?"
Prince Arthur looked faintly irritated, but Merlin broke in immediately. "I'm looking for a horse."
The man looked from Merlin to the Prince and back again, but it seemed a companion of the Prince was almost as good as the Prince himself, and he said smoothly. "Of course, what in particular were you looking for?"
"Something fast," said Merlin, at the same time as the Prince said, "Something quiet and not too big." The market keeper looked a bit uncertain as Merlin and the Prince glared at each other.
"I don't want another Bob!" Merlin hissed. "This is my money and I want something decent."
"Merlin, I am allowing you to have your own mount, and that does not mean allowing you to buy some wild animal that will probably drop you at the first opportunity. Again."
"That has never happened!"
"Oh really? I suppose you've forgotten the time you nearly drowned."
Merlin scoffed. "That was ages ago. Weeks. And I told you she slipped on something."
"Be that as it may," the Prince said, recovering his usual aplomb before the gaping market keeper. "I will not have my manservant badly mounted; it reflects poorly on me."
Merlin scowled. "Perhaps you should have thought of that before you put me on Bob. And all the old ones before that."
"They weren't that old."
"One of them collapsed with exhaustion before we made it out of the castle gates." Merlin pointed out, his expression stubborn.
The Prince rolled his eyes and muttered something about 'complete exaggeration, it was just resting,' before the market keeper cut in, looking distinctly nervous. "Er... we have several that are..." his eyes flickered to Merlin, "quite fast, but not too big." He looked back at the Prince. "And quiet-natured and sure footed. And not scared of water or prone to exhaustion." Percy threw him a sympathetic glance. The man merely looked relieved to have covered everything.
"Very well," said the Prince, at his most regal. "I will consider them."
"Oi!" said Merlin, looking annoyed. "It's my horse, not yours."
"But no-one cares about your opinion, Merlin," the Prince answered with a smirk.
"I should have waited for Geraint," Merlin muttered, and then yelped as the Prince seized his arm and yanked him along, Percy following reluctantly in their wake.
An hour later, and the market keeper was looking increasingly harassed.
"What about that one?" Merlin was saying, looking over a handsome black gelding. "He looks like he might be fast - what do you think, Percy?"
"I think he looks very-"
"No, I don't think so," the Prince cut in with a frown. "It looks like it might be skittish to me."
"You said that about the last one!" Merlin protested indignantly. The market keeper very wisely waved the lad leading the black horse away with his charge, and looked like he's quite like to make a run for it too.
"Well it was true of the last one as well," the Prince snapped.
"But that's all the horses he suggested we see." Merlin was looking around the fair, but Percy could already see that the animals that were left were intended for heavy work, and highly unlikely to be suitable for Merlin.
The Prince looked around too, seeming taken aback to discover Merlin was right. The market keeper hovered nervously. "Perhaps, your Highness, you and your companions could return next month for the Michaelmas Fair? Or I'm sure you could arrange with the steward for a selection to be sent to the castle, for your perusal."
Annoyance seemed to be coming off Merlin in waves, so Percy wasn't all that surprised when the Prince cleared his throat and said, "Er... yes, very well. I shall make arrangements with the steward."
"Of course, your Highness, Sir Knight, er..." the market keeper evidently wasn't sure how he should address Merlin, so he settled for, "Sir," and then made what Percy could only describe as a very swift exit.
There was a slightly tense silence, broken by a very belligerent Merlin. "I am never going to get a horse! I have been saving for months and months and I may as well spend my coin on wheels for Bob for all the good it will do - at least then I might get somewhere on time. I am never speaking to you again." So saying, Merlin turned pointedly away, breaking only to say, "Not you, Percy, you were very helpful. I meant Arthur," which Percy had actually worked out for himself.
The Prince glared at the side of Merlin's head, which was all he could probably see. "Fine, we will find you something else from the stables, something a bit more lively." He huffed. "I don't see why this matters so much anyway."
Percy couldn't help but wince as Merlin swung back around, his vow to never speak to the Prince again having lasted an impressive fifteen seconds at least. "Because it was going to be mine, Arthur. I know that doesn't mean much to you - everything is yours anyway, or will be, but everything I have is borrowed," he swept a hand down across his tunic, "Even this was cut down from someone else's. Everything I have is old, and none of it works properly, and none of it is really mine, and I just wanted..." he stopped and looked down at the churned-up mud of the fairground. "I just wanted to have this. You have Llamrei, and Percy has Brutus, and Geraint has Cornan, and I just..." he trailed off, then shrugged. "I know I would never get a horse like those, obviously" - Percy privately disagreed on the Brutus front, since that wasn't exactly aiming high - "but I thought I could find something, and at least it would be mine, and Percy could help me train it like he trained Brutus, and I wouldn't have to beg and borrow and always be stupid Merlin on the slow horse."
