Work Text:
“Rise and shine! It’s another day, and you have the pleasure of being requested at several council meetings today.” Merlin informed Arthur as he roused him. He walked to the cabinet and pulled out some clothes for Arthur to wear, setting them out for his king.
“Merlin.”
“And don’t forget, you have training with the knights too. You promised Leon you’d make an appearance today since you’ve been so busy lately.” Merlin continued as he moved to the fireplace, adding a couple more logs and stoking the fire.
“Merlin.”
“And, of course, you have lunch with Gwen. Though you shouldn’t expect anything great from the cook today, she’s in a sour mood. I’d be wary about that breakfast I brought you too.” Merlin evasively rambled as he started to gather the laundry.
“Merlin!”
The servant froze at the shout before turning back to Arthur. “Yes, Sire?" He asked, keeping his face carefully blank of any emotion. He wasn't going to be the one who admitted that things were any different than usual.
Arthur stared at him, and he stared back at Arthur, practically daring him to say something.
But in the end, Arthur refrained from asking any of the questions that Merlin saw in his eyes, instead sighing slightly and getting up, talking to Merlin as he pulled a shirt on. "I've given it some thought, and I've decided you're right. While I still plan to offer Mordred a knighthood, I shall refrain from doing so until he's a bit older.
However, given that he's fought against Morgana, I think it wise to keep him somewhere close by. He's been staying in the knight's quarters, but that can't continue if he's not a knight. So I'm entrusting you to find a suitable place for him to stay. I'm willing to pay for his room and board for the time being, though we'll work out something so he can earn his own coin once he's settled."
Merlin stared openly at the back of Arthur's head, so surprised that the stubborn king had changed his mind and actually listened to him for once, that he forgot to keep the shock off his face as Arthur glanced back at him.
***** ***** ***** ***** *****
Arthur had to look away at the blatant shock on his servant’s face. When had they gotten to the point where Merlin could believe that Arthur would send a child into battle after what happened the night before?
Not that he would deny he had been going to knight Mordred. But even he could see after what Merlin had shared with him that it would have been a foolhardy decision. Though he wouldn’t have treated Mordred as cruelly as Cenred had treated Merlin, it still would have been wrong. He regretted that it took Merlin’s story to make him see that, but given his own background, he wasn’t going to fault himself too much for it.
Arthur trained his whole life to be a knight, had led his first raid when he was just eighteen. So though he knew Mordred was only seventeen, it hadn’t seemed like a far leap of logic to knight the young man. However, if he looked back on his early years as a knight, he could remember how much it tore him apart when he first had to kill someone. It hadn’t mattered that the man was part of a troop of bandits that ambushed them. It hadn’t mattered that the man had been trying to kill him. It hadn’t even mattered that the man’s eyes had flashed gold as he tried to cast a spell that fell short when Arthur’s blade pierced his heart.
Of course, it had gotten easier after that, after more killings to protect himself, his knights, and his kingdom. But he still remembered how he had been sick for days after, how he hadn’t been able to hold a sword in his hands again until Uther ordered him to.
He wasn’t going to put Mordred through something like that, even if the boy had already killed. A young mind shouldn’t be forced to deal with such things if it wasn’t necessary. So he would give Mordred some time. Both to mature, and also to explore the world a bit further, to find out if he actually wanted to be a knight or if he had other aspirations that he simply hadn’t discovered yet.
He glanced back at Merlin once more, wondering if the young man had ever been allowed to find his own calling. A boy mistreated by a cruel king surely couldn’t have wanted to become a servant to another royal.
No. I’m happy to be your servant till the day I die.
He had sounded so serious, so genuine. There had been an intensity in his gaze, fierce loyalty, and something that Arthur could never quite define. Something strong and brave, yet terrified and almost longing. Something incredibly sad, though he couldn’t call it grief.
Still, the question lingered. Why? Why had Merlin stayed on as his servant for all these years?