Merlin finally fell silent, looking the very picture of disappointment, and Percy risked a look at the Prince - who was staring at Merlin in something like shock. The moment stretched out, and Percy wondered if he should speak, and then the Prince said, "I don't think you would want it to be exactly like Brutus," which Percy thought was a pretty fair comment, all things considered.
"Well it doesn't matter now, anyway," Merlin muttered, and Percy couldn't help but lean in a little and give him a nudge with his shoulder, as Merlin so often did to him when he'd had his latest run-in with Sir Rhys. Merlin quirked a smile, a slight one, but still a smile. The Prince was still watching, but Percy thought his expression seemed softer now, where it fell upon Merlin's rather dejected form. They stood in silence for a few moments, as the bustle and business of the fair continued around them, then suddenly the Prince spoke.
"Come with me." The abrupt words made Percy jump even as he hastened to obey. Merlin merely looked resigned, but fell into step behind him, Percy following as they retraced their steps back through the town to the castle. The Prince didn't speak on the way, seeming deep in thought, and Percy's attempts to engage Merlin in conversation weren't terribly successful. Upon reaching the castle, the Prince led them through the parade ground and towards the stable yard and Percy found himself hoping that whatever new mount the Prince had in mind for Merlin to use, it was at least under fifteen and could see properly out of both eyes. But to his surprise, the Prince led them through the stable yard and out to the smaller paddock where the King's own stallion, Bucephalus, was often to be found, under the watchful care of his personal groom. But today, the stallion was gone and instead Percy saw three young horses grazing quietly under the farthest tree. The Prince walked up to the fence, leaning against the worn wood and whistling. At once, the three lifted their heads and moved towards them, evidently accustomed to such visits. When they came close enough to touch, the Prince held out a hand.
"These two," the Prince spoke quietly, pausing to pat the two darker horses, which Percy could now see were both stallions, "were fathered by Bucephalus. But this one," he ran a fond hand along the neck of the third, a grey mare, "is Llamrei's."
Merlin reached out a hand, and after only a moment's hesitation, the mare sniffed at it, moving forwards to explore Merlin and Percy further. "I didn't know Llamrei had foaled?"
The Prince smiled, looking rueful. "That's because she wasn't supposed to have. My father was not pleased when he found she had made the acquaintance of a horse with very little pedigree to speak of." Merlin grinned, and the Prince shook his head. "I should have known you would approve."
The mare was snuffling at Percy's tunic now, and Percy realised, belatedly, that he probably still smelled of the carrots he had carried down to Brutus that morning to coax him to actually leaving his stable some time before lunch. He patted the mare's neck, apologetically.
"She's only just three so she isn't fully broken yet," the Prince was saying, as though he were discussing what they were having for supper that evening. "And she's not in the least bit valuable. But you might as well have her, if you want her."
There was a lengthy silence. "What?" said Merlin at last, apparently discovering he did still have a voice.
"The mare, Merlin," the Prince sounded a little irritable, but Percy couldn't help but notice the flush creeping up his neck as well. "You want a horse of your own to train, well, have this one. Although you will have to keep on with Bob for a while yet, she needs a great deal of work."
"But-" Merlin gaped at the Prince, then at Percy, then at the mare. "But she's Llamrei's."
"Yes, I am aware of the fact," the Prince snapped. "That means she is mine to do with as I please. Do you want your own horse or not?"
"Yes, please," Merlin blurted. He looked wonderingly at the mare, who regarded him with benign dark eyes and snaked out her neck to lip gently at the Prince's coat. "But why would you..."
The Prince looked as uncomfortable as he had the night they'd hunted Alfred through the east wing. "Well, we're obviously not going to find anything suitable at the fair, and if you insist on needing your own horse when Bob is perfectly adequate, then I would feel happier if I could oversee its training. I don't want you careering all over the countryside and giving the House of Pendragon a bad name, and if you kill yourself, Gaius will be extremely inconvenienced."
Merlin was positively beaming by this point, and Percy suspected he had not heard a great deal of Prince Arthur's speech. Then his expression turned serious once more. "Wait, I have to pay you first."
The Prince frowned. "Don't be ridiculous, this is a gift."
Merlin looked oddly solemn. "No, I have to do it properly." He fumbled about at his belt while the Prince threw an exasperated look at Percy. Then Merlin tipped the contents of his belt purse into the Prince's hands - a small pile of coins, a bit of twine, and some fluff - and nodded, as though they had sealed some great bargain. "There."
The Prince picked out the bit of fluff and twine and pocketed the coins with a long suffering air, and Percy couldn't help but wonder if the coins would somehow make their way back to Merlin before too long. Merlin turned back to the mare with wide eyes, running a reverent hand along her neck.
"Does she have a name?" he asked after a moment, his hand moving up to scratch the mare's ears and beaming as she lowered her head to give him better access.
If Percy had thought the Prince looked uncomfortable before, then that was nothing compared to how he looked then. Merlin's smile faltered. "Arthur?"
The Prince cleared his throat. "Not really. You can name her how you wish."
Merlin frowned. "What have you been calling her?"
"Nothing, though I believe the grooms called her Annis, or some such-"
"Arthur!" Merlin interrupted, frustrated.
The Prince flushed, and busied himself with one of the knotted ropes worn by one of the young stallions, which had come loose. "I called her Luned," he said, in a studiously casual voice. "Llamrei's dam was a Luned too. She was my mother's mare." He re-knotted the rope deftly, but still didn't look back at Merlin. Percy, for his part, could only stand still and silent. The late Queen was a subject he had rarely heard spoken of in all his time in Camelot, except sometimes by the older men and women of the Court who might look at Arthur wistfully, or tell hushed stories of the early days of King Uther's Court, when the Queen was a bright and constant presence.
Standing now with her son, he felt privileged to know even this small part of her. As for Merlin, his expression had turned soft and wondering, and after a cautious moment he put a careful hand on the Prince's shoulder, just for a second (Percy pretended not to see), and said, quiet, "Then I will call her Luned too."
The Prince nodded, once, and then stepped back with an air of one pushing such uncomfortable feelings far away. "Of course, this will probably cause us all a great deal of trouble, since she will have to be trained, and god knows you won't be able to do it." Merlin narrowed his eyes, but he was smiling. The Prince turned to Percy. "I hope you have plenty of free time coming up, Percy."
Percy grinned. "I think so, and anyway, my sister would be only too happy to help - I fear she did a much better job with Brutus, than I ever did."
"Did you hear that, Merlin?" the Prince said, smirking. "A girl will be teaching you how to train your own horse."
"I will tell her you said that," Merlin said, stepping away from the fence with one last pat of Luned.
Percy didn't know whether to feel proud of his sister or not, that Merlin's threat could make the Prince look so worried, even if it was just for a moment. "I think it will be the most fun she has had in months." He put in, before he remembered who he was addressing. "Er... Not that she finds the Court dull, Sire, she just... enjoys more active pursuits." Which was the most discreet way Percy could think of for expressing his sister's love of hard riding, archery and illicit sword fighting practice with the Lady Morgana and Guinevere in the woods. From the Prince's expression, Percy had the feeling he knew exactly what he wasn't saying.
"So, when shall we start?" Merlin said happily, as they turned to make their way back to the busier thoroughfares of the castle (after the Prince had made a few pointed comments about dinner).
"Merlin, I'm extremely-"
"Busy, yes, I know. But still, when shall we start?"
"Sire," Percy thought he'd better cut in before the Prince did. "With your permission, I'm sure Isolda could see the horse first thing tomorrow, although of course she wouldn't do anything without your leave."
Merlin looked hopefully at the Prince, who rolled his eyes. "Oh very well, but this is not an excuse to shirk off your duties."
"Sire, you wound me!" Merlin said, clutching one hand to his chest and looking both sincere and tragic, then he broke into a grin. "Besides, when have I ever needed an excuse?"
Fortunately for everyone, the Prince decided to let that slide, and they made their way into the castle proper, to find Isolda and tell her the good news.
The End.
Summary: IN WHICH THERE ARE PRESENTS
Warnings: PRESENTS
Rating: VERY GOOD
Spoilers: IT WON'T BE A SURPRISE IF WE TELL YOU
Notes: Gen to canon-level Merlin/Arthur preslash. I wrote Part I (unbeta'd and a day late~) and magog_83 wrote Part II (which contains Percy and is therefore Awesome). This story is not actually crackfic and far less ridiculous than promised by the header (for which I am not taking the blame).
BIRTHDAY STORY
Part I - by vensre
Every year since Arthur could remember, when the heat of summer was fading from Camelot's walls and towers, the King would spread out the best of the kingdom's early harvest in celebration of Arthur's birthday and sit grim-faced at the high table as the Court ate and drank. This year it seemed even worse than years past, the frown etching deeper into his father's face as the evening wore on. When Arthur was younger he could bask in attention and eat honey cakes without thinking much about it, but now that he was grown up - he was turning twelve, after all - he tried to act more seriously, refraining from smiling while his father did. When even Lord Gorlois's outlandish stories failed to coax a smile from either of them, their guest settled for tickling Arthur until he couldn't stop laughing, while his daughter Morgana snickered behind her hands from the other side of the table.
Arthur resolved not to be disappointed if this proved to be the year his father stopped giving him the (unfailingly practical, and of course finely made) gifts he had before.
The morning after the banquet Arthur saw the swordmaster for his private practice as usual, but near the end of the session Lord Gorlois appeared at the gate beside Kay, who was waiting for his own lesson. The idea of his father's closest friend chatting to his own was so distracting that his teacher let him go early with a chastising swat to Arthur's helmet. When he had put away his equipment, Lord Gorlois waved him over with a grin.
"Good morning, Arthur. Have you had a good birthday?"
"Yes sir," Arthur said, still trying to decide if he actually had.
"Glad to hear it. There is something I'd like you to see, if you have some time free?" said Lord Gorlois, and Arthur fell into step beside him, trying to match his long strides. (He was technically supposed to be washing up to eat after the lesson, but Lord Gorlois was hardly ever at Camelot, and it was Arthur's birthday, anyway!) The path they followed took them beneath the back archway and skirted the wall, opening up to paving stones as they crossed a courtyard toward the royal stables. "When you were very small, Uther gave me care of the horse that belonged to your mother, because he missed her so much that it was hard for him. It still is," Lord Gorlois went on, turning his head to squint up at the high windows, "or he'd be down here himself, I'm sure."
Arthur fiddled with his gloves as they walked. "What happened to my mother's horse?"
"Nothing! Her Luned is healthy and as happy as a horse can be, back with us. But this year Luned's daughter Llamrei is old enough to carry some lucky horseman about, so we've brought the filly here to see if the two of you would get along."
Arthur stared at Lord Gorlois a moment, then scanned what he could see of the stableyards for unfamiliar horses, suddenly in the mood to run the rest of the distance as fast as he could. "You mean I might keep her?" Though he had favourites out of Camelot's stables, he had never had a horse that was only his.
"That was the idea." Lord Gorlois led the way to the stable's second entrance, to stop in front of a stall whose occupant turned curiously toward them.
The horse was tall and well-built, coloured a silvery grey with darker legs and pale dapples over her sides. She whickered as Lord Gorlois stepped into the stall, lightly blocking her in with a rope across the door, then he held the rope up and beckoned Arthur beneath it.
Approaching, Arthur reached out with a flat hand to let her smell, then petted the filly's velvet-soft nose, since she allowed him. He stepped closer and was combing his fingers through a trailing bit of mane when she arched her sleek neck around to get a better scent of him, nudging him playfully, and shaking her head as he laughed.
Arthur wished he had someone he could show her to right now, or that he could cheer as loud as he wanted without startling her, but he could only let the warm happiness wash through him and babble to Lord Gorlois, "Is she fast?" He couldn't quite make himself wait for the answer. "She looks it. And smart. I think she must be the best horse I've ever seen."
"She is a very fine horse," Lord Gorlois said gravely. "I hear you take good care of your dogs."
"They depend on me," Arthur said, but his attention was less on the conversation than on his horse, who was watching him too through deep, dark brown eyes.
"Take good care of Llamrei, too, and she'll take care of you. Since you seem to be satisfied with each other."
"I've never had a gift like this," Arthur said in a rush. "Not even the sword was better. I mean- What I mean is, thank you."
"You'd best thank your father, too," said Lord Gorlois with a glance over his shoulder, then winked and whispered, "since it was his idea!"
Abandoning his manners completely to excitement, Arthur ducked beneath the rope again, saying, "Be right back," with a grin at Llamrei and Lord Gorlois. He launched himself toward the door at a run, quite ready to burst into whatever council meeting or petitioner's hours or execution his father might be conducting. He had only gone a step or so out into the bright sunlight, though, when he ran flat into someone standing on the path (and bounced off, but only a little).
"Arthur?" His father, evidently not holding court at all, evidently loitering outside the stables; it saved Arthur the trouble of finding him. He threw his arms around his father, probably making a childish spectacle of himself, but he couldn't care when the gesture was rewarded with his father's started laugh, and arms folding about his shoulders in return.
Part II - by magog_83
"It must be wonderful to have a horse of your own," said Merlin wistfully, as he leaned on the stable door and looked out across the bustling yard.
Behind him, Percy finished yanking the soggy and shredded remains of someone's kerchief from Brutus's mouth and tried to find somewhere to hide it - hopefully somewhere the unfortunate owner (he had a lowering feeling that it was Sir Rhys) would never stumble upon it. As such, it took him several long moments to answer. "Oh... yes, it is very..." Brutus dribbled some wet thread on Percy's boots. Percy glared. "...very helpful."
"I mean," Merlin went on, thankfully oblivious to Percy's predicament, "It's not as though I can't find a horse to ride, when I need one. I used to ride that brown one a lot."
"Bay," Percy corrected automatically.
"No, I think it was called Elen. But I used to ride her a lot, until she threw me in the river that time and Arthur decided I shouldn't use her anymore, since I was obviously determined to kill myself." The face Merlin pulled as he spoke those last words told Percy they were almost certainly a quote from the Prince. "And now all I get to ride are horses so old, I feel like I should be carrying them." He grimaced. "And now Bob of course."
Percy could well understand the grimace. Bob wasn't exactly old, but he perhaps wasn't the dynamic steed that Merlin was hoping for either. Bob was, in his sister's words, stoic. Nothing could faze Bob: not magical creatures, not bandits, not storms or even hailstones the size of Percy's fist. Bob had nearly caught his tail on fire once, and it had only elicited a slightly perturbed blink. The Prince called Bob the perfect mount for Merlin. Merlin called Bob the Soporific Steed and had been known to actually nod off once or twice on especially long rides (not that Bob noticed, he just kept plodding onwards). Percy looked sympathetic. "Could you speak to His Highness, perhaps? At least about Bob."
Merlin blew out a long breath. "I tried, but he said Bob was a perfectly adequate mount for someone as hopeless as me, and if I insisted on requisitioning a new horse from the stables, I would have to go and find one myself."
"Well that doesn't sound so-"
"And then he took all the horses for training, except Bob, the King's horse, the lame one, and the blind one that's always facing the wrong way."
"Oh," said Percy.
"I know," said Merlin gloomily. Then he brightened. "So I've been thinking of getting my own horse."
Percy blinked. Even Brutus stopped eating (very briefly). "Are you allowed to keep your own mount?" Percy asked. If Merlin was, then that would certainly solve the problem of the Soporific Steed and Merlin arriving at the hunting campsites an hour after everyone else.
"Apparently I am. Or at least, Gaius is through virtue of his exalted physician status, but he hasn't bothered to keep his own for years, so I don't see why I shouldn't and if anyone asks I can just say it's his."
Percy could see at least three ways that could go wrong already. "Don't you think someone might notice?" he said, voicing the most obvious.
Merlin shrugged. "If they do, I can just say that Arthur gave me permission. You can do almost anything if you say that Arthur gave you permission. I once got a whole roast chicken from the kitchens, and half a tray of leftover marchpane."
Percy couldn't help thinking this rather an abuse of Merlin's position, but he couldn't bring himself to be surprised by it either. "I really think you should speak to the Prince first," he said, worriedly. "He cannot object, surely, if Gaius himself has permission, and if it will help you to attend him better."
Judging by Merlin's expression, this last hadn't been high in his priorities, but he wrinkled his nose consideringly. "But if I ask, he might say no."
That was, sadly, always a risk, but Percy doubted it. In his time at Camelot, he had not seen the Prince refuse Merlin very much, not when Merlin drooped around the castle, looking like a pale and wretched spectre of his former self whenever he did. "He might, but even that would be better than getting into trouble for it later."
Merlin looked dubious. "I suppose so."
Percy smiled, relieved that Merlin was at least considering the idea - which, he had found, was usually a sure sign he would actually do it. "Perhaps you could ask the Prince for help in finding something suitable when you do?" he added. Percy would offer himself, but one look at Brutus would tell anyone he was not the best judge of horseflesh. Not to mention that he could almost hear Isolda's voice in his head, pointing out that Merlin would most certainly strike a better bargain for his coin, if he was accompanied by the Crown Prince.
Merlin sniffed. "I doubt he will have the time. All he does lately is complain about the Mercian delegation and all the work he has to do." He gave a gusty sigh. "I think I will ask Geraint instead."
As it turned out, Prince Arthur did have the time, and Geraint found himself unexpectedly busy with a training exercise in the woods for the entire day chosen for Merlin's expedition anyway. So it was just the three of them - since Merlin had assumed Percy would be coming along, invitation or no - that set out for the great horse fair in the town two weeks later, on a bright and cold autumn morning.
"This is utterly pointless, Merlin, there's nothing wrong with Bob," the Prince said, for what had to be the fourth time that morning. Percy suspected there had been some vigorous discussion over the idea of Merlin buying his own horse, if Merlin's three day sulk and Prince Arthur's rather strained temper had been anything to go by.
Merlin ignored him, practically vibrating with excitement as they approached the entrance, where several toll men were getting hastily to their feet and sketching deep bows as their aprons jingled with coins. "Your Highness!"
"Carry on," the Prince said, tossing a coin their way as they passed through the narrow entry way into the large, roped off arena where livestock was bought and sold, the crowds moving back respectfully.
There was a lengthy pause then, as Merlin insisted on stopping so he could count out his coins again - just to check, even though he'd checked twice before they left the castle, and even though there was a growing crowd gathering to see the Prince in their midst.
"Merlin for god's sake." Prince Arthur was looking somewhat red in the face. Percy couldn't blame him, even at Court he was not used to drawing quite this much attention and he could feel his neck going red and blotchy. Merlin carefully counted out his last two coins and smiled happily, seemingly oblivious to his audience.
"All there. Right, where should we look first?"
But it became quickly apparent that having the Prince with you meant you were not expected to do anything so inconvenient as look for yourself, and they had barely gone three steps before the Keeper of the Market appeared, red faced and breathless as though he'd just run the length of the town to be there. "Your Highness!" He bowed. "You honour us with your presence. May I be of assistance?"
Prince Arthur looked faintly irritated, but Merlin broke in immediately. "I'm looking for a horse."
The man looked from Merlin to the Prince and back again, but it seemed a companion of the Prince was almost as good as the Prince himself, and he said smoothly. "Of course, what in particular were you looking for?"
"Something fast," said Merlin, at the same time as the Prince said, "Something quiet and not too big." The market keeper looked a bit uncertain as Merlin and the Prince glared at each other.
"I don't want another Bob!" Merlin hissed. "This is my money and I want something decent."
"Merlin, I am allowing you to have your own mount, and that does not mean allowing you to buy some wild animal that will probably drop you at the first opportunity. Again."
"That has never happened!"
"Oh really? I suppose you've forgotten the time you nearly drowned."
Merlin scoffed. "That was ages ago. Weeks. And I told you she slipped on something."
"Be that as it may," the Prince said, recovering his usual aplomb before the gaping market keeper. "I will not have my manservant badly mounted; it reflects poorly on me."
Merlin scowled. "Perhaps you should have thought of that before you put me on Bob. And all the old ones before that."
"They weren't that old."
"One of them collapsed with exhaustion before we made it out of the castle gates." Merlin pointed out, his expression stubborn.
The Prince rolled his eyes and muttered something about 'complete exaggeration, it was just resting,' before the market keeper cut in, looking distinctly nervous. "Er... we have several that are..." his eyes flickered to Merlin, "quite fast, but not too big." He looked back at the Prince. "And quiet-natured and sure footed. And not scared of water or prone to exhaustion." Percy threw him a sympathetic glance. The man merely looked relieved to have covered everything.
"Very well," said the Prince, at his most regal. "I will consider them."
"Oi!" said Merlin, looking annoyed. "It's my horse, not yours."
"But no-one cares about your opinion, Merlin," the Prince answered with a smirk.
"I should have waited for Geraint," Merlin muttered, and then yelped as the Prince seized his arm and yanked him along, Percy following reluctantly in their wake.
An hour later, and the market keeper was looking increasingly harassed.
"What about that one?" Merlin was saying, looking over a handsome black gelding. "He looks like he might be fast - what do you think, Percy?"
"I think he looks very-"
"No, I don't think so," the Prince cut in with a frown. "It looks like it might be skittish to me."
"You said that about the last one!" Merlin protested indignantly. The market keeper very wisely waved the lad leading the black horse away with his charge, and looked like he's quite like to make a run for it too.
"Well it was true of the last one as well," the Prince snapped.
"But that's all the horses he suggested we see." Merlin was looking around the fair, but Percy could already see that the animals that were left were intended for heavy work, and highly unlikely to be suitable for Merlin.
The Prince looked around too, seeming taken aback to discover Merlin was right. The market keeper hovered nervously. "Perhaps, your Highness, you and your companions could return next month for the Michaelmas Fair? Or I'm sure you could arrange with the steward for a selection to be sent to the castle, for your perusal."
Annoyance seemed to be coming off Merlin in waves, so Percy wasn't all that surprised when the Prince cleared his throat and said, "Er... yes, very well. I shall make arrangements with the steward."
"Of course, your Highness, Sir Knight, er..." the market keeper evidently wasn't sure how he should address Merlin, so he settled for, "Sir," and then made what Percy could only describe as a very swift exit.
There was a slightly tense silence, broken by a very belligerent Merlin. "I am never going to get a horse! I have been saving for months and months and I may as well spend my coin on wheels for Bob for all the good it will do - at least then I might get somewhere on time. I am never speaking to you again." So saying, Merlin turned pointedly away, breaking only to say, "Not you, Percy, you were very helpful. I meant Arthur," which Percy had actually worked out for himself.
The Prince glared at the side of Merlin's head, which was all he could probably see. "Fine, we will find you something else from the stables, something a bit more lively." He huffed. "I don't see why this matters so much anyway."
Percy couldn't help but wince as Merlin swung back around, his vow to never speak to the Prince again having lasted an impressive fifteen seconds at least. "Because it was going to be mine, Arthur. I know that doesn't mean much to you - everything is yours anyway, or will be, but everything I have is borrowed," he swept a hand down across his tunic, "Even this was cut down from someone else's. Everything I have is old, and none of it works properly, and none of it is really mine, and I just wanted..." he stopped and looked down at the churned-up mud of the fairground. "I just wanted to have this. You have Llamrei, and Percy has Brutus, and Geraint has Cornan, and I just..." he trailed off, then shrugged. "I know I would never get a horse like those, obviously" - Percy privately disagreed on the Brutus front, since that wasn't exactly aiming high - "but I thought I could find something, and at least it would be mine, and Percy could help me train it like he trained Brutus, and I wouldn't have to beg and borrow and always be stupid Merlin on the slow horse."
Merlin finally fell silent, looking the very picture of disappointment, and Percy risked a look at the Prince - who was staring at Merlin in something like shock. The moment stretched out, and Percy wondered if he should speak, and then the Prince said, "I don't think you would want it to be exactly like Brutus," which Percy thought was a pretty fair comment, all things considered.
"Well it doesn't matter now, anyway," Merlin muttered, and Percy couldn't help but lean in a little and give him a nudge with his shoulder, as Merlin so often did to him when he'd had his latest run-in with Sir Rhys. Merlin quirked a smile, a slight one, but still a smile. The Prince was still watching, but Percy thought his expression seemed softer now, where it fell upon Merlin's rather dejected form. They stood in silence for a few moments, as the bustle and business of the fair continued around them, then suddenly the Prince spoke.
"Come with me." The abrupt words made Percy jump even as he hastened to obey. Merlin merely looked resigned, but fell into step behind him, Percy following as they retraced their steps back through the town to the castle. The Prince didn't speak on the way, seeming deep in thought, and Percy's attempts to engage Merlin in conversation weren't terribly successful. Upon reaching the castle, the Prince led them through the parade ground and towards the stable yard and Percy found himself hoping that whatever new mount the Prince had in mind for Merlin to use, it was at least under fifteen and could see properly out of both eyes. But to his surprise, the Prince led them through the stable yard and out to the smaller paddock where the King's own stallion, Bucephalus, was often to be found, under the watchful care of his personal groom. But today, the stallion was gone and instead Percy saw three young horses grazing quietly under the farthest tree. The Prince walked up to the fence, leaning against the worn wood and whistling. At once, the three lifted their heads and moved towards them, evidently accustomed to such visits. When they came close enough to touch, the Prince held out a hand.
"These two," the Prince spoke quietly, pausing to pat the two darker horses, which Percy could now see were both stallions, "were fathered by Bucephalus. But this one," he ran a fond hand along the neck of the third, a grey mare, "is Llamrei's."
Merlin reached out a hand, and after only a moment's hesitation, the mare sniffed at it, moving forwards to explore Merlin and Percy further. "I didn't know Llamrei had foaled?"
The Prince smiled, looking rueful. "That's because she wasn't supposed to have. My father was not pleased when he found she had made the acquaintance of a horse with very little pedigree to speak of." Merlin grinned, and the Prince shook his head. "I should have known you would approve."
The mare was snuffling at Percy's tunic now, and Percy realised, belatedly, that he probably still smelled of the carrots he had carried down to Brutus that morning to coax him to actually leaving his stable some time before lunch. He patted the mare's neck, apologetically.
"She's only just three so she isn't fully broken yet," the Prince was saying, as though he were discussing what they were having for supper that evening. "And she's not in the least bit valuable. But you might as well have her, if you want her."
There was a lengthy silence. "What?" said Merlin at last, apparently discovering he did still have a voice.
"The mare, Merlin," the Prince sounded a little irritable, but Percy couldn't help but notice the flush creeping up his neck as well. "You want a horse of your own to train, well, have this one. Although you will have to keep on with Bob for a while yet, she needs a great deal of work."
"But-" Merlin gaped at the Prince, then at Percy, then at the mare. "But she's Llamrei's."
"Yes, I am aware of the fact," the Prince snapped. "That means she is mine to do with as I please. Do you want your own horse or not?"
"Yes, please," Merlin blurted. He looked wonderingly at the mare, who regarded him with benign dark eyes and snaked out her neck to lip gently at the Prince's coat. "But why would you..."
The Prince looked as uncomfortable as he had the night they'd hunted Alfred through the east wing. "Well, we're obviously not going to find anything suitable at the fair, and if you insist on needing your own horse when Bob is perfectly adequate, then I would feel happier if I could oversee its training. I don't want you careering all over the countryside and giving the House of Pendragon a bad name, and if you kill yourself, Gaius will be extremely inconvenienced."
Merlin was positively beaming by this point, and Percy suspected he had not heard a great deal of Prince Arthur's speech. Then his expression turned serious once more. "Wait, I have to pay you first."
The Prince frowned. "Don't be ridiculous, this is a gift."
Merlin looked oddly solemn. "No, I have to do it properly." He fumbled about at his belt while the Prince threw an exasperated look at Percy. Then Merlin tipped the contents of his belt purse into the Prince's hands - a small pile of coins, a bit of twine, and some fluff - and nodded, as though they had sealed some great bargain. "There."
The Prince picked out the bit of fluff and twine and pocketed the coins with a long suffering air, and Percy couldn't help but wonder if the coins would somehow make their way back to Merlin before too long. Merlin turned back to the mare with wide eyes, running a reverent hand along her neck.
"Does she have a name?" he asked after a moment, his hand moving up to scratch the mare's ears and beaming as she lowered her head to give him better access.
If Percy had thought the Prince looked uncomfortable before, then that was nothing compared to how he looked then. Merlin's smile faltered. "Arthur?"
The Prince cleared his throat. "Not really. You can name her how you wish."
Merlin frowned. "What have you been calling her?"
"Nothing, though I believe the grooms called her Annis, or some such-"
"Arthur!" Merlin interrupted, frustrated.
The Prince flushed, and busied himself with one of the knotted ropes worn by one of the young stallions, which had come loose. "I called her Luned," he said, in a studiously casual voice. "Llamrei's dam was a Luned too. She was my mother's mare." He re-knotted the rope deftly, but still didn't look back at Merlin. Percy, for his part, could only stand still and silent. The late Queen was a subject he had rarely heard spoken of in all his time in Camelot, except sometimes by the older men and women of the Court who might look at Arthur wistfully, or tell hushed stories of the early days of King Uther's Court, when the Queen was a bright and constant presence.
Standing now with her son, he felt privileged to know even this small part of her. As for Merlin, his expression had turned soft and wondering, and after a cautious moment he put a careful hand on the Prince's shoulder, just for a second (Percy pretended not to see), and said, quiet, "Then I will call her Luned too."
The Prince nodded, once, and then stepped back with an air of one pushing such uncomfortable feelings far away. "Of course, this will probably cause us all a great deal of trouble, since she will have to be trained, and god knows you won't be able to do it." Merlin narrowed his eyes, but he was smiling. The Prince turned to Percy. "I hope you have plenty of free time coming up, Percy."
Percy grinned. "I think so, and anyway, my sister would be only too happy to help - I fear she did a much better job with Brutus, than I ever did."
"Did you hear that, Merlin?" the Prince said, smirking. "A girl will be teaching you how to train your own horse."
"I will tell her you said that," Merlin said, stepping away from the fence with one last pat of Luned.
Percy didn't know whether to feel proud of his sister or not, that Merlin's threat could make the Prince look so worried, even if it was just for a moment. "I think it will be the most fun she has had in months." He put in, before he remembered who he was addressing. "Er... Not that she finds the Court dull, Sire, she just... enjoys more active pursuits." Which was the most discreet way Percy could think of for expressing his sister's love of hard riding, archery and illicit sword fighting practice with the Lady Morgana and Guinevere in the woods. From the Prince's expression, Percy had the feeling he knew exactly what he wasn't saying.
"So, when shall we start?" Merlin said happily, as they turned to make their way back to the busier thoroughfares of the castle (after the Prince had made a few pointed comments about dinner).
"Merlin, I'm extremely-"
"Busy, yes, I know. But still, when shall we start?"
"Sire," Percy thought he'd better cut in before the Prince did. "With your permission, I'm sure Isolda could see the horse first thing tomorrow, although of course she wouldn't do anything without your leave."
Merlin looked hopefully at the Prince, who rolled his eyes. "Oh very well, but this is not an excuse to shirk off your duties."
"Sire, you wound me!" Merlin said, clutching one hand to his chest and looking both sincere and tragic, then he broke into a grin. "Besides, when have I ever needed an excuse?"
Fortunately for everyone, the Prince decided to let that slide, and they made their way into the castle proper, to find Isolda and tell her the good news.
The End.